Chapter 5
“He said that?” Prince Art looked from Uncle Arius to King Troy. “Voices came out of the dish filled with water?”
Troy nodded.
“What was the man’s name you think is from Veiltide?”
“Sem,” Troy glanced at Arius, who nodded, “tall, red hair, silver eyes…”
“I know of only one Sem, and he’s been the source of so many issues the past ten years.”
Abe glanced over at Bastian when he leaned forward.
“He could do that? Send messages all the way to Solrelm?”
Art paused for a moment, “if the right material was used, yes. Just as long as the water was from Veiltide.”
“What material?” Crissy was practically kneeling on the table, watching Art intently.
“Green clay is best; it has to be pure and that is hard to find. Other clays are fine for short distances…”
“Green clay? As in pottery?” Bastian watched him for an answer.
“Yes. If it’s properly handled and kiln-dried, green clay pottery from my realm would carry the vibrations to and from any realm,” he paused, “if sent by one of mine.”
Bastian pointed at Uncle Michael, “The boxes of the things you found at sites from Arwan’s disciples. There is one filled with broken pieces of pottery.”
Abe’s uncle glanced at King Troy and nodded.
“Can I see this broken pottery?” Prince Art didn’t look as relaxed now.
“Can you tell where it was made or…”
The prince nodded, “I can reassemble it, and there should be a trace left behind.”
“You’re going to glue it back together?” Aunt Daxx asked.
“In a sense,” Art quirked an eyebrow at her, “what is pottery made from?”
Daxx frowned, “Clay?” she said slowly.
“Yes. Dirt, water…”
“You can control it because it was made with water.” Crissy blurted out.
“Exactly.” Art sat back, “It will take some focus as it has been baked, but I should, at the very least, be able to see the type of vessel and can go from there.”
“Will you be able to narrow down where it was made?” Bastian asked.
“Only Veiltide has green clay that would work. A very specific clay, not at all like the illite found elsewhere.”
The only one in the room that seemed to understand what he was saying was Aunt Crissy. Everyone else sat there in silence.
Uncle Troy turned and looked at Uncle Michael, “Send someone to get the box.”
“He should look at all of them.” Bastian shrugged, “I found more than I wanted to that pointed fingers at Solrelm.”
Abe waited until the others were going to witness this recreation of broken pottery and then went out the nearest door. He carried the case under his arm, and if he were being honest, he couldn’t wait to take them out and admire them at length. He hadn’t expected something like this; in truth, he only agreed to train so he could do something else occasionally that didn’t involve electronics.
The training was hard. His uncles didn’t go easy on him because he was related. He turned and went down the hallway. They were probably hard on him because he was a relative. Their fighting style was hardcore, and they thought he was a fast learner. He had a few moments of guilt for not telling them that he had always known how to fight. The memories in his head were filled with many different variations of combat. Of course, if he had told them, he would have had to explain that those images were there, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to explain any of that. How did you explain something you didn’t understand? He’d had to learn how to do everything fighting related in his head, but it did give him an advantage over others.
He'd been in wars in his life, but the battle moves he just seemed to know, those had been there before that, and he was desperate to know why.
There had to be a way to find out that didn’t involve his brother’s suggestion of going to a fortune teller. That was just ridiculous.