The Circle Underneath

Temple of Eluna, early evening

The temple of Eluna is a place that is often just as busy in the evenings as it is in the day. More than a few devotees come to the edifice to pray under the night sky, to seek guidance from the goddess the elves call Ni'essa Sky-Singer, the Dreaming Goddess. The lights are soft, and the shadows only hold compassion and promise, not terror.

In the temple's main nave, there are a small handful of worshippers, dressed soberly. Well, except for one -- but this is sober for him. His white ruffled shirt and dark trousers make him stand out, but he sits in one of the pews, quietly praying. Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon may be seeking Sir Seldan, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't pay his respects to the Silver Moon.

Indeed, the man Telamon seeks is also among the worshippers, seated on a meditation rug well back from the holy pool at the center of the Temple. It is not easy to sit cross-legged in full armor, but Seldan does it, and in this place, he makes no pretense, nor attempt to conceal the truth of himself. The helm is set aside to reveal bright hair atop moonlit armor, his weapon belt with its sword resting across his knees. He has been here for some time, in truth, but as evening services approach, he looks up, and stands in a clatter of armor that is quieter than most, though hardly quiet.

The meditation rug is put back on its stack to one side of one of the pillar, and he seems prepared to turn and exit the place as more begin to gather.

There's no harm in giving your god or goddess their due, but now Telamon has work to do. As Seldan rises, the elegant half-elf smoothly rises from his place as well, deftly side-stepping to allow a coupe of worshippers past -- a smile and nod as he goes by, moving through the increasing gathering.

He knows better than to simply -surprise- Seldan -- besides, that would be rude. And so he deliberately picks a path that places him directly in Seldan's line of sight, meeting his gaze. When the man comes closer, Tel bows his head. "Sir Seldan," he says quietly. "May we speak?"

If there is surprise, Seldan does not show it, merely bowing politely to Telamon. "Lord Lupecyll-Atlon, Her light upon your path. I am at your service." Formal and polite, as always. "Does this matter require a more private space?" The regard he offers Telamon is sober, studied, and thoughtful, but with no trace of discomfort or rancor.

Telamon's mien is collected and calm, but he nods steadily. "I believe it does, Sir Seldan. I prefer to be open about some things, but..." His lips press together. "This is not something I want to discuss without clarification." He gestures for Seldan to lead on. "Do you have a place in mind?"

"That I do. Follow me." His helmer under his arm, Seldan turns and leads Telamon away from the worshippers gathering, into the back of the main area of the Temple, and through a door that proves to lead to a courtyard. Through another set of doors and a maze of hallways, and the pair find themselves at a ornately carved pair of double doors.

"The library of dreams," Seldan explains, inclining his head to the guards who stand watch here. They are permitted in, and the Silver Guard leads on to a back corner, where a couple of study alcoves are set into a wall, a bench around a circular table in each. He sets the helm down on the table and gestures that Telamon should take the other side of the alcove, sliding carefully in. He fits well enough, even with the armor, although it is not large. "It is in my mind that with evensong upon us, we shall be undisturbed. I shall greet Her face later, and more privately."

The sorcerer follows in Seldan's wake, his dark eyes intent and curious. He can't help but smile at finding himself in a library, and his gaze does wander a bit before focusing on the Silver Guard once more. Sliding in to seat himself opposite Seldan, he rests his hands flat on the table surface. Taking a breath.

"Hopefully what we discuss here will be beneficial. Sir Seldan... information has come to me that worries me greatly. Specifically, the presence of a vast summoning circle, set in place underneath Alexandria, large enough to encompass the city." His eyes meet Seldan's. "That might have an effect on our attempts to ward and repel fiendish invaders."

At this, Seldan merely smiles, a very small, nostalgic, thoughtful thing. "Its presence is known to me," he replies, removing his gauntlets and laying them on the table next to the helm. "I am of the belief that it is inert, for its presence is one of the reasons the wards about the city were erected, and I myself participated in the sundering of it. If it has been restored, then that is indeed of great concern, for it means that the wards do not reach so far as they should. A simple test may be conducted. Teleportation from the sewers should fail. Does it not, then I shall aid you in walking the circle to ensure that it is inert. The one first summoned by it is no more, and yet others might make use of it."

