of all members of the Company, so each would have to ask for time away from their work. Saraskar of Sarista proved to be an important ally, promising to support their cause by sponsoring their appearance before the Council, though they could all see that this placed him in no small danger.
'We must face facts,' Mahnum said soberly. 'If things go ill, and we are not believed - or worse, we are believed but are judged against because of it — we run the risk of danger and even death. Saraskar explicitly warned us about that.'
Farr leaned forward. 'We must accept the risk. Wira and Parlevaag accepted it, and we should do no less.'
'One way or another, tomorrow sees the end of our quest,' Kurr stated. 'So we should prepare for the long journey home. I think we have enough money for at least one horse, if not two. I saw some good specimens at the market, and I will make inquiries about them in the morning.
Tonight I want you to pack up your belongings in preparation for a swift departure, if required.'
'What will we do with the Bhrudwan once we've finished with the Council?' Perdu asked.
'Perhaps turn him over to the Council or to the Instruians to do with as they wish,' Kurr answered. 'I'm not sure. Let's deal with the first thing first, and concentrate on tomorrow.
Winning the confidence of the Council is all-important.'
Phemanderac chose that moment to come down the stairs to the basement, having just returned to the tenement. They immediately deluged him with the news, and he was eventually able to work out that the Company, through good fortune and Kurr's bold opportunism, had secured an appointment with the Council of Faltha. He rejoiced with them, then announced his own important news.
'You may have noticed this is my third consecutive late night out,' the philosopher said. 'I discovered a priceless treasure in the Hall of Lore: a vault in which are stored many early manuscripts regarding the activities and beliefs of the First Men. Unlike a year ago, when I was forbidden access, the Archivist has been of great help to me, allowing me freedom to study these valuable records, and even assisting me in transcribing and interpreting their obscure language. Apparently there is now no restriction on their use, though the Archivist tells me few people ever inquire of them.'
'I wonder why,' Farr said quietly.
'How did you avoid the curfew?' the old farmer asked him, the faintest hint of suspicion in his rough northern voice. The thin philosopher frowned, but chose not to take offence. Be patient with Kurr, Leith had advised him. He is slow to trust, but is a good man.
'Easily enough,' he replied. 'I don't know why this did not occur to me when last I sought permission to view the Archives. I simply struck up conversation with the Archivist who, as is the norm with these men, is ever eager to talk to another man of learning. He is very opinionated and a little conceited to go with it, but his friendship earned me one of these.'
He held up a green tablet, about hand size, with the seal of the Council of Faltha set on it.
'A night pass!' Foilzie said, almost reverently. 'I have friends who would pay you much money for that.'
'I'm sorry, madam,' Phemanderac replied, giving Foilzie a slight bow. 'This is the property of the Archivist - or, more correctly, his wife. Were it not returned, questions would be asked.'
'Nevertheless, it will come in useful,' Farr said.
'Would have come in useful,' Kurr corrected. 'You forget we no longer need to make the loathsome journey to the Hall of Meeting, save once more; so we do not need the pass. But it would have saved us much time.'
'I am sorry,' Phemanderac replied, his long face reddening slightly. He thought it best not to tell them he had come by the pass ten days earlier.
'Have you found anything important in the Archives?' Stella asked politely.
'I have found many things of wonder,' Phemanderac replied with enthusiasm. 'Books of poetry supposedly written by brothers of
'We must face facts,' Mahnum said soberly. 'If things go ill, and we are not believed - or worse, we are believed but are judged against because of it — we run the risk of danger and even death. Saraskar explicitly warned us about that.'
Farr leaned forward. 'We must accept the risk. Wira and Parlevaag accepted it, and we should do no less.'
'One way or another, tomorrow sees the end of our quest,' Kurr stated. 'So we should prepare for the long journey home. I think we have enough money for at least one horse, if not two. I saw some good specimens at the market, and I will make inquiries about them in the morning.
Tonight I want you to pack up your belongings in preparation for a swift departure, if required.'
'What will we do with the Bhrudwan once we've finished with the Council?' Perdu asked.
'Perhaps turn him over to the Council or to the Instruians to do with as they wish,' Kurr answered. 'I'm not sure. Let's deal with the first thing first, and concentrate on tomorrow.
Winning the confidence of the Council is all-important.'
Phemanderac chose that moment to come down the stairs to the basement, having just returned to the tenement. They immediately deluged him with the news, and he was eventually able to work out that the Company, through good fortune and Kurr's bold opportunism, had secured an appointment with the Council of Faltha. He rejoiced with them, then announced his own important news.
'You may have noticed this is my third consecutive late night out,' the philosopher said. 'I discovered a priceless treasure in the Hall of Lore: a vault in which are stored many early manuscripts regarding the activities and beliefs of the First Men. Unlike a year ago, when I was forbidden access, the Archivist has been of great help to me, allowing me freedom to study these valuable records, and even assisting me in transcribing and interpreting their obscure language. Apparently there is now no restriction on their use, though the Archivist tells me few people ever inquire of them.'
'I wonder why,' Farr said quietly.
'How did you avoid the curfew?' the old farmer asked him, the faintest hint of suspicion in his rough northern voice. The thin philosopher frowned, but chose not to take offence. Be patient with Kurr, Leith had advised him. He is slow to trust, but is a good man.
'Easily enough,' he replied. 'I don't know why this did not occur to me when last I sought permission to view the Archives. I simply struck up conversation with the Archivist who, as is the norm with these men, is ever eager to talk to another man of learning. He is very opinionated and a little conceited to go with it, but his friendship earned me one of these.'
He held up a green tablet, about hand size, with the seal of the Council of Faltha set on it.
'A night pass!' Foilzie said, almost reverently. 'I have friends who would pay you much money for that.'
'I'm sorry, madam,' Phemanderac replied, giving Foilzie a slight bow. 'This is the property of the Archivist - or, more correctly, his wife. Were it not returned, questions would be asked.'
'Nevertheless, it will come in useful,' Farr said.
'Would have come in useful,' Kurr corrected. 'You forget we no longer need to make the loathsome journey to the Hall of Meeting, save once more; so we do not need the pass. But it would have saved us much time.'
'I am sorry,' Phemanderac replied, his long face reddening slightly. He thought it best not to tell them he had come by the pass ten days earlier.
'Have you found anything important in the Archives?' Stella asked politely.
'I have found many things of wonder,' Phemanderac replied with enthusiasm. 'Books of poetry supposedly written by brothers of
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