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 DargonZine                                     Distributed: 12/02/1995
 Volume 8, Number 4                             Circulation:        585
========================================================================

                                Contents

 Editorial                    Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
 A Plague of Ghosts 1         John L. McGonigle      1015
 Beans                        Jim Owens              Circa 1009
 In the Company of Strangers  Mark A. Murray         Yule 1015

========================================================================
 DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
 collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
 We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
 Please address all correspondance to <dargon@wonky.jjm.com>.
 Back issues are available from ftp.etext.org in pub/Zines/DargonZine.
 Issues and public discussion are posted to newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.

 DargonZine 8-4, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright December, 1995 by
 the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@wonky.jjm.com>.
 All rights reserved. All rights are reassigned to the individual
 contributors. Stories may not be reproduced or redistributed without
 the explicit permission of the author(s) involved, except in the case
 of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
 Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
========================================================================

                               Editorial
                         by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
                         <ornoth@wonky.jjm.com>

     Since its inception, DargonZine has lived within the dimensions of
flat text files. Because the focus of the magazine is emphatically
textual, we haven't found that limitation too confining. Our most
adventuresome foray into layout consisted of adding ASA carriage control
characters in column one so that there would be page breaks between
stories!
     Twelve years ago, successfully sending text across the network was
pretty impressive. But the rise of the World Wide Web has recently given
electronic magazines wonderful new facilities not just for providing
multimedia content, but also for interacting with the reader at an
individual level.
     Back in 1984, DargonZine (then FSFnet) was a pioneer as one of the
first electronic magazines on the Internet. Now that more advanced
facilities for layout, graphics, and supplementary information are
available, text-only electronic magazines are becoming less and less
popular. In keeping with DargonZine's history of blazing the trail for
other emags, it's time we provided our audience with something more
sophisticated than uninterrupted text in a text editor.
     So forgive me for being overdramatic when I tell you how proud I am
to announce that DargonZine has reassumed its leadership role among
electronic magazines and realized a dream that I've had for a couple of
years. After having put a great deal of effort into designing and
creating an admirable presentation, I can finally say:
     DargonZine has gone Web.

     For those readers who prefer to receive issues via email, flat text
will continue to be a primary delivery method, although most future
developments will be on our Web presentation. For those readers who have
access to the World Wide Web, we are developing what I consider to be a
world-class Web presentation, with some really cool features that will
make you salivate more than a guest at the Thanksgiving Day table.
     As of right now, what do we have out there on the Web? Well,
there's the standard stuff you'd expect: a full FTP site, the Readers'
and Writers' FAQs, an index of stories, the "Best of DargonZine" issues,
the current issue, and links to related topics. But beyond that, there's
some information about the authors, a subscription form, and two reader
questionnaires. One interesting feature is that we've established a
permanent, unchanging URL that will always point to the most recent
issue of DargonZine. We hope people find that useful, so that they don't
have to hunt all over the place for new issues.
     The other majorly cool thing we've done is make available an
indexed copy of our DargonZine Glossary, which describes all the people,
places, and things that have been written about in the magazine.
Furthermore, we've painstakingly gone through each story, creating
hyperlinks between key text in the story and the Glossary. So now, for
example, whenever you see "Clifton Dargon" appear in the narrative, you
can click on that name, and you will be taken to a description of that
character. We think this is a huge step forward, and will be very useful
to our subscribers, and of incredible value in helping new readers get
up to speed on who's who in Dargon.
     To be fair, there are some things we haven't done. The author bios
and GIFs remain pretty sketchy. At this point, we don't plan on sprucing
up past issues, so issues earlier than 8-4 remain text-only for the time
being.
     So I strongly urge you to check it out. I hope you'll be pleased.
And if you can think of any ways that we might even further improve our
presentation, please don't hesitate to let us know. Okay?
     What's the URL, Kenneth? Set your browser to point at the
DargonZine Home Page URL: http://www.shore.net/~dargon and enjoy our new
look!

     Now, back to more mundane topics. This issue features works by two
more new writers -- John McGonigle and Mark Murray -- sandwiching a
short piece by Jim Owens, whose career with us goes back to
the early days of FSFnet, before the Dargon Project even existed!
        Please welcome John and Mark aboard, and take the time to check
out the Web site and let us know what you think! And, as ever, keep
spreading the word!

