Krondor - Text Web

[CHAPTER 1] [CHAPTER 2] [CHAPTER 3] [CHAPTER 6]
[ZONE 2]

"Ishap!"

CHAPTER 1 - FIRST CHAPTER 1 - SECOND

A garden was nearby.
Wrinkling his nose at the smell of fresh fertilizer, Owyn pointed out a small cloud of dust that rose off the roadside. Within the cloud a mushroom shaped man was hard at work, his hoe rising and dipping over a row of budding pink potato eyes. Flashing his irrepressible smile, Locklear crept up behind the monk.
MARC: I half jumped from out of my robes! Hello there, strangers.
LOCKLEAR: I hope we aren't disturbing you.
MARC: No, no. I was about to leave the garden anyway. Busy hands set the mind to work you know. On your way to Sarth?
LOCKLEAR: Perhaps, brother...?
MARC: Brother Marc of Sarth. Glad to meet you. We don't get many illirati here. Books don't seem to interest the commoners as much as gold or wenching. But we have scholars enough, all going blind from reading worm eaten books and a dozen boys scribbling away their youth in our vaults. It is an unusual place.
LOCKLEAR: I've a friend who visited here once. He told me that you worship the god of Knowledge.
MARC: They do say that, yes, and I suppose after a fashion it is true. If there is a question that can be answered in no other place, your best hope is to look in our vaults.

Brother Marc hove into view. Still wielding a hoe in his hammy fists, he gestured to Locklear with it.
MARC: I see you didn't get your ear full last time! What brings you back to the Brothers of Sarth?

CASTING

OWYN: Do you know anything about spell casting?
MARC: I know a little of it, though Brother Dominic knows more about it than I. As soon as he finishes his studies on Quegian civil codes, I'm certain he would be more than happy to sit down and talk to you about it. He should be only another two or three months at it I would think.
GORATH: I'm afraid we don't have two or three months to wait. Why don't we leave the brother alone, nephew?
MARC: Tsk, tsk, tsk! Now don't discourage the boy from asking questions or he'll become afraid to question anything. I think I might have some time to teach him a bit about focusing if you can spare a few sovereigns, say fifty. Is that acceptable to everyone?

YES (enough) YES (not enough) NO

OWYN: More than acceptable. Where do we start?
MARC: Ah, an enthusiastic student! Delightful. This will be a pleasure to teach.
Owyn blanched.
He had been assigned a simple enough task; cast a telekinetic spell to move his satchel closer to him. Instead, his satchel had remained obstinately stationary while hurling Brother Marc backwards into his well-tended crops...
"Are you all right?" Owyn gasped. "I didn't mean for that to happen."
"You are still depending on your eyes." Brother Marc sighed, brushing a stalk of corn out of his face as he struggled to his feet. "Concentrate. If you ever find yourself in a situation when you can't see what you're affecting, all the spells in the world will be utterly useless to you. Instead of trying to see your target, try to feel it. Now let's try this again. I know you'll learn this eventually..."
"We don't have any more time to waste," Gorath said. "Why don't you pick up your things and we can get ready to move, Owyn?" Again on his feet, Brother Marc went to console his downcast pupil, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Remember, feel the target. That's the key. Until then, I suggest you stock up on a good supply of Lewton's Concentrate to get you through your exercises."

LOCKLEAR: That is a more than generous offer, Brother Marc, but my nephew here is often speaking before his turn. We really can't afford it at the moment.
MARC: Ah, well. Perhaps another time.

GORATH: Really, we have other things we must do. We appreciate the offer, nonetheless.
MARC: If you change your mind, the offer will stand.

SPELLS

OWYN: Now that I know a little more about spell casting, perhaps there's a simple spell you could teach me?
GORATH: Owyn...
OWYN: Just something simple, so we can defend ourselves in case we run in to anyone hostile on the road.
MARC: I don't know what you imagine is waiting out there for you, but I believe I have just the thing. I will have to run up to the Vaults to search for it, but it is a little spell called Flamecast. Of course, there will be the matter of a fee, say 30 sovereigns. I know precisely where it is if you want me to run and get it. Shall I?

YES (enough) YES (not enough) NO

OWYN: You can be quick about it?
MARC: I won't be a moment. I will return as quickly as my little feet can move me.
They waited.
When at last it seemed the priest was never going to return, he appeared waddling down the hillside, a beribboned parchment missive stuffed beneath one of his arms. Collecting the money owed him from Owyn, he cheerfully handed over the scroll.

