1114 lines
64 KiB
Plaintext
1114 lines
64 KiB
Plaintext
From WHITE@DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU Tue May 12 10:36:14 1992
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(5.65c/IDA-1.4.4/pen-ident for <RITA@EFF.ORG>); Tue, 12 May 1992 10:36:09 -0400
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Message-Id: <199205121436.AA26864@eff.org>
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Received: from DUVM by DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU (IBM VM SMTP R1.2.2MX) with BSMTP id 3313; Tue, 12 May 92 10:32:28 EDT
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Date: Tue, 12 May 92 10:32:24 EDT
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From: "Avid Reader - Fledgling Writer" <WHITE@DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU>
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To: RITA@EFF.ORG
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Status: OR
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1 /
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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 4
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Issue 4
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-- DargonZine Volume 4, Issue 4 12/17/91 Cir 1215 --
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-- Contents --
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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The Changeling Never Known, Parts I and II
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Wendy Hennequin Yule 1, 1014
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Pact II Max Khaytsus Yuli 12-13, 1014
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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1 The Changeling Never Known
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* Part I *
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by Wendy Hennequin
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(b.c.k.a <HENNEQUI@CTSTATEU>)
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Richard just Richard ducked into the Sword and Serpent Tavern,
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and, putting his back against the wall, he searched the dim room.
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Luckily, the dusky room matched the exterior twilight, and Richard
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needed no time for his eyes to adjust. He kept his hand on his cutlass
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all the same. Eel Harbor, on the shores of Duchy Northfield, was a
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dangerous place at night.
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"Richard!" a voice called out, and Richard cursed himself
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although the voice was a known and friendly one. The bowmaster hated
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to be seen before he himself had seen. "Richard, come over and have a
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drink. Dinner's on the way."
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After another moment's quick survey, Richard located Captain
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Gaoel Fynystere of the Eclipse sitting in a corner table--the one
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Richard would have chosen himself, in fact. It was hardly visible from
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the doorway. Satisfied, Richard approached, then paused hostilely as
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he saw the other man at the table.
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After a moment, Richard resumed his approach slowly, carefully
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observing the stranger as he came closer. The man was tall and
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elegantly slim in the dimness, and he held beside him a large, lumpy
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object which Richard could not identify at the distance. Another step
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and the object became a plump lute, and the glowing lamp on the table
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glittered suddenly on a metal chain hung with pendants. Two more paces
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showed the man's face in the lamplight: handsome, dark, perhaps
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Richard's age. Not taking his eyes off the stranger's dark, pleasant
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ones, Richard sat in the chair Fynystere kicked to him, and observed
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final details: the colors and cut of the stranger's clothes, the
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designs on the medallions, and the other side of his face.
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The clothes were well made of fairly expensive and comfortable
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silk--the cloth Richard preferred for his own clothes, but Richard's
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plain white blouse and close-cut breeches were not exquisitely
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embroidered with gold and silver threads. The stranger's taste was
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excellent; his suit was elegant, colorful but not gaudy, and would
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look at home here in a tavern or in a nobleman's hall.
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Still, Richard felt wary, as he did with all strangers, and so he
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looked at the medallions to see what they could tell him. The first, a
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badge denoting the second-highest rank in the Baranurian Bardic
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College surprised him; Richard doubted that the seedy port town of
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Eel's Harbor ever sheltered a bard of such high rank before. The
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second medallion, a gold coin depicting King Haralan's head, seemed
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inconsequential to Richard, for he was familiar with the practice of
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bards wearing their first coins as trophies. The third medallion,
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however, intrigued him: it was a gold executioner's hood.
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The stranger smiled at him, and then Richard saw, with wonder,
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the unusual jagged scar, perhaps a burn, perhaps a cut, on the
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stranger's face. Richard shook his head to clear sudden, disturbed
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feelings from it--there was no reason for them--and smiled back.
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"Richard," Fynystere began, and Richard could tell that the
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captain had already been in his cups, "this is Matteo." A bard with no
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other name? Richard wondered. "Matteo, my bowmaster, Richard just
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Richard."
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"Pleased to know you, Bowmaster," Matteo said, and Richard knew
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Matteo was from Magnus by his accent. Of course, Richard chided
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himself; the Bardic College was in Magnus, and many bards came from
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there.
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Praying that Matteo had never seen him in Magnus, Richard
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answered formally, "And I you, sir. Tell me, what does a bard of such
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high skill as yourself do in Eel Harbor in a dump like this?"
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"Ask no questions, Rich," Fynystere growled one of the most
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important rules of the Eclipse.
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"Do our rules apply off board, captain?" Richard wondered
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amiably.
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"Do you want me to start asking *you* questions?" Fynystere
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snapped pointedly, and Richard felt a chill in his heart. His secrets
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were deep and dangerous, and the bowmaster guarded them jealously as a
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dragon. If he were asked--if anyone knew--
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But Matteo laughed, and his eyes were shrewd. "I'm a bard; I'll
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tell freely. I was at the battle of Oron's Crossroads, sir. The
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Beinisons weren't gentle with Lady Martis' army."
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Richard abruptly suspected two things: the man was no bard, and
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he was a liar. No bard of such high distinction would mistake a Royal
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Officer's rank and refer to a Knight Captain as merely "Lady." As for
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the scar--
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"Damn well healed for two months," Richard muttered.
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Matteo laughed, "Yes, and I have a good mage-healer, Hrina, to
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thank for it. Trained by Marcellon Equiville himself--have you heard
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of him, sir? The High Mage and Royal Physician. Hrina has been
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attendant on Lady Martis and myself since we were together in
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Magnus--I an aspirant to the Bardic College, Lady Martis an aspirant
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to Knighthood, and Hrina a student of the High Mage."
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That explained the scar and the familiarity with Dame Captain
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Westbrook, but Richard still wondered about some things. "Is it true,
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as I hear," Richard began carefully, "that Dame Captain Westbrook may
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never fight again?"
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Matteo nodded sadly. "My poor lady," he rued, sighing. "A wound
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in the upper arm, Bowmaster, and a bad one. By the time my lady
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arrived back in Pyridain, Hrina could do but little for her."
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Richard found that odd, and odd too that such an old friend as
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Matteo claimed to be would leave Dame Captain Westbrook at such a
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time. "It's a long way from Pyridain," Richard commented.
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"Indeed," Matteo agreed, sipping from his goblet. "I work my way
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north to Magnus, but my business I cannot tell."
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Richard nodded, satisfied. The man probably bore some sort of
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message from Dame Martis to Magnus--probably to the Knight Commander
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or the King. Still, Richard felt unjustifiably uneasy.
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Something--Richard couldn't tell what--bothered him about the way the
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man spoke.
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"I hear you sing, Bowmaster," Matteo continued. "Your captain has
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told me you have even written songs."
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Something was wrong with his accent. Oh, it sounded like Magnus'
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voice, but something wasn't quite right about it. Perhaps he grew up
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somewhere else first, Richard reasoned. More to keep the bard talking
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than anything else, Richard replied casually, "Oh, Bron of Beggar's
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End writes the songs. I merely clean them up."
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"Clean them up," the captain grumbled, reaching for his grog.
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"Clean them up. Why should you clean them up, Rich? A song can never
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be too bawdy."
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"I meant fixing the rhythm," Richard explained, rolling his eyes
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in exasperation. He looked back at Matteo. "Bron has all the metrical
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skill of a blacksmith."
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"You would think," Matteo replied smiling, "that seamen would
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take to rhythm naturally, what with knowing the tides and the rocking
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of the ship and all."
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"Not Bron. He's about as much a poet as Donegal," Richard
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replied, relaxing a little.
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"Your leech, I believe?" Matteo wondered.
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"The same," Fynystere belched. "Where is that whoreson, anyhow,
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Rich? Wasn't he to meet us here for dinner? And where is that damn cat
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of yours?"