Telamon relaxes a little. But only a little. "I think we should. A summoning circle that size... to keep it stable would be a monumental task. The theory I heard was that someone might be using portions of it to weaken or subvert the ward." He exhales. "I wish I'd known about this. It worries me that something like this, even inert, might be beneath our feet. Such things can be restored, brought back to working order, if they are not broken irreparably." He makes a face. "The arcane researcher in me doesn't -want- to do that, but if it IS being used in such a manner... needs must."

"Its creator went back in time and placed it as the city was being built," Seldan explains, his eyes lowering against a heavy memory. "To remove it fully now would be to dismantle the sewers entire, a thing that might well cause the city itself to collapse. I shall aid you in determining whether it is being used thus, and whether the wards extend to it. I, too, would see it rendered useless forever, and I had thought that this had been done."

Well, there's a tidbit that Telamon didn't expect. He stares at Seldan, brought to a halt. Finally, he speaks, slowly. "Went... back in time," he repeats. "Just when you think you can't be surprised..." His brow furrows at the description, and he can't help but clench his fist. "Damn. So if it's part of the foundations... still, such circles tend to be fragile things. A calculated bit of damage -- especially if we judiciously apply other spells to prevent any collapse -- might be enough to render it useless."

"It may well be that that has already been done," Seldan advises in low tones. "First would I determine whether the circle be active, or nay. Second, whether the wards are extended to the sewers. Then would I learn what has been done to secure the circle." His tones remain even and steady, his gaze sober. "The sewers beneath Alexandria trouble me not, and gladly shall I ensure that that circle is of no use. Too, does the ward not extend deeply enough, I would know that as well."

"The sewers aren't my idea of a good time," Telamon replies. "But Sir Seldan... this is the first I've heard of it. And it worries me. If it turns out my worry is for naught, well... the drinks will be on me." He reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose. "There are so many things afoot. Would that we could set some of our foes against each other and thin their numbers." A snort. "We'll just have to go and see."

"Let us be certain, for the creature it summoned near took Mal's life." Memory darkens Seldan's pale blue eyes, steady on Telamon. "The creature is no more, but it is known to me that its minions yet exist. Fear not for smell, nor for muck, for is that not readily fixed by Prestidigitation?" A ghost of a smile accompanies that. "I navigate it well enough. Know you where this was seen?"

Telamon shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. The testimony came to me from a friend, a priestess of Navos, who has been collecting all the information she can on the foes we face -- including the fiends. She managed to corner Archmage Mikilos and during the conversation, he spoke of the circle." He looks annoyed. "For some reason he also mentioned that I might have been involved with the circle, but unless it was on some tangential, unknown level -- an apparently unrelated quest or task -- I think he was mistaken."

"Mithralla is a fool." The statement is unequivocal, and from Seldan, most unusual. "He was of no use when first it was discovered, and I would be unsurprised to learn that he had intended to turn it to his own ends." For the first time ever, real venom laces the usually reserved Silver Guard's words. "He is himself a summoner of fiends, this do I know. One once escaped him and ravaged the countryside. He walked away, and did I not know of the summoning and keep vigil against its failure, I mislike to think what might have happened."

His expression is more sad, than angry. "I lost much respect for him when the truth about the Veil, and Llyranost, came out. I understand he might have had divided loyalties -- he was a ward of the ruling house of Llyranost, after all. But that does not change things." Telamon shakes his head. "Folly pursues all of us, myself included. But I would like to think that my follies have been committed while trying to do the right thing." He scowls, then smirks. "Well, my friend practically -sprinted- to find me and ask me about it... sometimes even folly serves a purpose."