OWYN: Seems I will have to pass this time. I have less money than I thought.
MARC: Ah, well. So much for an impetuous purchase.

OWYN: On second thought, I've probably spent far more today than I can afford...
MARC: Very well. Let me know if you change your mind.

ROAD SOUTH

OWYN: Are there any hazards on the road south from here to Krondor? We are in something of a hurry and I would hate to run into any unexpected delays.
MARC: I haven't heard any complaints from the travellers that have been through here in the past few weeks. I don't think the mercenaries that stopped by to speak to Brother Dominic said anything of it.
OWYN: Mercenaries? They're not in Quegian press gangs, are they?
MARC: Not to my knowledge, no. These lot landed just south of Questor's View on a ship called the Foamspinner. As much as they've been up and down the road, I assumed they were in on a shore leave.
OWYN: Were there many of them?
MARC: Many of them? If you laid them head to foot, I imagine you could walk across the Straits of Darkness without getting your feet wet. It seems one of those Quegian galleys can carry a small village from one place to an other!

INNS

OWYN: Do you know of any good inns in the area? I think I might sleep a little better if I could bed down on something other than cold ground tonight.
MARC: There are a few. You might try Babon's Hostel in Questor's View or the old Bywater Inn. If it weren't for my duties here, I would be half inclined to join you. Some acolyte somewhere has been trying his hand at dream sendings and I've not had a good night's sleep in weeks.
OWYN: Dream sendings?
MARC: It's a way to send messages over long distances. Only certain magicians have the talent for it. Whoever it is, they can't be too far away because his images are fairly strong.
OWYN: What do they seem to be trying to say?
MARC: I'm not certain. The images are too disjointed, though now I think of it, I thought I had seen your elf friend's face before. Now I know why. His face was in the sendings.

VAULTS

OWYN: Is it permitted for outsiders to browse the books in the vaults? I would be interested in looking them over.
MARC: It's fine with me, but it's Brother Anthony you may have to convince. He doesn't like strangers wandering around down there without supervision. We have a number of rare and valuable books and it would be the worst kind of tragedy to lose them to a casual browser. I'll warn you though, you may have difficulty finding what it is you want. Many of the books have never been cataloged and unless you know very specifically what you are looking for either by the scribe's name or the title of the work, you might not find anything that will be of any value to you.

BAD WEATHER (if Rowe)

LOCKLEAR: So when is the storm going to hit? We're a little concerned about finding a place to stay so we don't get soaked.
MARC: Storm? It is the first I have heard of such a meteorological disturbance. Brother Gierom didn't mention it to me before I left the abbey this morning.
LOCKLEAR: That's strange. We met a gentleman named Rowe who said a storm had been predicted by the brothers at the Abbey.
MARC: I wonder why he would tell you such a thing. Of course, he has been acting peculiarly since his wife died. Terrible tragedy, and striking at such a time when he had to give up his farm. I really must feel for the poor old soul.

FIRST GOODBYE SECOND GOODBYE

LOCKLEAR: Seems we at least have a few things to think about. Thank you, Brother Marc.
MARC: Always a pleasure to help. Come back and visit me again.
LOCKLEAR: Perhaps we will. Goodbye!

LOCKLEAR: Seems we at least have a few things to think about. Thank you, Brother Marc.
MARC: Always a pleasure to help. Come back and visit me again.
LOCKLEAR: Perhaps we will. Goodbye!

CHAPTER 2 - FIRST CHAPTER 2 - SECOND

Brother Marc hove into view. Still wielding a hoe in his hammy fists, he gestured to James with it.
MARC: Discovered! I fear you will think me a farmer that only masquerades at being a monk rather than the other way around. How are you?
JAMES: Once my young squire Owyn here forgets that he has feet, I believe we shall be well enough.
MARC: If he has aches at his age then imagine what complaints he shall have at mine! He shall have to be carried everywhere he goes!
JAMES: He practices to be the Emperor of Kesh, no doubt.
MARC: So what question will you now pose of Sarth, travelling friends?

Brother Marc hove into view. Still wielding a hoe in his hammy fists, he gestured to James with it.
MARC: What is it that I can discover for you now? Kingdom history? Keshian law? Elven tradition? Ask and I shall do my best to find whatever you require.

MAGIC

OWYN: Actually, I was hoping you might be able to dig up something on magic, a scroll perhaps.
MARC: There was a scroll I was cataloging the other day that might be of interest to you. It was titled as Skyfire I believe. I can go and dig it up for you, for a reasonable finder's fee of 100 sovereigns. Shall I run and find it?

