19 October 2026
Welcome, all! We return to the serialization of the third book of our Redemption series, The Morgle Unmasked, as we continue the conversation between Klaybear and Klare, the latter complaining about all she has forgotten. They contact Master Thal and exchange information, and after, something happens that helps Klare to remember some of what she has forgotten. . . . (2 May 2016) The full ebook version of this book is available for purchase from all ebook sellers. We remind all that the first book in this series, Chosen of the One, and the second book, Staff of Shigmar, are both free from Smashwords! Glossary links: Book 3, Book 2, Book 1
Chapter 5, Part 3
“Sorry,” Klaybear noted. “You will notice, soon, I hope, your verghrenum warming; whenever that happens, look to see which symbol is causing it, and you’ll have a good idea who wants to communicate, since there are three seklesem, and two of us, but only one symbol for each order. We also discovered, by accident, that we can locate each other using our verghrenum: touch the symbol and speak the name of the person, and you will see a tiny thread going off toward the person. We used this to locate Tevvy, after we first came here; he went back out to follow a couple of soldiers who did not belong in the sewers, and he ended up getting captured by them. The connection between our verghrenum led us to the place where he was being held.”
Klare shook her head. “And you say that all these, sized for each of us, were left here by Shigmar?”
“And Melbarth and Karble,” Klaybear added, “except that yours are beautiful gold bracelets and ours are just leather bracers.”
“How did you, I mean, we, know who each pair belonged to?” Klare asked.
“The size, color, and main symbol,” he said, pointing to the large symbol of Shigmar, prominent across the forearm side of his verghrenum.
Klare looked down at her bracelets, twisted one of them so that the symbol of Shigmar faced up, holding it in place while she gazed at it. “Oh!” she exclaimed, turning the bracelet so the symbol of Melbarth, now glowing white, faced up. “It is suddenly warm,” she added, “and bright.”
“Thal,” Klaybear nodded, lifting the still glowing staff onto the table, drawing the circle and opening the small archway; Thal’s head appeared immediately, and he looked tired but was smiling. Klare put her hand on breath-giver as her husband rested it upon his shoulder.
“Good evening and well met,” Thal said, nodding to them.
“You look tired,” Klaybear replied, “busy day?”
“Only the last few hours,” Thal said.
“Where are you and what has happened?” Klaybear asked.
“Komfleu,” Thal replied, “and our reception was as predicted, although many of them have changed their opinion of us, but not openly.” Thal went on to explain how they had been treated as they arrived, what happened as they approached the inn with the blind Melnar and how Blakstar had healed him with the Waters, and how all the sick or injured from that quarter of the city arrived to be healed; he explained how the innkeeper and his sons had handled these supplicants discretely, and how, after they had eaten their supper, the inn was inundated with “guests” from the inner city, looking for places to stay. “That was the claim of these carefully shrouded nobles, but when every square inch of the inn was filled they began to demand, in no uncertain terms, that they be allowed to visit the kortexi rumored to be staying at the inn.”
“Where is Blakstar?” Klaybear interrupted.
“Asleep,” Thal replied, “he was completely exhausted, having to make several trips to the Mountain to refill his flask.” Thal stopped, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You know, that is one of the strangest things about all that has happened,” he said, mostly to himself.
“What do you mean?” Klaybear asked; Klare remained silent.
Thal jerked. “What? Oh, sorry, forgot what I was doing. When we were helping the first group, all of them poor, and there were many more of them than of the nobility, the Waters never ran out, but with the later group, the more demanding group, the flask seemed always empty,” he stopped again, tapping his chin with one finger.
“That is not why I contacted you,” Klaybear noted.
“Of course not,” Thal said, pulling himself back to the present, “I’ll have time to think about that later.”
Klaybear nodded, then related to Thal what Tevvy had reported to them, and what they had witnessed. “We will contact him again tomorrow,” he added, “to make sure that he managed to escape. However, Rokwolf thinks, and I agree, that the two of you might be in equal danger, especially considering the reputation of that particular city.”
Thal smiled and nodded. “Master William, the innkeeper, speaks the same way, and he has doubled his normal overnight watch; he fears that word of Blakstar’s aid will reach, if it hasn’t already, the ears of those who run this city.”
“And what does Master William believe they will do?” Klaybear asked.
“Send an entire legion to arrest us,” Thal replied with a shrug.
Klaybear laughed wryly. “Then why are you still there?”
“The kortexi was dead on his feet,” Thal replied, “and had to rest before he could move anywhere. They will not send their troops to arrest us until morning, which has always been their practice, according to our good innkeeper,” Thal went on and held up his hand to forestall Klaybear’s protest. “Nevertheless, we are prepared to leave at any moment, if need be, and he assures us that there are ways to leave the city after dark, ways that are not known.”
Klaybear nodded. “Be cautious,” he said.
Thal nodded, then looked at Klare. “You have been unusually silent, milady.”
Klare nodded. “I have nothing to add,” she said.
Thal raised an eyebrow and shot a glance at Klaybear.