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Richard smiled at the reference to the Red Tiger, Richard and
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Donegal's pet and the Eclipse's mascot. "Damn cat" was what Fynystere
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called her when in a good mood. "Donegal and Cedric--the mate--" he
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added for Matteo's benefit, "--are off somewhere getting wild, as
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usual. Kitty insisted on keeping an eye on them."
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"Kitty? Your lady?" Matteo wondered.
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"You could call her that, I guess."
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"A lady on a pirate ship," Matteo chuckled, pulling his lute out.
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The strap touched the medallions and moved them. Matteo plucked a
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string and adjusted its pin slightly. "I should put that into a song.
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Where did you find her, Bowmaster, this lady who dares sail with
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pirates?"
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"The Islands of the Sun," Richard answered, staring at the
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executioner's hood medal to shake his preoccupation with the man's
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accent. "She wouldn't let us leave her."
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"Tell me about her," Matteo said. "What does she look like?"
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"I'll tell," Richard promised, leaning closer for a better look
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at the pendants, "if you'll tell me where you got that medal."
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"What, the coin or the hood?" Matteo wondered. "Surely you know
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where I got the Bardic Medal."
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"Of course," Richard retorted, and his voice was sharper than he
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had intended. The man's not-quite Magnus accent grated on him
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inexplicably. "I meant the hood."
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"The hood was given to me by the Lord Executioner of Welspeare,"
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Matteo explained as he tuned another string. "I've been thinking of
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melting it into a ring. It's rather gruesome."
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Richard couldn't argue with that.
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"And the coin I earned when singing for the Duchess of Narragan."
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Matteo reached for it with his right hand and held it out for
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Richard's inspection. "A gold sovereign, and my first performance
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before a noble, too."
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Richard knew that no bard whose singing was worth less than a
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sovereign even earned the right to perform before a noble. He said
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nothing, however, and stared at King Haralan's head, stamped rigidly
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into the gold.
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Matteo noticed Richard's gaze and picked up the sovereign. He
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looked down at the King's head, then at Richard. "Tell me,
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fellow-Magnan, does it look like the King? I've never seen him."
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He lived long enough in Magnus to go to the Bardic College and
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acquire the city's accent, but had never seen the King? Richard's
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stomach tightened. Something was wrong with this man, definitely. It
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didn't make sense: Matteo had lived in Magnus long enough to
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acquire--perhaps *learn*?--Magnus' accent, but had never seen the
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King, who appeared in parades and pageants and law courts?
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Richard carefully kept his eyes calm despite the sudden quake in
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his heart and replied, "I really don't know. I haven't been to Magnus
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in fourteen years. King Arneth was still alive then, and King Haralan
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was a young man."
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Matteo again turned to coin so he could view the face. "I always
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wondered if this is what he looked like," the bard mused. "I should
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like to know a King when I see him."
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The food came then, and Matteo returned to tuning the lute. The
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captain perked up slightly. "Where is that bloody Donegal?"
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Richard rose smoothly and stilled his nervousness sternly. "I'll
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go look for him, Captain."
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Suddenly, Matteo's eyes widened in horror, and Richard felt a
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hand on his shoulder. Before Richard could attack, Donegal's voice
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said, "Sit down."
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Richard nearly jumped despite the friendly voice. Why was he so
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edgy?
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"'Evenin', Captain," the leech greeted with his normal cheerful
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casualness. Suddenly, Donegal's voice changed. "Good evening, sir."
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Richard's hands tightened when Donegal's tone did. The Red Tiger
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nudged beneath Richard's palm but growled softly instead of purring.
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Suddenly, Richard wanted very badly to leave.
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"What *is* that--that--" Matteo gasped, and Richard's mood
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improved spitefully at the bard's fear. Let *him* be uncomfortable!
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"Damn cat," said Fynystere.
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"Hey, Rich," Donegal began, and Richard could tell without
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looking that Donegal's usual cheerfulness was now being feigned. "Hey,
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Rich, you've *got* to see this wench across the street. She's just the
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kind you like--big and--"
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"Let's go," Richard agreed quickly, and he left the tavern
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without turning.
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"See you later, Captain," Donegal ended the conversation, and
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Richard heard in the leech's voice that he was under strict control.
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"Something's wrong with that bard," Richard muttered when they
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had crossed the street. "Something's wrong."
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"You're damn right," Donegal breathed, and Richard, for the first
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time that evening, looked at his good friend. Donegal's white eyes
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were wide and wild in his dark face. "I don't know who the hell he's
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after, but I can't risk being in there with him. If he knew I was a
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slave--"
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Richard shook his head. "What are you babbling about? There's no
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slavery in Baranur."
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"He'd drag me back to Beinison--"
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"He's from Magnus," Richard corrected the leech, then, after a
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moment, he corrected himself: "He says he's from Magnus, but I don't
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believe it."
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After a moment of silence, Donegal asked quietly, "How did you
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know, Rich?"
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"Something about his accent isn't right."
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"He's not from Magnus, Rich."
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Richard rubbed his arms; the midsummer night had suddenly
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chilled. "How do you know?"
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"Did you see that scar on his cheek? The hood medal he wears?"
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"Aye." The bowmaster shivered, afraid of the answer to his next
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question. "What are they, Donegal?"
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"They're the signs of the Masked God, Rich. That so-called Magnus
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bard is a priest of Amante the Masked God. He's an assassin."
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* Part II *
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When Donegal na Valenfaer returned to the tavern with the
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skittish Red Tiger, he found only Captain Fynystere, more than
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half-drunk and half- asleep, at the corner table. Ignoring the
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astonished stares and frightened murmurs of the patrons, Donegal
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turned and searched the common room quickly. That so-called bard,
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thank Sanar, was gone.
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Heaving a grateful sigh, the leech slid into the corner beside
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the captain, and the Red Tiger settled peacefully at his feet. A
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pretty wench smiled at Donegal and motioned to an ale mug. Donegal
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nodded and began to feel much better.
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"Hey, Captain," he jostled Fynystere, "having fun, sir?"
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Fynystere groaned, lifted his dangling head, and gazed blearily
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at his leech. "Oh, Donegal," the captain slurred, "you're back. You
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missed dinner. Matteo sings like an angel."
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"Who?"
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"The Magnus bard. Richard really liked him," Fynystere continued,
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sliding forward to rest his head on his hands. "He took him back to
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the ship."
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"He *what*?"
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Donegal practically flew out of the chair and ran for the door.
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Kitty, the Red Tiger, sped at his heels.
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Richard took that bard back to the ship?!
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"He's an assassin," Donegal had told Richard when they stood
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outside the tavern two hours ago. "All the Masked God's priests are
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assassins, torturers, executioners, something. And he's important,
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Rich."
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"What the hell is a Beinison priest doing here?" Richard had
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wondered, his face pale and his breath short.
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"Going to kill someone, I suppose," Donegal had shrugged. The
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leech hadn't really cared; all Donegal wanted to do was get away from
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that "bard" as soon as possible.
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"Who?"
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Donegal had been surprised at the question. "How the hell should
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I know?"
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More surprising than the demand were the sudden, violent hands on
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Donegal's shoulders. Richard shook him once. "Think, damn you," the
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bowmaster hissed, murder in his voice. "Who could he be here to get?
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You said he's important. What did you mean?"
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Donegal struggled beneath Richard's large, hard hands. "Gold's
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the highest rank in their priesthood. That executioner's hood is their
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symbol, and it was gold."
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Richard was silent a moment, but his strong fingers dug into
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Donegal's flesh. "So he wouldn't be here to kill just anybody?"
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"I guess not, but Rich--"
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"My God," Richard abruptly breathed. "Oh, my God."
