Teller of Fate
Second Movement: The Last Templar
Chapter Twenty
* * *
Dævara now knew what was being asked of her. Not only must she part from her Syrat, however briefly, but she must then wield it in a fight against a being that not even the Templars with their furious power had been able to destroy.
Knowing who was doing the asking made it difficult to decide dispassionately.
When the Templar was finished with his explanation, she sat quietly, trying to digest the information. Finally, “So, you’re not only my father, but the murderer of my mother and you twice tried to steal my Syrat.”
“I could not have stopped the actions of the Dark Man by any means, but I made him, so I am morally responsible—for all of it.” His face was calm and open. He accepted that his actions had been reprehensible and the results repugnant.
“Are you really my father, then? Or was it the Dark Man?”
“The Dark Man, a human, was the father of your flesh. I am your spiritual father you could say, as may well have been your mother’s intent. My participation in the act of conception made you a Seanduine. It is why you became an elf, though being a Leannán is an eventuality I would not have thought possible.”
“Why did it take so long to have an effect, then?”
“Had I been your mother, you would have been born as you are now. It took your journey to Elvenhome to complete the change.”
“Is that how it has always worked, then?”
He nodded. “It is a secret never known by many, but the offspring of Templars and the lesser races were always Fæ.”
“I knew that. I mean, if the father is a Templar, the change happens some years after birth.”
“Oh. Yes.”
“Did you give my mother the Syrat?”
He shook his head. “The man I was searched for one for a long time. He never would have given it away.” He paused.
“What is it?”
“When did your mother get the Syrat, I wonder? And from whom?” So, that mystery remained.
“About this bargain. What do you require and when?”
The Templar smiled. “You agree, then?”
“Yes, I do. I feel somehow it is something I was meant to do.”
“Very well. You’ll need to make your way to the City Glyph. Do you know it?”
“Only by reputation. When?”
“I’ll communicate and let you know.”
“What’s to be my compensation?”
“Anything that’s within my power to grant.”
She thought about it for a moment. There were any number of things she’d like but had no power to get. The most important was improving her skills as a Teller. Dæv had plumbed the depths of knowledge that the Elven Convocation possessed. There was nothing more she could learn from the sources to which she had access. That there was more to learn, she had no doubt.
“I need to know all there is to know about the Syrat, I do. Grant me that, and a bargain we have.”
The Templar was shaking his head. “I’m the last person to teach anything about the cards.”
“You don’t need to teach me. Just put me in the way of finding out myself.”
“There is a way, but it’ll be dangerous knowledge to have. A book was written about the Syrat a long time ago. Just reading it can change or destroy worlds, any worlds. It is said to contain all the secrets of the deck.” Here he smiled. “I was planning to get it myself. In fact, I was hoping you might help me locate it.”
“I know of this book. It’s called the Incunabulum.”
The Templar nodded.
“I tried to divine its location, I did. All I got was that it was on an Oerth analogue.” She laughed. “Doesn’t narrow it down much!”
The Templar chuckled himself. “No, it doesn’t. That much I already knew, in fact.” He sighed. “I’ll have to find it the hard way, I suppose. I’ll bring it to Glyph when I do.”
“Do so and the bargain is struck, it is.” She held out her hand.
He returned her handshake. “I’ll contact you when I have the Book,” the Templar said. He stood and made to leave.
“Wait, please.” He turned.
“You’re my father. May I call you so?” There was a pleading look in her eyes.
It had been a long time since the Templar had counted himself truly surprised. That Dævara would forgive the murder that had robbed her of her mother and seek affection from the murderer was stunning. True, he was her father and because of that, she was so much more than she would have been. If not for the Dark Man, she’d likely never have been born or would have perished long ago on a world that died to feed the White God.
He nodded to her request.
She surprised him again by walking up and embracing him. “I’m so happy to meet you at last, father!”
She began to tremble against him. As the flustered Templar returned the hug, he realized she was weeping. The depth of her emotion surprised him yet again. Realizing its source—that she missed her mother still and welcomed her father as a substitute—reduced him to tears as well.
It had been a hundred thousand years since he’d last embraced family.
Their joy mellowed and they both ceased their tears, but not their clasp until the elf Tathar entered the room.
They broke and turned to him, smiling broadly.
Tathar gave his adoptive daughter a curious look but smiled at her evident happiness.
“I’ll be taking my leave now, Raven’s Son,” the Templar said. “I thank you for your hospitality and your discretion.” He bowed low.
Tathar responded in kind and, stepping aside, made room for him to leave. As the Templar walked the hall leading to the exterior of the tree, he heard, “Dæv what was all that about?”
“Oh, Tath! I’ve had the most wonderful news…!”
* * *
Bargain made, the Templar began his quest for the Incunabulum.
Getting to any of the Oerth analogues required talents he hadn’t used lately. Once he got to the first one, he knew going between one analogue and the next would be relatively easy.
That first step was harder than he thought. First, he underestimated his absolute distance to the nearest analogue of Oerth. That meant that a journey that could take no time in theory took several decades. Second, the energy required meant that he lost all sense of himself when he arrived.
He came to himself only after another disguise had taken over his consciousness for another few years.
Finally, he was again the Templar. Now all he had to do was scour the planet for a book about whose appearance he had no idea.
His arcane skills shortened that task, but it was still tedious. If it weren’t for the fact that he could return to the Thirty Aions at the time he left, he’d have despaired. As it was, he spent more centuries than he cared to count looking for the book then hopping to other analogues of Oerth and looking all over again.
He did pass through the analogue where he’d been born, much though he’d hoped not to. He skipped past it altogether; Abram had said that the Book wasn’t there anyway.
Find it, he did, on the very next world. This Oerth was well maintained by the humans running it. Good global communication meant Nameless didn’t spend long looking.
Getting to it and taking it with him was going to take some finesse.
He’d have gotten away clean if it weren’t for one little hitch…
— Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, August 2026
© Gideon Jagged
All Rights Reserved
