Prologue
Damis rubbed his jaw. It still hurt like hell. Still, the pain was worth it. Hull wouldn’t be making fun of him anymore for his “stupid magic”. How hard it had been for him to get that visiting mage to teach him that single spell! And Gorion still didn’t suspect! Well, Gorion would probably figure out soon, because, of course, that loser Hull would definitely rat him out.
A knock on the door. Hull had told already? He was more of a wimp than Damis had thought. Still, he supposed that if you’re as stupid has Hull, you have to run to somebody stronger than you. In this case, Gorion, Damis’ foster-father.
Damis opened the door. There was a monk from the Abbey. Which one it was was hard to tell, as he kept his face hidden under the cowl. The monk beckoned, and with a swirl of green robes and a flash of pink hair, walked away. Damis suddenly thought, Wait a second… PINK hair? There’s only one person in this stupid place loony enough to die her hair pink. Imoen. He grinned, and stepped on the back of the robe. It slipped off to reveal a slender girl with bright pink hair, and a mischievous smile.
“How’d you figure it out?” she inquired. “I think it was the hair” he smilingly replied. “nobody else has hair like you.”
She grinned. “I knew I shouldn’t have done it. Oh, and by the way, Gorion is looking for you. Something about going somewhere.” Damis grimaced. Oooh boy, he was in REAL trouble by the looks of things.
Gorion looked up. Somebody was knocking on his door. Hopefully it was Damis. “Come in” he said in a soft voice. It was Hull.
“Yes Hull, what can I do for you?”
Hull was livid. “Gorion, how DARE you teach your charge such a spell? He is YOUR charge, and he nearly killed me today! The priest of Oghma spent the last hour healing me! What are you going to do about it?”
Gorion frowned. “What spell do you speak of? I’ve taught him one spell, and that was a protection spell, not an attacking spell. You don’t mean to say that he cast a protection spell on you and you needed healing? My dear son, perhaps you should have another discussion with the priests.” Gorion tried in vain to hide his grin. Hull had turned beet red. With an inarticulate “eep”, he ran out of the study. Gorion shook his head. Hull and Damis had hated each other for as long as any could remember, and the reason was still unknown, although Gorion tended to think that it was Hull’s constant teasing of Damis. Damis’ only defender was his best friend Imoen. He sighed. Whenever he thought of her, he was forced to think of the hair, and that, well, he didn’t want to think of it.
“Gorion?”
Gorion smiled, and said, “Yes, Damis, please come in.”
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Damis, always the good son, who never did anything bad. At least, nothing that Gorion ever found out about.
“Yes, I need you to pack up. We’re going on…. A trip.”
“But Gorion, where are we going? Is Imoen coming?”
“No my son, just you and me. I can’t tell you anything now, just trust me. Get what you need, and meet me in front of the library. Don’t worry, everything will be all right.”