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Donegal had never seen the bowmaster so frightened, and they had
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faced death--and worse--together so many times that-- But Richard's
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blue eyes held terror, and his face was corpse-grey. Donegal couldn't
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swear to it, but he thought the strong archer was shaking. "What is
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it, Rich?"
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Richard didn't answer. Face stony, Richard turned slowly in the
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darkness and began to move away as if sleepwalking. "Don't worry,
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Donegal. We won't let him take you."
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"Wait, Rich--"
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"Bowmaster?" Donegal shrank into the darkness as soon as he heard
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the voice; he did not want that disguised priest to see him. Richard
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turned to the so-called bard. "Where is your friend? I've never seen
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his like, except among the Beinison slaves."
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The final word had sent Donegal fleeing into the night, and
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Donegal had not seen Richard since then. But he must have returned to
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the tavern; Captain Fynystere had said that Richard had taken the
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"bard" back to the Eclipse--
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Donegal groaned internally and quickened his already-sprinting
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pace. Sanar guard him, Donegal prayed. Alanna, guard him on your ship.
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The Red Tiger rushed ahead impatiently, and Donegal increased his
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speed with great effort. What am I doing? he wondered at himself. That
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priest could haul me back to Beinison--
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And hurl Richard into the grave.
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The Red Tiger leapt easily onto the gang plank, turned
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expectantly, and waited for Donegal. "Go!" he breathed, panting
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slightly. "Find him." The Red Tiger seemed to nod before she sped
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away. Donegal tried to breathe deeply enough to shout, "Watch!"
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The word came out less impressively than Donegal wished, but
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Morise of Equiville, the boatswain, heard. "Ev'nin', leech," Morise
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greeted him casually. "Th' law on yir back?"
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"Richard!" Donegal huffed, trying to slow and calm his breathing
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and his pounding heart. "Where is Richard?"
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"Th' bowmaster's b'low decks with a bard ir sech," Morise
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supplied readily. "'E sings richt purty--"
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Donegal dashed for the stairs and fell down them noisily in his
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haste. "Rich!" Donegal rasped, throwing open the door to the officers'
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shared cabin.
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Empty, dark space stared back at him. Donegal grabbed the lintels
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for support.
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"Whaire's th' fir', Donegal?" Donegal sprang into the air at
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Morise's words. "What's wrong wi' yir?"
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Donegal closed his eyes tightly. Richard could be in that dark
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room, dead on the floor. How would he know? How could he know without
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lighting the lamp--and giving that false bard time to leap out at him?
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Donegal took a deep breath and tried to think. How could he know where
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that false bard and Richard were? "Where's the bowmaster?" he panted
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again. "Morise--"
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"Cap'n's cab'n, I think," Morise obliged, staring at Donegal as
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if he were mad. "What's in yir, boy?"
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Donegal turned with all the energy he had left and stumbled down
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the hall to the captain's quarters. Impatiently swinging her tail, the
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Red Tiger waited at the captain's door. Donegal swallowed and
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attempted normal breathing. He failed miserably. "Has the bard left
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yet?"
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"No' yet."
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Thank Sanar. Maybe there was time left to save Richard. Donegal
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staggered the last few feet and collapsed beside the Red Tiger, who
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continued to scratch the captain's door impatiently.
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The bard's sudden, low laugh chilled Donegal's blood, and he
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shivered. "Am I?" he said with a voice pleasantly evil.
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"Do you think I don't know the marks of the Masked God's
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priests?" Richard challenged with even confidence, and Donegal
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released a momentous, grateful sigh. "I'm no stranger to Beinison.
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I've seen your like before."
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|
"Come, be logical," the pseudo-bard soothed, and Donegal shook.
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"Why would a Beinison priest be here in Northfield--in an enemy
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country, for Stevene's sake?"
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|
Donegal reached for the doorknob as Richard emitted a careful
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laugh. "Do you think using the Stevene's name will fool me? Or that it
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will distract me?" Richard returned, his voice suddenly filled with an
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inexplicable power which made Donegal shiver in responsive awe. "I
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know what you are, and I can guess why you're here."
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Donegal turned the doorknob silently. Locked. Damn you, Richard!
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Didn't the man have better sense?
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"Why am I here?" the bard demanded, his voice sinking into the
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frigid tones of the Masked God's priests. "Tell me, O bowmaster."
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"Where are the keys?" Donegal hissed to Morise, who drew closer.
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"We've got to unlock this door."
|
|
"None but the cap'n has keys," Morise whispered loudly. Angry at
|
|
his noise, Donegal chopped the air to silence him. "We can't get in."
|
|
"There's got to be another set," Donegal argued. "Rich got in
|
|
there somehow, and we've got to go in after him."
|
|
"And what, pray, makes you think that?" the fake bard laughed
|
|
coldly.
|
|
"You revealed it through your carelessness," Richard answered,
|
|
his voice still flowing with that new might. "It does not matter."
|
|
The bard chuckled sinisterly. Before he could speak, Morise
|
|
interrupted, "How're yir gonna get in thaire?"
|
|
Donegal looked at Morise, and his mind raced. "Porthole. Isn't
|
|
there a porthole?"
|
|
"Ne'er go through it, Donegal," Morise objected. "T' small."
|
|
Richard's voice raised suddenly without losing its control. "You
|
|
will not kill the--"
|
|
"Oooooh--" someone bellowed, and Donegal whirled to see the
|
|
drunken captain sway into the hallway. Donegal motioned sharply for
|
|
Fynystere's silence, but the captain ignored him. "Ooooh," he began
|
|
again, then started to sing a drunken, bawdy ballad with deafening
|
|
tunelessness.
|
|
"Then you will die!" the bard shrieked. Something crashed.
|
|
Donegal heard Richard cry out. The Red Tiger roared in angry
|
|
helplessness.
|
|
Donegal sprang to his feet and rushed at the captain. "Give me
|
|
the keys!" Donegal screamed. "Give me the keys!"
|
|
The captain staggered without hurry, singing his ditty merrily.
|
|
"Ooooh," he started the refrain again.
|
|
Glass shattered. Something thudded against the wall. The bard
|
|
snarled. Richard howled in pain, his power gone.
|
|
"Give me the keys!" Donegal shrieked, taking hold of Fynystere's
|
|
shoulders and shaking him. Fynystere fumbled in both pockets. The Red
|
|
Tiger pawed the door anxiously. Something crashed again.
|
|
"Rich!" Donegal called desperately.
|
|
The bard laughed.
|
|
Another thud. Fynystere fished the iron key ring from somewhere.
|
|
A heavy object slid across the floor in the room beyond. Donegal's
|
|
shaking hands searched the keys. Above decks, men were running and
|
|
calling. The world thundered in Donegal's ears. He shoved the key into
|
|
the quivering lock and turned it.
|
|
The Red Tiger lunged into the room, distracting the
|
|
knife-wielding, gory bard who spun and smiled through the blood like a
|
|
dragon. The blade rose. Donegal charged into the false bard's embrace
|
|
and cried out as they both fell. Metal clattered on the floor. The Red
|
|
Tiger leapt and roared at the bard who reached for the knife. The bard
|
|
shouted a curse.
|
|
Suddenly, without willing it, Donegal rolled onto his back. The
|
|
bard cried out, and blood spurted by Donegal's eyes. Gleaming metal
|
|
danced on the edge of Donegal's eyesight. He reached--it was warm and
|
|
slid in his hand-- and when it hit home, Donegal's wrist wrenched
|
|
painfully.
|
|
The bard collapsed onto Donegal's chest.
|
|
Magic hands appeared from nowhere to haul the bard off Donegal's
|
|
body. The surgeon rolled toward the Red Tiger, who stood protectively
|
|
between the bard's corpse and Richard's bloody body. "Rich!" Donegal
|
|
croaked.
|
|
The bowmaster was still.
