The larger of the two moons had risen first this evening, and now hung pregnant and silver-white against a clear, star-dappled sky. Beneath the lambent moon the peaks of the Redridge Mountains strained for the sky. In the daylight the sun picked out hues of magenta and rust among the great granite peaks, but in the moonlight they were reduced to tall, proud ghosts. To the west lay the Forest of Elwynn, its heavy canopy of greatoaks and satinwoods running from the foothills to the sea. To the east, the bleak swamp of the Black Morass spread out, a land of marshes and low hills, bayous and backwaters, failed settlements and lurking danger. A shadow passed briefly across the moon, a raven-sized shadow, bearing for a hole in the heart of the mountain.
Here a chunk had been pulled from the fastness of the Redridge Range, leaving behind a circular vale. Once it might have been the site of some primeval celestial impact or the memory of an earth-shaking explosion, but the aeons had worn the bowl-shaped crater into a series of steep-edged, rounded hillocks which were now cradled by the steeped mountains surrounding them. None of the ancient trees of Elwynn could reach its altitude, and the interior of the ringed hills was barren save for weeds and tangled vines.
At the center of the ringed hills lay a bare tor, as bald as the pate of a Kul Tiras merchant lord. Indeed the very way the hillock rose steeply, than gentled to a near-level slope at its apex, was similar in shape to a human skull. Many had noted it over the years, though only a few had been sufficiently brave, or powerful, or tactless to mention it to the property’s owner.
At the flattened peak of the tor rose an ancient tower, a thick, massive protrusion of white stone and dark mortar, a man-made eruption that shot effortlessly into the sky, scaling higher than the surrounding hills, lit like a beacon by the moonlight. There was a low wall at the base of the tower surrounding a bailey, and within those walls the tumbledown remains of a stable and a smithy, but the tower itself dominated all within the ringed hills.
Once this place was called Karazhan. Once it was home of the last of the mysterious and secretive Guardians of Tirisfal. Once it was a living place. Now it was simply abandoned and timelost.
There was silence upon the tower but not a stillness. In the night’s embrace quiet shapes flitted from window to window, and phantoms danced along the balconies and parapets. Less than ghosts, but more than memories, these were nothing less than pieces of the past that had become unstuck from the flow of time. These shadows of the past had been pried loose by the madness of the tower’s owner, and were now condemned to play out their histories again and again, in the silence of the abandoned tower. Condemned to play but denied of any audience to appreciate them.
Then in the silence, there was the soft scrape of a booted foot against stone, then another. A flash of movement beneath the lambent moon, a shadow against the white stone, a flutter of a tattered, red-hued cloak in the cool night air. A figure walked along the topmost parapet, on the crenellated uppermost spire that years before had served as an observatory.
The parapet door into the observatory screeched open on ancient hinges, then stopped, frozen by rust and the passage of time. The cloaked figure paused a moment, then placed a finger on the hinge, and muttered a few choice words. The door swung open silently, the hinges made as if new. The trespasser allowed himself a smile.
The observatory was empty now, what tools that remained smashed and abandoned. The trespassing figure, almost as silent as a ghost himself, picked up a crushed astrolabe, its scale twisted in some now-forgotten rage. Now it is merely a heavy piece of gold, inert and useless in his hands.
There was other movement in the observatory, and the trespasser looked up. Now a ghostly figure stood nearby, near one of the many windows. The ghost/non-ghost was an broad-shouldered man, hair and beard once dark but now going to a premature gray at the edges. The figure was one of the shards of the past, unglued and now repeating its task, regardless of whether it had observers or not. For the moment, the dark-haired man held the astrolabe, the unbroken twin to the one in the trespasser’s hands, and fiddled with a small knob along one side. A moment, a check, and a twitch of the knob. His dark brows furrowed over ghostly green eyes. A second moment, another check, and another twitch. Finally, the tall, imposing figure sighed deeply and placed the astrolabe on a table that was no longer there, and vanished.
The trespasser nodded. Such hauntings were common even in the days when Karazhan was inhabited, though now, stripped of the control (and the madness) of their master, they had become more brazen. Yet these shards of the past belonged here, while he did not. He was the interloper, not they.
The trespasser crossed the room to its staircase leading down, while behind him the older man flickered back into the view and repeated his action, sighting his astrolabe on a planet that had long since moved to other parts of the sky.
The trespasser moved down through the tower, crossing levels to reach other stairs and other hallways. No door was shut to him, even those locked and bolted, or sealed by rust and age. A few words, a touch, a gesture and the fetters flew loose, the rust dissolved into ruddy piles, the hinges restored. In one or two places ancient wards still glowed, potent despite their age. He paused before them for a moment, considering, reflecting, searching his memory for the correct counter-sign. He spoke the correct word, made the correct motion with his hands, shattered the weak magic that remained, and passed on.
As he moved through the tower, the phantoms of the past grew more agitated and more active. Now with a potential audience, it seemed that these pieces of the past wished to play themselves out, if only to be made free of this place. Any sound they once possessed had long-since eroded away, leaving only their images moving through the halls.
The interloper passed an ancient butler in dark livery, the frail old man shuffling slowly down the empty hallway, carrying a silver tray and wearing a set of horse-blinders. The interloper passed through the library, where a green-fleshed young woman stood with her back to him, pouring over an ancient tome.
He passed through a banquet hall, at one end a group of musicians playing soundlessly, dancers twirling in a gavotte. At the other end a great city burned, its flames beating ineffectively against the stone walls and rotting tapestries. The trespasser moved through the silent flames, but his face grew drawn and tense as he witnessed once more the mighty city of Stormwind burn around him.
In one room three young men sat around a table and told now-unknown lies. Metal mugs were scattered on the table’s surface as well as beneath it. The trespasser stood watching this image for a long time, until a phantom taverness brought another round. Then he shook his head and pressed on.
He reached nearly the ground level, and stepped out on a low balcony that hung precariously to the wall, like a wasps’ nest over the main entrance. There, in the wide space before the tower, between the main entrance and a now-collapsed stables across the bailey, stood a single ghostly image, lonely and separated. It did not move like the others, but rather stood there, waiting, tentative. A piece of the past that had not been released. A piece that was waiting for him.
The immobile image was of a young man with a skunk stripe of white running through his dark, untidy head of hair. The straggling fragments of a beard, newly grown, clung to his face. A battered rucksack lay at the youth’s feet, and he held a red-sealed letter with a deathlike grip.
This was well and truly no ghost, the trespasser knew, though the owner of this image may yet be dead, fallen in combat beneath a foreign sun. This was a memory, a shard of the past, trapped like an insect in amber, waiting for its release. Waiting for his arrival.
The trespasser sat on the stonework ledge of the balcony and looked out, beyond the bailey, beyond the hillock, and beyond the ringed hills. There was silence in the moonlight, as the mountains themselves seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for him.
The trespasser lifted a hand and intoned a series of chanted words. Softly came the rhymes and rhythms the first time, then louder, and finally louder still, shattering the calm. In the distance wolves picked up his chant and cast it back in howling counterpoint.
And the image of the ghostly youth, its feet seemingly trapped in mud, took a deep breath, hoisted his rucksack of secrets to his shoulder, and slogged his way toward the main entrance of Medivh’s Tower.
Khadgar clutched the crimson-sealed letter of introduction and desperately tried to remember his own
name. He had ridden for days, accompanying various caravans, and finally making the journey alone to
Karazhan through the vast, overgrown, woods of Elwynn. Then the long climb into the heights of the
mountains, to this serene, empty, lonely place. Even the air felt cold and apart. Now, sore and tired, the
scruffy-bearded young man stood in the gathering dusk of the courtyard, petrified of what he now must
do.
Introduce himself to the most powerful mage of Azeroth.
An honor, the scholars of the Kirin Tor had said. An opportunity, they insisted, that was not to be missed. Khadgar’s sage mentors, a conclave of influential scholars and sorcerers, told him they had been
trying to insinuate a sympathetic ear in the tower of Karazhan for years. The Kirin Tor wanted to learn
what knowledge the most powerful wizard in the land had hidden away in his library. They wanted to
know what research he favored. And most of all they wanted this maverick mage to start planning for his
legacy, wanted to know when the great and powerful Medivh planned to train an heir.
The Great Medivh and the Kirin Tor had been at loggerheads on these and other matters for years, apparently, and only now did he relent to some of their entreaties. Only now would he take on an apprentice. Whether it was from a softening of the wizard’s reportedly hard heart, or mere diplomatic concession, or a feeling of the mage’s own creeping mortality, it did not matter to Khadgar’s masters. The simple truth was that this powerful independent (and to Khadgar, mysterious) wizard had asked for an assistant, and the Kirin Tor, which ruled over the magical kingdom of Dalaran, were more than happy to comply.
So the youth Khadgar was selected and shuttled off with a list of directions, orders, counter-orders, requests, suggestions, advice, and other demands from his sorcerous masters. Ask Medivh about his mother’s battles with demons, asked Guzbah, his first instructor. Find out all you can about elven history from his library, requested Lady Delth. Check his volumes for any bestiaries, commanded Alonda, who was convinced that there was a fifth species of troll as yet un-recorded in her own volumes. Be direct, forthright, and honest, advised Norlan the Chief Artificer—the Great Magus Medivh seemed to value those traits. Be diligent and do what you’re told. Don’t slouch. Always seem interested. Stand up straight. And above all, keep your ears and eyes open.
The ambitions of the Kirin Tor did not bother Khadgar horribly—his upbringing in Dalaran and his early apprenticeship to the conclave made it clear to him that his mentors were insatiably curious about magic in all its forms. Their continual accumulation, cataloging, and definition of magic were imprinted on young students at an early age, and Khadgar was no different than most.
Indeed, he realized, his own curiosity may have accounted for his current plight. His own nocturnal wanderings through the halls of the Violet Citadel of Dalaran had uncovered more than a few secrets that the conclave would rather not have noised about. The Chief Artificer’s fondness for flamewine, for example, or Lady Delth’s preference for young cavaliers a slender fraction of her age, or Korrigan the Librarian’s secret collection of pamphlets describing (in lurid fashion) the practices of historical demon-worshipers.
And there was something about one of the great sages of Dalaran, venerable Arrexis, one of the gray eminences that even the others respected. He had disappeared, or died, or something horrible had happened, and the others chose to make no mention of it, even to the point of excising Arrexis’s name from the volumes and not speaking of him again. But Khadgar had found out, nonetheless. Khadgar had a way of finding the necessary reference, making the needed connection, or talking to the right person at the right time. It was a gift and may yet prove to be a curse.
Any one of these discoveries could have resulted in his drawing this prestigious (and for all the planning and warnings, potentially fatal) assignment. Perhaps they thought young Khadgar was a littletoo good at ferreting out secrets—easier for the conclave to send him somewhere where his curiosity would do some good for the Kirin Tor. Or at least put him far enough away so he wasn’t finding things out about the other natives of the Violet Citadel.
And Khadgar, through his relentless eavesdropping, had heardthat theory as well.
