| 227 Somewhere in the back of your mind the name of the Maturi Len opens the door to a vague but happy memory. Long ago in your early youth you had studied the Old Tongue at the Temple of the Suns in Das Frontiere, in a time before the Kalboreans suppressed all things Dwarvendim. For some reason the Maturi Len connects your memories with the old temple. Because of this you feel a need to see this Maturi. It is less than an hour's ride to Kal Arbor. Even with this diversion you can probably still make Baellum by mid morning. Setting off along the west fork you follow the road towards the village. The way is rough and narrow but Pallenten takes it in her stride. Soon the open plains and fields are left behind as you begin to climb into a series of steep hills and vales, each following rise more thickly wooded than the last. As you ascend into the hills the road lessens to a barely usable track, and then into nothing but a series of grassed over wagon ruts winding their way between the trunks of trees and fallen timber. The air is cool and still, not a breath of wind can be felt as you guide Pallenten along the ill-defined path. From the dark places and deep undergrowth that border the track you have that uneasy feeling you are being watched, as if a thousand pairs of eyes are following you on your way, wondering who you are. Urging Pallenten forward you quicken your pace and hope that it is just a feeling, nothing more. When you reach Kal Arbor it is a considerable disappointment. Consisting of only a few low-built stone houses and some ramshackle barns you can see no villagers going about their business, no children playing amongst the houses. The village appears deserted. Reining Pallenten to a halt you draw your sword and carefully lower yourself to the spongy earth. In the quiet of the morning no sound comes from any of the dwellings, only a gate moving in a gathering breeze makes any noise worth noticing. It is from the corner of your eye that you notice a door to your left open slightly. A pair of eyes squint from the dark. Then a voice, cracked and old, whispers forth. "Vesh?" "Yes," you reply, "who is it?" The door swings wide and in the gloom of the doorway stands an old man dressed in the robes of the Dwarvendim Grand Circle of LoreMasters. Although he has aged you immediately recognise him as one of your old tutors at the Temple of the Suns. He smiles and motions you to enter.
| Turn to section 241.
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