|
|
Despairing, Donegal staggered to his feet but crashed when he
|
|
slipped on the blood. Feebly, the leech crawled to his friend and
|
|
tried to rip away the gory shirt. Even with it obscuring Richard's
|
|
chest, Donegal knew there were at least two wounds.
|
|
By magic, Donegal's medical bag appeared on his lap, and voices
|
|
buzzed around his head as he drew out his tools--
|
|
"--Did you see Kitty? She nearly bit his hand clean off!"
|
|
"--Wonder what the bowmaster was doing?"
|
|
"--Ain't no bard can fight like that!"
|
|
One voice was Morise's. "Stow th' trash, and we'll heave it
|
|
t'morrir when we set sail. Can't be lettin' 'm know we's killed a
|
|
bard."
|
|
"Water!" Donegal demanded. He was barely conscious of the gentle,
|
|
thin hands of Luen Half-Elven, the youngest of the crew, setting a
|
|
small cauldron and a pile of clean bandages near him. Richard's wounds
|
|
were deep and dangerous, and Donegal could see nothing else.
|
|
Luen's slender fingers sponged away the blood so Donegal could
|
|
see, and the frantic surgeon groaned for his friend's life. Blood
|
|
gushed from wounds. He tried to thread the needle with a quaking hand.
|
|
Richard cried out when Luen touched him, and Donegal started,
|
|
losing the needle completely. "My brother," the bowmaster moaned,
|
|
thrashing. "My brother."
|
|
"Hold him down!" Donegal shouted, and several disembodied arms
|
|
appeared to hold Richard still. Luen handed Donegal a threaded needle,
|
|
and Donegal stitched. Richard screamed his pain, but was held still.
|
|
Horror-struck and numb, Donegal stitched.
|
|
And then it was done. Richard lay still on the floor, breathing
|
|
shallowly as his patched chest rose and fell. There was nothing
|
|
Donegal could do but wait and pray and hope.
|
|
Trembling, Donegal fell against a wall and finally allowed
|
|
himself to think. "Rich, you're a stupid ass," he choked. "Attack a
|
|
Masked God's priest."
|
|
"Dead?" Richard gasped, and Donegal jumped. Sweat peppered the
|
|
bowmaster's forehead and streaked his bloody hair, but he turned to
|
|
Donegal. "Dead?"
|
|
Donegal pulled himself to Richard's side. "He's dead," the
|
|
surgeon answered, cradling his friend's head. Unexpectedly, tears
|
|
spilled from Richard's blue eyes as they closed, relieved. "What the
|
|
hell did you think you were doing?"
|
|
"My brother," the bowmaster murmured, relaxing beneath Donegal's
|
|
hands. Richard's eyes opened again. "His necklace...the King's
|
|
head...his necklace..."
|
|
"What's he talking about?" Luen asked, sliding toward them.
|
|
Donegal wasn't too certain himself. "Go tell Morise I want the
|
|
necklace that...bard was wearing. Now," Donegal snapped when the boy
|
|
didn't move. As Luen left, Donegal looked back at Richard. "You're a
|
|
god-damned fool, Rich."
|
|
Richard shook his head weakly. "My brother..."
|
|
"And you may die for it," Donegal finished, his voice rising.
|
|
Balancing Richard's head on his leg, the leech scrambled for bandages
|
|
and began to wrap the wounds. "I told you he was an assassin. Why--"
|
|
"My brother," Richard croaked. "He said...something he said...he
|
|
was going to kill my brother."
|
|
Donegal laughed nervously and tucked the bandage to keep it
|
|
fastened securely. "Your brother? You've got to be kidding. That
|
|
priest was of the highest rank--" Donegal laughed again, frightened by
|
|
the unthinkable, and asked thoughtlessly, "Is your brother so
|
|
important?"
|
|
Richard closed his eyes and nodded weakly. "Essential."
|
|
Donegal shuddered. Who was Richard's brother, that a High Priest
|
|
of the Masked God was sent to deal with him?
|
|
Good Sanar, who was Richard then?
|
|
"Promise me." Startled out of his fright, Donegal looked down
|
|
into Richard's pained blue eyes. "Promise me."
|
|
"Anything, Rich," Donegal vowed, watching blood seep through the
|
|
bandages despite the fine stitching.
|
|
"If I die--"
|
|
"You won't die," Donegal asserted stubbornly, suddenly unwilling
|
|
to face the fact.
|
|
Before Richard could answer, Luen rushed in again, panting, and
|
|
gave Donegal the necklace with the three pendants, which the surgeon
|
|
gave immediately to Richard. "Go get me the healing potions," Donegal
|
|
ordered sternly, "quick!" If Donegal could get enough healing potions
|
|
into him--special healing that the old leech his master had taught
|
|
him--he could avoid a fever, increase the healing, and give Richard a
|
|
better chance at life.
|
|
"And a sleeping potion?" Luen wondered, pausing at the door.
|
|
Donegal nodded. Richard might need one, in his pain. But when
|
|
Donegal looked down at his old friend, Richard was already asleep, the
|
|
coin on the "bard"'s necklace clutched to his heart.
|
|
In the hallway, Fynystere snored.
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 Pact
|
|
part 2
|
|
by Max Khaytsus
|
|
(b.c.k.a. <khaytsus@TRAMP.COLORADO.EDU>)
|
|
|
|
"You did what?" Kalen demanded, shocked. Without waiting for a
|
|
more complete explanation, he jumped out of bed and started dressing.
|
|
He had had a bad feeling brewing in his stomach ever since his meeting
|
|
with Kesrin. When Ilona told him the news of her evening trip, those
|
|
fears came to life.
|
|
Ilona stared at him from the bed, full of surprise. Where was the
|
|
execution? Kalen had never reacted this way to her personal
|
|
investigations before, but something was wrong now and there was
|
|
genuine fear in his eyes.
|
|
"What's wrong?" Ilona asked.
|
|
Kalen looked at Ilona, jamming his tunic in his pants. Obviously
|
|
his intentions did not include neatness. "Damn."
|
|
But he did not look angry. He never really looked angry and Ilona
|
|
could not recall any rumors to that effect. None the less, something
|
|
was absolutely wrong.
|
|
"Get dressed and go to the guard house," Kalen told her. "I want
|
|
two men watching Koren at all times."
|
|
"What? What does he have to do with this?"
|
|
Kalen pulled Ilona out of bed and held her by her shoulders. His
|
|
voice was low and a bit excited. "I didn't agree to work for Liriss
|
|
because a part of the deal was to have me replace the Captain. The
|
|
only way for me to achieve the position is to kill him. Liriss agreed
|
|
to your proposal just because you're so close to me. If he puts me in
|
|
charge now, the effect will be the same. Now get dressed!" His voice
|
|
rose only at the end.
|
|
Ilona started dressing, too concerned about what could happen to
|
|
think about what she had done. Kalen strapped on his belt and grabbed
|
|
his sword. "Where are you going?"
|
|
"The castle. I need to be sure nothing's happened yet." He kissed
|
|
her quickly, missing her lips, but not making a second try in his rush
|
|
to leave.
|
|
Ilona was dressed and ready only moments after Kalen had left.
|
|
She grabbed her scabbard and made for the door, strapping the weapon
|
|
on as she hurried out. Only now did she realize the consequences of
|
|
the decision she had made, but now she was committed, as was everyone
|
|
else. It was not the decision she would have made if Kalen had told
|
|
her everything, but what was done was done. Hopefully they could turn
|
|
this seeming mistake to their advantage. If they could dismantle just
|
|
a small part of the underground, it would be worth the risk.
|
|
Under normal circumstances if the Captain was killed or even hurt
|
|
due to her actions, she would have resigned and faced any legal
|
|
charges that would have been levied, but in this case she did not have
|
|
the luxury of giving up. That made her even more determined to see
|
|
everything through and to make the people responsible pay.
