The Theft of Seer's Eye
The Theft of Seer's Eye by Shyriath Farstrider
The story is well known of the Three Makers and how they parted ways. There it is told how the penitent Seer hid himself away in the crystal-lined caves he and his beloved ones had called home, and how after their departure the echoes of his weeping and lonely singing filled the darkness.
The Place of Echoes stood otherwise empty for many years after the Parting. But as mortals grew numerous and spread throughout the land, some made their way into the caves, and chose to dwell there.
No single purpose brought them there: the curious came seeking new sights, the adventurous were drawn by tales of Seer, and the covetous sought to mine the gems found there; but the largest part were those who, like Seer, had lost that which they loved.
In the city they built beneath the earth, they found solace in one another, and they listened to his echoing song, and they sang sweet songs of their own so that his pain might be eased. And Seer, for his part, was calmed by their presence, and watched over them.
It came to pass that one day the scholar Fieloch found, as others had, the hidden way to the caverns. Now Fieloch considered himself a man of learning, and his desire for knowledge was more powerful than the desire in many others for riches or power.
He had spent his early years reading books and asking questions, and by the time he was a man, he was the most knowledgeable of his generation.
But in his heart he was troubled. There was so much to learn, but even if he had a lifetime, even if he could visit every library and archive, even if he could question every person, he would not know all that it was possible to know.
There was not enough time in his life, and too many books, and too many people; and there were too many things that no mortal knew. But remembering the legend of Seer and his immense knowledge, Fieloch determined to go to the great Maker and learn from him.
So it was that he came to the Place of Echoes, and found himself in the streets of the city called Eternal Tears, called so for the laments of Seer and the great tears of stone that hung from the roof of the cavern.
It was unlike any city he had yet seen; not hustling and bustling, but hushed and filled with quieted conversation, and the sound of sweet voices in song, and behind all a more distant sound as of a sighing wind.
The buildings rose gently from the shore of a still lake, up the side of the great cavern; many of the buildings and streets had been carved lovingly from the rock. Gardens of strange ferns and pools full of fish were everywhere. The streets were filled not merely by humans like himself, but by elves, and dwarves, and gryphons, and dragons, and other peoples he could not name.
All was dimly lit by a great crystal embedded in the roof of the cavern, but small, bright lights were everywhere, flying in the manner of insects. Fieloch thought them to be large fireflies, but stood in amazement when he was able to see them clearly, for they were truly of the form of large gems, glowing bright white, in frames of silver wire; but although they had no eyes to see their way, nor wings to keep them aloft, still they flew without hesitation.
Lulled by wonder and by the distant singing, Fieloch made his way to an inn to sleep; but after awaking his desire for knowledge overcame his wonder, and he asked the people around him about the flying gems.
“They are the Eyes of Seer,” they told him. “He set them to watch over us for him.”
“Then there is truly a Seer?” Fieloch asked.
“Indeed so. But we do not often see him, for he remains by himself in the deep caverns, singing his lament. But he will visit us in several days, and then you may see him for yourself.”
Fieloch was impatient, but resolved to wait. He spent his time talking to the people about their home, and learned the ways of cavern life from them. He learned how to tell the time from the light of the great crystal overhead, and he learned about the lives of the plants and animals that grew where there was no sun.
Now some who lived in the city, hearing that there was a scholar newly arrived, went to see Fieloch. They found him studying in the library, and asked for his assistance. “The soils of the upper cavern, where we grow our food, have become tainted, and our crops wilt early. Could help us find out what has happened to them?”
But Fieloch was angry at being interrupted at his reading, and replied to them, “I am no farmer, to deal with crops; and you seem to have no shortages of food. What things might I otherwise learn in the time I spent studying such a problem?” They said to him, “Nothing that could not be learned later,” but they turned and left him in peace.
The following day, the scholar went to the marketplace in search of a rare book. As he passed between the stalls, he saw an elven man in the midst of a group of other people, speaking urgently. But they could not understand him, for the elf spoke a tongue with which even the other elves there were unfamiliar.
One of them, seeing Fieloch, called to him: “O scholar, please come! Can you understand the words of our brother and help us ease his fears?”
Fieloch replied, “I know many languages, but I am on an urgent errand; I will return when I may.” But when he had returned from buying the book, the small gathering had dispersed, and the scholar thought no more of it.
All through that night, the sound of sighing wind grew louder, until those who listened could hear in it whispered words of sorrow and longing. Many of the people of the City of Eternal Tears sang mournfully in response, and many others listened in respectful silence. But Fieloch, in his excitement, paid no heed.
So it was that on the following day, Seer emerged from a portal at the far end of the cavern, and slipped into the cold waters of the lake, and swam to the waterfront; and the people went down to meet him, and Fieloch eagerly followed.
What he beheld was a dragon of great size, but slender build, as if he were made for crawling through caves and holes. He seemed formed of darkness; black was his color, but rather than the shining black of obsidian or polished stone, it was a black that took in nearly all light that touched it, so that his shape was difficult to discern.
And yet from his eyes blazed a white light like that of the sun, and which was mirrored in the objects called Seer’s Eyes, which now came from around the city to hover about their master.
He leaned down to greet them all, and Fieloch noted also how quiet he was, in his movements and his voice; for his speech did not echo, but was as a whisper, though all could hear it clearly.
