He glances at Dara, then back to her. :...Maybe? I'm not sure if only Heralds can do it: 

:Van taught Shavri, that time. But she's...complicated: Dara looks back over at Azabel. :I think we'll have to discuss it amongst ourselves first: 

Aza nods. She has her own way to do the same thing but whether they'll teach her will be very informative.

:It might be good for you to catch up on some of Leareth's other history - after the Cataclysm - but we know less, and only what he told Van. So who knows if we can trust him to be telling the truth about any of it: 

:Pretty sure he wasn't lying about which treatises on economics he wrote. You can tell it's him, once you know the connection, and, well, why would he bother to lie: She looks at Azabel again. :He spent some time conquering countries and building empires, but - maybe even more time being a scholar. Does that sound in-character for Ma'ar?: 

:Yes, he's very smart and academic:

Nod. :I should go, I have a meeting - any other questions? Or anything else you need?: 

:Where are the journals, can I see them?:

:In our archives. I'll bring them over after the meeting - or, hmm, I can send someone else...: 

:If you wouldn't mind. I don't have much to do at the moment:

:Of course:

And Dara escorts her back to her room, without saying anything, before rushing off.

Where Aza parks, writing to herself, waiting for the journal delivery.

Which arrive about half a candlemark later, delivered by another stressed and preoccupied-looking Herald who introduces herself as Keiran. 

:Thank you:

:You're welcome: And Keiran hurries off again. 

The journals are carefully packaged in a box, divided up in chronological order into various folders. They're written on the more expensive and very durable rag-paper sometimes used in Urtho's Tower; there are recent preservation-spells on them, done in a different style than the one Azabel learned but skillful enough, and also traces of much, much older magic. 

They're dated, in a familiar calendar. The first one is from a couple of years earlier than her sudden departure; the year she Ma'ar and began her mage-classes. 

Well, she might as well begin at the beginning. She will apologize to Urtho if there turns out to be a sense in which he has not been dead for two thousand years.

It is not often that I meet a student who leaves me both awed and frightened. 

This time, his name is Kiyamvir Ma’ar. He is a boy of fourteen, old to be only starting his training in mage-craft, and he does not speak the Tantaran or the Kata’shin’a’in languages, we have only trade-pidgin in common. Two challenges that I face. He is of Predain, to the north, born to one of their nomadic tribes. They are not much like my peaceful Kaled’a’in; his are a violent people, and I fear he has seen much horror and heartbreak in his short life. 

He will not speak of it to me. I suppose I have not yet earned his trust. I am not sure that anyone has his trust, and it is a sad thing to observe. He seems the most entirely self-reliant child I have ever encountered, and I am not sure that he calls anybody friend. 

It is not true that he has had no training. Despite his youth, he served a mage-warlord in his travels before he came to us. His skills and potential were sadly under-utilized; he tells me he was a petty clerk, and helped with the ledgers. I am sure he was very good at the job, but nonetheless, what a terrible waste of a brilliant mind. 

He is intelligent, that much is clear, and I have rarely seen such drive. I think he will catch up with his classmates with no trouble, and perhaps far exceed them. There is a spark in him, a strength of ambition I have missed in so many others. He will let nothing hold him back. 

Perhaps there is a desperation in it. A thirst, not only for knowledge, but for power. Control. This is what frightens me. We know from our past that this thirst for power is what leads so inexorably down the path of darkness. 

He seeks to protect others who are vulnerable, and this does assuage my worry somewhat, though I hope he will learn to do it in a way that does not violate our customs so. I will not tolerate fights amongst my students. 

He does not feel safe here, and it pains me. No one need sleep with a weapon under their pillow, here in Ka’venusho, and yet I suppose he is not yet ready to believe that. 

Yet he did seek me out, and ask if I would be his teacher. I will not turn any student away, and I will do my best to guide him down the path of light. 

It seems to Aza that if you are Urtho writing in your diary about how you are concerned about your new student Ma'ar you might want to bother to write down that you suggested to your other student Azabel that she go make friends, but apparently he skipped it. The rest is characteristic vague ethics rambling, classic Urtho. Next?

In the same sheaf of ancient papers, held together with a clip, are a few pages of purely rambling about gryphons and his various travails with their complicated medical problems. Urtho's pride and delight comes across clearly. 

The next excerpted entry is from three years later, nearly a year after the day Aza walked into Urtho's office and touched an artifact that should absolutely not have been left sitting around. 

...

Young Ma’ar is my pride and joy, and yet I swear that he will be the death of me. 

He considers nothing sacred. One might think this uncharitable of me, but I asked him and he agreed! He will say it is a concept that does not make sense, that there is only the world, the cold logic and laws on which it turns, and the lives of the people in it. He has no respect for the gods. I do not know what to say to him on this; I am no shaman, to counsel youngsters in theology. Perhaps I ought send him to one of the shamans, that they might offer the advice I cannot, but I fear he might offend them deeply. 