|
|
|
|
Jerid Taishent tensely paced the office of Duke Clifton Dargon's
|
|
leading general, Captain Lansing Bartol. The Duke was off leading King
|
|
Haralan's fleet against the Beinison flotilla that, just a month
|
|
before, had attacked the town of Dargon, hoping to secure the Coldwell
|
|
as an access point deep into Baranurian lands, where it could easily
|
|
resupply the army moving up the Laraka towards Gateway. Captain Bartol
|
|
himself was currently off in the southern portion of the duchy raising
|
|
troops for the King's army, now struggling against the invading forces
|
|
on the Laraka.
|
|
With Captain Bartol gone, and all the other Ducal lieutenants out
|
|
in various parts of the Duchy helping with the recruiting, Jerid was
|
|
in charge of the castle and all the troops that were within his reach.
|
|
The office was one of the luxuries of carrying such a responsibility.
|
|
There were certainly better things to do in the middle of the
|
|
night than pace an office, but something had happened. A page woke him
|
|
up not long ago, saying that a man was caught committing a crime in
|
|
the keep itself. There was more, but Jerid was not in a condition to
|
|
listen to long sentences and the boy did not look awake enough to be
|
|
making them. All that was made clear was that the crime was serious
|
|
and Jerid's presence was required.
|
|
Now Jerid waited for the man to be brought to him to be
|
|
questioned, and Jerid did not know what questions to ask.
|
|
A knock sounded on the door and a second later three guards
|
|
entered. It took Jerid a moment to realize that the hands of the one
|
|
in the middle were tied. "Guralnik," he said to the only man he
|
|
recognized. With the war on, the staff was mixed right and left and
|
|
these days it was perfectly normal for him to not recognize a good
|
|
half of the men.
|
|
Guralnik stepped forward, his scabbard clanking against the metal
|
|
greaves on his outer leg. "Sir, we caught this man trying to break
|
|
into Captain Koren's room. He put up a fight when we first stopped
|
|
him. And he had these on him," Guralnik offered Jerid items he
|
|
confiscated from the prisoner.
|
|
"Is he a member of the Guard?" Jerid asked. The last thing he
|
|
needed now was a break in. Worse yet, all he needed was one of his own
|
|
men trying to kill the town's war hero.
|
|
"He was hired last week," Guralnik said, casting his eyes down.
|
|
The man was a new recruit.
|
|
Jerid accepted the lockpick and the vial filled with green liquid
|
|
from Guralnik and examined them closely. "Thank you, Sergeant. When
|
|
she wakes up, have Elizabeth examine the potion. Have her come see
|
|
me...and send a message to Lieutenant Darklen or whoever is on duty."
|
|
"Yes, Sir," Guralnik barked.
|
|
"Have him sit down," Jerid motioned to the tied man. The two
|
|
guards brought him to a chair and forced him into it. Jerid took the
|
|
time to place the vial on the desk and returned to the prisoner. "What
|
|
were you after?" he asked.
|
|
The man did not respond, blankly staring at the wall.
|
|
Jerid stepped between the man and the crack he was focusing on.
|
|
"I asked you what you were doing."
|
|
Again there was no answer.
|
|
"Lock him up," Jerid ordered. He was not about to torture
|
|
anybody, particularly with as little information as he had. He was not
|
|
much for torture anyhow and the Duke had a set policy on dealing with
|
|
prisoners anyway.
|
|
Watching the guards lead the man out, Jerid retreated to the
|
|
corner of the room and considered looking the man's name up in the
|
|
file, but he neither had the name, nor any idea of where the file
|
|
would be. Keeping files up to date was the least of his concerns these
|
|
days and men and their records were hardly ever in the same place at
|
|
the same time.
|
|
There was another knock at the door.
|
|
"Enter."
|
|
It opened and Kalen Darklen walked in, a guard on his heels.
|
|
"Am I to assume my man covered a league both ways in under ten
|
|
minutes?" Jerid asked. He knew the answer.
|
|
"Can we talk alone?" Kalen asked.
|
|
"Leave us," Jerid told the guard.
|
|
"Is the room secured?" Kalen asked when the man left. Whatever
|
|
brought him here must have weighted heavily on his mind. Ordinarily
|
|
this question was left for war councils and strategic planning
|
|
sessions.
|
|
"Better than the Duke's personal quarters," Jerid said. "All the
|
|
spiders report in at midnight."
|
|
Kalen's expression remained grim. "I just spoke with Sergeant
|
|
Guralnik. He told me what happened. I don't want the prisoner to have
|
|
contact with anybody. I'll have him picked up in the morning and
|
|
interrogated by my men."
|
|
"Hey, hey! Slow down. I've got him locked up. He's got the whole
|
|
cell block to himself. Why are you here in the middle of the night?"
|
|
Kalen paced nervously for a moment, than sat down in a chair.
|
|
"Yesterda y...night before last, I received a proposition from Liriss
|
|
to join the underworld. In exchange for my loyalty Captain Koren would
|
|
be killed and I would get his position. Shevlin..." Kalen stopped,
|
|
wondering if Jerid Taishent was on the take. Anyone, anywhere...
|
|
"...Shevlin was working for them before he was killed." He was not
|
|
going to say a word about Ilona's involvement just yet, in order to
|
|
keep it safe. At least this way she would not be killed for telling
|
|
him what she had done if Jerid was bringing in extra pay from Liriss.
|
|
"I had a bad feeling they might try to give me some incentive to
|
|
accept anyway."
|
|
Jerid nodded and picked up the vial he placed on the table. "The
|
|
man had this with him. I'll have the healer test it as soon as she's
|
|
up."
|
|
"What about security?"
|
|
"The door's locked. There are guards making rounds in the
|
|
corridors and there are bars on the window," Jerid did his best to
|
|
relieve Kalen's fears. There really was no reason to be worried. No
|
|
one was going to get to Captain Koren, particularly the man who
|
|
already tried it once.
|
|
"Who has the keys?"
|
|
"I do, the castellan has one and Elizabeth has a spare."
|
|
"Do you object if I put my own guards here?"
|
|
"I'll be surprised if you can spare them, but I don't object,"
|
|
Jerid answered.
|
|
"So be it. Can you hold that man in isolation until morning?"
|
|
"Yes."
|
|
"I'll be back then."
|
|
Jerid watched Kalen leave, then closed the drawer with the files,
|
|
never having found the right one. He picked up the confiscated vial
|
|
and left the office, locking the door after himself. He could
|
|
understand Kalen's fears. The mob was not something to be trifled
|
|
with. Liriss was a criminal with little respect for law and life and
|
|
could cover his tracks well.
|
|
Having left the vial for the Duke's personal physician to
|
|
examine, Jerid returned to his quarters, checking up on Aimee along
|
|
the way -- she was no longer staying with his father -- and went back
|
|
to bed.
|
|
|
|
Ilona walked into the guard house and directly up to the guard at
|
|
the desk. The station was almost deserted, the way it had been for
|
|
some time. The casualties taken during the Beinison invasion reduced
|
|
the available force by half and the recruiting efforts of a backward
|
|
town out on the frontier were no match to what the Baranurian army was
|
|
offering.
|
|
"Yes, Ma'am?" the guard asked, surprised to see her at such a
|
|
late -- or was it early -- hour.
|
|
"I need two guards."
|
|
The guard sputtered. "Everyone's on patrol, Lieutenant."
|
|
Ilona looked around in disbelief. She knew they were short on
|
|
staff, but not having anyone available at all... For an emergency, no
|
|
less. This emergency in particular.
|
|
The door to a back office opened and Sergeant Cepero came out,
|
|
talking to a young woman in a guard uniform. "You!" Ilona pointed to
|
|
the woman, "and you," to the guard at the desk. "You're going with
|
|
me."
|
|
Sergeant Cepero opened his mouth, apparently trying to say
|
|
something and not managing. "Isn't it a little late?" he finally said.
