The path ended abruptly at the smooth outline of a door on an otherwise normal cliff face. There was no handle or any other feature to indicate how to open the thing. Thea and Raith examined it for a moment, then looked at each other and shrugged.

  Raith lifted a hand and rapped firmly on the door. His knuckles on the solid rock produced barely any noise they could hear even from the outside. It seemed impossible anyone inside would have heard. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted.

  “Hello! Abbot Rinner!?”

  The mountain wind ripped the noise away nearly as fast as he made it, and it again seemed impossible anyone behind that thick stone would have had heard him. Thea pulled out a utility dagger and used the metal hilt to rap on the door hard enough the rock chipped a little.

  Still nothing.

  “There’s got to be a way in. Everyone at the monastery goes to him for help with their patterns, and they’re constantly working on new martial [Skills].”

  They both gave the door and surrounding cliff a more thorough examination, looking for any hidden buttons or levers. He used [Distinguished Guest] and nothing happened. Just in case, he tried [Trap Trammel], too, with the same results. After spending far too long in [Staccato] staring at the same featureless rock, he was ready to call it.

  “If there’s any way in there, I can’t find it.”

  “Your eyes are sharper than mine. If you can’t, then surely I’ve no chance. What do you want to do now?”

  Raith kicked at a rock on the ground and found himself really looking down for the first time.

  “Hold on a second. Check this out.”

  Dropping to his hands and knees, Raith brushed away the dirt and stones to reveal they’d been standing on a trapdoor. With him kneeling on it, the whole thing lifted just a little and a voice came out of the crack.

  “You’ll need to get off the door if you want me to open it.”

  Raith jumped to his feet and stepped clear of the trapdoor. It came swinging open and a head popped up. He’d been expecting another hairless monk, or maybe a wild mop of gray hair, disheveled robes and a crazed smile. Possibly with a few missing teeth.

  Instead, Abbot Rinner was a middle aged elf, with fine golden hair and elegant silvery robes. He would have looked more at home walking the lorehalls of the Order than he did out in this remote mountain hole. The one thing that fit was the mischievous grin and sparkle in his eyes. When he spoke, it was in that sing-songy accent that elves always had.

  “I must congratulate you for finding my door so quickly. I’m usually provided many more hours of entertainment. Sometimes days.”

  Raith remembered that parting smirk his grandfather had tried to hide when he said where he was off to.

  “That dirty old bastard.” Then he realized he said that out loud. “Sorry, sir. I just meant my grandfather.”

  The elf laughed out loud. It was a high but pleasant sound.

  “Your grandfather? And who might that be?”

  “Master Brennan. I’m Raith and this is my friend Thea. We were hoping you might advise us on our patterns.”

  Thea pulled out her bottle of wine.

  “We brought you a gift.”

  Rinner’s eyes lit up at the sight of the wine.

  “Is that a gnomish red? Well, don’t just stand there. Come in, come in.”

  Raith had no idea what kind of wine it was, but he was glad to see it was something the elf was interested in. Maybe it would make the eccentric sage more inclined to help. They followed him down the stone stairwell, and as Thea turned to figure out how to shut the trapdoor behind her, it swung closed on its own with a woosh of air.

  Glowing gemstones gently lit the hallway going down, and the smooth stone walls transitioned to a light colored wood paneling when they reached the bottom. The room was much larger than he was expecting, with ten foot ceilings and walls perhaps thirty feet long covered in bookshelves and artwork. A closed wooden door was on the opposite wall, and a beautifully woven rug covered the floor.

  In the center was a sitting area with three comfortable looking chairs and a sofa. Rinner draped himself lazily onto the sofa like a cat and looked up at them.

  “Set the wine on the desk over there, then have a seat and tell me what has brought you to my humble home.”

  He gestured around himself grandly and smiled. Thea placed the wine down and they both took a seat. The chairs were far softer than they looked, and Raith couldn’t decide if it was because of some exotic fabric or just the fact that he hadn’t sat on a normal chair in so long.

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  He shifted around uncomfortably for a moment before realizing it wasn’t his butt that was uncomfortable. Every fiber of his being was rebelling against discussing his pattern with a stranger. Or anyone else, for that matter.

  “Thea, why don’t you go first?”

  She nodded, and Rinner looked at her expectantly.

  “I believe my request is simple enough. At least in the asking. I’m a [Seedvine Druid], and I wish to braid up into a [Vine Knight Druid]. I’ve seen the pattern and know a part of it for certain. Some, though, I’m not so sure of, and I don’t want to weave it unaided.”

  Rinner sat up and leaned forward.

  “May I read your pattern?”

  “Yes.”

  His ice blue eyes focused on her intently and he nodded.

  “I see, yes. Fascinating path you’ve chosen, young lady. It should be a simple task to assist.” His eyes flitted to Raith. “And you, young man?”

  That didn’t take nearly as long as he’d hoped. Maybe the elf could just make some suggestions without having to look.

  “My current [Rogue] class is [Thief Acrobat], but I’d like to transition from thief to scout focused. Maybe stitch some perception [Skills].” Raith looked around hopefully at the books. “Maybe you have something like that here?”