So Khadgar set out with a rucksack filled with notes, a heart filled with secrets, and a head filled with strong demands and useless advice. In the final week before leaving Dalaran, he had heard from nearly every member of the conclave, each of whom was interested in something about Medivh. For a wizard living on the butt-end of nowhere, surrounded by trees and ominous peaks, the members of the Kirin Tor were extremely curious about him. Urgent, even.
Taking a deep breath (and in doing so reminding himself that he still was too close to the stables), Khadgar strode forward toward the tower itself, his feet feeling like he was pulling his pack-pony along by his ankles.
The main entrance yawned like a cavern’s mouth, without gate or portcullis. That made sense, for what army would fight its way through the Forest of Elwynn to top the rounded walls of the crater, all to fight the Magus Medivh himself? There was no record of anyone or anything even attempting to besiege Karazhan.
The shadowed entrance was tall enough to let an elephant in full livery pass beneath. Overhanging it slightly was a wide balcony with a balustrade of white stone. From that perch one would be level with the surrounding hills and gain a view of the mountains beyond. There was a flicker of motion along the balustrade, a bit of movement that Khadgarfelt more than actually witnessed. A robed figure, perhaps, moving back along the balcony into the tower itself. Was he being watched even now? Was there no one to greet him, or was he expected to brave the tower on his own?
“You are the New Young Man?” said a soft, almost sepulchral voice, and Khadgar, his head still craned upward, nearly jumped out of his skin. He wheeled to see a stooped, thin figure emerge out of the shadows of the entranceway.
The stooped thing looked marginally human, and for a moment Khadgar wondered if Medivh was mutating forest animals to work as his servants. This one looked like a hairless weasel, its long face was framed by what looked like a pair of black rectangles.
Khadgar didn’t remember making any response, but the weasel person stepped farther from the shadows, and repeated itself.
“You are the New Young Man?” it said. Each word was enunciated with its own breath, encapsulated in its own little box, capitalized and separate from the others. It stepped from the shadows fully and revealed itself as nothing more or less threatening than a whip-slender elderly man in dark worsted livery. A servant—human, but a servant. It, or rather he, was still wearing black rectangles on the sides of his head, like a set of earmuffs, that extended forward to his most prominent nose.
The youth realized that he was staring at the old man, “Khadgar,” he said, then after a moment presented the tightly held letter of introduction. “Of Dalaran. Khadgar of Dalaran, in the kingdom of Lordaeron. I was sent by the Kirin Tor. From the Violet Citadel. I am Khadgar of the Kirin Tor. From the Violet Citadel. Of Dalaran. In Lordaeron.” He felt like he was casting conversational stones into a great, empty well, hoping that the old man would respond to any of them.
“Of course you are, Khadgar,” said the old man. “Of the Kirin Tor. Of the Violet Citadel. Of Dalaran. Of Lordaeron.” The servant took the proffered letter as if the document were a live reptile and, after smoothing out its crumpled edges, tucked it inside his livery vest without opening it. After carrying and protecting it for so many miles, Khadgar felt a pain of loss. The letter of introduction represented his future, and he was loath to see it disappear, even for a moment.
“The Kirin Tor sent me to assist Medivh. Lord Medivh. The Wizard Medivh. Medivh of Karazhan,”
Khadgar realized he was but a half-step from collapsing into a full-fledged babble, and with a definitive effort tightly clamped his mouth shut.
“I’m sure they did,” said the servant. “Send you, that is.” He appraised the seal on the letter, and a thin hand dipped into his waistcoat, pulling out a set of black rectangles bound by a thin band of metal. “Blinders?”
“I am Moroes,” the servant said. “Steward of the Tower. Castellan to Medivh. Blinders?” Again he raised the black rectangles, twins to those that framed his narrow face.
“No thank you…Moroes,” said Khadgar, his face twisted in curiosity.
The servant turned and motioned that Khadgar follow with a weak wave of the arm.
Khadgar picked up his rucksack and had to lope forward to catch up with the servant. For all his supposed fragility the steward moved at a good clip.
“Are you alone in the tower?” Khadgar ventured as they started climbing a curved set of wide, low stairs. The stone dipped in the center, worn by myriad feet of passing servants and guests.
“Are you alone?” repeated Khadgar, wondering if he would be reduced to speaking as Moroes spoke in order to be understood. “Do you live here by yourself?”
“The Magus is here,” responded Moroes in a wheezing voice that sounded as faint and as fatal as grave dust.
“Yes, of course,” said Khadgar.
“Wouldn’t be much point for you to be here if he wasn’t,” continued the steward. “Here, that is.”
Khadgar wondered if the old man’s voice sounded that way because it was not used that often.
“Of course,” agreed Khadgar. “Anyone else?”
“You, now,” continued Moroes. “More work to take care of two than one. Not that I was consulted.”
“So just you and the Wizard, then, normally?” said Khadgar, wondering if the steward had been hired (or created) for his taciturn nature.
“And Cook,” said Moroes, “Though Cook doesn’t talk much. Thank you for asking, though.”
Khadgar tried to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, but failed. He hoped that the blinders on either side of the steward’s face kept the servant from seeing his response.
They reached a level spot, a cross-hallway lit by torches. Moroes crossed immediately to another set of saddle-worn, curving stairs opposite them. Khadgar paused for a moment to examine the torches. He raised a hand mere inches from the flickering flame, but felt no heat. Khadgar wondered if the cold flame was common throughout the tower. In Dalaran they used phosphorescent crystals, which beamed with a steady, constant glow, though his research spoke of reflective mirrors, elemental spirits bound within lanterns, and in one case, huge captive fireflies. Yet these flames seemed to be frozen in place.
Moroes, half-mounted up the next staircase, slowly turned and let out a gasping cough. Khadgar hurried to catch up. Apparently the blinders did not limit the old steward that much.
Khadgar touched the side of his head. “The blinders. Why?”
Moroes twisted his face in what Khadgar could only assume was a smile. “Magic’s strong here. Strong, and wrong, sometimes. You see…things…around here. Unless you’re careful. I’m careful. Other visitors, the ones before you, they were less careful. They’re gone now.”
Khadgar thought of the phantom he may or may not have seen on the overhanging balcony, and nodded.
“Cook has a set of rose-quartz lenses,” added Moroes. “Swears by them.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Cook is a bit foolish that way.”
Khadgar hoped that Moroes would be more chatty once he was warmed up. “So, you’ve been in the Magus’s household for long?”
“You’ve been with Medivh long?” Khadgar said, hoping to keep the impatience out of his voice.
“Ayep,” said the steward. “Long enough. Too long. Seems like years. Time’s like that here.” The weathered steward let his voice trail off and the two climbed in silence.
“What do you know about him?” ventured Khadgar, finally. “The Magus, I mean.”
“Question is,” said Moroes, pulling open yet another door to reveal yet another staircase up. “What do you know?”
Khadgar’s own research in the matter was surprisingly unproductive, and his results were frustratingly sparse. Despite access to the Violet Citadel’s Grand Library (and surreptitious access to a few private libraries and secret collections), there was precious little on this great and powerful Medivh. This was doubly odd, since every elder mage in Dalaran seemed to hold Medivh in awe, and wanted one thing or another from him. Some favor, some boon, some bit of information.
Medivh was apparently a young man, as wizards went. He was merely in his forties, and for a grand bulk of that time seemed to have made no impact whatsoever on his surroundings. This was a surprise to Khadgar. Most of the tales he had heard and read described independent wizards as being extremely showy, fearless in dabbling in secrets man was not meant to know, and usually dead, crippled, or damned from messing with powers and energies beyond their ken. Most of the lessons he had learned as a child about non-Dalaran mages always ended in the same fashion—without restraint, control, and thought, the wild, untrained, and self-taught wizards always came to a bad end (sometimes, though not often, destroying a large amount of the surrounding countryside with them).
The fact that Medivh had failed to bring a castle down on top of himself, or disperse his atoms across the Twisting Nether, or summon a dragon without knowing how to control that dragon, indicated either great restraint or great power. From the fuss that the scholars had made about his appointment, and the list of instructions he had received, Khadgar decided on the latter.
Yet for all his research, he could not figure out why. Nothing indicated any great research of this Medivh’s, any major discovery, nor any ground-shaking achievement, that would account for obvious awe in which the Kirin Tor held this independent mage. No huge wars, great conquests, or known mighty battles. The bards were noticeably sketchy when it came to the matters involving Medivh, and otherwise diligent heralds nodded when it came time to discuss his accomplishments.
And yet, realized Khadgar, there was something important here, something that created in the scholars a mixture of fear, respect, and envy. The Kirin Tor held no other spellcasters as their equals for magical knowledge, indeed often sought to hinder those wizards who did not hold allegiance to the Violet Citadel.
And yet they kowtowed to Medivh. Why?
Khadgar had only the smallest bits—a bit on his parentage (Guzbah was particularly interested in Medivh’s mother), some margin notes in a grimoire invoking his name, and mention of the occasional visit to Dalaran. All these visits were within the past five years, and apparently Medivh met only with elder mages, such as the now-missing Arrexis.
To sum up, Khadgar knew previous little of this supposedly great mage he was assigned to work for. And as he considered knowledge to be his armor and sword, he felt woefully underequipped for the coming encounter.
“Eh?” responded Moroes, half-turning on the staircase.
“I said I don’t know much,” said Khadgar, louder than he meant to. His voice bounced off the bare walls of the stairway. It was curved now, and Khadgar was wondering if the tower was truly as high as it seemed. Already his thighs were aching from the climb.
“Of course you don’t,” said Moroes. “Know, that is. Young people never know much. That’s what makes them young, I suppose.”
“I mean,” said Khadgar, irritated. He paused and took a deep breath. “I mean, I don’t know much about Medivh. You asked.”
Moroes held for a moment, his foot poised on the next step, “I suppose I did,” he said at last.
“Whatis he like?” asked Khadgar, his voice almost pleading.
“Like everyone else, I suppose,” said Moroes. “Has his druthers. Has his moods. Good days and bad. Like everybody else.”
“Puts his pants on one leg at a time,” said Khadgar, sighing.
“No. He levitates into them,” said Moroes. The old servant looked at Khadgar, and the youth caught the slightest tug of a smile along the old man’s face. “One more set of stairs.”
The final set of stairs curled tightly, and Khadgar guessed that they had to be near the tower’s highest spire. The old servant led the way.
The stairway opened up on a small circular room, surrounded by a wide parapet. As Khadgar had surmised, they were at the topmost tip of the tower, with a large observatory. The walls and ceilings were pierced by crystalline windows, clear and unfogged. In the time of their climb, night had fallen fully, and the sky was dark and strewn with stars.
The observatory itself was dim, lit by a few torches of the same, unwavering light as found elsewhere. Yet these were hooded, their lamps banked for observing the night sky. An unlit brazier sat in the middle of the room in preparation for later, as the temperature would drop toward morning.