|
|
"What are you doing?"
|
|
"Lieutenant Darklen needs two people immediately. He'll explain
|
|
when he gets here," Ilona said. She realized that she was pulling the
|
|
last of the staff when regulations required that a minimum of four
|
|
people be on duty at the guard house at all times. But that regulation
|
|
was made for desperate situations just like this and when it came down
|
|
to worrying about other emergencies and the Captain's life, it was
|
|
obvious which would take presidence.
|
|
Both the young woman -- Ilona guessed that she was not much older
|
|
than eighteen -- and the other guard watched her in confusion, torn
|
|
between which of their superiors to follow: the one trying to obey
|
|
regulations or the one with the rank to ignore them.
|
|
Cepero challenged Ilona. "This is highly unusual. Coming here in
|
|
the middle of the night, pulling guards, and neither you, nor Darklen
|
|
on duty."
|
|
Ilona took a piece of parchment off the table the guard sat at
|
|
and scribbled on it. It was some document, but she did not care.
|
|
"Here. The highest priority I can authorize," she handed the paper to
|
|
Cepero. He could not disobey. He whispered something to the young
|
|
woman, too quiet for Ilona to hear and she announced she was ready to
|
|
go.
|
|
"My sister's youngest," Cepero explained. "Don't get her into any
|
|
trouble."
|
|
"Let's go," Ilona said and the two guards followed her out from
|
|
under the Sergeant's reluctant stare.
|
|
|
|
Kalen met Ilona and the two guards at the castle gate and gave
|
|
them their orders. He realized they were young and inexperienced, but
|
|
they were all that was currently available and due to their age, more
|
|
than likely not asso ciated with Liriss. He would select additional
|
|
people he could trust during the night and have them posted by
|
|
morning.
|
|
On the way home neither Kalen, nor Ilona said anything, each
|
|
thinking their own thoughts, planning out what they were to do next.
|
|
The die had been cast and it was obvious to Kalen that he was
|
|
committed to seeing this business through. He wanted, desperately, to
|
|
do something about Kesrin's offer when it was first made, but the
|
|
threat to Captain Koren's life held him back. He was glad that someone
|
|
made the difficult decision for him, permitting him to challenge the
|
|
crime that was running rampant in the city. He wished it had not been
|
|
Ilona who forced his hand, but in a way it was his own fault; he had
|
|
not told her all that happened, so she acted on what little she knew,
|
|
just as he would have. His task now was to keep the Captain alive and
|
|
with a shortage of manpower it would perhaps be the hardest of all
|
|
jobs.
|
|
Ilona, next to him, could not help but feel a little worried over
|
|
what she had done. It was her duty to find out what was going on, not
|
|
to act on information impulsively. She had not thought about the
|
|
consequences. None the less, it was done and she felt she had only
|
|
herself to blame. She considered returning to Liriss and telling him
|
|
to forget it, but that was bound to do little more than aggravate him
|
|
and perhaps make matters worse. She glanced at Kalen, but he was
|
|
oblivious to the world, a thoughtful expression spread on his face.
|
|
This was not the time to bother him with questions.
|
|
"It's still dark," Kalen said suddenly.
|
|
"Yes," Ilona agreed.
|
|
"It's just been a few hours..."
|
|
"Kalen, are you all right?" she grabbed hold of his arm, but then
|
|
remembering his wound, released him. He did not react to what she knew
|
|
was painful.
|
|
"Get Taishent. Bring him to Captain Koren's room. I have an
|
|
idea."
|
|
Ilona watched him run off, back towards the castle, then shook
|
|
her head and followed him in.
|
|
|
|
Kalen was almost out of breath by the time he made it to the room
|
|
where his Captain was recovering from his wounds. There were four
|
|
guards present; the two members of the town guard that Ilona brought
|
|
with her and two castle guards. They stopped talking and turned to
|
|
face him, his own subordinates at attention, the other two, in the
|
|
middle of their rounds, simply watching.
|
|
"You," he called the young woman wearing the insignia of the town
|
|
guard, "find the physician and bring her here. Wake her up if you have
|
|
to. The rest of you, bring the assassin and make sure no one knows
|
|
that you're doing so."
|
|
They all rushed off.
|
|
Kalen felt his shoulder, realizing that the wound had once again
|
|
come open and started bleeding. He held his hand over it for a moment,
|
|
thankful that there was no pain yet and then took out his dagger and a
|
|
long thin metal bar. Using the two he bent at the door and attempted
|
|
to pick the lock. It required some doing in the darkened corridor, but
|
|
he finally succeeded.
|
|
It took Kalen some determination to push the door open, but when
|
|
he did, he had made up his mind to go through with his plan, no matter
|
|
how dangerous. He hoped that the things he would now do could be
|
|
justified by a satisfactory resolution in the days to come.
|
|
"What the hell are you doing?" he heard Jerid's voice behind him.
|
|
"Can't I even get some sleep around here without trouble cropping up?"
|
|
"Step inside," Kalen said and let Jerid and Ilona walk past him.
|
|
His behavior was strange, but not as strange as it was going to get.
|
|
Captain Adrunian Koren lay in the large bed, faintly illuminated
|
|
by the dim torch light coming in from the corridor. His chest moved
|
|
rhythmically up and down, but there was no sign of him being awake. In
|
|
fact, Kalen did not expect him to be alert for at least a few more
|
|
days, as the healer's treatment required the use of some drugs that
|
|
would concentrate all his bodily energies on regenerating his health.
|
|
Kalen lit a candle and closed the door. "I'm going to give Liriss
|
|
exactly what he wants," he said, placing the candle into a tray on the
|
|
table.
|
|
"What? You can't be serious!"
|
|
Kalen had come to the decision to trust Jerid. Jerid, the son of
|
|
the mage Dyann Taishent, had to be trustworthy based on the fact who
|
|
his father was. There was simply no way that affiliation with Dargon's
|
|
crime lord would go unnoticed by the mage and knowing Dyann as well as
|
|
he did, Kalen had no doubt that Jerid could be trusted. There was no
|
|
way he could be involved.
|
|
"Liriss wants to kill Captain Koren to put me in charge," Kalen
|
|
said. "Then he can use Ilona to manipulate me. He extended her the
|
|
same offer he did to me and I thought it might be worth while to have
|
|
her play along. I had the guards get the assassin. When they bring him
|
|
in here, play along with what I do and let me do all the talking. I'm
|
|
going to try to convince him we already work for Liriss."
|
|
"He'll never fall for it," Ilona protested.
|
|
"We'll see. We're not losing anything for trying."
|
|
Kalen started pacing back and forth. "Jerid, you'll have to make
|
|
me the Acting Captain of the Guard because both the Duke and Captain
|
|
Bartol are out. Ilona will have to play along with Liriss and maybe
|
|
we'll get him this time. Him and all his men."
|
|
"You're already the Acting Captain," Jerid protested.
|
|
"Yes, but that's in light of the real Captain's pending recovery.
|
|
I need..."
|
|
Footsteps in the corridor made Kalen stop speaking. There was a
|
|
knock at the door. Jerid, closest to it, opened it, letting two castle
|
|
guards bring the assassin in.
|
|
"Leave us," Jerid said and the two men left the room.
|
|
"That was stupid of you," Kalen walked up to the assassin. "Look
|
|
at him," he gestured to the Captain lying on the bed. "He's as good as
|
|
dead. I have the city and Taishent commands the Ducal lands. What the
|
|
hell are you people doing?" Kalen emphasized his words by giving the
|
|
man a push with his good arm.
|
|
The assassin's eyes grew wide with surprise.
|
|
"Where the hell did you get the idea that you needed to kill
|
|
him?" Kalen continued. "If he dies now, and by poison, no less,
|
|
that'll point the finger of blame right at me. You're compromising the
|
|
whole deal, not to mention my life!"
