5 Rain’s Hand
Nicrythe Tower,
Artaeum,
Sumurset.
My Dear Xal,
What a day. What a ghastly, ghastly day.
I got up before dawn to see the sun rise over the mist banks, and inspect my garden (someone has been sampling the best leaves from my orlinber vines, and I don’t know whether the thief be man, mer, beast, or spirit. At least the burglar left tracks behind this time, and apparently it has a tail. Unfortunately, that scarcely narrows things down.) Stichael Direnni met me at the arbor gates, and the expression on his face, while not necessarily disgruntled, was far from gruntled.
I don’t know if I told you about the latest debates in our particular college, but the lines have been drawn between my students and those of that ridiculous cretin, that slave to pre-Camoran dogma, “Master” Balec Frel. Direnni was somewhat caught in between and tried to remain neutral, for which I respected him, but Frel did everything he could to lure him into his camp. Not surprisingly, Direnni saw through all the flattery, but today I’ve learned the depths of Frel’s mendacity. Worse yet, Direnni believed him.
Of course I was outraged by the suggestion that I would have plagiarized my friend’s work and left in flash, literally.
Back in my tower room, I felt the chill of a mid-morning breeze (you know how drafty these three thousand year old towers can be better than anyone) and I set about making a fire. I decide to use as kindling some papers that were lying around and as I was shoving them into the fireplace, who should knock on the door but Direnni and Frel? They assumed the absolute worst when they noticed that the papers that were in the fireplace were copies of Direnni’s thesis about Oblivion being Being, that I was attempting to mask my “crime.” Preposterous. Over the course of the day, I convinced Direnni, at least, of my relative innocence, but clearly the fight is heating up.
When I returned home to read your latest letter, I realized that I must have accidentally dropped it into the fire in my haste for warmth.
Would you mind writing back and telling me what you had to say? It sounded very interesting from the few scraps I was able to retrieve from the coals.
Yours,
Master Gosleigh Horlington.
