High in the tower of the King’s Palace in Megara, Talman, the King’s wizard gawked into his crystal ball and smacked his forehead with his palm. Did that just happen? A messenger from the Grand Wizard on the other end of my ball, or was it my imagination? Did he speak to me? True I am Talman; the King's Wizard in the Capitol City of Megara and it does make me important in places other than the palace. Talman scrutinized the words in front of him and wrung his fingers through his scraggly white hair. No, can’t be true. I'm dreaming some horrible nightmare.

Moments ago, the ball spit blue light over his table and across the room. Blue light emitting from his ball was a semi-normal occurrence, but always a discreet gentle glow that circled the ball, then faded away. This time the image of a man glaring at him followed the outburst of light. Talman felt his jaw fall open at the horrible sight. The pale bearded man—pale mind you, not tan, but light skinned. A turban of some strange material perched on a head of wild unkempt gray hair— long, horribly long must touch his waist and that face... Barbarian? No—ashes on his brow, large spots of blood below his eyes, a serpent’s ring on his finger --- he has to be a powerful wizard. What does he want of me? He reached for the scarlet cloth hoping that the image would go away if he covered the ball.

Before Talman touched cloth, a bone chilling voice informed him that a messenger of the great wizard demanded his attention. Talman wanted to close his eyes; block out the messenger’s face as it spoke, but knew that the Grand Wizard’s messenger might consider it an insult. He commanded his feet to flee but the vision paralyzed his reflexes.

Talman’s previous training proved sufficient for him to react properly. Permissible to record key words. He reached for his quill and started scribbling: Death, disaster, Dana, tell King, ride toward Delmarath, Lord of Land, and stranger as he automatically memorized the message.

The image faded into clear crystal. Talman’s quill slipped through his fingers as he pushed his chair away from the table. Stroking his little beard and rubbing his chin, the wizard paced around his cluttered room. If it’s true, I should inform the King, but the King doesn’t believe in my magic. He pushed a box out of his way with his foot to make more room for pacing. Perhaps I should have attended the School of Wizards on Mount Illmore. They probably cover techniques in persuasion of skeptical kings. He stared out the window at black threatening clouds, then returned to the desk. My father wanted me to attend, but I didn’t see any reason to. I had sufficient knowledge to please the King. Until now, it didn’t matter.

He gathered his notes, sat at his table, and rewrote the information in complete sentences. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered as he read and reread his words. He covered the ball with its scarlet cloth, then uncovered it. Seems rather cryptic. He stared in the clear crystal ball, but it offered him no further information. He rose to his feet. Maybe it isn’t true. I have no proof. He rushed into his sleeping quarters and rummaged though a chest. All I have to do is ignore the whole mess. No one will know the difference. Unable to find what he searched for, he lifted a box and peered under it. I’ll forget it ever happened, that’s what I’ll do. “So why am I looking for my turban?” He pulled it out from under a box of parchment filled with recipes of love potions, shaped it and laid it next to the crystal ball. They’ll laugh me out of the throne room. He thrust his arm into the sleeve of his blue robe that he always wore on official visits to the court and pulled it on.

“The messenger didn’t describe the danger, just that it was coming soon. Could I live with this knowledge and know I could have prevented some disaster?” He wrapped the turban around his head. “Now where did I leave that black onyx brooch?” He took three deep breaths in an attempt to calm down, instead he felt dizzy.

“Life was so pleasant until the unspeakable happened,” he grumbled. “Was there some lord ready to rebel, some horrible treason against the King?” Talman picked up a long narrow box and looked under it. “No, the brooch isn’t here. Let’s not be ridiculous. No one ever places anything under the Knife of Truth.” He sank into his chair and eyed the crystal ball in frustration. And what was a strange— stranger— in other words not a Danian doing here? The law spells death to a foreigner venturing into Dana.

“Now calm down, Talman,” he muttered. He took another deep breath trying to do it slower this time. “That brooch is somewhere. Oh, there it is, right on the table.” Talman blew the dust off it, polished it on his robe and fastened the jewel to his turban.

And if no such pair travels to Megara? Talman shuddered. I'll end my days strung to the wall. The wizard caught sight of himself in his mirror. He groaned. Oh well, I’m dressed for the occasion.

He started down the stairs; stopped; then rushed back to his room. My staff, I must have my staff. I never appear before the King without it. Oh yes, used it to chase a mouse this morning. There it is next to my bed. Now, I’m ready. Now, to find the King.

Down, down the stairs Talman raced through a maze of dark hallways, past many doors, some locked, some ajar and some wide open. He wasn’t surprised to find the Throne Room empty. He crossed it, his slippers slapping the stone floor, hurried down another short hall until he stood before the King’s Chambers, a small comfortably furnished room where the King preferred to work.

He fought to catch his breath. Won’t do to dash into the room. A wizard must move with dignity. Carefully he straightened his robe and felt the front of the turban. Wished I brought a mirror, hope the black onyx is in the center of my headpiece. He rehearsed what he must say one more time. Then he pushed the door opened and strode inside.