Several large curved tables spread around the outer wall of the observatory, decked with all manner of devices. Silver levels and golden astrolabes acted as paperweights for foolscap, or as bookmarks keeping ancient texts open to certain pages. A half-disassembled model, showing planetary movement through the celestial vault, sat on one table, fine wires and additional beads laid out among the delicate tools next to it. Notebooks lay stacked against one wall, and others were in crates jammed beneath the tables. A map of the continent was stretched on a frame, showing the southern lands of Azeroth and Khadgar’s own Lordaeron, as well as the reclusive dwarven and elven kingdoms of Khaz Modan and Quel’Thalas. Numerous small pins bedecked the map, constellations that only Medivh could decipher.
And Medivh was there, for to Khadgar it could be no other. He was a man of middling years, his hair long and bound in a ponytail in the back. In his youth his hair had likely been ebon black, but now it was already turning gray at the temples and along the beard. Khadgar knew that this happened to many mages, from the stress of the magical energies they wielded.
Medivh was dressed in robes simple for a mage—well cut and fitted to his large frame. A short tabard, unadorned by decoration, hung to his waist, over trousers tucked into oversize boots. A heavy maroon cloak hung from his broad shoulders, the hood pulled back.
As Khadgar’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that he was wrong about the wizard’s clothing being unadorned. Instead, it was laced with silver filigree, of such a delicate nature that it was invisible at first blush. Looking at the mage’s back, Khadgar realized he was looking at the stylized face of some ancient demon-legend. He blinked, and in that time the tracery transformed itself into a coiled dragon, and then into a night sky.
Medivh had his back to the old servant and the young man, ignoring them entirely. He was standing at one of the tables, a golden astrolabe in one hand, a notebook in the other. He seemed lost in thought, and Khadgar wondered if this was one of the “things” that Moroes had warned him about.
Khadgar cleared his throat and took a step forward, but Moroes raised a hand. Khadgar froze in place, as surely as if transfixed with a magical spell.
Instead the old servant walked quietly to one side of the master mage, waiting for Medivh to recognize his presence. A minute passed. A second minute. Then a period that Khadgar swore was an eternity.
Finally, the robed figure set down his astrolabe, and made three quick jots in the notebook. He closed the book with sharp snap, and looked over at Moroes.
Seeing his face for the first time, Khadgar thought that Medivh was much older than his supposed forty-plus years. The face was deeply lined and worn. Khadgar wondered what magics Medivh wielded that wrote such a deep history on his face.
Moroes dipped into his vest and brought out the crumpled letter of introduction, the crimson seal now bloodred in the steady, unflickering torchlight. Medivh turned and regarded the youth.
The mage’s eyes were deeply set beneath his dark, heavy brows, but Khadgar was aware at once of the power within. Something danced and flickered within those deep green eyes, something powerful, and perhaps uncontrolled. Something dangerous. The master mage glanced at him, and in a moment Khadgar felt that the wizard had taken in his sum total of existence and found it no more intriguing than that of a beetle or flea.
Medivh looked away from Khadgar and at the still-sealed letter of introduction. Khadgar felt himself relax almost immediately, as if a large and hungry predator had stalked past him without giving him a second look.
His relief was short-lived. Medivh did not open the letter. Instead his brows furrowed only slightly, and the parchment burst into flames with an explosive rush of air. The flames clustered at the far end of the document from where Medivh held it, and flickered with an intense, blue flame.
When Medivh spoke his voice was both deep and amused.
“So,” said Medivh, oblivious to the fact he was holding Khadgar’s future burning in his hand. “It seems our young spy has arrived at last.”
Is something wrong?” asked Medivh, and Khadgar suddenly felt himself under the master mage’s gaze again. He felt like a beetle again, but this time one that had inadvertently crawled across a bug-collector’s work desk. The flames had already consumed half the letter of introduction, and the wax seal was already melting, dripping onto the observatory’s flagstones.
Khadgar was aware that his eyes were wide, his face bloodless and pale, and his mouth hanging open. He tried to force the air out of his body, but all his managed was a strangled, hissing sound. The dark, heavy brows pursed in a bemused glance. “Are you ill? Moroes, is this lad ill?”
“Winded, perhaps,” said Moroes in a level tone. “Was a long climb up.”
Finally Khadgar managed to gather his senses about him sufficiently to say, “The letter!”
“Ah,” said Medivh. “Yes. Thank you, I had almost forgotten.” He walked over to the brazier and dropped the burning parchment on top of the coals. The blue ball of flame rose spectacularly to about shoulder height, and them diminished into a normal-looking flame, filling the room with a warm, reddish glow. Of the letter of introduction, with its parchment and crimson seal inscribed with the symbol of the Kirin Tor, there was no sign.
“But you didn’t read it!” said Khadgar, then caught himself, “I mean, sir, with respect…” The master mage chuckled and settled himself into a large chair made of canvas and dark carved wood. The brazier lit his face, pulling out the deep lines formed into a smile. Despite this, Khadgar could not relax.
Medivh leaned forward in his chair and said, “‘Oh Great and Respected Magus Medivh, Master Mage of Karazhan, I bring you the greetings of the Kirin Tor, most learned and puissant of the magical academies, guilds, and societies, advisors to the kings, teachers of the learned, revealers of secrets.’ They continue on in that fashion for some ways, puffing themselves up more with every sentence. How am I doing so far?”
“I couldn’t say,” said Khadgar, “I was instructed—”
“Not to open the letter,” finished Medivh. “But you did, anyway.”
The master mage raised his eyes to regard the young man, and Khadgar’s breath caught in his throat. Something flickered in Medivh’s eyes, and Khadgar wondered if the master mage had the power to cast spells without anyone noticing.
Khadgar slowly nodded, steeling himself for the response.
Medivh chuckled loudly, “When?”
“On the…on the voyage from Lordaeron to Kul Tiras,” said Khadgar, unsure if what he said would amuse or irritate his potential mentor. “We were becalmed for two days and…”
“Curiosity got the better of you,” finished Medivh again. He smiled, and it was a clean white smile beneath the graying beard. “I probably would have opened it the moment I got out of sight of Dalaran’s Violet Citadel.”
Khadgar took a deep breath and said, “I considered that, but I believed they had divination spells in operation, at least at that range.”
“And you wanted to be far from any spell or message recalling you for opening the letter. And you patched it back together well enough to fool a cursory examination, sure that I would likely break the seal straightaway and not notice your tampering.” Medivh allowed himself a chuckle, but drew his face into a tight, focused knot. “How did I do that?” he asked.
Khadgar blinked. “Do what, sir?”
“Know what was in the letter?” said Medivh, the sides of his mouth tugging down. “The letter I just burned says that I will find the young man Khadgar most impressive in his deduction and intelligence. Impress me.”
Khadgar looked at Medivh, and the jovial smile of a few seconds before had evaporated. The smiling face was now that of some primitive stone god, judgmental and unforgiving. The eyes that had been tinged with mirth earlier now seemed to be barely concealing some hidden fury. The brows knitted together like the rising thunderhead of a storm.
Khadgar stammered for a moment, then said, “You read my mind.”
“Possible,” said Medivh. “But incorrect. You’re a stew of nerves right now, and that gets in the way of mind reading. One wrong.”
评论
发布者 老斧头
9/6/2008 12:24:38 PM
发布者 windsage
9/6/2008 3:09:27 PM
序幕
孤独堡垒艾泽拉斯双月中较大的那一个，今晚首先升起，现在，她正圆圆地挂在夜空，用那银白色的月光照亮着群星。在这片柔和的月光之下，装点着赤脊山脉的群峰。白天，日光给这些山峰抹上粉红的光晕，而到了晚上，他们又变成高大、孤傲的幽灵。山脉的西边山脚下，便是那艾尔文森林，被橡树和缎木所覆盖，从丘陵地带一直延伸到海边。 东边，则是广阔的黑色沼泽。一片布满溪流和河道的沼泽山地。那里到处是荒废的居所和潜藏着的危险。
一个黑影从月面掠过，一个乌鸦状的黑影，向着山脉中心的一个地方飞去。那里是整个赤脊山脉最为僻静的地方,一个圆形的山谷。那地方也许是一场太古的天地大冲撞的记忆，亦或是一场地壳爆炸留下的痕迹。岁月的侵蚀已使得这个环形山的边缘变得参差不齐，许多新生的山峰在这里孕育。此处的地理环境是艾尔文的古老树种所不能生长的。只有野草和藤蔓遍布在这些荒山上。
这些山头的中心，有一座光秃秃的石峰，就像是某个库尔提拉斯贸易亲王的脑袋一样醒目。事实上通往该峰的山路十分险峻，峰顶倒是十分平坦，整座山峰的形状像是个人头。古往今来，有不少文献提及了这座山峰，但是其中只有很少部分文献的作者有足够的勇气提及它的主人。那些少有的写到了他的作者，要么是强大的不可思议，要么是初出茅庐一无所知。
在这座山峰平坦的峰顶，耸立着一座古老的高塔，由厚重的白砖和灰泥浆混合砌成。这座巨型的人造物直插云霄，比周围所有的山都高，在月光的照耀下，像是一座灯塔。塔的地基处有一圈矮墙，墙外是一个废弃的居民区，墙内除了高塔还有一个兽栏和一个铁匠铺，高度都没法和塔相提并论——事实上，这座塔傲视一切，包括这里的群山。
这片地方一度被称作卡拉赞。一度是那位神秘莫测的提瑞斯法最后的守护者的住所。一度是一片充满生机之地。而现在，它不过是被时间所遗忘的死亡地带。
发布者 windsage
9/6/2008 3:11:32 PM
The Lonely Tower
The larger of the two moons had risen first this evening, and now hung pregnant and silver-white against
a clear, star-dappled sky. Beneath the lambent moon the peaks of the Redridge Mountains strained for
the sky. In the daylight the sun picked out hues of magenta and rust among the great granite peaks, but in
the moonlight they were reduced to tall, proud ghosts. To the west lay the Forest of Elwynn, its heavy
canopy of greatoaks and satinwoods running from the foothills to the sea. To the east, the bleak swamp
of the Black Morass spread out, a land of marshes and low hills, bayous and backwaters, failed
settlements and lurking danger. A shadow passed briefly across the moon, a raven-sized shadow,
bearing for a hole in the heart of the mountain.
Here a chunk had been pulled from the fastness of the Redridge Range, leaving behind a circular vale.
Once it might have been the site of some primeval celestial impact or the memory of an earth-shaking
explosion, but the aeons had worn the bowl-shaped crater into a series of steep-edged, rounded hillocks
which were now cradled by the steeped mountains surrounding them. None of the ancient trees of
Elwynn could reach its altitude, and the interior of the ringed hills was barren save for weeds and tangled
vines.
At the center of the ringed hills lay a bare tor, as bald as the pate of a Kul Tiras merchant lord. Indeed
the very way the hillock rose steeply, than gentled to a near-level slope at its apex, was similar in shape
to a human skull. Many had noted it over the years, though only a few had been sufficiently brave, or
powerful, or tactless to mention it to the property’s owner.
At the flattened peak of the tor rose an ancient tower, a thick, massive protrusion of white stone and
dark mortar, a man-made eruption that shot effortlessly into the sky, scaling higher than the surrounding
hills, lit like a beacon by the moonlight. There was a low wall at the base of the tower surrounding a
bailey, and within those walls the tumbledown remains of a stable and a smithy, but the tower itself
dominated all within the ringed hills.
