Zebulon had found the last opal. It looked almost identical to the other blue one. Reaching into his pack to collect the pouch with the other two opals, he was surprised that it was not where he expected it to be. He found it after a short search and decided that Brock must have entertained himself with his favourite gem. He gave an indulgent smile and after placing the third opal with the others, he took the pouch containing the pendant and carefully lifted it out. The exquisite gold and silver leaf frame lost some of its appeal with all the gems missing except for the two pink diamonds.
As he worked to place the opals in their positions at the bottom of the pendant, he visualised it in all its beauty. Soon it would be complete. He knew where to find the ruby which would fit between the diamonds. The centre stone, the Peridot, that magnificent rich green stone, was in a safe place. His quest was nearly at an end. Tomorrow he would collect Brock from Kotonia and proceed on his way. He hoped the elf had regained his health sufficiently for travel.
Next morning he left the cottage, which had been home to him and Brock for some months, and urging his horse to a gallop, headed for Kotonia. Already his mind raced ahead to the retrieval of the ruby and the necessity of facing his old master, Kareem.
The sun was overhead when he reached the Four Star Inn. There was a lot of bustle with people crowding around various displays in the streets. Zebulon was not interested in any of this and felt annoyed as the entrance to the inn was obstructed by the gathering. After he had pushed himself through the crowd and suffered a few indignant remarks, he went in search of Uri. He did not find his friend but Elvira was busy cooking in the kitchen. She gave Zebulon a surprised smile as he entered.
“Why that was quick, we didn't expect you back until evening!”
“What do you mean? Why did you expect me at all?” the wizard asked.
“Because Brock was going to persuade you to come back here with him. He left very early this morning. We didn't even see him go.”
An indeterminable expression crossed the wizard’s face. “I have not seen Brock. He left this morning you say?”
“I expect so. He told us last night that he was returning to you and hoped to encourage you to come back to enjoy the festival with him.” Elvira looked worried. Zebulon had asked them to look after Brock and now it seems they had failed. “I don't know why you wouldn't have met him on the way. I'll go and find Uri and see if he knows anything more.”
“No, you stay here. I will go and look for Uri. And don't worry, we will find the elf.”
Zebulon found Uri but he didn't know any more than his wife. Enquiries in the village were fruitless, each person so intent on enjoying the festival, they had no recall of seeing a young elf. Zebulon set off to return to the mine in search of Brock. He believed he could have had an accident and be lying injured somewhere along the way between the village and their cottage.
Brock led his horse to the meeting place and found to his relief that Orville was waiting. Wasting no time once he saw Brock approach, the young man mounted his horse and directed Brock to follow him.
Brock brought his horse alongside Orville's horse as they left the town and asked. “Which way are we going?”
Orville pointed to a mountain range in the distance. “Mustafa has a home up in the mountains in a secluded place. Zebulon will not be able to find you there. Mustafa protects it with his magic.”
As they left the village behind, conversation was not easy because the track had narrowed and Brock was forced to ride behind Orville.
Brock began to wonder what sort of wizard Mustafa was. Would he be frightening like Zebulon often seemed to be, or would he be friendly? Orville seemed comfortable with him, but then Orville was a very confident young man. The name Mustafa seemed familiar to Brock now that he had taken time to reflect. And then he remembered. He had heard Zebulon and Uri speaking about a wizard called Mustafa. He had not taken much notice at the time, being far more interested in talking to Elvira about cooking, but he had the impression that they didn't like him. That would not be surprising if Mustafa objected to Zebulon's evil ways. At the same time, Brock felt a certain uneasiness, setting out to meet a stranger. He satisfied himself it was because he had finally mustered up enough courage to leave Zebulon's company.
Well into the morning when they had been travelling many hours, Orville decided they would stop for rest and refreshments. Orville seemed unusually quiet and Brock supposed that it was because he was tired. After a short rest they continued on their way. It was shortly after they had resumed their journey that Brock heard a noise behind them. Looking back, he could make out two horsemen.
“There is someone following us,” he said tensely and as quietly as he could.
“Don't worry about it. Just someone going the same way,” answered Orville.
The riders were closing the gap quite fast between Brock and Orville. Despite Orville's disinterest, Brock was apprehensive. It wasn't until the riders had almost caught up with them that Brock recognised them.