  The corners of Rinner’s mouth turned down slightly.

  “Your request doesn’t sound especially complicated. You will need to remove that ring so I can look to be certain of how to assist.”

  “You can’t just write something down for me?”

  “Without knowing the starting pattern, it is impossible to create the ending one. I suppose I could give you something unbelievably droll and generic, but I will waste neither my time nor my talents on that. I am an artist. A [Sage].”

  “I’m sorry sir, it’s just…”

  He looked at Thea, and all she could offer was a shrug. This was his decision to make.

  [Life in Staccato]

  There was no point in listing all the reasons to simply leave without exposing his pattern to this elf. They were the same reasons he’d been living with his entire life.

  So the only question to answer was: Why take the risk?

  First, he was impatient to braid up. It wasn’t a very good reason, and wouldn’t be enough on its own, but it was a reason nonetheless and worth acknowledging.

  Second, if he wanted to make the most of this mess of classes he’d put together, he was going to need help eventually. That meant finding a [Pattern Sage], and the vast majority in Tethia were members of the Order. Maybe he could find a Thieves Guild member to help guide his [Rogue] class, but exposing his pattern to them didn’t sound much better.

  So here was a sage that had absolutely no connection or loyalty to the Order, and was trusted by his grandfather. Even if the elf did see his pattern, his mother’s tattoo would keep the [Divine Skill] hidden.

  He made a decision and dropped the [Skill], then removed his Ring of Pattern Masking.

  “You know what, nevermind. Go ahead and read it if you need to.”

  Rinner sat up and looked at him intently. A moment later his eyes opened wide.

  “Oh, how marvelous. What lovely complexity.” His eyes snapped towards Raith’s. “Where did you find that?”

  “I, uh, aren’t you supposed to be helping me with my [Rogue] class?”

  The elf’s eyes again focused on Raith’s pattern while he answered.

  “I deal with the entire pattern, my boy. If you want the best weave, one must take a holistic approach. Consider the exact placement of each thread. If you want some tired old pattern woven a million time you’ve come to the wrong place.”

  The [Sage] ‘hmm’d’ and ‘I see’d’ for a while, and Raith became increasingly uncomfortable. Rinner finally met his eyes again and spoke.

  “I will help you under one condition.”

  Raith felt certain he wasn’t going to like this.

  “Ok, what is it?”

  The Abbot stood up, clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace excitedly.

  “Before I tell you what I want, you must first know what you shall receive from me. I do not want your first reaction to be founded in ignorance.”

  He whirled dramatically and gestured towards his chest.

  “I, Fanthius Rinner, [Pattern Sage] extraordinaire, will provide you with a written document of patterns for the next four braids of your [Rogue] class, as well unique [Skill] choices specific to the class.”

  Thea let out a gasp. That was an extraordinary offer, something only usually available to the extremely wealthy and well connected. Four more braids would take him years to achieve, if he ever got there at all. He’d be powerful enough at that point to leverage his own resources to advance. Or he could always come back here.

  “That is very generous of you. What’s the condition?”

  Rinner gave a sly smile, and Raith felt his heart sink.

  “I need you to show me the [Skill] you have hidden.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

  “Don’t play stupid with me, boy. I am no Order sluggard, braiding up [Cooks] and unweaving [Quests] for wayward children. That [Scholar] class of yours, as well as the marvelously intricate [Mnemonic Library], are woven from threads that simply disappear into nothing. The only possible explanation is a veiled [Skill]. Judging from the composition of the threads, a [Divine Skill].”

  This was a disaster. Raith felt a panic rising in his stomach and started glancing back towards the door. Abbot Rinner must have noticed because he put up a hand and his voice became soft.

  “I swear to tell no one of this, whether you agree to my terms or not. It is an impossibly rare opportunity for me to study such a [Skill]. I am no friend to the Order of the Loom, even as it is found in the elven kingdom. Certainly not the Order of your human lands. I surmise that if your powers were a threat to the mortal realm, your grandfather would not have entrusted you to my care.”

  The mention of his grandfather brought him back from the precipice. Master Brennan would not have sent him here if the elf couldn’t be trusted.

  “You’re right, sir. I am godlaced. But I don’t know how to show you the [Skill].”

  Rinner’s eyebrows furrowed at this.

  “I assumed you were wearing an item to conceal it. If not, then how is it masked?”

  Raith gestured at his head.

  “My mother gave me a tattoo.”

  The elf’s eyes lit up.

  “Ah, that answers a great many of my questions. Your mother was truly a gifted young woman. I guided her through her first two braids, you know.” He tapped a slender finger on his chin thoughtfully. “In that case, I shall require your cooperation to push aside the veil. It is woven into you, and I cannot manipulate your pattern without your leave.”

  That threatened to bring up another bout of panic, but he pushed it down. Knowing intellectually that it was impossible for Rinner to do anything he didn’t explicitly permit didn’t make it feel less intrusive. Raith took a deep breath and steeled himself, then gave the elf a nod.

  “What do you need me to do?”

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