Once this place was called Karazhan. Once it was home of the last of the mysterious and secretive
Guardians of Tirisfal. Once it was a living place. Now it was simply abandoned and timelost.
发布者 windsage
9/6/2008 3:16:25 PM
但是现在，一双穿着长靴的脚踩过石砖的声音打破了这片寂静。在塔最高那个尖顶处的一个露天走廊口，柔和的月光在白色的石砖上映出一个人影。一袭褴褛的红色斗篷在夜晚凛冽的寒风中鼓动。那个尖顶以前曾是个天文台。
从露天走廊通往天文台的门，伴随着古旧铰链的尖锐声响打开了一条缝，然后马上因岁月和铁锈的双重作用而僵化。穿着斗篷的身影沉默了一会，将食指放到了铰链上，默念了一小段咒语。大门立刻无声地打开了，铰链变得像新的一样。闯入者露出了一丝微笑。
天文台现在已经空了，仅剩的那些工具也都已损毁，散落一地。穿着斗篷的身影无声地进入，就像是那些寂静的幻象。他捡起一块破碎的星盘。这个星盘的外形已经被某种未知力量所扭曲，现在它仅能被称为一堆黄金而已，毫无生气地躺在闯入者手上。
天文台中突然出现了其它动静。闯入者抬眼望去，一个幽灵般的身影出现他身边，背靠着一扇窗户。这个似鬼非鬼的人影是一名宽肩男子，头发和胡须是黑色的，边缘部分由于其年龄而有点泛灰。他是那些过往回忆的一部分，被释放出来后一直在重复着他的工作。现在，这个黑发男子正拿着那个星盘——正是闯入者手中的那个，还没有坏掉时候的样子——拨弄着上面的一个凸起。他正专心致志的调整那个星盘，拨一下，测试一次，再拨一下，再测试一次。那幽灵般的翠绿双眼上，漆黑的眉毛紧蹙着。最后，这个高大的、引人注目的身影松了口气，把星盘放到一张早已不存在的桌子上，消失了。
发布者 windsage
9/6/2008 7:08:58 PM
发布者 老斧头
9/6/2008 7:11:39 PM
DARK T=黑暗圣堂？
发布者 windsage
9/6/2008 7:15:33 PM
发布者 老斧头
9/6/2008 7:16:24 PM
http://bbs.lehu.shu.edu.cn/Article.aspx?aid=22643
发布者 windsage
9/6/2008 7:17:15 PM
window to window, and phantoms danced along the balconies and parapets. Less than ghosts, but more than memories, these were nothing less than pieces of the past that had become unstuck from the flow of
time. These shadows of the past had been pried loose by the madness of the tower’s owner, and were
now condemned to play out their histories again and again, in the silence of the abandoned tower.
Condemned to play but denied of any audience to appreciate them.
Then in the silence, there was the soft scrape of a booted foot against stone, then another. A flash of
movement beneath the lambent moon, a shadow against the white stone, a flutter of a tattered, red-hued
cloak in the cool night air. A figure walked along the topmost parapet, on the crenellated uppermost spire
that years before had served as an observatory.
The parapet door into the observatory screeched open on ancient hinges, then stopped, frozen by rust
and the passage of time. The cloaked figure paused a moment, then placed a finger on the hinge, and
muttered a few choice words. The door swung open silently, the hinges made as if new. The trespasser
allowed himself a smile.
The observatory was empty now, what tools that remained smashed and abandoned. The trespassing
figure, almost as silent as a ghost himself, picked up a crushed astrolabe, its scale twisted in some
now-forgotten rage. Now it is merely a heavy piece of gold, inert and useless in his hands.
There was other movement in the observatory, and the trespasser looked up. Now a ghostly figure
stood nearby, near one of the many windows. The ghost/non-ghost was an broad-shouldered man, hair
and beard once dark but now going to a premature gray at the edges. The figure was one of the shards
of the past, unglued and now repeating its task, regardless of whether it had observers or not. For the
moment, the dark-haired man held the astrolabe, the unbroken twin to the one in the trespasser’s hands,
and fiddled with a small knob along one side. A moment, a check, and a twitch of the knob. His dark
brows furrowed over ghostly green eyes. A second moment, another check, and another twitch. Finally,
the tall, imposing figure sighed deeply and placed the astrolabe on a table that was no longer there, and
vanished.
发布者 windsage
9/6/2008 7:38:57 PM
闯入者沿着室内的楼梯往下层走去，在他身后，那个老人的影像再次出现，用他手上的星盘去定位一颗早已不在那个位置的行星。
闯入者继续往下走去，穿过了无数层楼梯和走廊，所有的门都自动为他敞开，包括那些锁住的、闩上的、甚至那些被铁锈和岁月所封印的。一小段咒语、一个轻触或是一个手势，所有的阻碍便都烟消云散，铁锈自动融解，铰链光亮如新。在某几个地方还有古老的、却仍在闪耀守护符文，他在它们跟前稍作停驻，以回忆起每个符文的应对之法。他念出正确的咒语、结出正确的手印，符文上仅存的微弱魔法随即溃灭，前路畅通无阻。
他越往下层走，塔中的幻象就越变得生动活跃。好像现在多了个潜在的观众，他们更愿意卖力地演出了——只要能从这无尽的诅咒中解脱出来。他们的声音早已被磨灭，留下的只有众多的影像，在厅堂间穿梭。
闯入者从一个黑衣的老管家身体中穿过，这个虚弱的老人托着一个银碟，头上带着一副眼罩，拖着沉重的步子缓缓走过走廊。闯入者穿过图书馆，注意到一位绿皮肤的年轻女士正背对着他，浏览一本古书。他又穿过一座宴会厅，大厅的一端,一曲无声的音乐正在演奏，舞者们随着音乐声跳起了加伏特。另一端，一个伟大的城市在燃烧，熊熊烈焰徒劳地试图吞噬大厅的石墙和地毯。闯入者穿过这寂静的火焰，可他的面孔因再次目睹强大的暴风城在自己面前化为灰烬而黯然。
发布者 windsage
9/6/2008 9:27:45 PM
though now, stripped of the control (and the madness) of their master, they had become more brazen.
Yet these shards of the past belonged here, while he did not. He was the interloper, not they.
The trespasser crossed the room to its staircase leading down, while behind him the older man flickered
back into the view and repeated his action, sighting his astrolabe on a planet that had long since moved to
other parts of the sky.
The trespasser moved down through the tower, crossing levels to reach other stairs and other hallways.
No door was shut to him, even those locked and bolted, or sealed by rust and age. A few words, a
touch, a gesture and the fetters flew loose, the rust dissolved into ruddy piles, the hinges restored. In one
or two places ancient wards still glowed, potent despite their age. He paused before them for a moment,
considering, reflecting, searching his memory for the correct counter-sign. He spoke the correct word,
made the correct motion with his hands, shattered the weak magic that remained, and passed on.
As he moved through the tower, the phantoms of the past grew more agitated and more active. Now
with a potential audience, it seemed that these pieces of the past wished to play themselves out, if only to
be made free of this place. Any sound they once possessed had long-since eroded away, leaving only
their images moving through the halls.
The interloper passed an ancient butler in dark livery, the frail old man shuffling slowly down the empty
hallway, carrying a silver tray and wearing a set of horse-blinders. The interloper passed through the library, where a green-fleshed young woman stood with her back to him, pouring over an ancient tome.
He passed through a banquet hall, at one end a group of musicians playing soundlessly, dancers twirling
in a gavotte. At the other end a great city burned, its flames beating ineffectively against the stone walls
and rotting tapestries. The trespasser moved through the silent flames, but his face grew drawn and tense
as he witnessed once more the mighty city of Stormwind burn around him.
发布者 windsage
9/6/2008 9:42:36 PM
快到底层了，他走到一个阳台上。这个阳台遥遥欲坠地挂在塔的墙外，像个蜂巢般悬正门入口之上。在那儿，他看到了——在高塔前方的空旷地带，在正门与早已倒塌的兽栏和居民区之间——站着一个孤独的人影。它不像其他影像那样会动，仅仅是站在那里，等待着，静立着。它，一个未被释放的往日碎片，等待着这位闯入者的来临。
这个静止的影像是一个年轻的男子，一头乌黑而凌乱的头发中夹杂着几根白色的斑纹。几缕刚长出的胡须紧贴在脸上。脚边躺着只扁扁的帆布背包，那僵硬的手上紧拽着一封红色封印的介绍信。
这个影像当然也不是鬼魂，闯入者知道，尽管这个影像的原身可能已经在另一片天空下战死，倒下。这是往日的记忆与碎片，就像是被封在琥珀中的昆虫一样，期待着被释放的那一天。期待着他的来临。
闯入者倚在阳台的石质护栏上向外望去，目光穿越居民区，穿越小丘，穿越群山。月光寂静无声，群山也像是摒住了呼吸，等待着他。
闯入者举起一只手，吟唱起一系列魔咒。一开始是有节奏的韵律诗，然后声音越来越大，越来越响，粉碎了周遭的寂静。远处的山中的野狼们听到了他的吟唱，本能的发出嚎叫相回应。
那个幽灵般的年轻人的影像，深深地吸了口气，扛起他那神秘的背包，双腿就像是灌了铅似的，向着麦迪文之塔的正门入口迟疑前行。
发布者 windsage
9/7/2008 8:06:44 AM
on the table’s surface as well as beneath it. The trespasser stood watching this image for a long time, until
a phantom taverness brought another round. Then he shook his head and pressed on.
He reached nearly the ground level, and stepped out on a low balcony that hung precariously to the wall,
like a wasps’ nest over the main entrance. There, in the wide space before the tower, between the main
entrance and a now-collapsed stables across the bailey, stood a single ghostly image, lonely and
separated. It did not move like the others, but rather stood there, waiting, tentative. A piece of the past
that had not been released. A piece that was waiting for him.
The immobile image was of a young man with a skunk stripe of white running through his dark, untidy
head of hair. The straggling fragments of a beard, newly grown, clung to his face. A battered rucksack
lay at the youth’s feet, and he held a red-sealed letter with a deathlike grip.
This was well and truly no ghost, the trespasser knew, though the owner of this image may yet be dead,
fallen in combat beneath a foreign sun. This was a memory, a shard of the past, trapped like an insect in
amber, waiting for its release. Waiting for his arrival.
The trespasser sat on the stonework ledge of the balcony and looked out, beyond the bailey, beyond the
hillock, and beyond the ringed hills. There was silence in the moonlight, as the mountains themselves
seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for him.
The trespasser lifted a hand and intoned a series of chanted words. Softly came the rhymes and rhythms
the first time, then louder, and finally louder still, shattering the calm. In the distance wolves picked up his
chant and cast it back in howling counterpoint.
And the image of the ghostly youth, its feet seemingly trapped in mud, took a deep breath, hoisted his
rucksack of secrets to his shoulder, and slogged his way toward the main entrance of Medivh’s Tower.