========================================================================

                           A Plague of Ghosts
                                 Part I
                          by John L. McGonigle
                         <jmcgonigle@ansys.com>
                           Dargon City, 1015

          On Saturday August 19th my friend Dave Brady died in a
     diving accident in Erie, PA. I used to talk to Dave about
     this story and so it only seems right that it should be
     dedicated to him.

     We are the faceless, nameless shadows of this once bright city. The
object of your pity and your scorn. We are the penance of your guilt ...
the reminder of the fall. We are the beggars, the homeless, and the
discarded souls of Dargon. And if the gods had chosen differently you
could have been one of us. Like you, each of us has a name and a story.
Like you, each of us is a mystery plagued by ghosts. My name is
Alsandair Wacuman. I am known as Alsandair the Healer among those down
here. We lived two streets down from where I now stand. I see a light of
recognition in your eyes. Yes, my father was Taithleach the Healer and
my mother was Halag The Wise. Yes, my mother was a daughter of a duke
but he and his family abandoned her when she married my father and her
father could not dissolve the marriage. I have discarded him and his
name because of how he treated my mother. I do not remember a day when
my parents were not happy with the life they made together: my father
with his healing and my mother with her teaching. My first job was as a
whipping boy for the children of the merchants my mother taught. I
received a good education for the few beatings I had to take. I only
wish my parents could have met Brangwen and Cuilean. Perhaps they have
met, now that they have seen the face of the Almighty One. No I am not a
particularly religious man, even though I was brought up in the Stevenic
faith. I had a hard time acknowledging any gods and goddesses after the
death of my wife and son. But there are times when the hand of fate
strikes a man and he has the chance to choose a different road then the
one he is travelling on. Come and have a drink. If you have the time, I
will tell you my tale.