YES (enough) YES (not enough) NO

OWYN: Agreed. Should we wait here or...
MARC: Brother Anthony doesn't like to have too many people in the Vaults at the same time. It disturbs those who are cataloging and scribing. I will only be a short while.
They waited.
When at last it seemed the priest was never going to return, he appeared waddling down the hillside, a beribboned parchment missive stuffed beneath one of hisarms. Collecting the money owed him from Owyn, he cheerfully handed over the scroll.

OWYN: I'm sorry, I'm short. I guess I can't buy the scroll after all.
MARC: I don't see at all what your height has to do with your ability to buy! Ahem...forgive me, insufferable pun. Sometimes I can't behave myself.

OWYN: Well, I hadn't exactly planned on paying any money. I thought since you are dedicated to knowledge, that, well...
MARC: Even the Brothers of Ishap must feed themselves, though we all agree with the sentiment that it should be free to all. Perhaps when you have made a few sovereigns, we can talk again.

NIGHTHAWKS

JAMES: Would you have anything up in the Abbey about the Guild of Death? As I recall from when I visited your abbey years ago, your collection of books was quite extensive. I wanted to find out how it is that some of them become Black Slayers.
MARC: No need to search the vaults. Many of them worship Kahooli, who, occasionally, will grant them a near-deathless state in exchange for total dedication to the god of revenge. It took us a long while to learn the spells that keep a Nighthawk from rising from death.
JAMES: There is a spell? We thought you had to hack the body up and burn it to bits.
MARC: An unpleasant solution, and time consuming. After the Great Rising was over and the moredhel went home, we were able to work with the priests of Lims-Kragma to create a spell to keep a Nighthawk from becoming a Black Slayer or to keep a Black Slayer down once he was slain. If you would like, I can probably dig the spell up in the Vaults. Are you interested? There will be a hundred sovereign fee.

YES (enough) YES (not enough) NO

JAMES: Considering I may be running into the Guild of Death soon, I think it would be a wise investment.
MARC: I will be as quick as possible. Please wait here.
They waited.
When at last it seemed the priest was never going to return, he appeared waddling down the hillside, a beribboned parchment missive stuffed beneath one of his arms. Collecting the money owed him from James, he cheerfully handed over the scroll.

JAMES: I wished to get the scroll, but it seems I have less than I thought.
MARC: That is quite all right. I am quite sure the Abbey won't burn it if you should want it later.

JAMES: What happened to the Brothers of Ishap at Sarth being dedicated to the god Knowledge?
MARC: Even the Brothers of Ishap must feed themselves, though we all agree with the sentiment that it should be free to all. Perhaps when you have made a few sovereigns, we can talk again.

ABBAR'S TURN (if Ivan)

JAMES: I don't suppose among those masses of books you have in the Abbey you would have one on chess, would you? I'm looking for information on a chess move called Abbar's Turn.
MARC: No self-respecting Keshian library would be without one and as the Abbey was founded by Keshian wanderers...
JAMES: ...it stands to reason you have something. Wonderful. If you could dig something up for us, I would be very happy to pay a finders' fee for anything you can find on chess moves.
MARC: It's a fairly special request so I may have spend a while digging and I do have another project I need to handle this evening. Would you be willing to pay a hundred sovereigns?

YES (enough) YES (not enough) NO

JAMES: Hmm, well. I think in this case it might be worth the expense.
MARC: I will see to it your money is well spent. If you will wait here, I will return as soon as I have found something of interest...
The priest returned several hours later.
"So, what did you discover?" James asked, his mood improving with Brother Marc's reappearance. "Anything we can use?"
Marc frowned and burrowed in the folds of his robe. "I found that there appears to be no difference between lin-lan, pashawa, cock-fighting, daerts, pokiir, King's Mountain, dice, shomshone, Four-Hands Down, and chess as far as our cataloging system is concerned. They are all still considered just games at this point."
James shrugged. "Oh well, nice try. I just wish we hadn't wasted our time."
Brother Marc pulled a scroll out of his left sleeve and laid it in James's lap. "It was no waste of time, you haven't seen this particular scroll."
"Pardon?" James blinked at the parchment, then at the priest. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is that the scroll in your lap is known as the Saaha Bela'hi, the Victor's Soul. It is perhaps the rarest and most valuable writing on the subject of chess ever put to paper. Unfortunately, it is also exceedingly rare. I get chills just thinking what we had to do to get it. This is our only translation available and it was the only work I could find with reference to Abbar's Turn. Read it and quickly, before Brother Anthony finds I've taken it."
James smiled and unrolled the scroll, studying all the details of the move carefully. Once he had absorbed the material, he produced the gold he owed Brother Marc.
"I promise I won't forget your efforts, brother."
The priest nodded, then snatched up the scroll.
"Let's just hope Brother Anthony can."

