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Quest to Worthiness
It was hopeless. Faced with a solid wall, their way back blocked by the closed statue, the only comfort left were the torches saving the two from darkness. Myrtha kept fighting a growing hysteria, drawing desperate last strength from the girls dependency on her. At last motherly instincts outweighed her own fears and breathing deep she took account of their situation. The amulets had opened the statue, she felt sure they were also the key to this wall, but how she could put them to use was still lost to her. Frantically searching her memories she suddenly remembered the scene at the celebrations when it had seemed impossible to get past the crowd to their assigned table. Lendear hat conjured a sphere with his gem, but initially it had only included him and the old man. She recalled Thealdis words who had instructed the boy to wish the others in. Was that it? Could she just wish the wall to open? She quickly told Lillyveen about her conclusions.
“Lyl, dear. We must concentrate and be really earnest. Try not to think about anything else but wishing the wall to open for us. Ready?”
The girl nodded, now all solemn, driven by new hopes and together they stood, gems enclosed in their hands, concentrating on their dearly felt desire. Their first attempt to find an opening, simply facing the wall but with minds full of fear and incertitude had been ineffective. This time however, fully concentrating on the one thought, they could catch a glimpse of the outline of a door. It was blurred, but definitely there. Thrilled, they increased their efforts, concentrating even harder on their wish, pushing away any distractive stream of thought. The closer they came to master their focus on the single thought, the clearer the outline of the door became and when both minds were in perfect harmony, wholly occupied by the only significant notion, the door fully materialized and sprang open.

His mind still circling around the refreshed memory of the Grinhaks, Lendear wandered the streets on his way to Master Mot. He was looking forward to the lesson with the bow master after all this mental work with the head librarian when he realized he had forgotten to bring along his bow. Cursing, he stopped in his tracks and scanned the surroundings, trying to picture the best route to the Brigshack, when his eyes fell on the display of a shop to his left. Curious he approached the window, the item that had caught his attention an odd assembly of mechanical parts, shiny metal plates swirling seemingly at random around its centre. Totally absorbed now, the boy tried to reveal the purpose of this strange object, his assignments all forgotten. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a voice from behind and startled turned to eye its owner.
“A fascinating piece of handiwork, wouldn’t you agree my young friend?”
Lendear caught sight of a tall, scrawny man, crocked nosed with piercing black eyes, the smiling lips in an attempt to cloud the unmistakably sinister outlines of his features. Spooked, the boy managed to stutter a weak assent, but before the stranger had time to offer another comment, Lendear took his heels and fled.
After he had made a couple of corners, totally ignorant of the route he had taken, all that mattered was to put some distance between him and this ghastly figure, the boy came to a stop to catch some breath. Recollecting this latest encounter left him cursing yet again, this time though not rooted in his forgetfulness but for the sheepishness he had so disconcertingly demonstrated.
The surroundings were completely unfamiliar he realized, the buildings shabby, the streets littered and filled with a stench that almost made him retch. Where in the world was he and why did he suddenly earn those hostile stares from a group of urchins who stood gathered around what appeared to be a toothless old hag?

Triumph lay in the air as the two apprentices entered what turned out to be a cloister. Neatly arranged in the inner garden, rows of maidenhair trees marked the paths connecting the corners, the centre was dominated by a stone pavilion. They were back on the surface, the early afternoon sun filtering through the leaves and apart from some chirping birds and two squirrels on a wild chase, the venue appeared to be deserted.
Myrtha turned to take in her surroundings, the door they had just passed through was gone and there was nothing but solid rock. Apparently they were somewhere in the Thari Cees. Behind the cloister she could make out the sanctuary, but the surrounding mountains stretched to all sides, blocking the view of what might lay beyond with no visible path leading to or from the grounds.
Lillyveen was plainly awed by the sight and stood wide-eyed, taking everything in, trying to comprehend, but for a change without words.
“Shall we?”, Myrtha offered and the two headed towards the sanctuary using the longer route alongside the cloister in an attempt not to disturb the peaceful, almost holy ambience around the pavilion. A large wooden door marked the entrance to the sanctuary, the two wings wide open as if to invite them in. Reluctantly they entered into the main hall which stretched all the way up to the roof, flanking on either side were staircases, leading to the upper floors and in the centre stood a massive fountain, dominated by another representation of the Orders founder. They were greeted by a young girl in white robes about Lillyveens age, but what gave her a quite odd appearance was her bright white hair and her red eyes. Even her eyelashes and eyebrows were plain white, the skin almost transparent.
“Greetings Lady Myrtha and greetings to you Lillyveen, I’m Malda. If you would please follow me”, she introduced herself with a warm, yet way too deep voice for a girl her apparent age, turned and headed the way to the left flight of stairs without waiting for an answer. Both Myrtha and Lillyveen were glad they were spared some courtesy response as both were still trying to take in and process the rather uncommon appearance of the strange girl.

“Well, well, whom have we got here now?”, the old hag addressed Lendear with a fragile, cracking voice, a mocking, ironic undertone swinging in.
“Have we lost our way? Oh, my poor little boy”, she paused, looked him over and continued, “but fear not, I’m sure my little lads her would be glad to show you the way. Maybe a little mite will help. You do have some money on you, don’t you?”
It dawned on Lendear that he was in the middle of big troubles. Certainly these rascals grouped around this ugly old witch were not at all helpful, openly eyeing him up, judging, calculating and slightly altering positions, they leisurely started to fan out. He was sure to be in for a brawl in no time and desperately searched for a way out. Without doubt he wouldn’t stand a chance to outrun them and being ignorant of the grounds, they soon would have him cornered. Moreover, standing up to the fight here in this dark alleyway without any help in sight wasn’t really an option. Desperately he had already started to brace himself for the reception of a good beating, when he suddenly remembered his gem. Money they could have, he’d only have a little loose cash on him anyway and wasn’t concerned about that, but he owned and carried some precious items he could not afford to loose under any circumstance. Lendear unfortunately didn’t know anything about the powers of his skean and he doubted that his opponents would be much impressed upon its sight, certainly ignorant of its significance, so he put that idea aside. Instead he quickly fumbled in his robes, attached the gem to his bracelet and was instantly bathed in a pale red, the colour of the aura clearly indicating his trepidation. He tried to concentrate, called himself to calmness, instinctively using the sphere’s feedback to direct his feelings. The impact on the assailants was instant. Their pugnacious expressions changed to quizzical looks, everyone halted in his tracks and one after the other slowly started to retreat and reassemble around the old hag. They had completely lost interest in the boy as if he wasn’t there at all. Lendear attempted one step back, then another, expecting the group to charge at any moment, but nothing happened. He was not yet ready to allow the thrills he felt deep down to emerge, caution still ruling, the threat too fresh and slowly continued his retreat, concentrating on the aura. As soon as he made it around the next corner however, the building shielding him from view, he gave in to the urge and fled.

They ascended to the first floor, the white girl leading the way until they reached a round arched opening in the wall. There was no door and they could make out a little chamber, the only furniture a desk and seated behind it was a woman, the same white hair as the girl but in her case definitely owned to age. Lillyveen had never seen such an old person before, and in her filial mind she came to the conclusion that she was about to have a meeting with the founder of the Order. Their guide bowed deeply and wordlessly left the visitors with their apparent host.
“Lady Myrtha, young Lady Lillyveen, I’m highly pleased to see you have found your way to us. Forgive us this little test, but you shall soon learn about its necessity. I am Caldatha Mas, Abbes of the Order of the Gemstone. Welcome to the grounds of the Order and may your stay be filled with peace and pleasure.”