"So it is with all of us." Seldan's bright blue eyes continue to snap, but the words, at least, remain even, and he lets out a heavy sigh. "Indeed am I grateful that you brought this to me. I shall aid you as I may in ensuring that it is indeed inert, for the safety of all. _And my own peace of mind,_ goes unsaid. "I think it unwise to consult with Mithralla on this matter, and my magic shall suffice, at the least, to determine whether it remains a concern."

Telamon nods firmly. "If I consult with anyone, it will be with my sister-by-bond, Mourner Verna. And don't think I'll be sitting by the wayside on this, Sir Seldan. I brought this to your attention; it's only right that I offer to help resolve it, one way or another." His lips curl up. "Who knows? Perhaps my worries are for nothing. I've a bad habit of thinking things are far more complex than they actually are -- perhaps I'll be wrong again." He shrugs lightly.

"There is but one way to learn the truth, and far better that the concern be raised, and the truth learned." For a moment, Seldan closes his eyes, with a pained expression. "Would you go this night, or have you preparations to make?" His eyes open again, his demeanor firm, even, calm, and resolute once more. "It is well to make certain of it."

"Preparations should be made," Telamon says firmly. "If nothing else, if I go gallivanting off into the sewers without warning, my wife will not be pleased." He can't help but grin a little bit. "I might consult with her as well, as she's been down there a time or two. A trip neither of us relished, but as I said before, when needs must." He spreads his hands on the table. "If we go, let's go calm, rested, equipped, and ready."

At this, Seldan inclines his head. "As you will." The prospect of venturing into the sewers seems to leave him unconcerned. "Leave word for me here at the Temple, when your preparations are complete. Your lady is welcome, should she decide to go, as is the Mourner, although I can promise neither a clean nor a safe trip."

Telamon hehs. "Safe? Safe is a relative term. As for clean..." He sighs. "Well, the TarRaCe baths are quite pleasant year-round. And this -is- for a good reason. It's not like we're going down there on a lark." He makes a face. "Ah, the sacrifices we make for the city and the gods of light." He deftly slides out of the booth, before offering Seldan his hand to shake. "Thank you for your counsel, Sir Seldan," he says honestly. "It makes me glad to be able to speak to you."

When Telamon slides out, Seldan does the same, more carefully, and inclines his head. "I am pleased to be of aid," he answers carefully. "You and your lady have been most kind to me. I am pleased to aid you as I may, and this is a matter of great concern. Not idly do you ask." He gestures Telamon to precede him out, and points the way back out of the library. "Forgive me my harsh commentary. I - many were slain."

Telamon shakes his head. "I... was not there, so I cannot speak to it one way or another. But if the Archmage drew up such a creature, he should have been responsible enough to secure it -- or banish it." His starry eyes are troubled. "I once said that every spell cast is on the caster's conscience. So make sure you do good things with it. Ultimately we all have to answer for what we have done with our gifts, our talent."

"It was a balor." Seldan's words are simple, laced with sadness. "It is as you say. It is with magic, as it is with a sword. It is but a tool, and whether it does good or ill depends on the caster using it." He draws a deep breath, and releases it slowly, his eyes lowering. "We shall all answer to Her, in the end, for the use of the gifts She has given us. I can but pray that I have upheld Her will."

As the pair step out of the library, Telamon holds the door for Seldan to step out. "Oh, I don't know, Sir Seldan." Tel's eyes twinkle. "I think you've done a good job. I mean, if She likes me, surely She has to like you." He pats the man's armored shoulder. "Sometimes, all you can do is try to find the right path, and keep at it. There's rarely anything easy about it, but at least your conscience is clear."

"So long as She answers my prayers each night, I shall not falter. It is as I have done for some time, now." Another deep breath drawn and released, and Seldan's gaze returns to Telamon's. His eyes rest on the hand on his shoulder, but he says nothing. "Indeed is my conscience clear. But if you will forgive me, I would greet Her face."

Telamon nods, his eyes gentle. "I must return home, myself. I will call on you soon. Walk in Her light, Sir Seldan. Wherever we go, She is lighting the way." With that, the sorcerer turns, moving away down the halls to depart the temple, his footstep light, but determined. Focused.