|
|
"I..."
|
|
"Who told you to do this?"
|
|
"Uh..."
|
|
Kalen grabbed the man by the neck and slammed him into the
|
|
nearest wall. "Who?! Kesrin? Ovink? Cissell?"
|
|
"Lord Liriss. He ordered the death!"
|
|
"Liriss? That rat told me not to kill Koren until he's well and
|
|
can be had by a mugger!"
|
|
"It was him, I swear!"
|
|
With lightning speed Kalen pulled his dagger and thrust it into
|
|
the assassin's chest. Jerid grabbed Kalen's arm and spun him around as
|
|
the assassin collapsed to the floor.
|
|
"What the hell are you doing?" His own dagger was out, flat of
|
|
the blade against Kalen's cheek.
|
|
Ilona, who had bent down to check if the man was still alive,
|
|
stood up, unsure whose side to take.
|
|
"If he lives, they'll know he failed and I need him to succeed,"
|
|
Kalen let out a sigh. His shoulder wound started to throb and he knew
|
|
he could not fight Jerid. "This way we can say he was successful and
|
|
was himself killed by the guards."
|
|
"He's dead," Ilona announced. "No need to discuss what we do if
|
|
he's alive."
|
|
"But Captain Koren is alive," Jerid argued. "Word will get out."
|
|
"There are catacombs under the castle, aren't there?"
|
|
Jerid replaced his dagger and stepped away from Kalen. "Of
|
|
course, but they're sealed off. A few months ago that crazy mage Cefn
|
|
and that guard that used to work for you broke in there..."
|
|
"I remember her," Ilona said. "Je'lanthra'en. She came up from
|
|
Magnus, trained with Sir Morion before joining the guard."
|
|
"And then she and the mage disappeared after starting that big
|
|
fire on the wharf," Jerid added.
|
|
Kalen nodded grimly.
|
|
"Of course!" Jerid exclaimed. "We can hide the Captain in the
|
|
catacombs."
|
|
"And there are only four guards who know the truth, so we can put
|
|
them on duty there," Kalen added. "I've sent for Elizabeth. She'll
|
|
also need to know."
|
|
"I don't know about pulling that many guards," Jerid protested.
|
|
"We'll need the guards now that the Guild is after the Captain
|
|
and these four already know the situation, or at least part of it."
|
|
"For now," Jerid agreed reluctantly.
|
|
"And have the Captain moved before sunrise, so no one knows."
|
|
"What are you going to do?"
|
|
Kalen paused. Everything would have to be done to appear normal.
|
|
"Ilona and I will spend the night together, just like we intended to
|
|
in the first place."
|
|
|
|
Kalen and Ilona left the castle soon after leaving the final
|
|
instructions for the physician. The trap was set, now waiting to see
|
|
its prey.
|
|
"Should I contact Liriss again?" Ilona asked.
|
|
"No need. He'll come to you. Just don't be surprised that the
|
|
Captain was killed and agree to provide information in exchange for
|
|
information from them." Kalen slid his arm around her waist. "And
|
|
above all, be careful and no heroics. We're not losing anything by
|
|
trying this. Let's keep it that way."
|
|
"I'll check with you before all my heroics," Ilona smiled.
|
|
"You do that. If we do this wrong, it could get worse than the
|
|
war. In this one we won't know who's on which side."
|
|
"It'll be all right," Ilona assured him.
|
|
"I know," he agreed, but to himself he wondered how crazy his
|
|
idea was and how many people would get killed if he went wrong. But at
|
|
the same time he felt it was a risk that needed to be taken. Liriss
|
|
had long been getting out of hand. Just before the war started, the
|
|
mob became restless. The upper class started taking a beating from the
|
|
criminals; known brigands and street thieves were found dead in
|
|
groups; at least one body was fished out of the sea each morning; two
|
|
or three shops burned every month. It was as if there was a
|
|
territorial conflict and it was spilling out all over the city. If
|
|
nothing else, Kalen was sure of one thing, this had to stop, or there
|
|
would not be much of a city for the Duke to return to.
|
|
Kalen again squeezed Ilona's waist tightly with his good arm.
|
|
"Just be careful."
|
|
"You already said that," she looked at him.
|
|
"I meant it. You're the closest thing I have to a family."
|
|
"And you still don't want to get married?"
|
|
"If we get married, people will expect children and I'm not ready
|
|
for that. Not during a war, of all times."
|
|
|
|
The knocking at the door grew more insistent as Kalen hurriedly
|
|
pulled his pants on. Ilona sat up in bed, arms folded, watching him
|
|
stumble about, a faint smile on her face.
|
|
Kalen grabbed her clothes off the chair and tossed them at her.
|
|
"Get moving." He rushed to the front room, tunic in hands, and pulled
|
|
open the door. "Yes?"
|
|
It was still night outside and a town guard, breathing heavily
|
|
and sweating hard from a long run, stood at the door.
|
|
"Sir, Captain Koren has been killed!"
|
|
"What?" The shocked reaction was easy. For just one horrible
|
|
instant Kalen believed that he had made a mistake and another killer
|
|
succeeded where the first had failed. He pulled himself together as
|
|
the guard repeated the report.
|
|
"Captain Koren was killed in his sleep by an assassin. Lieutenant
|
|
Taishent sent word just minutes ago."
|
|
Kalen started pulling the tunic he had in his hands over his
|
|
head, careful of his shoulder wound. "Who did it?"
|
|
"I don't know, Sir. The messenger didn't say."
|
|
"Does Sergeant Cepero know?"
|
|
"No, Sir. He's out on patrol at the south gate."
|
|
Ilona appeared behind Kalen. "What's happened?" She did not need
|
|
to pretend to be sleepy, tired as she was.
|
|
"Something's happened to the Captain," Kalen said. "I have to go
|
|
to the castle. You get to the guard house and keep everything quiet
|
|
until we know for sure."
|
|
Concern was all over Ilona's face.
|
|
"Just do it," Kalen stepped around her. He picked up his belt and
|
|
sword off the table. "Stay there until I come or send word."
|
|
He paused long enough to sloppily kiss her on the cheek and
|
|
rushed off.
|
|
Ilona looked at the guard waiting for her and sighed. "I'll get
|
|
my blade."
|
|
|
|
Kalen took the castle stairs three and four at a time, rushing to
|
|
Captain Bartol's office, which was currently being used by Jerid
|
|
Taishent. He burst in, almost without knocking, practically running
|
|
down the Duke's new physician.
|
|
Elizabeth of the Pass was a tall blond woman in her late
|
|
thirties. She folded her arms and glared at Kalen, not moving out of
|
|
his way.
|
|
"If you get hurt tonight, Lieutenant," she said in an icy tone,
|
|
"it may just be by my hand." Obviously she did not approve of what he
|
|
and Jerid were doing.
|
|
Kalen side-stepped her, only to come face to face with Rish
|
|
Vogel, who hurried out of his way. The old chronicler was a problem
|
|
Kalen never considered, but now, if played right, Rish could become
|
|
the only, and the most credible, witness he would ever need.
|
|
"What's happened?" Kalen demanded, finally getting to see his
|
|
castle counterpart.
|
|
Jerid was calm. "A few hours ago an assassin made his way into
|
|
Captain Koren's room and killed him. A passing guard caught the
|
|
assassin and killed him in a struggle."
|
|
"Wasn't the door locked? Where was the door guard?" Kalen
|
|
demanded, hoping Jerid was ready for an improvised interrogation.
|
|
Everything had to look and sound right.
|
|
"The lock was picked and there was no guard. Just the one man
|
|
assigned to the floor."
|
|
"One man?" Kalen bellowed. "Adrunian Koren is the highest law we
|
|
have in town and you put one man on the floor?!"
