Anders made it back to his rooms in one piece. He had no trouble at the carpenters, and in fact the apprentice fitted his tools with better handles than they had before. One of the guards that let him out was at the gate when he returned, making it easy to slip back inside without fuss. He even managed to replace the stolen apron and shirt in the quartermaster's storeroom undetected while Barton was being yelled at for 'rumors of running off with a kitchen maid' which made Anders feel just a bit guilty. Back in his rooms he waited at his desk for his guest.

It was the midnight bell before he heard something softly brush up against his door. He stood and opened it to allow Jak dressed in his brown robes. For an instant, Anders sensed just how dangerous the man in front of him could be. Instinct, or something like it, made him take in the thief. His solid stance, his lean muscles, the wicked daggers at his hips. If Anders hadn't had the length of hallway on his side, Jak just might have run him through that night.

"Here is what I have." Jak tossed his stolen journal on the bed. "I can't make out much of it, its written in some other tongue or something. I want to know why I would get paid a small fortune for retrieving this pile of chicken scratch."

"Alright, I'll try to take a look. So you think you can help me find my work?" Anders picked up the journal and flipped through a few of the pages.

"I can certainly try. Show me a bit of what's in them. Did you write in a book or scroll? And do you have any idea who in Whitethorn would have taken them?" Jak inspected the contraption of wires and stone on the desk.

"You seem very sure it's someone from the keep." Anders said.

"Anders, there are very few in my...line of work, that are willing to come in this keep. There are a couple others that I know of, but they aren't in the area right now. You can search Selstad and be hard pressed to find another man willing to do what I do. So, what do your notes look like?" Jak asked.

"Three notebooks. Leather bound, no markings. Well, some singe marks." Anders watched Jak inspect his invention. "You should actually see a number of sketches of that item in them. See how the stones are held in a circular pattern by the wires? There is a lot of that pattern sketched throughout the notes. One of the three books is trials and results of the individual stones and their properties reacting to lightning energy. The other two still have a number of substances I've not gotten to test yet."

"Alright, so what does the thing do?" Jak ran his finger over a rough black stone.

"In theory, it will be able to hold a charge of lightning magic for extended periods of time. Do you know some mages can store excess power for use later in certain gems found in nature? Well lightning mages famously can't do that. The most you might be able to do is store a jolt of power in something metal, preferably iron or copper, for a day." Anders pointed at the stones in turn, sending small tendrils of power into them. The whole contraption fit in two hands, it was a ring of thick wires with gems and stones wrapped every inch or so into it. Anders pointed to part of the circle. "I'm slowly working with the gems and these magnets here to keep a charge that circulates through all the stones without enough time to dissipate."

"I'll pretend I understood most of that. So any leads?" Jak stepped away from the desk and looked at Anders.

"No. Well, maybe this one red robe. Three actually." Anders thought about anyone who might dislike him enough to sabotage his chance to leave Whitethorn. Cerdic and his friends weren't likely to take it that far, but they were the only ones Anders could think of. And he did see Cerdic in the hallway the day his notes were taken.

"What are the names?" Jak crossed his arms over his chest. "There are hundreds of mages in Whitethorn."

"Well, I don't know two of them acutally, but the most likely suspect is Cerdic." Anders admitted. Jak scratched the hair on his chin and stared at the young mage.

"Someone has it out for you and you can't give me so much as a name?"Jak raised an eyebrow.

"I keep to myself. I have few acquaintances and little patience for the nature of most mages. I don't know the names, or I've heard and already forgotten. Cerdic is the more likely one, but he's not too dumb, even he probably knows not to hide stolen notes in his rooms." Anders replied hotly.

"Helpful." Jak sighed. "Well I can poke around. I'm sure I can find a list of what mages are in the keep. Surely somewhere these helmet heads have written down what mages are what rank."

"And I'll look at your book. You weren't kidding, this is in an old tongue. I wasn't sure you knew how to read." Anders flipped open the journal again. "A lot of the mages that come here don't even know how to read at first."