He found the King seated at a small table listening to Bart son of Bromwell, Captain of his Personal Guard report amount of food in Storage House Number One. A pile of scrolls marked Harvest Reports and this year’s date covered the table at his elbow. Bromwell, Overlord of Delmarath, and the King’s most trusted advisor wrapped in a fox skin robe sat opposite the King recording numbers on a scroll. He laid it aside as he gazed at the wizard.

Talman hoped the King would be alone. If he were going to make a fool of himself, he would prefer not to have witnesses. Nevertheless, it was too late to back out the door.

Bart dressed in his green and brown uniform leaped to his feet, his hand in position to draw his sword.

“Great King,” Talman said as he held his staff out from him. “I seek a private audience."

Bart’s hand relaxed.

Cadamire, King of all of Dana, glared at his wizard. Finally, he said. “I take it this is an official visit. Speak Talman.”

Talman nodded toward the Lords of Delmarath.

Cadamire frowned. “This is as private as it gets, Talman. There is nothing you can say that my Captain of my Guard and my closest advisor cannot hear.”

Talman bowed. “Great King, I am a bearer of bad news from the Great Wizard. His messenger spoke to me though the crystal ball.”

Cadamire scowled. “Come now, Wizard, surely you don’t expect me to buy into your foolishness. You know I don’t believe in magic. We keep you around to satisfy the superstitious.”

Talman strove to remain calm. The King reacted just as he had expected.

“My King, forgive me, but what I say is true. I did receive a message from the Great Wizard.”

“Talman—” the King started.

“My King,” Bart interrupted. “Forgive me, My King, shouldn’t we should honor our wizard by listening to what he has to say. I doubt that he would risk your anger if he did not think it important.”

The King gave Bart a cold penetrating stare. “Captain, sometimes you surprise me. I wonder why you enjoy opposing me on issues like this. You know the wizard and I don’t agree on anything.”

Talman knew that his great-great grandfather who had been a powerful wizard would have said something at this point. He would have persuaded the King that it would be death not to listen to him, but he was not his great-great grandfather. He remained silent. People said Bart often smoothed the way for a man to gain the King’s ear. Hopefully, the rumor was true.

“My King,” Lord Bromwell said. “I agree with my son. Our wizard does not visit us often. This could be important.”

“All right, all right.” Cadamire held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll listen. Then we can laugh at our Wizard’s words. Speak Talman, let’s get this over with.”

Talman struck a dramatic pose. He raised his staff toward the ceiling and intoned. “Disaster threatens Dana. Death disaster and ruin stalks the land. Only you can save Dana, My King. Only you can prevent the destruction of our country. Most mighty Cadamire, you must ride today toward Delmarath. You will meet two men, one a lord of the land, the other a stranger. My King, you must take them under your sword. The stranger’s wisdom is Dana’s salvation.”

As he repeated Reig’s message, Talman watched the men in front of him, gauging their reaction. The King yawned, but at the word ‘Delmarath’, Bart’s hand twitched toward his sword. It was a slight movement, but his hand did finch. As the words ‘lord of the land, the other a stranger’ were spoken, Bromwell— the old Lord almost looked like he might be sick. Both reactions vanished as quickly as they appeared, but Talman saw the Lords of Delmarath had found some meaning in the message.

The King merely looked amused. “Come Talman, you don’t expect me to ride out to Delmarath this time of year, do you? For what? To chase your fantasies?”

Bart and Bromwell glanced at each other.

“Great King,” Bromwell said, “perhaps we should study the message before making any hasty decision. Tell me, Wizard, do you find any key words in this message?”

“There are some key words, My Lord,” Talman said. “I see them as Delmarath, Lord of the Land, and Stranger.”

The King turned to Bromwell. “Delmarath, your city, Lord? Hmmm, I suppose ‘the Lord of the Land’ must be from Delmarath. That would be your elder son, Betren, no other Lords in Delmarath. ‘Stranger?’ Someone we don’t know.”

“Great King, that is what the word, ‘stranger’ means now, but wizards use the old language spoken before the walls were built. Stranger then meant foreigner, barbarian, someone who was not Danian,” Talman explained.

The King scowled at his adviser. “For a foreigner to be in this land, for anyone to aid such a person— all that is against the law, the penalty being death.” He turned his dark forbidding eyes on the Overlord of Delmarath. “Bromwell, what treason is your son involved in?”

“No treason, I’m sure, My King,” Bromwell said quickly. “Or that it is even Betren who is meant by the wizard. If we would discover the truth of this, we should mount up and ride toward Delmarath.”

“Perhaps.” The King looked at Talman thoughtfully. “All right, Captain, summon the guard, ready the horses. We’ll ride within the hour. Bromwell, my friend, the city is yours until I return, and Wizard, you will ride with me. If you’re wrong about this, you’ll walk back to Megara.”

Talman was silent. He hated horses. He never walked anywhere outside the palace. That Messenger of the Great Wizard had better be right.