Later that night, Lyla sat in her chilly room, holding a leather drawstring pouch in her hand.

“Velander?” she whispered.

There was no reply.

“Are you there? Did I just imagine you?” Lyla rested her head on her knees. She wasn’t looking forward to the morrow. Queen Rachelle had been particularly nasty during the meal this evening.

“Where have you been, wench?” she had asked sharply as Lyla rushed belatedly into the greeting room. The guests hadn’t arrived yet. For that, the wand-bearer was grateful.

“I’m sorry, your Grace.” Lyla bowed. “I was reading a book, and time got away from me.”

“Books, schmooks. What kind of lady wastes her time reading, I want to know? Oh, that’s right. You’re no lady, just a stupid noble-wench.” She smirked. “I’m sure that since you are up and walking, you will be able to attend me on the morrow. I’ve given you more than enough time to get over that silly head injury of yours.”

Lyla nodded. “As you wish, my Queen.”

“Be prepared for a complete questioning tomorrow,” Rachelle responded. “I am quite curious as to your story and what you can remember.” The queen seemed as if she were about to say something more, but at that moment the guests were announced, and they were all led off to dinner.

Lyla sighed, drawing the thin blankets close around her shoulders.

“You know,” the velander’s voice suddenly broke through the darkness of the room. “I bet Master Qualend in Loarne has some information you could use.”

Lyla had started at the voice, but quickly recovered. “You know,” she replied mildly. “I bet that you have some information I would find useful.”

“Oh?” The velander asked innocently.

“Yes. What did you mean when you said ‘the wand is broken, that’s why I fell out?’ and what exactly are you?”

“Oh I see. You want the whole story.” The velander sighed dramatically. “Okay. But be sure to listen, because I’m only going to tell it once.”

“I’m listening.”

“Velander, what I am, is Dust of the Golden Scepter. Without dust, the Golden Scepter is nothing.”

“Broken?” Lyla inserted.

“No, not broken, though the Golden Scepter is, indeed, broken. Put simply, dust is the power of the Golden Scepter. The scepter has no power but for velander. The Golden Scepter is broken in that it can no longer contain velander properly. As you saw, when you used the rod magically, it dumped me out. As a refuse, if you will. That should not be. I am much too powerful to simply be dumped out onto some cold stone floor.” The Velander said indignantly.

“I see,” replied Lyla. “Why can’t the Golden Scepter hold you in? And why could I use the scepter, when no one has been able to for six hundred years?”

“Both good questions. When the Silent Queen, Melizzande wielded me in the last battle against the demons, she was slain. That was a real pity – she was quite a lady, and it was a battle to sing of. When she was slain, my energy was nearly expended, and I wasn’t able to protect the Golden Scepter as well as I should have. Melizzande fell, and the scepter dropped from her hand – landing on a jagged rock. My magic wasn’t able to form a shield in time to save the rod, and it was broken on the rock. Many wise people tried to fix the Golden Scepter. They fused the rip back together – fortunately, or air would have gotten in and I would have gradually lost my power – but they lacked the inate magic necessary to infuse that new patch with the spells which cover the original frame of the scepter. I’m assuming that this faulty patch is responsible for dumping me out. Are you following me?”

“I think so,” Lyla replied. “There was a hole torn in the magic case of the Golden Scepter, and no one knew how to replicate the spells with which the rod was created?”

“More or less.”

Lyla sat puzzled. “But that still doesn’t answer my question about why the Golden Scepter hasn’t worked for six hundred years, but now has suddenly come to life?”

“Well, I don’t know the answer to that. I was sleeping until you woke me up, so I don’t know much of what went on after the rod’s case was mended. You should ask a wise master. They know much of that which I don’t.”

“Where can I find a wise master?” Lyla shrugged. “There is none here in Castlebury, and Queen Rachelle would not let me leave for any reason. Especially not since she wants to know how to make the Golden Scepter work again,” she added glumly. “Besides, she holds the scepter now, not me. She hasn’t let me touch it since she found out that it still has power.”

“I wouldn’t advise telling the queen about me, you know. From what you tell me, I don’t think she would be very nice to me.” The velander was silent for a long moment. “The time will come when you will go to find a wise master, maybe Master Qualend - this I know. And there will be little that Queen Rachelle can do to stop you. Don’t ask me how I know this – I just know.”