发布者 windsage
9/7/2008 2:38:13 PM
卡拉赞
卡德加拽紧了手里那封盖有红色封印的介绍信，一边拼命试图回忆起自己的名字。他已经跋涉了数天，沿途跟随过数个旅队，终于成功地穿越了广阔茂密的艾尔文森林，来到了卡拉赞。然后又爬上这座高山，来到这片宁静、空旷、孤独的地方。连这里的空气也给人寒冷和与世隔绝的味道。现在，这位浑身酸痛，累得虚脱，胡子乱糟糟的年轻人站在空地的一块土堆上，仍不敢相信自己来此的目的——
向艾泽拉斯最强大的法师介绍自己。
这是一份殊荣，肯瑞托的学者么都这么说。这是机遇，可遇而不可求的，他们坚持说，千万不能错过。卡德加那些睿智的导师们，一个由学者和巫师们组成的议会，告诉卡德加，他们想在卡拉赞之塔安插一个耳目已经策划了好几年了。肯瑞托十分想学习这位世上最强大的巫师藏在他的图书馆里的那些宝贵知识。也想知道他热衷的项目。当然，最主要的还是想知道，这位独立的法师百年之后究竟打算怎么处理他那些知识遗产，最强最伟大的麦迪文究竟打算何时开始培养他的继承人。
发布者 windsage
9/7/2008 10:08:27 PM
Karazhan
Khadgar clutched the crimson-sealed letter of introduction and desperately tried to remember his own
name. He had ridden for days, accompanying various caravans, and finally making the journey alone to
Karazhan through the vast, overgrown, woods of Elwynn. Then the long climb into the heights of the
mountains, to this serene, empty, lonely place. Even the air felt cold and apart. Now, sore and tired, the
scruffy-bearded young man stood in the gathering dusk of the courtyard, petrified of what he now must
do.
Introduce himself to the most powerful mage of Azeroth.
An honor, the scholars of the Kirin Tor had said. An opportunity, they insisted, that was not to be missed. Khadgar’s sage mentors, a conclave of influential scholars and sorcerers, told him they had been trying to insinuate a sympathetic ear in the tower of Karazhan for years. The Kirin Tor wanted to learn what knowledge the most powerful wizard in the land had hidden away in his library. They wanted to know what research he favored. And most of all they wanted this maverick mage to start planning for his legacy, wanted to know when the great and powerful Medivh planned to train an heir.
发布者 windsage
9/8/2008 1:42:19 PM
于是年轻的卡德加被选中了。接下来的几天内，他被无数的大师们灌输了无数的学习指导、面试法门、应对技巧、要求、建议、忠告、以及种种互相矛盾的介绍：比如“问问麦迪文关于其母和恶魔作战的故事”是他第一个老师贾兹巴的要求。“从图书馆里翻出所有有关精灵的历史”是戴尔斯女士的要求。“读完他书库里所有的怪物手册”则是曾著书认定世界上存在第五种还没被发现的巨魔的奥蓉达的命令。“诚实、坦白、直率”，这条则是主工程师诺兰的忠告——伟大的星界法师麦迪文好像很欣赏这些美德。其他的诸如“勤奋努力，好好学习，天天向上”、“服从命令”、“学会聆听”、“勇往直前”、“眼观六路，耳听八方”等等，不一而足。
肯瑞托的这些野心并不是卡德加最烦恼的——他从小在达拉然长大，很早就成为议会的学徒，因此他非常了解他的那些导师们对魔法知识是多么的贪得无厌。早年，他们那些不断堆积的魔法书藏已经给年轻的学生们留下过深刻印象，卡德加如今早已见怪不怪了。事实上，他发现自己那旺盛的好奇心似乎就是导致他目前处境的根源。他曾独自一人偷偷调查过整个达拉然紫罗兰城堡的一些大人物，发现了他们不少不想为外人所知的秘密。例如，主工程师沉溺于喝火酒，戴尔斯女士喜欢比她年纪稍微小点的年轻绅士，图书管理员奎瑞根嗜好是收集有关描写历史上恶魔崇拜的祭祀习俗的小册子（特别是那种血腥的）。
发布者 windsage
9/9/2008 9:05:52 AM
apparently, and only now did he relent to some of their entreaties. Only now would he take on an
apprentice. Whether it was from a softening of the wizard’s reportedly hard heart, or mere diplomatic
concession, or a feeling of the mage’s own creeping mortality, it did not matter to Khadgar’s masters.
The simple truth was that this powerful independent (and to Khadgar, mysterious) wizard had asked for
an assistant, and the Kirin Tor, which ruled over the magical kingdom of Dalaran, were more than happy
to comply.
So the youth Khadgar was selected and shuttled off with a list of directions, orders, counter-orders,
requests, suggestions, advice, and other demands from his sorcerous masters. Ask Medivh about his
mother’s battles with demons, asked Guzbah, his first instructor. Find out all you can about elven history
from his library, requested Lady Delth. Check his volumes for any bestiaries, commanded Alonda, who
was convinced that there was a fifth species of troll as yet un-recorded in her own volumes. Be direct,
forthright, and honest, advised Norlan the Chief Artificer—the Great Magus Medivh seemed to value
those traits. Be diligent and do what you’re told. Don’t slouch. Always seem interested. Stand up
straight. And above all, keep your ears and eyes open.
The ambitions of the Kirin Tor did not bother Khadgar horribly—his upbringing in Dalaran and his early
apprenticeship to the conclave made it clear to him that his mentors were insatiably curious about magic
in all its forms. Their continual accumulation, cataloging, and definition of magic were imprinted on young
students at an early age, and Khadgar was no different than most.
Indeed, he realized, his own curiosity may have accounted for his current plight. His own nocturnal
wanderings through the halls of the Violet Citadel of Dalaran had uncovered more than a few secrets that
the conclave would rather not have noised about. The Chief Artificer’s fondness for flamewine, for
example, or Lady Delth’s preference for young cavaliers a slender fraction of her age, or Korrigan the
Librarian’s secret collection of pamphlets describing (in lurid fashion) the practices of historical
demon-worshipers.
发布者 windsage
9/9/2008 7:26:34 PM
另外，达拉然的诸贤中曾有人出过事，那就是尊敬的阿雷克西斯，他失踪了。是死了，还是发生了什么可怕的事情？议会对其避而不谈，甚至将他的名字从各有关资料中剔除，再也没有提起过他。但卡德加还是发现了一些蛛丝马迹。卡德加在寻找线索方面很有自己的一套，他知道如何和必要的人相接触，与正确的人在正确的时间交谈。这是他的天赋，但是在某种情况下，这也算是一种祸根（或者说诅咒） 。
他的那些发现直接导致目前这个荣耀的（同时，据大师们所警告和策划的来看，可能还是个要人命的）任务被委派到他头上。或许他们认为年轻的卡德加在发掘秘密方面实在太过厉害了——议会想把他派到一个他的好奇心会为肯瑞托带来好处的地方，即使不行，至少也要把他扔得足够远，以免他继续发掘紫罗兰城堡里其他成员的私人秘密。
而卡德加呢，靠着他那无敌的偷听大法，早已清楚议会的这些个歪脑筋了。
于是呢，卡德加带着个塞满了笔记的帆布背包，心里装满了别人的秘密，脑袋里填满了各种命令和无用的忠告……启程了。在离开达拉然前的最后一周里，他几乎接触了所有议员，无一例外，他们每个人都对麦迪文某方面的事情有兴趣。一个住在与世隔绝的地方的巫师，四周环绕着树林和模样古怪的群峰——肯瑞托的成员非常想知道有关他的事。确切的说，是迫切地想知道。
发布者 windsage
9/9/2008 9:53:30 PM
Any one of these discoveries could have resulted in his drawing this prestigious (and for all the planning and warnings, potentially fatal) assignment. Perhaps they thought young Khadgar was a littletoo good at ferreting out secrets—easier for the conclave to send him somewhere where his curiosity would do some good for the Kirin Tor. Or at least put him far enough away so he wasn’t finding things out about the other natives of the Violet Citadel.
And Khadgar, through his relentless eavesdropping, had heardthat theory as well.
So Khadgar set out with a rucksack filled with notes, a heart filled with secrets, and a head filled with strong demands and useless advice. In the final week before leaving Dalaran, he had heard from nearly every member of the conclave, each of whom was interested in something about Medivh. For a wizard living on the butt-end of nowhere, surrounded by trees and ominous peaks, the members of the Kirin Tor were extremely curious about him. Urgent, even.
发布者 windsage
9/10/2008 12:09:31 PM
正门入口这会儿在他看来像只张开了的巨兽的嘴，没有门也没有栅栏。这确实也很合理，试问有哪支军队有胆子敢穿越艾尔文森林，开进这环形山，然后来找星界法师送死的？历史上没有任何记录显示有人曾试图围攻卡拉赞的。
这座阴森的大门高到足以让一只身穿全套马戏团装备的大象通过。它的正上方悬着一个带石质护栏的宽阔阳台，从那个高度，人可以俯瞰周围的群山。这时候护栏的位置那里似乎出现了一丝闪动，这个小动静与其说是卡德加看到的不如说的感觉到的：一个穿长袍的身影，也许是，从阳台走回塔里去了。他被监视了吗？会不会有人来迎接他，还是他得自己进去冒险？
“你是新来的助手吗？”这声音虚无得就像是从坟墓里传出来的一样。卡德加此时正伸长了脖子，仰头看着空荡荡的阳台，突然听到这么一声，吓的魂飞魄散。他转过头来，发现一个佝偻的，消瘦的身影出现在阴森的入口处。
这个驼背的东西看着一边的卡德加，有这么一会儿，卡德加怀疑麦迪文是不是转化了森林里的动物来做他的仆人。这家伙看起来简直像只无毛的鼬鼠，长长的脸上蒙着一块黑乎乎的东西。
卡德加一时忘记了回应，但那个鼬鼠样的人从阴影中走出，继续重复刚才的问题。
发布者 windsage
9/11/2008 8:30:15 AM
Khadgar strode forward toward the tower itself, his feet feeling like he was pulling his pack-pony along
by his ankles.
The main entrance yawned like a cavern’s mouth, without gate or portcullis. That made sense, for what
army would fight its way through the Forest of Elwynn to top the rounded walls of the crater, all to fight
the Magus Medivh himself? There was no record of anyone or anything even attempting to besiege
Karazhan.
The shadowed entrance was tall enough to let an elephant in full livery pass beneath. Overhanging it
slightly was a wide balcony with a balustrade of white stone. From that perch one would be level with the
surrounding hills and gain a view of the mountains beyond. There was a flicker of motion along the
balustrade, a bit of movement that Khadgarfelt more than actually witnessed. A robed figure, perhaps,
moving back along the balcony into the tower itself. Was he being watched even now? Was there no one
to greet him, or was he expected to brave the tower on his own?
“You are the New Young Man?” said a soft, almost sepulchral voice, and Khadgar, his head still craned
upward, nearly jumped out of his skin. He wheeled to see a stooped, thin figure emerge out of the
shadows of the entranceway.