We spoke in our seminar today of compulsions, and why this is dark magic. Ma’ar, as always, is of the opinion that ‘dark’ and ‘light’ are not coherent concepts, and that we must look only to results. He listed twenty ways that one might use a compulsion, in and off the battlefield, to save lives and improve the situation of people. As usual, his fellow students struggle to find the flaws in his logic, though the conclusions are monstrous, and so it devolves into name-calling from which I must rescue him. 

At least it is not so bad as the incident of the blood-magic debate. I encourage debate among the young scholars, it is a way to stretch our minds, but Ma’ar debates as though he is fighting for his life. I thought it might be an interesting exercise to debate the potential merits of blood-magic, in the abstract of course; I should have predicted that Ma’ar would take it entirely too seriously. 

And then, of course, there is the search for immortality. Ma’ar is hardly the first youngster to seek out a fountain of youth, and perhaps his naivety will fade with the years – and yet, there is something different in his approach. Others have told me that he speaks to them of dark magics that prolong life. There is still a desperation in him, it seems, and for more than power alone. Death is a part of the natural order, and yet he would defy it, and I know him well; he would call that defiance good and right. 

Nonetheless, it is a pleasure when he comes to my office. His mind is so quick, and he places no limits on his thoughts. It has been a very long time since I have felt challenged by one so young. 

I would like to invite Ma’ar to my next salon, though he is not yet eighteen years old; he is the equal of many of my Adepts already, though he falls behind in concert-work. Trusting in others is still such a struggle for him. A weakness that I hope I may help him remedy. After all, Great Workings are the most transformative innovation of our recent age. 

I hope also that he will learn to make friends. He spends little effort on those small courtesies that would smooth his way, and it will not make his life easy if he continues to baffle and offend his classmates as he does now. I think he is coming to understand this, and perhaps making efforts in this direction, but of course he thinks of it in his usual frame, in terms of allies and power. I wish he would see the value, not simply in trading favours, but in loyal friends. There is a wound in him still, I think. I look at him, and I see a young man who is desperately lonely, and yet does not know there is any other way to live. 

She doesn't remember Ma'ar having a particular deficit in concert-work. Or... ever visiting Urtho's office. Is Urtho not aware that he has a friend? Maybe he thinks he should have more of them.
But perhaps he fell behind later, picked up the habit later, never got over Aza and found another friend. Or these journals were falsified by someone seeking to narrativize the Cataclysm better, maybe, though they're pretty good at the handwriting mimicry.

This entry, too, comes along with an additional several pages about gryphons. 

There is absolutely no mention of granting them the right to control their own reproduction; in fact, half a page is dedicated to fussing over two lovestruck gryphons who Urtho thinks are a poor choice for mating purposes. 

...that's very weird.

She flips back through what she's already read and makes a note of everything that seems wrong.

(It's hard to tell if anything in the earlier gryphon section is wrong, since it's from well before she first had a conversation with him about it.) 

The entry at the start of the next folder is dated a full six years after she would have disappeared. 

...

I will not ask any to stay in my Tower who is not willing, and so young Adept Kiyamvir Ma’ar has left us today, and returned to his homeland.

He would be happier here, I think, among his fellow scholars, those who see and respect his mind for what it is, but he has always been ambitious. Learning is not enough for him; he wishes to take it out into the world, and transform it. 

An admirable desire, and a dangerous one. I worry less for him now than I did once; there is a darkness in him, but there is great light as well, and in the end none of us can claim to be free of darkness and base desires. 

Nonetheless, out in the world, he will be tempted. Unscrupulous men will offer him great reward in exchange for his power. The desire for power and control over so much more than just magic is a weakness in his spirit, and one that I was never able to convince him was a flaw. 

I will miss him dearly. He has been a pleasure in my advanced classes and seminars, in recent years – he speaks so well, he is relentlessly curious, and he has learned to be attentive to the feelings of others. I thought the day would never come! Occasionally he will say something shocking, but we are all used to it by now; we know it is his way, and part of his charm. I would not describe him as popular, exactly, but he is respected. It would be difficult not to respect his skill, when he exceeds many Adepts three times his age. 

I remember the last conversation that we shared, here in this office. I told him yet again that it would please me for him to stay, continue his studies, and teach as he was taught. I reminded him of all we have to offer here in Ka’venusho, and he said that is why he must leave. Because Tantara flourishes, and so that is not where he is needed. 

He tells me that these are dark times outside of my Kingdom, and I cannot say he is wrong. There has been trouble on our borders for a long time. I know this, and yet, I am Archmage to Tantara, not to the world. I would not wish it to be otherwise; it would be entirely too much power to risk placing in the hands of one man. 

I think that Ma’ar looks down on me for this, and I cannot yet explain why that is a mistake; he is still too young, too full of fire, he is not yet tempered by failure and defeat. Some things cannot be taught, only learned for oneself. Someday, perhaps, we will sit down for a drink together, as equals, and he will tell me he understands what I have tried to say to him all along. 

This bit seems totally uninformed by classroom discussions she attended about mages having power... again is sort of weird in not mentioning her...