JAMES: I suppose Banath doesn't wish for me to do it. I'm out of gold.
MARC: I would not propose to debate that wisdom.

JAMES: That's a bit more than I was anticipating. Are you sure you couldn't come down a bit on your price?
MARC: As I said before, it is a special request and it would take me away from other duties. I am sorry if my price is inconvenient.

FIRST GOODBYE SECOND GOODBYE

JAMES: Seems we at least have a few things to think about. Thank you, Brother Marc.
MARC: Always a pleasure to help. Come back and visit me again.
JAMES: Perhaps we will. Goodbye!

JAMES: Seems we at least have a few things to think about. Thank you, Brother Marc.
MARC: Always a pleasure to help. Come back and visit me again.
JAMES: Perhaps we will. Goodbye!

CHAPTER 3 - FIRST CHAPTER 3 - SECOND

Brother Marc hove into view. Wielding a hoe in his hammy fists, he gestured to James with it.
MARC: Glad to see you, but I'd advise a bit of distance at the moment. There's been an outbreak of the Quegian Fever at Sarth and I'm not sure if I'm carrying it or not.
OWYN: How could you not know? Every five year old boy in Tiburn could recognize the warning signs.
MARC: In Tiburn perhaps they could, but as I might point out, this is not Tiburn.
OWYN: I thought the Brothers of Ishap at Sarth were supposed to know everything.
MARC: Perhaps we will someday, Ishap willing, but let me tell you something. When I was about your age, I discovered a miraculous thing about planting. For years I had kept a journal about the things that I had learned as I had scratched in the dirt. One day - shortly after my acceptance into the Brotherhood of Ishap - I was going over some of my notes and I made a miraculous discovery. It would change the way that farmers grew crops forever! I was so excited that I decided I would share this great secret with the world and I padded off to the nearest town with my journal proudly stuck under my arm.
OWYN: Did the farmers use your technique?
MARC: Oh, yes...and they had been using it for over three hundred years! My humble tricks were childish speculation next to what the farmers already knew. My point is this: if our brethren in Malac's Cross have something that they consider common knowledge, it might remain uncommon knowledge to the rest of us for years because they assume we should already know it. Like any other portable good, Knowledge must be collected and given out. That, my friends, is the primary reason that Sarth exists.

Brother Marc hove into view. Still wielding a hoe in his hammy fists, he gestured to James with it.
MARC: Don't get too close. As I said earlier, I may be carrying the fever and I don't want to make any of you ill. Perhaps you want me to look up something for you in Sarth's library?

FIRST GOODBYE SECOND GOODBYE

JAMES: Seems we at least have a few things to think about. Thank you, Brother Marc.
MARC: Always a pleasure to help. Come back and visit me again.
JAMES: Perhaps we will. Goodbye!

JAMES: Seems we at least have a few things to think about. Thank you, Brother Marc. And perhaps we can get a turnip from your garden next time we visit.
MARC: I will see to it! Good day!
JAMES: Good day to you as well.

CHAPTER 6 - FIRST CHAPTER 6 - SECOND

Brother Marc hove into view. Still wielding a hoe in his hammy fists, he gestured to Owyn with it.
MARC: I would advise you to stay well clear of Sarth. Our Brother Dominic has fallen ill with Quegian Fever.
OWYN: Why didn't anyone treat the fever before it became serious?
MARC: None of us knew he was infected until this morning. When he woke this morning he reported to the brotherhood's herbalist that he was experiencing dizziness.
OWYN: It's one of the early signs of the fever, but I wouldn't be overly concerned. Quegian Fever is rarely fatal to adults.
MARC: It's not the fever's primary effects that concern me. As Keeper of the Gates, Brother Dominic is the greatest wielder of the magical arts among us. Should he begin to hallucinate, he may lose his capacity to discern between real and imagined threats. He might view other members of the brotherhood as enemies or perhaps he will see a threat in the outside world. We know from Pug of Stardock that things of this nature can occur when magicians fall ill...
OWYN: No one can break his fever?
MARC: I am sure the herbalist will do what he can, but our best hope resides in Brother Dominic's iron will. Until such time his fever breaks, the Abbey of Ishap at Sarth will be a fearfully dangerous place and I would advise against going any closer. Was there something you needed from the Abbey?