The stooped thing looked marginally human, and for a moment Khadgar wondered if Medivh was
mutating forest animals to work as his servants. This one looked like a hairless weasel, its long face was
framed by what looked like a pair of black rectangles.
Khadgar didn’t remember making any response, but the weasel person stepped farther from the
shadows, and repeated itself.
发布者 windsage
9/11/2008 5:00:29 PM
年轻人发现自己正不礼貌的盯着这位老人，“卡德加，”他说，过了一会，他出示了一下他手上紧拽着的那封介绍信。“来自达拉然。达拉然的卡德加，国籍是洛丹伦，受肯瑞托委派而来。也就是位于洛丹伦大陆的达拉然的紫罗兰城。”他觉得他现在就像是正往一个巨大的，平静的湖里不停地扔石子，期待着老人肯至少回应其中一颗。
“当然，你是，卡德加，”老人说。“是肯瑞托的，又是紫罗兰城的，又是达拉然的，又是洛丹伦的。”老仆人接过那封写满蝌蚪文的信，并没有打开它，而是把它皱折的边角弄平后，放进了自己的衬衣里面。在保护了它跋涉了这么远的路后，卡德加感到了一股失落感。这封介绍信事关他的大好前程，他十分不愿看到它消失——即便是一小会儿。
“肯瑞托派我来协助麦迪文…麦迪文大人…大法师麦迪文…卡拉赞的麦迪文，”卡德加这才发现自己那些无异于牙牙学语的句子已让他一只脚踏在回老家的路上了。于是明智地紧闭了嘴巴。
“我确定是他们，”仆人说.“派你来的，是的。”他瞟了眼信上盖的封印，一只细瘦的手伸进马甲里，摸出一副金边眼罩来。“要吗，眼罩？”
发布者 windsage
9/12/2008 12:01:56 AM
its own little box, capitalized and separate from the others. It stepped from the shadows fully and
revealed itself as nothing more or less threatening than a whip-slender elderly man in dark worsted livery.
A servant—human, but a servant. It, or rather he, was still wearing black rectangles on the sides of his
head, like a set of earmuffs, that extended forward to his most prominent nose.
The youth realized that he was staring at the old man, “Khadgar,” he said, then after a moment presented
the tightly held letter of introduction. “Of Dalaran. Khadgar of Dalaran, in the kingdom of Lordaeron. I
was sent by the Kirin Tor. From the Violet Citadel. I am Khadgar of the Kirin Tor. From the Violet
Citadel. Of Dalaran. In Lordaeron.” He felt like he was casting conversational stones into a great, empty
well, hoping that the old man would respond to any of them.
“Of course you are, Khadgar,” said the old man. “Of the Kirin Tor. Of the Violet Citadel. Of Dalaran.
Of Lordaeron.” The servant took the proffered letter as if the document were a live reptile and, after
smoothing out its crumpled edges, tucked it inside his livery vest without opening it. After carrying and
protecting it for so many miles, Khadgar felt a pain of loss. The letter of introduction represented his
future, and he was loath to see it disappear, even for a moment.
“The Kirin Tor sent me to assist Medivh. Lord Medivh. The Wizard Medivh. Medivh of Karazhan,”
Khadgar realized he was but a half-step from collapsing into a full-fledged babble, and with a definitive
effort tightly clamped his mouth shut.
“I’m sure they did,” said the servant. “Send you, that is.” He appraised the seal on the letter, and a thin
hand dipped into his waistcoat, pulling out a set of black rectangles bound by a thin band of metal.
“Blinders?”
发布者 windsage
9/13/2008 12:15:45 AM
“摩洛斯，”仆人说。
卡德加摇了摇头。
“我叫摩洛斯，”仆人说，“这座塔的总管。为麦迪文服务。要眼罩吗？”他又拿起那副眼罩，和他自己脸上那副一模一样。
“不用了，谢谢你……摩洛斯，”卡德加说，但脸上的神色仍掩饰不住好奇心。
仆人转过身去，摆摆手示意卡德加跟上。
卡德加扛起背包，大步跟上老仆人。他本以为这位仆人身体虚弱，却没想到爬楼梯这么快。
“塔里一直就你一个吗？”在转过一个楼梯拐角，准备继续往上爬的时候，卡德加试探着问道。此时客人已经落后了仆人一大截了，但是由于塔的回声构造，所以声音很容易传到。
发布者 windsage
9/13/2008 1:04:14 PM
“Moroes,” said the servant.
Khadgar shook his head.
“I am Moroes,” the servant said. “Steward of the Tower. Castellan to Medivh. Blinders?” Again he raised the black rectangles, twins to those that framed his narrow face.
“No thank you…Moroes,” said Khadgar, his face twisted in curiosity.
The servant turned and motioned that Khadgar follow with a weak wave of the arm.
Khadgar picked up his rucksack and had to lope forward to catch up with the servant. For all his supposed fragility the steward moved at a good clip.
“Are you alone in the tower?” Khadgar ventured as they started climbing a curved set of wide, low stairs. The stone dipped in the center, worn by myriad feet of passing servants and guests.
发布者 windsage
9/14/2008 8:11:56 AM
“你一直就一个人吗？”卡德加重复道，怀疑他是否要向摩洛斯那样说话才能让他听懂。“你这儿一个人住吗？”
“星界法师也在，”摩洛斯边说话边喘气，声音就像墓穴中的尘土一样虚脱无力。
“那当然，”卡德加说。
“如果他不在，你也不会来这里了，”管家继续说，“这里，是啊。”卡德加突然想，这位老人的声音之所以这样是否是因为他不常说话的缘故。
“当然，”卡德加表示赞同，“还有其他人吗？”
“现在多了你，”摩洛斯继续说，“要照顾两个人比一个人麻烦多了，可惜这事不看我的意见。”
发布者 windsage
9/16/2008 2:23:07 PM
“Are you alone?” repeated Khadgar, wondering if he would be reduced to speaking as Moroes spoke in order to be understood. “Do you live here by yourself?”
“The Magus is here,” responded Moroes in a wheezing voice that sounded as faint and as fatal as grave dust.
“Yes, of course,” said Khadgar.
“Wouldn’t be much point for you to be here if he wasn’t,” continued the steward. “Here, that is.”
Khadgar wondered if the old man’s voice sounded that way because it was not used that often.
“Of course,” agreed Khadgar. “Anyone else?”
“You, now,” continued Moroes. “More work to take care of two than one. Not that I was consulted.”
发布者 windsage
9/18/2008 11:48:17 AM
“还有库克，”摩洛斯喘了口气又说，原来他刚才那句还没说完，“不过她不常说话，感谢你的提问。”
卡德加想制止自己试图翻白眼的冲动，不过尝试失败了。现在他只好祈祷戴了那副眼罩的管家看不到自己的表情了。
他们现在到了一处点缀满火炬的走廊。摩洛斯一路往前，向着对面的螺旋形楼梯走了过去。而卡德加却停了下来，仔细的观察了一下这些火炬。他将手掌靠近火焰，却感觉不到丝毫热度。他觉得这种“冷火”在这座塔里也许非常普遍。达拉然通常是拿荧光水晶做稳定光源的。另外，就卡德加所知，其他的稳定光源不外乎反射镜、元素精华等等，大把的萤火虫在某种情况下也可以用——总之不会是火。但是他在这里看到的完全不同……这些火焰没有丝毫摇晃，就像是冻结在原地一样……
摩洛斯现在已经在往上一层的楼梯上走到一半了，他慢慢转过身来，边哮喘边咳嗽。卡德加连忙跟上。显然，那副眼罩并没有对这位老管家造成太大的制约。
“为什么戴眼罩呢？”卡德加好奇地问。
“哎？”摩洛斯又是这样回应。
发布者 windsage
9/19/2008 8:50:04 PM
(or created) for his taciturn nature.
“And Cook,” said Moroes, “Though Cook doesn’t talk much. Thank you for asking, though.”
Khadgar tried to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, but failed. He hoped that the blinders on either
side of the steward’s face kept the servant from seeing his response.
They reached a level spot, a cross-hallway lit by torches. Moroes crossed immediately to another set of
saddle-worn, curving stairs opposite them. Khadgar paused for a moment to examine the torches. He
raised a hand mere inches from the flickering flame, but felt no heat. Khadgar wondered if the cold flame
was common throughout the tower. In Dalaran they used phosphorescent crystals, which beamed with a
steady, constant glow, though his research spoke of reflective mirrors, elemental spirits bound within
lanterns, and in one case, huge captive fireflies. Yet these flames seemed to be frozen in place.
Moroes, half-mounted up the next staircase, slowly turned and let out a gasping cough. Khadgar hurried
to catch up. Apparently the blinders did not limit the old steward that much.
“Why the blinders?” Khadgar asked.
“Eh?” replied Moroes.
发布者 windsage
9/20/2008 7:49:25 PM
摩洛斯的面孔扭曲了下，卡德加认为他是在努力微笑。“这里的魔法，非常强大。有时候，还可能，会出错。你在这里……可能会……看到一些东西，除非你很小心。我一直很小心。可是以前的其他来访者不像我这么小心。他们后来都，走了。”
卡德加想起自己在门口的阳台上看到的那个幻影（还是不能确定是否是自己的错觉），然后点点头。
“库克有一副水晶眼镜。”摩洛斯补充道。“我的眼罩作用比它好，”他顿了顿，“库克在这方面不大会动脑子。”
卡德加想尽量带动摩洛斯多说些话：“那么看来，你当星界法师的管家有了一阵了？”
“哎？”摩洛斯总离不开这句。
发布者 windsage
9/20/2008 11:26:21 PM
发布者 爱吃拉面
9/21/2008 12:30:36 AM
Moroes twisted his face in what Khadgar could only assume was a smile. “Magic’s strong here. Strong, and wrong, sometimes. You see…things…around here. Unless you’re careful. I’m careful. Other visitors, the ones before you, they were less careful. They’re gone now.”
Khadgar thought of the phantom he may or may not have seen on the overhanging balcony, and nodded.
“Cook has a set of rose-quartz lenses,” added Moroes. “Swears by them.” He paused for a moment,
then added, “Cook is a bit foolish that way.”
Khadgar hoped that Moroes would be more chatty once he was warmed up. “So, you’ve been in the
Magus’s household for long?”
“Eh?” said Moroes again.
发布者 windsage
9/22/2008 10:01:51 PM
“嗳，”管家点了点头。“很久了，很久了……有几年了吧，到这里来之后。”他不再说话了，两人继续沉默着爬楼梯。
“你觉得他是怎么一个人呢？”卡德加最终还是忍不住打破寂静。“我是说，星界法师大人。”
“问题是，”摩洛斯推开了一扇通往下一座旋梯的门，然后说，“你对他了解多少呢？”
卡德加自己在这方面的调查意外地毫无成果。除了他在紫罗兰大图书馆里查到的那些（和偷偷去一些私人图书馆和秘密书社查到的那些），其他有关这位“最强最伟大的麦迪文”的资料实在是十分十分的稀少。这给整件事情罩上了更大的谜团。而达拉然的所有的老资格法师似乎都对麦迪文有着某种敬畏之心，还想方设法调查他的事情。即使是一些无关紧要的小事，个人爱好等等。
发布者 windsage
9/23/2008 12:25:45 AM
“Ayep,” said the steward. “Long enough. Too long. Seems like years. Time’s like that here.” The weathered steward let his voice trail off and the two climbed in silence.
