of a place in Alantra than the dragon riders and the weather callers. He heard Cal draw a quick breath just ahead of him, and fixed his eyes forward, letting them rest on what he had seen.
A white pedestal lay before them, veined with the same gold as the walls, but it was not the pedestal that had mesmerized the group. Resting on the white platform was a breathtaking sight. It gave one the impression of some slumbering dragon, possessing infinite power tucked away in the folds of unconsciousness. The Amulet was as beautiful as any story he had ever heard about it. Illustrations in ancient texts were the closest anyone was known to have come to actually seeing it. The sketches and oil paintings dismally failed to capture what even a photograph could not, he thought. Nameh urged him forward, as he probably knew the most about Markbearer history. The stories, fables, and legends of times long-passed fascinated him.
On the wall behind the pedestal, he now noticed, there hung a looming golden emblem. In the center of it, there was the Shask, a universal symbol of brotherhood among Markbearers. Surrounding it, there were five other symbols; their meanings were a mystery to him. However, there was one in particular that stood out to him, as if he had seen it before. He began to develop the feeling that if he stared long enough at the image, he would know what secrets it held.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Nameh approaching another of the surrounding symbols; perhaps she had the same notion about that one. Soon, Cal and Talar had joined them as well, Talar was focused on the same symbol as he was, while Cal had chosen a third symbol. This left only Seth, Mira, and Wyd standing behind, observing the entire crest. They did not appear to be spoken to by any of the symbols. Like a speeding train, the thought floored into him all at once, flooding his mind.
“Talents,” he said simply, delighting in his deduction. Puzzles were one of his greatest joys, and little made him happier than solving a difficult one. “This one here,” he began, running his hands along the curving lines before him, “means ‘Sense’, that’s why Talar and I were drawn to it. That one there,” he said, indicating Nameh’s, “would be ‘Listen’, and that one where Cal is would be ‘Heal’.” This, of course, left two remaining symbols, he thought. Those would stand for ‘See’ and ‘Whisper’, but which was which would remain unsolved until a person of either talent saw them.
“These must be ancient,” mused Talar quietly, “they aren’t included even in the original texts of the Great Warlock.” The group stood in awe at the aged metal, and Max’s mind traced the story of each line and curve and angle. Who had created them, and why? What power did they hold? These questions would have to be answered later, he realized, the Guild was closing in. He was becoming painfully more and more aware of their waning distance and growing power. Each moment that passed brought more pain to his Shask, and each time he thought it could not get worse, it did.
He approached the Relic with a sense of unworthiness hanging taut about him. His hands seemed to act of their own accord, against his will, but with the tenderness of one caring for the wounds of an injured comrade. His fingers scooped under the emerald set in shimmering gold, ornate lines sweeping this way and that. Each shining tendril seemed to whisper of temptation and lust and power beyond simple comprehension. It was at this moment that he felt a kinship toward Adam and Eve; he began to experience what it was like to have knowledge laying before you, untouched. Only one other had possessed it, and now the prospect sat before them.
He was almost surprised at how simple the process had been; there were no tests or trials, just the simple act of want. In fact, once they had decided they wanted to find the Relic, it had been easy to get it. He wondered if it had been more difficult for the Guild because their judgment had been clouded by impure intentions, or only because they didn’t possess the same knowledge and texts that they did. The group gathered in admiration, but Wyd was already spinning the necessary spell. None of them wanted to leave, though they knew there may only be