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with no further suggestions. Together,
they were aware of the Earthspirits trapped in Delrael's silver belt, but they
couldn't speak a word of that out loud.
    Characters could
never know when the Outsiders might be listening.
    The quiet between
them seemed uncomfortable, strained. Vailret cleared his throat and spoke in a
bemused tone. "I wonder if we really grasp what we're doing. Think about
the implications beyond our adventuring to defeat Scartaris."
    He raised his
eyebrows. Delrael shook his head, as if tired of thinking.
    "Do we really
want to save Gamearth if it means rekindling the Wars all over again?"
    Bryl wiped his
hands on his sky-blue cloak, trying to get rid of some pitch on his palm.
"What are you talking about?" He scowled at the pines around him.
    "Well, isn't
that what we're trying to do, get the Outsiders interested again by stirring up
as much trouble as we can? Our normal, peaceful existence is so boring to them
they want to quit the Game. Maybe the only way we can keep their interest is to
start all those endless battles and constant slaughter again."
    Vailret sighed. His
half-formed thoughts began to frighten him.
    "Starting the
old Sorcerer Wars was a pretty trivial thing in the first place.
    We shouldn't have
too much trouble if we want to do it again."
    Delrael adjusted
the sword at his side. The silver belt around his waist looked gaudy in
contrast with his scuffed and mended leather armor. "I thought nobody knew
how the Wars started. It was so many turns ago."
    Vailret shook his
head. "Tareah knew the story. It's sad in one way and stupid in another.
Would you believe a wedding party, an athletic contest?"
    He shrugged.
"Of course, legends make things too simplistic. They ignore all the sociological
factors of the characters, how the Sorcerers divided into two camps just
waiting for a spark to set them at each others' throats.
    "Our two
athletes, one from each faction, were Sesteb and Turik. The Sorcerer Lord
Armund had married his Lady Maire. The couple hosted a gala wedding feast at
Armund's lakeside palace, then they began an afternoon of games. Games ― " Vailret shook his head. "Fun and games ― think of all
the trouble they've caused us."
    "Think of all
the fun we had," Delrael countered.
    "Games were
simpler then. The main sport was to see who could throw a stone farthest out
onto Lord Armund's lake, Sesteb or Turik. Turik was muscular, but Sesteb was
clever and wiry.
    "Lord Armund
arranged to have a line of boats strung out on the hexagonal lake, so
characters could float a marker where each stone landed.
    Turik flung his
stone first and reached the ring of boats. Nobody believed Sesteb could ever
match it.
    "But Sesteb
picked a small flat stone. He stepped up to the edge of the water and cast it
at an angle, skipping it across the surface of the lake. On its last bounce,
the stone jumped past the ring of boats."
    Delrael laughed.
"Good strategy."
    "Well you can
imagine what happened. The other characters had placed high wagers on the game,
so of course Turik's supporters said that Sesteb had cheated, while the others
argued that Sesteb's stone went the farthest and nothing else mattered. Both
sides refused to pay their wagers, which led to open hostility before long. It
didn't help that everybody had too much wine at the wedding feast, either.
    "Lord Armund
demanded that the two groups make peace so they didn't ruin his wedding
celebration. He went to Sesteb's supporters and asked them to begin the
competition all over again ― but they killed Armund in their drunken
anger and tossed him out of their tent."
    Bryl made a rude
noise. "I thought old Sorcerer lords were a little more dignified than
that."
    Vailret agreed.
"So you might think. When the Lady Maire witnessed the murder of her new
husband, she used her sorcery to spawn an ugly, vengeful monster ― the first ogre, which then slaughtered the characters that had killed Lord
Armund. Turik's supporters created their own monsters to