“What do you know about him?” ventured Khadgar, finally. “The Magus, I mean.”
“Question is,” said Moroes, pulling open yet another door to reveal yet another staircase up. “What do you know?”
Khadgar’s own research in the matter was surprisingly unproductive, and his results were frustratingly sparse. Despite access to the Violet Citadel’s Grand Library (and surreptitious access to a few private libraries and secret collections), there was precious little on this great and powerful Medivh. This was doubly odd, since every elder mage in Dalaran seemed to hold Medivh in awe, and wanted one thing or another from him. Some favor, some boon, some bit of information.
发布者 windsage
9/23/2008 11:13:59 AM
从没见麦迪文曾一手推倒一座城堡，或是把自己化为粒子穿越扭曲虚空，又或是像一些魔幻故事里那样召唤出一头龙然后该龙不受控制的破坏了一座城市——他从没显示出过任何强大的制约力或破坏力。但是，考虑到达拉然的学者们对他的生活琐事都大惊小怪，特别是对麦迪文的介绍和他的个人成果是那么的大相径庭，卡德加感觉还是不要过早下结论为好。
但是，迄今为止他所得到的资料仍不能解释这一切。没有任何迹象表明麦迪文做过什么伟大的研究，有过什么大发现，或是弄出过任何能够解释肯瑞托对他的敬畏的惊人的成果。史上的历次大小战争未见他的身影。吟游诗人们对他的描述也出奇的抽象，勤奋的公告员们也从没提起过他的贡献。
发布者 windsage
9/23/2008 11:54:41 AM
The fact that Medivh had failed to bring a castle down on top of himself, or disperse his atoms across the Twisting Nether, or summon a dragon without knowing how to control that dragon, indicated either great restraint or great power. From the fuss that the scholars had made about his appointment, and the list of instructions he had received, Khadgar decided on the latter.
Yet for all his research, he could not figure out why. Nothing indicated any great research of this Medivh’s, any major discovery, nor any ground-shaking achievement, that would account for obvious awe in which the Kirin Tor held this independent mage. No huge wars, great conquests, or known mighty battles. The bards were noticeably sketchy when it came to the matters involving Medivh, and otherwise diligent heralds nodded when it came time to discuss his accomplishments.
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 8:54:28 AM
卡德加仅有一些小小的线索——关于他的家庭出身（因为贾兹巴对他母亲的故事十分有兴趣），某几本典籍还曾提到过他的名字，另外提到了一些达拉然的人曾拜访过他。这些拜访事件全都发生在近五年内，而且资料显示麦迪文只见其中那些年长的法师，比如如今已失踪的阿雷克西斯。
把以上这些总结起来，卡德加还是对那位他将为之服务的，据称是伟大的法师的麦迪文几乎一无所知。卡德加一直喜欢把对对方的了解作为自己交谈时的武器，但是现在他发现自己处于全无武装的状态。
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 9:14:20 AM
And yet they kowtowed to Medivh. Why?
Khadgar had only the smallest bits—a bit on his parentage (Guzbah was particularly interested in Medivh’s mother), some margin notes in a grimoire invoking his name, and mention of the occasional visit to Dalaran. All these visits were within the past five years, and apparently Medivh met only with elder mages, such as the now-missing Arrexis.
To sum up, Khadgar knew previous little of this supposedly great mage he was assigned to work for. And as he considered knowledge to be his armor and sword, he felt woefully underequipped for the coming encounter.
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 10:35:45 AM
“哎？”摩洛斯在楼梯上侧过身来。
“我说我知道的不多，”他的音量终于忍不住大起来了。回声在楼梯间内回荡了许久。前面又是一个楼梯拐弯口，卡德加怀疑这座塔是不是比他目测的来得高，他的腿早已走疼了。
“那是自然的，你，”摩洛斯说，“知道的不多。年轻人总是知道的不多，因此他们年轻，这是我的理论。”
“我不是这个意思！”卡德加恼了。他停了停，深呼吸了下。“我只是说，我对你问的麦迪文了解的不多。”
摩洛斯在原地沉思了一阵，然后一只脚跨上了下一阶楼梯。“我想我了解他。”他最后说。
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 4:15:36 PM
“Eh?” responded Moroes, half-turning on the staircase.
“I said I don’t know much,” said Khadgar, louder than he meant to. His voice bounced off the bare walls of the stairway. It was curved now, and Khadgar was wondering if the tower was truly as high as it seemed. Already his thighs were aching from the climb.
“Of course you don’t,” said Moroes. “Know, that is. Young people never know much. That’s what makes them young, I suppose.”
“I mean,” said Khadgar, irritated. He paused and took a deep breath. “I mean, I don’t know much about Medivh. You asked.”
Moroes held for a moment, his foot poised on the next step, “I suppose I did,” he said at last.
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 5:08:21 PM
“我想，他和别人没什么不同，”摩洛斯说。“有自己的喜好，情绪。日子也过得有好有坏。和其他人差不多。”
“他穿裤子也是一次只伸一只脚？”卡德加开玩笑说。
“不，他是飘起来穿的，”摩洛斯说。这位老仆人看着卡德加，脸上明显露出了一丝笑意。“还有一层楼。”
这最后一层楼梯不是很弯，卡德加认为他们已经接近这座塔最高的那个尖顶了。老仆人继续在前面带路。
最后这层楼梯终点是一个露天的走廊，围着一圈围栏。正如卡德加预测的一样，他们现在在塔最高的那个尖顶处了，前面就是一个大型的天文台。天文台的墙壁和天花板布满了晶格状的窗户，干净得一尘不染。在他们爬上来的这段时间里，天空已经完全暗下来了，星光撒满了整个卡拉赞。
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 5:41:04 PM
“Like everyone else, I suppose,” said Moroes. “Has his druthers. Has his moods. Good days and bad. Like everybody else.”
“Puts his pants on one leg at a time,” said Khadgar, sighing.
“No. He levitates into them,” said Moroes. The old servant looked at Khadgar, and the youth caught the slightest tug of a smile along the old man’s face. “One more set of stairs.”
The final set of stairs curled tightly, and Khadgar guessed that they had to be near the tower’s highest spire. The old servant led the way.
The stairway opened up on a small circular room, surrounded by a wide parapet. As Khadgar had surmised, they were at the topmost tip of the tower, with a large observatory. The walls and ceilings were pierced by crystalline windows, clear and unfogged. In the time of their climb, night had fallen fully, and the sky was dark and strewn with stars.
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 7:23:49 PM
几张弧形的桌子散布在天文台的墙边，上面排放着各种各样的仪器。一些金质的星盘被拿来做书写纸的镇物，以免它们被穿堂风给吹走，也有几个被拿来做文献的书签。某张桌子上放着一个半成的天体模型，用来模拟行星的运动，这个精密仪器的边上还放着几串用优质金属线串起的珠子。大部分得笔记本都垒在其中一面墙边，堆成了一座小山。剩下的则都装箱塞在桌子下面。墙上，一张世界地图漏出了一部分，上面可以看到卡德加的家乡洛丹伦和位于其南方的艾泽拉斯，另外还有精灵和矮人那两个隐秘的王国——卡兹莫丹与奎尔萨拉斯。这张地图上缀有无数的别针，组成了类似星座的图样，它们分别所代表的意义大概只有麦迪文自己才说得清楚了。
而麦迪文就在那里——卡德加认为那绝不会是别人。他是一个中年男子，扎成马尾长发直拖到背后。他年轻的时候，头发可能全是乌黑色，但是现在胡须和太阳穴附近的部分已经呈现灰色。卡德加知道，那是由于他体内所蕴含的强大力量造成的体质压力，这种现象在法师中不在少数。
麦迪文穿的是普通的法师长袍——尺寸正合他那魁梧的身躯。袍子是粗布制的，缀以简陋的装饰。长裤的裤口全部折进夸张的靴子里。宽阔的肩上披着一条栗色的风帽斗篷，风帽现在没有戴上。
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 7:46:58 PM
Several large curved tables spread around the outer wall of the observatory, decked with all manner of devices. Silver levels and golden astrolabes acted as paperweights for foolscap, or as bookmarks keeping ancient texts open to certain pages. A half-disassembled model, showing planetary movement through the celestial vault, sat on one table, fine wires and additional beads laid out among the delicate tools next to it. Notebooks lay stacked against one wall, and others were in crates jammed beneath the tables. A map of the continent was stretched on a frame, showing the southern lands of Azeroth and Khadgar’s own Lordaeron, as well as the reclusive dwarven and elven kingdoms of Khaz Modan and Quel’Thalas. Numerous small pins bedecked the map, constellations that only Medivh could decipher.
And Medivh was there, for to Khadgar it could be no other. He was a man of middling years, his hair long and bound in a ponytail in the back. In his youth his hair had likely been ebon black, but now it was already turning gray at the temples and along the beard. Khadgar knew that this happened to many mages, from the stress of the magical energies they wielded.
Medivh was dressed in robes simple for a mage—well cut and fitted to his large frame. A short tabard, unadorned by decoration, hung to his waist, over trousers tucked into oversize boots. A heavy maroon cloak hung from his broad shoulders, the hood pulled back.
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 7:49:14 PM
麦迪文背对着老仆人和卡德加，完全忽视了他们的存在。他一手拿着一个金制的星盘，一手拿着个笔记本站在一张桌子前，似乎正陷于沉思之中。卡德加怀疑这是否就是摩洛斯要他注意的“东西”之一。
卡德加清了清喉咙，向前走了过去，但摩洛斯抬起一只手示意制止。卡德加随即就像是中了冰冻术一样僵立，不敢再动了。
老仆人静静地走到主宰法师身边，等待着麦迪文的注意。一分钟过去了，两分钟过去了。之后卡德加发誓他们等待了近乎永恒的时间。
终于，那个穿着长袍的身影放下了他的星盘，在笔记本上快速的记下了三个符号。然后猛地合上书，把视线移到了摩洛斯身上。
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 10:02:55 PM
Medivh had his back to the old servant and the young man, ignoring them entirely. He was standing at one of the tables, a golden astrolabe in one hand, a notebook in the other. He seemed lost in thought, and Khadgar wondered if this was one of the “things” that Moroes had warned him about.
Khadgar cleared his throat and took a step forward, but Moroes raised a hand. Khadgar froze in place, as surely as if transfixed with a magical spell.
Instead the old servant walked quietly to one side of the master mage, waiting for Medivh to recognize his presence. A minute passed. A second minute. Then a period that Khadgar swore was an eternity.
Finally, the robed figure set down his astrolabe, and made three quick jots in the notebook. He closed the book with sharp snap, and looked over at Moroes.
