From the notes of Caarad Surestrider, submitted to Borrum Binbalik for his work "On the Bearers of Akasha"
I met with the wizard Highcliffe in the
riverside town of Rellybat. The meeting being arranged earlier,
we sat down together for tea at the local tavern. Maxwell Highcliffe
is a human of average height and a rather thin build, his skin barely
tanned even in the crisp sunshine. Despite this, he looks healthy
and clever. His black hair is halfway to his shoulders, and he
wears a black goatee, much in the style of the Scavians. I noted
his well-made blue robes, embroidered with a scene from the Coil
River, complete with river-reeds and flowing waves. His blue eyes
twinkled at me as he gestured towards the cup before me. "I
took the liberty of ordering for both of us,"
he said amicably. "I trust you enjoy fine Landis tea?" I nodded and opened my note-book to begin the
interview. Throughout the conversation, he toyed with his odd
little hat with the spiral marking on the front. At times, he
gestured with the bamboo umbrella he held like a cane.
We discoursed on the Bearers of Akasha and Maxwell's role
in the party for a good portion of the evening. Finally Maxwell
stood and announced that he had to be leaving. "Another interview with some historian in about an hour...would
you care to join us for dinner? You can observe, converse, or
whatnot..." I agreed, eager to see another facet of this
fashionable man. He nodded, smiled, and immediately rose into the
air and flew away. I watched this sight for a long moment before
hearing a cough from behind me. I turned and started. "Why must
these heroes always leave me with the bill?" I fretted, drawing
my purse from my robes.
In an hour's time, I boarded the riverboat Astendar's Kitchen. The
waitstaff/crew led me to one of the spacious dining halls
below deck, where Highcliffe waited with a scrawny elf. The
wizard had changed clothes for dinner, and now wore high-quality
white trousers and shirt. He still wore the hat and carried the
umbrella. About his shoulders was an expanse of blue cloth, which
I immediately recognized to be the legendary Cloak of Greed by its
many inner hooks, loops, and pockets. As before, Highcliffe had for
politeness' sake removed the opaque crystal visor which nearly
always hid his eyes - the Crystal Visor of the Corinthian. He
greeted me with a smile, and introduced me to the elf, a fellow
Named Trilfin Guildergrance.
When we were all seated, Highcliffe spoke. "So, my
friend," he began, speaking to the elf."
You wished to speak to me about my work on magickal theory?
Perhaps you are intrigued by my endeavours into spellcraft?
" My eyes were drawn to the silver goblet on
the table - slowly, inexorably, it was being drawn closer and
closer to a flapping pocket of the cloak. Maxwell's dextrous hand
reached out and took the cup, setting it back on the table, well
out of reach of the cloak. As he spoke, he moved the silverware
and plates safely away. Guildergrance gulped. "Actually, sir wizard,
I was hoping to speak of the time you and Sanjuro roamed Barsaive
together, before you met the other Bearers of Akasha...I'm writing
a biography on the great T'skrang of House Syrtis, and..." Maxwell's
brow furrowed. "Sanjuro couldn't afford one of the great
dwarven biographers (I squinted at this
statement - what of the great obsidimen?)? Rapscallion...I'll
have to knock some sense into his fin." The
wizard shook his umbrella in a threatening fashion, and the many
loops and pockets of his Cloak fluttered hungrily, seeking
nourishment.
Some of Maxwell's writings, severely edited.
The Lying Tome of Maxwell
The Lost Journals of Maxwell
The folly of travelling with Sanjuro
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Last Updated 7/25/00 by Paul
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