The Maker thanked them for their company, and as was his custom, promised to each one gathered there an answer to one question. Fieloch stood in line with countless others, until at last his turn came and Seer’s sibilant voice asked him what he wished to know.
“O Lord,” Fieloch said, “I wish to know all things. How might that be achieved? How should I best go about it?”
Seer looked on the scholar with astonishment, and then with scrutiny. The gaze of his narrowed eyes seemed to pierce the body of Fieloch and into his soul, and read everything that was written there; and Fieloch felt weaker and more helpless than he ever had before. At last, Seer said to him, “I cannot answer that question for you. I am sorry.”
In sudden outrage, Fieloch cried, “O Lord, I have dedicated my life to the search for knowledge, but I have only one life to live! Why will you not answer the question?”
The Seer leaned closer, and Fieloch felt his breath on his face. “The question cannot be answered. However much I know or shall know, even I cannot know all things.”
“How, then, may I know as much as you?”
“You cannot. Some things are beyond mortals, and that is something I would not change lightly.”
Fieloch nearly wept. “But surely one who is worthy, who has learned so much-“
Then Seer raised his voice, and the whisper became a hissing roar, as the howl of a hurricane. “Worthy? Worth is not measured by the accumulation of knowledge; or of wealth, or power.
"Your worth is shown by the use you make of such things. When the people of this city, who are precious to me, asked for your assistance, did you lend them your knowledge? What use is learning that remains locked in the head?”
Seer subsided, and whispered harshly, “This lesson I learned at great cost, and I repeat it to you: however powerful a mind, it is nothing without a kindly heart and a willing hand. Learn that, and you will be wiser than all your studies could have made you.”
Seer dismissed Fieloch and turned to the next inquirer; and the scholar, pained and humiliated, fled from the waterside to his room at the inn. For hours, he spoke to no one, Seer’s words burning in his vision, and steadily he came to believe that Seer was himself hiding knowledge, and that he had not learned his own lesson.
Turning to the window, he saw one of Seer’s Eyes floating past, and it occurred to him that a thing that let allowed the Maker to see so much might let another see in the other direction. The scholar ran outside, followed the glowing gem down the street, and caught it in a fold of his robe; and no one saw, for the citizens were still gathered at the waterside with Seer.
The scholar felt a triumphant warmth in his blood, but knew that he must not be discovered. While the streets were still empty, he fled from the city and into the unpopulated depths of the lower caverns. In his eagerness to escape others’ sight, he chose a path that twisted and turned and writhed like a snake, until at last he felt safe and alone.
Removing the shining gem from his robe, he grasped it in both hands and peered into it; perceiving something in its heart, he brought it ever closer, until at last it touched his forehead. All in an instant his mind burned, and he cried out; for knowledge and memories poured into him in a torrent, as if the ocean had chosen to fill a thimble.
He cast the Eye away, and clutched his head; but the Eye had gone dark and floated no more, and Fieloch’s own eyes shone with the same blinding light that had once suffused it. He stumbled along the passage, weeping and crying out for aid, and wandered thus for what he felt must have been days.
At last, through his pain, the scholar heard Seer’s mournful song, and crawled towards it. He came into a vast chamber, ringed by a still lake and lined with glowing crystals. There on a small isle in the center was the Maker himself, rocking back and forth in time to his own voice, the echoes whispering back to him. He turned his gaze upon Fieloch, and went quiet, and beheld his pitiful state.
“I had tried to tell you,” Seer whispered, but without anger. “Your thirst was great, but not greater than the ocean you sought to drink from.”
The scholar begged for Seer to make it stop, and Seer replied, “You strove so hard for the Eye’s powers that they passed into you; you have become as one of my Eyes, and your mind touches mine. Because this was an act of your own will, I cannot undo it without destroying you.”
Fieloch cried, “My mind cannot hold it all! What can I do?”
Seer was by nature a creature of slow thoughts and careful actions, but seeing the man’s desperation, he arrived at an idea. “This shall be the way of it,” he said. “You are still bound by an urge to hold all your knowledge to yourself; in overcoming that urge you may find relief. This, then, shall be your penance and your salvation: you must give your knowledge to others, and teach the people of the city.
"If someone asks you a question, you must answer it; if they bring to you a mystery, help them understand it; and when they do neither of these things, go to the marketplace each day and teach those who will learn from you. As the knowledge flows away from you and is released, your pain will ease; and you must do this for the rest of your days.”
And so Fieloch returned to the city, and begged forgiveness from those he had wronged. He went into the upper caverns, and saw that the blockage of an underground stream had kept some mineral from the soil, and the farms were made fruitful again; and he heard the words of the lost elf, and comforted him.
And in the days that followed, Fieloch went to the marketplace, and stood upon the speaking platform there, and taught whoever would listen; and as promised, the agony left him, and he felt well again. Over the years, the teaching turned from a treatment, to a duty, and finally even to enjoyment, and the scholar became a contented man.
And so it was that many years later, Fieloch stood upon the shores of the underground lake, watching the still waters, and Seer emerged silently from beneath the surface. Seer said to him, “I see you are well. Your teaching continues, then?”
The scholar replied, “Indeed so. I have, I think, learned much myself.”
Seer nodded, and asked, “Does the pain ever return when you stop teaching?”
He replied, smiling, “I have not had the opportunity to find out.”
Seer nodded again, and dipped beneath the lake once more. And Fieloch continued to impart his knowledge, and was beloved in the City of Eternal Tears for the rest of his days.