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 10:53:06 PM
摩洛斯把手探进衬衣，拿出了那封弄皱的介绍信，信上红色的封印在稳定的火炬之光下显得更为血红。麦迪文接过它，然后才注意到了边上的年轻人。
这位法师的双眼深藏在漆黑的浓眉之下，但卡德加却立刻感觉到了其中蕴含着的力量。他看到了某种东西在这双翠绿的眼睛中摇曳飘忽、一闪而过，强大、而又有些不受控制，有些危险。主宰法师注视着卡德加。一瞬间卡德加有了一种奇怪的感觉，就像自己的全部学识和经验已被这道目光所全盘吸收，然后麦迪文发现它们对他来说不比一只甲虫或跳蚤更有意思。
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 11:31:41 PM
forty-plus years. The face was deeply lined and worn. Khadgar wondered what magics Medivh wielded
that wrote such a deep history on his face.
Moroes dipped into his vest and brought out the crumpled letter of introduction, the crimson seal now
bloodred in the steady, unflickering torchlight. Medivh turned and regarded the youth.
The mage’s eyes were deeply set beneath his dark, heavy brows, but Khadgar was aware at once of the
power within. Something danced and flickered within those deep green eyes, something powerful, and
perhaps uncontrolled. Something dangerous. The master mage glanced at him, and in a moment Khadgar
felt that the wizard had taken in his sum total of existence and found it no more intriguing than that of a
beetle or flea.
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 11:44:41 PM
可他的轻松感是短暂的。麦迪文根本没打开那封信，仅仅是轻轻皱了一下眉头，随即这张羊皮纸就在突然冒出的火焰中华丽的灰飞烟灭了。蓝色的火焰，猛烈的火焰。
随即，麦迪文说话了，声音深沉而又略带揶揄。
“好吧，”麦迪文说，完全无视卡德加的大好前程已经在他手里化为飞灰的现实。“那么看来，我们年轻的间谍同志终于来了。”
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 11:51:00 PM
relax almost immediately, as if a large and hungry predator had stalked past him without giving him a
second look.
His relief was short-lived. Medivh did not open the letter. Instead his brows furrowed only slightly, and
the parchment burst into flames with an explosive rush of air. The flames clustered at the far end of the
document from where Medivh held it, and flickered with an intense, blue flame.
When Medivh spoke his voice was both deep and amused.
“So,” said Medivh, oblivious to the fact he was holding Khadgar’s future burning in his hand. “It seems
our young spy has arrived at last.”
发布者 windsage
9/24/2008 11:56:13 PM
首次接触
我有说错么？”麦迪文问道，卡德加立刻又感觉到了主宰法师的视线。他再次觉得自己像是一只无助的甲虫，不过这一次更像是在昆虫研究家的工作台上供人宰割。被火焰烧化的介绍信封蜡滴到了天文台的石制地板上。
卡德加注意到了这一点，他的眼睛圆睁着，脸色苍白、血色全无，张大了嘴巴却说不出话。他努力利用声带控制周围的气流，但最终只发出了压抑的嘶嘶声。
从那漆黑的浓眉下面传来疑惑的目光。“你不舒服吗？摩洛斯，这孩子不舒服吗？”
“估计是没喘过气来，”摩洛斯毫无语调。“刚才爬了好一阵楼梯。”
发布者 windsage
9/29/2008 10:30:32 AM
Interview with the Magus
Is something wrong?” asked Medivh, and Khadgar suddenly felt himself under the master mage’s gaze again. He felt like a beetle again, but this time one that had inadvertently crawled across a bug-collector’s work desk. The flames had already consumed half the letter of introduction, and the wax seal was already melting, dripping onto the observatory’s flagstones.
Khadgar was aware that his eyes were wide, his face bloodless and pale, and his mouth hanging open.
He tried to force the air out of his body, but all his managed was a strangled, hissing sound.
The dark, heavy brows pursed in a bemused glance. “Are you ill? Moroes, is this lad ill?”
“Winded, perhaps,” said Moroes in a level tone. “Was a long climb up.”
发布者 windsage
9/29/2008 10:30:20 PM
“啊哈,”麦迪文道。“哦对，谢谢你，我差点给忘了。”他径直走到火盆边，把手上残余的纸灰扔到煤堆上。零星的蓝色火苗立刻壮观的闪燃至齐肩高。随后慢慢的变成了普通的火焰，发出微红的光晕，给屋子带来了温暖。至于那封介绍信——包括羊皮信纸和其上带有肯瑞托标记的封印，现在可真的是一点不剩咯。
“可您还没看过它呢！”卡德加喊，他喘了口气，又说“我的意思是，大人，我并非有意冒犯……”
星界法师笑出了声来，坐到了一张大型的帆布雕木椅子上，火盆与他的脸交相辉映。满是皱纹的脸上漏出一丝微笑。不过，卡德加可完全没有因此觉得放松。
麦迪文在座位上向前倾了倾身体，说道：“‘哦伟大而又尊敬的星界法师麦迪文，卡拉赞的主宰，我向您传达来自肯瑞托，最为博学又强大的魔法研究者们，各行各业乃至社会各界人士，国王的顾问团，博导，揭秘者……的问候。’他们一直以来就会搞这一套，到处不忘给自己吹嘘。我何德何能，让这么伟大的一个组织写信来问候啊？”
发布者 windsage
9/30/2008 2:39:47 AM
“Ah,” said Medivh. “Yes. Thank you, I had almost forgotten.” He walked over to the brazier and
dropped the burning parchment on top of the coals. The blue ball of flame rose spectacularly to about
shoulder height, and them diminished into a normal-looking flame, filling the room with a warm, reddish
glow. Of the letter of introduction, with its parchment and crimson seal inscribed with the symbol of the
Kirin Tor, there was no sign.
“But you didn’t read it!” said Khadgar, then caught himself, “I mean, sir, with respect…”
The master mage chuckled and settled himself into a large chair made of canvas and dark carved wood.
The brazier lit his face, pulling out the deep lines formed into a smile. Despite this, Khadgar could not
relax.
Medivh leaned forward in his chair and said, “‘Oh Great and Respected Magus Medivh, Master Mage
of Karazhan, I bring you the greetings of the Kirin Tor, most learned and puissant of the magical
academies, guilds, and societies, advisors to the kings, teachers of the learned, revealers of secrets.’
They continue on in that fashion for some ways, puffing themselves up more with every sentence. How
am I doing so far?”
发布者 windsage
9/30/2008 10:15:24 AM
“不要私自打开，”麦迪文打断了他的话。“但你在来的路上打开过这封信。”
星界法师抬起头看着对面的这位年轻人，卡德加的心差点提到了嗓子眼里。某种东西在麦迪文的眼睛里闪过，卡德加都开始怀疑起这位主宰法师是不是强大到能不说话就释放法术。
卡德加缓缓地点了点头，硬着头皮准备接受处罚。
麦迪文大笑：“什么时候？”
“在……呃在从洛丹伦坐船前往库尔提拉斯的时候，”卡德加说，他无法确定他说的究竟是会取悦还是惹恼眼前这位潜在的老师。“由于我们两天的航行实在太无聊而且……”
“好奇心是你好的一面，”麦迪文又一次打断了他的话。他笑了：“换做我的话，可能刚一离开达拉然的紫罗兰城就打开看了。”
发布者 windsage
9/30/2008 7:17:41 PM
“Not to open the letter,” finished Medivh. “But you did, anyway.”
The master mage raised his eyes to regard the young man, and Khadgar’s breath caught in his throat.
Something flickered in Medivh’s eyes, and Khadgar wondered if the master mage had the power to cast spells without anyone noticing.
Khadgar slowly nodded, steeling himself for the response.
Medivh chuckled loudly, “When?”
“On the…on the voyage from Lordaeron to Kul Tiras,” said Khadgar, unsure if what he said would amuse or irritate his potential mentor. “We were becalmed for two days and…”
“Curiosity got the better of you,” finished Medivh again. He smiled, and it was a clean white smile beneath the graying beard. “I probably would have opened it the moment I got out of sight of Dalaran’s Violet Citadel.”
发布者 windsage
9/30/2008 9:28:13 PM
“所以你想远离任何可能的法术，以免你私自打开信后有人召你回老家。你看完后有仔细的把它重新封起来以蒙混过粗略的检查。你以为我会直接揭开封印而不会注意到你的小把戏。”麦迪文又一次笑出声来。但是他的表情却变得有些严肃起来。“我是怎么办到的？”他问。
卡德加茫然。“办到什么，大人？”
“知道信里写着什么？”麦迪文说，他的头低了下来“我刚才烧掉的那封信告诉我，年轻的卡德加在推理和脑筋方面十分不错。这令我印象深刻。”
卡德加看着麦迪文，看着他那刚才还愉快的笑脸，那笑容几乎是瞬间蒸发。现在这张脸就像是太古的神灵雕像一样，公正而又无情。那双和善的眼睛现在看上去也暗藏着狂暴。那双浓眉交织在一起，就像正在积聚的雷云。
卡德加嗯嗯啊啊了一阵，最后说：“您读取了我的思维。”
“确实是个办法，”麦迪文说道。“但不正确。答错一次。不过你有点思路了，想到了思维读取。”
发布者 windsage
10/1/2008 1:01:54 AM
“And you wanted to be far from any spell or message recalling you for opening the letter. And you patched it back together well enough to fool a cursory examination, sure that I would likely break the seal straightaway and not notice your tampering.” Medivh allowed himself a chuckle, but drew his face into a tight, focused knot. “How did I do that?” he asked.
Khadgar blinked. “Do what, sir?”
“Know what was in the letter?” said Medivh, the sides of his mouth tugging down. “The letter I just burned says that I will find the young man Khadgar most impressive in his deduction and intelligence.
Impress me.”
Khadgar looked at Medivh, and the jovial smile of a few seconds before had evaporated. The smiling face was now that of some primitive stone god, judgmental and unforgiving. The eyes that had been tinged with mirth earlier now seemed to be barely concealing some hidden fury. The brows knitted together like the rising thunderhead of a storm.
Khadgar stammered for a moment, then said, “You read my mind.”
“Possible,” said Medivh. “But incorrect. You’re a stew of nerves right now, and that gets in the way of mind reading. One wrong.”
发布者 windsage
10/1/2008 10:12:21 AM
“这倒也有可能，”星界法师道，“因为我确实收到过类似信件，而且在里面他们也确实有表现出这样自吹自擂的调调。但是你应该记得信的内容，我说的和信里可一字不差。你这种假设确实是最常见的，但是仍然不对。答错两次。”
卡德加抿紧了嘴唇。他的大脑飞速运转，心跳快得要震碎胸腔。“心灵感应。”他最后说。
麦迪文的眼神依旧不可琢磨，说话也不带语调：“具体的说呢。”
卡德加深深的吸了口气：“这是一个魔法定律。是说如果某人经常使用某个物品，他身上的魔法光环就会不自觉地分出一小部分附加到该物品上面。那么由于魔法光环的律动是永远保持整体的，于是就能让施术者和物品的所有人建立感应联系。比方说用这种方法，一束头发可以用来施展魅惑，一个小铜币也可以自动飞回主人身边。”
麦迪文的双眼微闭，用一根手指拂过自己的下巴：“继续。”
卡德加顿了顿，