The footsteps of the blond-haired, blue-eyed Keeper and his acolyte, Jeffrey, faded into silence, leaving only the warm, open presence of Master Keeper Hodgins.
The Master Keeper was a man of middle years with a warm demeanor. He had a round face adorned with gentle smile lines that hint at a life filled with laughter and kindness, and soft pink cheeks below bright eyes that seemed to radiate warmth and understanding from behind a pair of round spectacles perched on his nose. His flowing blue-purple robes draped gracefully over his generous frame, the rich colors swirling with hints of deep indigo and lavender.
Still, an uneasy feeling gnawed at Amriel’s insides that she couldn't shake, like a dark cloud lingering overhead.
As if he sensed her discomfort, the Master Keeper’s smile softened as his eyes turned to her. “Please forgive my fellow Keepers. They sometimes forget whom they serve.” He tilted his head, his round face warm with sincerity. “It’s a common affliction among those born into wealth and power. They often lose sight of the humble nature of our Goddess.”
“Or their basic manners,” Amriel added, mumbling beneath her breath.
The Master Keeper chuckled, nodding thoughtfully. “True enough. We’ll see if the Goddess’s teachings can reach them in time.”
Amriel half smiled. “So, you weren’t born into wealth, were you?”
As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted the boldness, yet the Master Keeper’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Keenly observed,” he replied, nodding with appreciation. “I was born the son of a cobbler, the eldest, in fact. There was always food on the table and clothes on our backs, but they came through hard work and long hours.”
“If you were the firstborn, why didn’t you follow in your father’s footsteps?” Maeve asked.
The question elicited another chuckle from Keeper Hodgins, his round belly shaking as he clasped his hands together. “Another fair question indeed! It’s expected for eldest sons of tradesmen to take up their father’s craft, whether they enjoy it or not. In my case, however, my talents lay more in reading and writing than in stitching leather. Much to my father’s dismay, my hands could only ever make two left shoes!”
He chuckled at his own joke, and Amriel couldn’t help but smile along, feeling the warmth of his presence dispel some of her lingering unease. The Master Keeper was a stark contrast to the aloofness of the others they had encountered, clearly attempting to ease their discomfort after their rocky introduction.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” Master Hodgins said, his tone turning serious as he folded his arms within the sleeves of his robe, “I must implore you once again: what is it you seek from the knowledge of the Goddess? What brings you here?”
Before Amriel could gather her thoughts, Maeve interjected, “Could find somewhere a little more private? Somewhere less exposed to… ears that might listen in?”
The Master Keeper raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his gaze, but he nodded readily. “Of course. Ladies, if you would follow me. The position of Master Keeper comes with few rewards, but I do have a study that is all my own.”
He beckoned them to follow, spinning on his heels and leading the way. Shelves lined the stone walls, crammed with ancient tomes and curious artifacts that whispered secrets of the past. The air was thick with the rich scent of parchment and aged leather. As they rounded a corner, a spiral staircase revealed itself, curling upward toward the top of the tower. Amriel was taken aback by the Master Keeper's surprising lightness; he practically bounded up the steps, his robes flowing around him like a vibrant cascade.
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At the top, they turned left down a curved corridor, finally arriving at a modest chamber tucked away at the end. The room resembled others they had passed, with shelves brimming with books, neatly arranged maps, and charts, all surrounding a large oak desk that commanded the center.
“Welcome to my sanctuary,” Keeper Hodgins announced, gesturing for them to take a seat. Two plain wooden chairs sat invitingly in front of the desk, worn smooth by years of use. The desk itself was a sturdy piece, cluttered with scrolls, quills, and an assortment of peculiar trinkets.
As they settled into the chairs, Amriel glanced around, absorbing the cozy atmosphere. Sunlight streamed through a high window, casting a warm glow over the room and illuminating dust motes that danced in the air. The walls were lined with shelves crammed full of books, each one a portal to another world, their spines a riot of colors and titles.
Master Keeper Hodgins took notice of Amriel's interest as he settled into the plush high-back leather chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Here, I gather not just knowledge, but a sense of peace,” Hodgins continued, his voice rich and soothing. “Each artifact has a tale, and each book holds the whispers of those who came before us.” He leaned forward, his bright eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “So, again I ask, what brings you to the Goddess' door? You can rest assured, my dear. Whatever is spoken within these walls will remain here. Important conversations have taken place in this very room, and I hold them in the highest confidence.”
Maeve turned to Amriel, her expression determined. “We’ve come this far, Riel. I believe the Master Keeper is our best chance at finding an answer.”
Raising a brow Amriel glanced at Maeve. It wasn't often the northerner took so quickly to trusting others, even those as charming and unassuming as the Master Keeper. "Well, about a month ago a man arrived at my cottage. He had been badly injured and was in need of a Healer. Or so I thought."
The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, a silence enveloping the room as both Maeve and the Master Keeper nodded, urging her to continue. Her throat tightened as uncertainty clawed at her. Should she divulge more? Was she making a mistake by being here? Why was Maeve being so trusting?
Amriel licked her lips, wrestling with her growing unease. Had it not been for Maeve’s encouragement, she might have fled this tower, away from its unsettling presence. "However, he ended up healing remarkably fast—far beyond what any mortal should be capable of. At least, not without the aid of a Witch or Mage.”
The Master Keeper leaned back in his chair, the creaking wood breaking the tension. A flicker of suspicion crossed his face, barely hidden beneath his genial demeanor. “I see... interesting indeed. Is it possible you may have overestimated the severity of his wounds?”
Maeve interjected, “Amriel is an exceptional healer. If anyone can assess a condition accurately, it’s her.”
Keeper Hodgins’ gaze softened, his voice turning gentle. “Forgive my skepticism. I did not mean to cast doubt upon your abilities. I simply seek to understand. Please, continue.”
As she looked into the Master Keeper's eyes she saw a shift in there that unsettled her. This was a mistake, she thought, panic bubbling beneath the surface. Something isn’t right. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt a sense of betrayal towards the stranger and she no longer trusted the Master Keeper. There was something else afoot here.
Misinterpreting Amriel’s apprehension for anxiety, Maeve reached over and gently squeezed her hand, offering a small comfort. “Perhaps you could ask about the words he spoke?” Maeve suggested softly. “The Master Keeper’s knowledge is vast; surely he has encountered many languages in his studies.”
A flicker of curiosity sparked in Master Hodgins’s eyes. Yet, behind those thick glasses, Amriel sensed something else—a shadow of intent she couldn’t quite grasp.
“Fhe’Rah?” Maeve prompted, looking to Amriel for confirmation. “Or Fhe’Here?”
Oh Maeve, I appreciate your help, but for once, I wish you would just let me speak, Amriel thought, feeling frustration bubble beneath her anxiety.
To her surprise, the Master Keeper interrupted them both. “Was it perhaps Fha’lear?” he asked, the question hanging in the air like a spell. Amriel’s heart began to race, a mix of dread and hope churning in her chest.