How much has she forgotten? Thal’s voice spoke in Klaybear’s mind.
The last year. Klaybear thought back to Thal. “She has not felt well since she woke up a few hours ago,” he said.
Weren’t you married during the last year? Oh dear! Thal thought back. “Well, my mother always made me chicken and vegetable soup when I was feeling unwell . . . ,” he started to say, then his face fell suddenly. “Someone is at the door,” he said, and the area around his head moved as he stood up.
Klaybear lifted the staff from the table, closing the small door.
“Nobody was at the door,” Klare noted.
Klaybear looked at her for a moment before speaking, then shook his head slowly. “No,” he said, “but in my haste to give you the large picture of what has happened recently, I neglected to add that his parents, probably the two most powerful and highly respected white maghem of our day, were killed by agents of Gar shortly after he and Blakstar were sent to Shigmar.”
Klare’s face had gone blotchy. “I could have comforted him!” she shouted, but then her voice quieted and her face cleared. “Maybe, we could have comforted one another,” she went on, but then she collapsed into herself, pulling her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her knees, letting her chin fall to her knees; tears flowed freely onto her knees; sobs shook her entire frame.
Klaybear reached out and placed his free hand gently upon her shoulder, hoping that she would move into his arms, but she did not move or even notice, and he let his arm fall from her shoulder in resignation, watching her suffer and unable to think of a way to help her. He slumped in his chair, angered by what had happened, angered at the purem who had raped her, causing the darkness within her mind that had erased part of her memory, but that was a sterile thought, since those purem had paid with their lives, destroyed by the kortexi. Then his rage flared against Blakstar, who had not given him the opportunity to take vengeance himself. This thought made him laugh as he realized how foolish it was, since Blakstar’s righteous anger had enabled him to destroy all the purem by himself; you could not have done that, came a thought into his mind, and you couldn’t even fix her mind; you let someone else do that! It was Gar: he was the one to blame.
Stop! came another voice that sounded familiar. She needs you, and this line of thought will not help her!
Into his mind came an image of what he needed to do, and so he laid breath-giver carefully onto the table. He turned in his chair toward Klare, who still sat curled up on her chair, sobbing. He slipped his arms around her shoulders and slid her forward onto his lap; she did not resist but did not uncurl. He wrapped his left arm around her and used his free right hand to gently rub her neck, the muscles as hard and tense as stone. For a long time, she seemed unaware that he held her, and she continued to sob uncontrollably into her knees. He continued to massage her neck, although his hand ached, thinking that she would tire and then relax, and at the point when he had decided to give up, he noticed that her sobbing had slowed and the shaking of her body ceased. This change gave him a glimmer of hope and renewed energy, so he rubbed harder, noticing the muscles had relaxed, if only slightly.
Another image came into his mind, and in the moment he recognized what he needed to do now, she shifted on his lap and put her arms around his neck, laying her head upon his shoulder, but only her head, shoulders, and arms had moved: the rest of her body remained curled up as it had been. This move freed his left hand and enabled him to do what the image had shown him; both his hands moved to her shoulders, which were as solid as a statue’s, so he began the process again, gently rubbing with both hands, trying to ease the tension. Her sobs had eased somewhat, becoming sharp intakes of breath followed by short, jerky sobs. The time between these sobs increased with the aching in his hands, but the softening of her shoulder muscles, although slow, came more quickly than had the relaxing of her neck. He suddenly realized where his actions were heading, and his hands faltered.
Don’t stop now! came the same voice in his mind, more commanding than the Mistress of Novices, and his hands obeyed automatically.
But. . . . he tried to protest, but he could not even form the thought.
You do not know, you cannot know, how vitally important this is to her well-being.
She doesn’t remember being married. He felt, rather than heard, the snort of laughter.
Oh, yes she does! I made sure of that when I wove that part of her mind back together. You are wrong; if you look again, more carefully, you will see that only parts of that area ‘unraveled,’ and the main structure is still there; what you are about to do will help restore some small parts of it. Do not argue with me, Klaybear! I formed both of you, have watched over you for all time, and I know what is best for both of you! Oh, and by the way, if you ever even think again of running off to face Elker on your own, I might just put you over my knee!
“Dear,” Klare said dreamily, “shouldn’t you be carrying me off to our bed? I thought I had you trained in this respect,” she grinned up at him. “If I weren’t so tired, I might have to put you over my knee,” she finished, kissing his cheek.
It suddenly dawned on him why the voice had sounded familiar to him.
A bit slow, isn’t he? the thought came into his mind.
“Some days,” Klare replied, “and on others, like today, he doesn’t move at all.” The look of mischief was again on her face. “Close your mouth a little, dear,” she said, “you want to kiss me, not catch flies.”
On Wednesday we will start a new chapter as Rokwolf returns from seeking a way back into the school, or what’s left of the school, to look for survivors and aid them; what they find surprises them. . . . Until then, we remind all that the first two books of this series, Chosen of the One and Staff of Shigmar, are free from Smashwords. Get this book, The Morgle Unmasked, from the links provided. Good reading!
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