A welcoming feast was held for Brannagh, who had brought with him many goods from the land of Selba. Fine fabrics, wrought metals, spices and strange artifacts that Sif could not divine the purpose of. Douglásc bore a nasty look on his face, growing darker as more exotic goods were presented to Callán.

" And this, my lord, is the greatest invention of their people," Brannagh said, unscrolling a great length of very fine paper. It was decorated with an unusual repetitive design.

Callán leaned forward, squinting.

" What is this, to be called greater than even the iron broadswords and polearms you presented earlier?" he asked.

Brannagh grinned, triumphant. Sif thought all the pomp and circumstance was making the man look a little silly; but he got to sit in Douglásc's lap and eat roast chicken, so he was fine with merely observing.

" It is the language passed down to them from the empire of Norn," he said, " And from this scroll alone, I can recite alchemical recipes, spells to summon spirits, and prayers for aid from our Lord Lelleyn, who they know as Luceta-"

" Petty wizardry," Douglásc jabbed, under his breath.

"-Furthermore, it is not just the priests of their land who can learn it. All their kings and nobles use these words to record their histories, their laws, and their accounting," Brannagh finished, apparently unaware of Douglásc's slight.

" How interesting," Callán said. " So even I, someone with no magical inclination, may be able to learn it?"

" Yes, my lord," Brannagh said. " These do not shift and obscure meaning, like the true runes of spirits. It took me but a few short months to learn them."

Sif stuck his snout above the table, and took a piece of ham from Douglásc's untouched plate.

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