Brother Marc hove into view. Still wielding a hoe in his hammy fists, he gestured to Owyn with it.
MARC: Like a moth to the candleflame? What about Sarth has you so quickly back here?

MINE

OWYN: My grandfather used to tell me stories about the chambers beneath Sarth that he said were once part of a rich dwarven mine. He called it the Mac Boogalan...Borgu...
MARC: The Mac Bourgalan Dok I believe it was called, yes. At one time it was quite an impressive emerald mine.
OWYN: He suggested that there still might be tunnels that connect with those directly beneath the Abbey. If you have any of the old dwarven maps or deeds, we might be able to get in through the old mine.
MARC: Unfortunately, those maps are not in the hands of the Brothers of Sarth at the moment. We gave it over to the assistant tax collector who lives in Eggley, a fellow named Stellan. I understand that there was some confusion in regards to how much the Abbey could be taxed because of it's connection to those old mines. If you speak to him, I am sure he could show you those documents. At least it sounds like a way we may be able to re-enter the abbey!

MACROS

OWYN: Do you know anything about a Book of Macros?
MARC: Of Macros, no. About Macros, I know we have a few of them in the Vaults, most concerning the legends about the Villa Beata while he was living on Sorcerer's Isle. We might also have a few things by him in there, but I couldn't be certain without checking.

FIRST GOODBYE SECOND GOODBYE

OWYN: We'll try our best to find a solution, but we have another important matter to attend to and very little time. What happens in the circumstance that this Brother Dominic begins to hallucinate?
MARC: I cannot say with any certitude. My assumption is that he will activate the mystic defenses. If that occurs, there may be no access to the Abbey at all.
OWYN: At least it doesn't sound as if he will pose a life-threatening situation... If we come across anything that I think could be of help, I promise we will return as soon as we can. In exchange, do us a favor and stay out of Dominic's path until this problem is solved. Goodbye brother.

OWYN: Thorgath and I still have things we need to attend to, so I guess I should bid you farewell.
MARC: Travel under Ishap's blessings, young one.
OWYN: We will try. Thank you. Goodbye, Brother Marc.

[TOP] [CHAPTER 1] [CHAPTER 2] [CHAPTER 3] [CHAPTER 6]

YES (enough)	YES (not enough)	NO
OWYN: More than acceptable. Where do we start? MARC: Ah, an enthusiastic student! Delightful. This will be a pleasure to teach. Owyn blanched. He had been assigned a simple enough task; cast a telekinetic spell to move his satchel closer to him. Instead, his satchel had remained obstinately stationary while hurling Brother Marc backwards into his well-tended crops... "Are you all right?" Owyn gasped. "I didn't mean for that to happen." "You are still depending on your eyes." Brother Marc sighed, brushing a stalk of corn out of his face as he struggled to his feet. "Concentrate. If you ever find yourself in a situation when you can't see what you're affecting, all the spells in the world will be utterly useless to you. Instead of trying to see your target, try to feel it. Now let's try this again. I know you'll learn this eventually..." "We don't have any more time to waste," Gorath said. "Why don't you pick up your things and we can get ready to move, Owyn?" Again on his feet, Brother Marc went to console his downcast pupil, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Remember, feel the target. That's the key. Until then, I suggest you stock up on a good supply of Lewton's Concentrate to get you through your exercises."	LOCKLEAR: That is a more than generous offer, Brother Marc, but my nephew here is often speaking before his turn. We really can't afford it at the moment. MARC: Ah, well. Perhaps another time.	GORATH: Really, we have other things we must do. We appreciate the offer, nonetheless. MARC: If you change your mind, the offer will stand.

YES (enough)	YES (not enough)	NO
OWYN: You can be quick about it? MARC: I won't be a moment. I will return as quickly as my little feet can move me. They waited. When at last it seemed the priest was never going to return, he appeared waddling down the hillside, a beribboned parchment missive stuffed beneath one of his arms. Collecting the money owed him from Owyn, he cheerfully handed over the scroll.	OWYN: Seems I will have to pass this time. I have less money than I thought. MARC: Ah, well. So much for an impetuous purchase.	OWYN: On second thought, I've probably spent far more today than I can afford... MARC: Very well. Let me know if you change your mind.

