Following several blank pages in Shaeras spellbook are the following entries in Mulhorandi:

The month of Hammer, the year of 1373 by Dale Reckoning

As time goes by, I become increasingly aware that the root of all strife is the human and nonhuman desire for venegance. Noone ever thinks of themselves as striking the first blow, not really. Their victim has done something to hurt them. Or the world has done something to hurt them. Or perhaps, the Gods have simply done them wrong by placing them in a world where such acts are necessary. People who say honestly: "I hurt you because I want to hurt you" -- They are as rare as hen's teeth, and society calls them mad.

It has been several weeks now, since we were sealed in this dismal place. Or so I beleive, as I have found no reliable way of telling the time, let alone date in this sunless realm. I have taken to referring as the time as evening whenever a time of day is required, and none seem to have found this strange. The inhabitants of this Sanctuary as they call it are a mixed lot. Some reasonable and for now worth my time and cooperation, others... less so. A number of organizations seem to run this place, running the gamut from the somewhat secretive Spellguard, to the impulsive tigereyes, to the openly incompetent city Watch. Efforts to establish reliable contacts within these oragns have so far been met with diminished success, but I retain hope that I may at least establish a profitable trade of knowledge with agents of the Spellguard.

The Others remain content to sulk in the lower cavens of Sanctuary for now. I will leave them to this, as their manner is hardly conductible of meeting strangers. Still, with so few survivors from the caravan, it is good to know that some of my countrymen are nearby at least. The individual identifying himself as Magus Kharant remains as suspect as his feeble grasp of Thayan politics, but I will remain undecided until I see definite proof of his allegiences.

So help me, my task will succeed.

Looking ahead, I see the mountain. It is very tall, and very cold, and its peak is very sharp. I fear the mountain. But fear has no power to stop me now. In climbing, I forget about my old master. He will think I have betrayed him. In time, he may come for what tattered remains there may be of my soul. He may hold me back from death, or cast me into a pit of torment. I fear his wrath. But fear has no power to stop me now. It does not matter wether, in climbing, I serve him or betray him. That is a judgement on my actions; and his judgement is meaningless to me. It does not matter wether I climb well or poorly, loyally or disloyally, fearfully or bravely, in pain or in exaltation. It only matters that, before I die, I will have climbed.