Jona leveled his gaze at the Alderman again . The thin man gave a start and went on . “ I can ’ t rightly say when it happened , but it was a long time ago . You know . Before .”
He did know , and Jona nodded for the Alderman to go on . “ Used to be that a mage lived in the hills in a high tower . A great mage for these parts . Anyhow , he used to be a good man , giving medicines and spells to petitioners who asked and advice to Aldermen of yesteryear . When the Change came , he took it not well . Got all twisted , you know ? Wouldn ’ t leave the tower except at night , then not at all .”
The Alderman paused , a cold look on his face , and he chewed the end of his pipe . Perhaps this was the part that used to scare him when his mother told the story . “ He lived a long time , even for a mage . Legend says he became something less than man . When the village folk found out they took torches to his tower . He never left , even as he cried when the stones themselves , burning , fell on his head . They let the fire burn itself out , and all that was left was ring of black stones and the doorway , charred black on just one side .”
It hit all the points Jona was aware of : an act of desperation or violence , a formerly good person turned evil , the taint of old magic in the midst of the Changing Times , and the story lived on folklore . “ Do you know the location of the circle of black stones ?”
The Alderman rattled off the kind of vague directions that village folk often gave . There was supposed to be a high , bald , hill overlooking the former site of the tower , so it wouldn ’ t be too hard to find . What did prove difficult was extracting himself from the Alderman and his daughter ’ s hospitality . After many , insistent , apologies he wove a goodbye through the front door .
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