|
|
"I know!" Jerid shouted back. "I know and I'll have to explain
|
|
all of this to the Duke when he gets back. We're stretched so thin now
|
|
that I couldn't even afford that one man." His voice dropped off as he
|
|
finished.
|
|
Kalen scowled.
|
|
"Look, it happened! We just have to deal with it now, no matter
|
|
how we feel about it. I'm ready to take the blame, but we have to
|
|
solve this first."
|
|
Something clanked and both men looked over at Rish who sat at the
|
|
desk, busily scribbling away on a sheet of parchment, a tipped over
|
|
bottle of ink by his hand, spilling dark liquid on the surface of the
|
|
table and staining his arm and sleeve.
|
|
Jerid took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "You're already
|
|
the acting guard captain. We'll hold a ceremony to reaffirmed it this
|
|
afternoon. Clifton will have to make a final ruling when he returns."
|
|
Kalen sank down into a chair, rubbing his face as if trying to
|
|
convince himself this was not a dream. He looked up at Elizabeth. "Is
|
|
he...?"
|
|
The physician was not much of an actress, but she nodded grimly.
|
|
"He was poisoned. I couldn't save him. The assassin died from a stab
|
|
wound to the chest."
|
|
"I want to know who that man was working for," Kalen warned
|
|
Jerid.
|
|
"I already have men working on it," Jerid answered.
|
|
|
|
Kalen sat in what officially used to be Captain Koren's office,
|
|
studying the roster of guards and what what they admitted about their
|
|
pasts. He was hoping to find some tell-tale event or slip-up that
|
|
would indicate shady character, but half way through the stack he
|
|
still had not found any real evidence of false documentation.
|
|
Everything available was consistent and true, as far as he could
|
|
determine.
|
|
Tossing the latest file to be examined on the floor, Kalen leaned
|
|
back in his chair. He had been at it all day, trying to find any
|
|
problem people under his command, like the one that attempted to kill
|
|
the Captain. Instead he was rewarded with eight hours of lost time and
|
|
a splitting headache.
|
|
Shortly after noon he was reaffirmed as the Captain of the Town
|
|
Guard, in view of Captain Koren's untimely demise and pending Clifton
|
|
Dargon's final appointment of him to the post. It was a small,
|
|
semi-official gathering, since he was already the Acting Captain of
|
|
the Town Guard due to his superior's war injuries. A few minor nobles
|
|
and bureaucrats were invited to be witnesses. A priest helped Jerid,
|
|
the highest ranking representative of the Duke's personal guard, to
|
|
conduct the ceremony. By the time Kalen returned to the guard house,
|
|
the city was buzzing with the news of Captain Koren's death.
|
|
The plan was slowly coming together, but the trap was yet to be
|
|
set off. For now he only hoped the secret could be kept and Ilona
|
|
would not run into too much danger.
|
|
|
|
Rish Vogel fumbled with the large key ring he had stolen from the
|
|
castellan who had fallen asleep in a large chair in the great hall
|
|
right after dinner. It was a simple matter to slip it off his belt.
|
|
There were literally dozens of different keys on the ring and Rish
|
|
hurried to open the door before the guard would pass this way again.
|
|
It took a dozen or so attempts, but Rish was finally rewarded with the
|
|
sound of the turning tumblers and the screech of the opening bolt.
|
|
Pocketing the keys, Rish stepped into the room where just a day
|
|
ago the now dead Captain of the Town Guard slept. He never knew the
|
|
man personally, but had met once or twice in official capacity, with
|
|
the large, powerfully built soldier with silver-grey hair and a bushy
|
|
walrus mustache that made it seem as if he was always smiling, even in
|
|
times of crisis.
|
|
Adrunian Koren had been with the town guard for almost
|
|
twenty-five years, in which time he progressed from a rookie guardsman
|
|
to the Captain of the town militia and one of the closest aides to
|
|
Lord Clifton Dargon. His death was a strong blow to the city,
|
|
especially after his successful defense against the Beinison fleet.
|
|
This was as large an event as the deaths of Fionn and Roisart Connall
|
|
just a year ago and very bad for morale during the war.
|
|
The chronicaller pushed the door shut behind himself and studied
|
|
the room from where he was. It was large and bright from beams of the
|
|
setting sun. The bed remained unmade, a chair lay overturned on the
|
|
floor and in a corner was a pool of dried blood.
|
|
Rish pretended he was the assassin. He walked from the door to
|
|
the bed, poured the vial of poison into the sleeping man's mouth and
|
|
made him swallow. The physician Elizabeth said it would require a few
|
|
minutes to take effect. Would the assassin stay?
|
|
Rish decided he would.
|
|
So the assassin stayed. Rish took a few deep breaths to time
|
|
himself, all the while looking around. The chair and the blood stain
|
|
were at opposite ends of the room. Was there a struggle?
|
|
Satisfied that his victim was dead, Rish walked to where the
|
|
overturned chair lay by the window. Was this a way out? Had the
|
|
assassin thought to use the window to leave unnoticed and tripped over
|
|
the chair? The window opened to the courtyard. Not a way to escape
|
|
during day or night, with guards and keep residents passing in and
|
|
out. And there was no trace of a struggle. All other furniture and
|
|
decorations seemed to be in their proper places. A ceramic vase stood
|
|
peacefully on the window table right next to the chair. So why was the
|
|
chair overturned? The old chronicler got down on the floor to look for
|
|
drops of blood. None. Just the big puddle in the opposite corner.
|
|
Rish scratched his head. Something was missing. He lit a candle
|
|
to compensate for the settling darkness, although he knew Jerid
|
|
ordered nothing to be disturbed, and pulling out his quill and a roll
|
|
of parchment, sat down at the table in the room to record his
|
|
findings.
|
|
|
|
Ilona Milnor stood on the second floor balcony of the guard
|
|
house, looking into the darkness of the street below. The night was
|
|
cloudy and dark, dark enough that she could not see the ground below
|
|
the balcony. The air was calm and heavy, just like before a violent
|
|
summer thunderstorm.
|
|
She pulled her cloak tightly around herself, trying to ward the
|
|
chilly night air away. The night before she visited Liriss to make the
|
|
deal and now had her doubts about it. Liriss acted promptly on his
|
|
plans to put Kalen in charge and now her heart was heavy with even
|
|
more doubts than before. Would the next attempt be made on Kalen?
|
|
She saw a young boy walk down the street and was about to yell to
|
|
him about violating the curfew, but seeing him head for the guard
|
|
house door did not. She watched him until he disappeared below the
|
|
balcony and then seeing the light from the opened door decided to go
|
|
down. She met a guard half way down the stairs, on the landing between
|
|
floors.
|
|
"This was just delivered for you, Lieutenant," he offered her a
|
|
fist sized box of plain wood.
|
|
"By whom?" She took it.
|
|
"A young boy."
|
|
Ilona pushed past the guard down the stairs and ran to the door.
|
|
The boy was gone and the street was empty in both directions. She
|
|
waited until a flash of lightning illuminated the street, then walked
|
|
back to the door, where the guardsman waited.
|
|
"I can go look for him," the man offered.
|
|
"Don't bother," she sighed. "The intent was obviously for him not
|
|
to meet me. I'll be upstairs."
|
|
Ilona did not open the box until she was in Captain Koren's
|
|
office with the door firmly closed behind her. Only after sitting down
|
|
did she permit herse lf to lift the case's lid. In it, settled in a
|
|
velvet lined cradle, lay a sparkling g em, clear even in the dim
|
|
candle light. As she took it out, a note fell to the floor.
|
|
It read: 'You're well on your way. Liriss.'
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 (C) Copyright November, 1991, DargonZine, Editor Dafydd
|
|
<White@DUVM.BitNet>. All rights revert to the authors. These stories may
|
|
not be reproduced or redistributed (save in the case of reproducing the
|
|
whole 'zine for further distribution) without the express permission of
|
|
the author involved.
|
|
|