FIRST GOODBYE	SECOND GOODBYE
LOCKLEAR: Seems we at least have a few things to think about. Thank you, Brother Marc. MARC: Always a pleasure to help. Come back and visit me again. LOCKLEAR: Perhaps we will. Goodbye!	LOCKLEAR: Seems we at least have a few things to think about. Thank you, Brother Marc. MARC: Always a pleasure to help. Come back and visit me again. LOCKLEAR: Perhaps we will. Goodbye!

YES (enough)	YES (not enough)	NO
OWYN: Agreed. Should we wait here or... MARC: Brother Anthony doesn't like to have too many people in the Vaults at the same time. It disturbs those who are cataloging and scribing. I will only be a short while. They waited. When at last it seemed the priest was never going to return, he appeared waddling down the hillside, a beribboned parchment missive stuffed beneath one of hisarms. Collecting the money owed him from Owyn, he cheerfully handed over the scroll.	OWYN: I'm sorry, I'm short. I guess I can't buy the scroll after all. MARC: I don't see at all what your height has to do with your ability to buy! Ahem...forgive me, insufferable pun. Sometimes I can't behave myself.	OWYN: Well, I hadn't exactly planned on paying any money. I thought since you are dedicated to knowledge, that, well... MARC: Even the Brothers of Ishap must feed themselves, though we all agree with the sentiment that it should be free to all. Perhaps when you have made a few sovereigns, we can talk again.

YES (enough)	YES (not enough)	NO
JAMES: Considering I may be running into the Guild of Death soon, I think it would be a wise investment. MARC: I will be as quick as possible. Please wait here. They waited. When at last it seemed the priest was never going to return, he appeared waddling down the hillside, a beribboned parchment missive stuffed beneath one of his arms. Collecting the money owed him from James, he cheerfully handed over the scroll.	JAMES: I wished to get the scroll, but it seems I have less than I thought. MARC: That is quite all right. I am quite sure the Abbey won't burn it if you should want it later.	JAMES: What happened to the Brothers of Ishap at Sarth being dedicated to the god Knowledge? MARC: Even the Brothers of Ishap must feed themselves, though we all agree with the sentiment that it should be free to all. Perhaps when you have made a few sovereigns, we can talk again.

YES (enough)	YES (not enough)	NO
JAMES: Hmm, well. I think in this case it might be worth the expense. MARC: I will see to it your money is well spent. If you will wait here, I will return as soon as I have found something of interest... The priest returned several hours later. "So, what did you discover?" James asked, his mood improving with Brother Marc's reappearance. "Anything we can use?" Marc frowned and burrowed in the folds of his robe. "I found that there appears to be no difference between lin-lan, pashawa, cock-fighting, daerts, pokiir, King's Mountain, dice, shomshone, Four-Hands Down, and chess as far as our cataloging system is concerned. They are all still considered just games at this point." James shrugged. "Oh well, nice try. I just wish we hadn't wasted our time." Brother Marc pulled a scroll out of his left sleeve and laid it in James's lap. "It was no waste of time, you haven't seen this particular scroll." "Pardon?" James blinked at the parchment, then at the priest. "What do you mean?" "What I mean is that the scroll in your lap is known as the Saaha Bela'hi, the Victor's Soul. It is perhaps the rarest and most valuable writing on the subject of chess ever put to paper. Unfortunately, it is also exceedingly rare. I get chills just thinking what we had to do to get it. This is our only translation available and it was the only work I could find with reference to Abbar's Turn. Read it and quickly, before Brother Anthony finds I've taken it." James smiled and unrolled the scroll, studying all the details of the move carefully. Once he had absorbed the material, he produced the gold he owed Brother Marc. "I promise I won't forget your efforts, brother." The priest nodded, then snatched up the scroll. "Let's just hope Brother Anthony can."	JAMES: I suppose Banath doesn't wish for me to do it. I'm out of gold. MARC: I would not propose to debate that wisdom.	JAMES: That's a bit more than I was anticipating. Are you sure you couldn't come down a bit on your price? MARC: As I said before, it is a special request and it would take me away from other duties. I am sorry if my price is inconvenient.

FIRST GOODBYE	SECOND GOODBYE
JAMES: Seems we at least have a few things to think about. Thank you, Brother Marc. MARC: Always a pleasure to help. Come back and visit me again. JAMES: Perhaps we will. Goodbye!	JAMES: Seems we at least have a few things to think about. Thank you, Brother Marc. MARC: Always a pleasure to help. Come back and visit me again. JAMES: Perhaps we will. Goodbye!