"I pick things up quickly. So you think you can sort it out?" Jak asked.

"I can try." Anders said.

"Good luck then, I'll be back here when I can." And Jak slipped quietly out the door.

"Ugh." Anders looked at the book again. "I'm going to need to go through the library."

It was almost too easy for Jak to slip into the Guardmaster's office once he found it. From what Anders told him of the keep's layout, the soldiers were in the nicer rooms in the middle of the keep, and the mages were confined to the outer walls which were hot in the summer and cold in the winter. The only place that was not true would be the first floor for fear of escape attempts. Even though the only walls with windows wide enough to escape out overlooked a steep Cliffside drop to the sea.

The office was as neat and orderly as one might expect from a high ranking soldier. The bookshelf with all sorts of ledgers was in plain sight, and it just took some time to find what he wanted. A worn logbook with every mage who entered and left Whitethorn.

"Too simple." Jak smiled and snapped the book shut. He secured it in his belt and headed back to Anders's room.

Anders wasn't in his quarters, but Jak sat down and flipped through the book. It was so organized it was laughable. The first third of the book had every mage in order of when they arrived at Whitethorn. The second third had them organized by rank, and the third by the element of their powers.

"Oh gods! They are...all numbered." Jak laughed.

"What is it?" Anders came back into the room carrying an armful of books and scrolls.

"Your Guardmaster laid this out too easy for us. There aren't even that many scratches and added notes, I think the dolt remakes the book after every new mage arrives." Jak was still chuckling to himself when Anders emptied his arms on the bed.

"I'm not surprised. There isn't much else to do around here. It's not like the we're particularly rebellious. Once you find you have magic, and added to the culture of this place, you really turn into a docile scholar pretty quickly." Anders began unrolling a large scroll.

"That can't be true of all of em. You don't seem like a docile scholar." Jak looked over at the mage scowling at what he was reading.

"I'm also not stupid. I've had my fair share of trouble in this place. I can give a beating as well as take it, but why fight the soldiers? I think I'm much prettier with my head attached, don't you think?" Anders threw down his scroll in exasperation and picked up a thick green volume.

"I don't know, your particular brand of magic is nothing to scoff at. And if you'd put on some weight, you'd be fierce enough I might just put my money on you over the soldiers." Jak closed the logbook and sized Anders up. "So what is it you want to do when you get out of here?"

"Travel. Leave Selstad, maybe for good. I know they expect a certain amount of service to the country in return for 'my care and guidance' while I learned magic but I doubt they can stop me if I cross the border." Anders gave Jak a glance. "Why do you care?"

"Curious. I might just prefer to not run into the likes of you again. You don't seem to bring me aught but trouble." Jak rubbed his bad arm. "If it's worth much, from someone out in the world who...deals with free mages all the time, you are most definitely capable of winning a purple robe."

Anders was quiet. He rubbed the gently glowing crest on his neck. Then he picked up another book and began flipping through it. "Thanks."

"So tell me as much as you can about your red robed friend." Jak prompted.

"Shorter than me, probably closer to your age than mine. Fat, has a pig nose nd probably a bruised jaw right now. Blonde, snobbish attitude but that isn't going to sift him from the rest of the mages around here." Anders added. "Very pale too, in fact you might look for a last name with Nummelin or Linmead roots. Something more north than Selstad. And since he has red robes we know he arrived here five years ago or better."

"Alright, I'll see what I can scrounge up." Jak flipped to the section that ordered the mages by arrival date and began matching names with the red rank.

"I'll get on your book." They worked in silence for a while until Anders closed his last reference book and looked up. "What time is it?"

"Hells, I don't know. I think I have a few possible names though. I'll get this back before it's missed." Jak stood, stretching.

"I think I'll have an answer about this journal when you get back." Anders began scribbling notes of his own on a parchment. Jak nodded and slipped out again and into the dark hall.