     It was seven months ago. I had returned home three months earlier
after losing an arm saving the life of a fellow soldier. The loss was
painful but I still had my father's skills to earn a living with and my
beloved wife and son to come home to. All the way home my thoughts were
on my wife and my son and how happy I would be being with them once
again. Brangwen could always ease my burdens. I used to tease her and
call her my soul. And if Brangwen was my soul then surely Cuilean was my
heart. Brangwen and I wanted other children but she had such a hard time
with his birth that we both knew that another child would mean her
death. So all our love went to our son. I can find no words to tell you
how I felt when I came home to find my town in ruin, my house destroyed
and my wife and son dead. Blind Peadar sought me out when I came home
from the war. He had been a friend of the family since I was three. He
took me aside and told about the death of my wife and son. Cuilean was
killed by being struck in the head with a piece of flying rock during
one of the attacks on the city. He was killed instantly. My wife died
three days later, supposedly from a fever, but I know it was from a
broken heart. I felt like someone had torn out my heart and soul leaving
nothing more than a hollow man to walk among the living. Seeing only
darkness. Feeling only pain. Lost to the living. And waiting on death.
In truth, friend, I sought death as a man seeks a trusted friend. I
wanted it to end my pain and to reunite me with my beloved family. Yet
death did not take me. No, only the darkness with its numbness took me.
I fell into the darkness with a gratefulness that only the lost can
truly understand. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. It is
strange how our instincts overrule our desires and life carries us
onward. I became a part of the society of shadows learning to stay alive
yet secretly hoping death would find me. I believe it would have found
me if not for the events I am about to tell you.
     I had tried to cut myself down to as little sleep as possible
because with sleep came the dream.
     It was the same dream over and over again. I see Brangwen and
Cuilean standing on a hilltop. I know they are trying to tell me
something but I cannot hear them so I start running up the hill towards
them. I get closer and closer to them but I still cannot hear what they
are saying. Finally, I almost reach them and I stumble. I look down and
when I look back up they are gone. I wake up soaked with sweat and
shaking like a tree in a storm.
     I found myself being woken by someone shaking me. I grabbed my dirk
and was ready to send my assailant to the grave when he spoke to me. It
was Blind Peadar. I could tell by his voice that he was upset by
something.
     "What is it, old friend? Are you sick? Does someone need my help?"
     "No one is sick. You have to come with me."
     There was an urgency in his voice that I could not ignore. I
followed him. Lying by the ruins of a house was a dead man. I recognized
the face of Liosliath Meave as surely as I would recognized my own.
Liosliath and I had served in the war together. Over the years we had
become very good friends. I could feel the darkness open up and I wanted
to throw myself in when I felt a grip on my shoulder. I turned to see
who it was and my father was staring me in the face.
     "You do not have time for this son. People are depending on you to
do the right thing. Be strong boy."
     This was not the first time I had seen my father's ghost. The first
time was when I had lost my arm. I was laying on the battle ground
bleeding to death when my father appeared before me. He was the one who
told me how to stop the bleeding and what herbs to use to make a healing
salve for my arm. Since then, fallen comrades have come to warn me of
ambushes and my father has come to tell me about different herbs. I
still do not know why they come; although I think it is because I came
so close to dying and some kind of connection was made between myself
and the dead. I have never been afraid of the ghosts that have come to
me. I was not afraid when my father first appeared before me and I have
not been afraid of any ghost that has appeared to me since then. If
anything I find comfort in their company.
     With the appearance of my father's ghost the darkness faded as
quickly as it it came. I told Blind Peadar to go get me someone to help
me examine the body. I was sure that one of the shadow boys would be
close by and Blind Peadar would not have trouble finding help. Meanwhile
I started to examine the body. There was a gash on the back of his head
where he had been struck. The locket he always wore around his neck had
been torn off leaving a thin circle of broken skin around his neck. To
this day I am still not sure why but that stolen locket filled me with
such rage that I could feel it burn away any mercy I would show when I
found the person who murdered my friend.
     Blind Peadar had brought Rhinfrew, one of the shadow boys, back
with him. Rhinfrew helped me turn the body over. The murderer had hit
Liosliath from behind but had stabbed him from the front. I counted
dozens of stab wounds. I could feel the blood drain from my face. I
would find the black-hearted fiend who had done this and I would send
the fiend to feast with Prince Risse'er in Gil-Pazulyrken. I made myself
this vow. I could do nothing for the family I lost but I could avenge my
friend. I felt that only by bringing Liosliath's killer to justice could
I redeem myself.
     I went over the body more carefully, this time looking for any clue
that would bring me one step closer to finding my friend's killer. From
the angle of the stab wounds I knew the killer was left-handed. The only
other thing I got from the examination was questions. Why take the
locket? Why stab him so brutally? What could he have done to deserve to
die like this? I knew robbery could not be the answer. The person had
already knocked him down so there would be no reason to stab him so
brutally. I had a feeling that this was personal and I was determined to
find the motive for my friend's death.
     But first I had to bury my friend. I gathered a group of men and we
carried Liosliath's body to Potter's Field. I don't know if you have
ever been there. No? Well, it is a desolate piece of ground outside of
town where the poor and nameless were laid to rest in unmarked graves
finding their only welcome in the arms of whatever deity waited at their
journey's end. We each took a moment to say good-bye. Then we went home.
It was a long hard journey. When I returned home, sleep came quickly
with no hint of the dream but only a memory of a promise I had to keep.
     In the morning I went looking for Blind Peadar. Blind Peadar is a
vayla, a professional beggar, and he made his living down on the docks.
He was down at the docks watching the ships come in. The city was
injured but not dead. The hustle and bustle of the docks not damaged by
the war proved this to be true. Blind Peadar had been a sailor before he
lost sight in his one eye. He knew most of the sailor's songs and felt
at home here on the docks. I waited till I was sure I would not take
business from him before I went to talk to him.
     "I want you to tell me everything you remember about last night and
then I want to know everything you know about Liosliath."
     Blind Peadar thought about the question for a few moments, then in
a soft baritone voice he answered me.
     "It was the scent that caught my attention. I had only smelled its
kind once before when I worked with Giddian up on the hill during the
festival. Like spring roses it was. Anyway the scent was strong enough
to wake me. I heard Liosliath pleading with someone. Not pleading as if
he was in danger but like he was asking a favor. The other voice was
muffled. I did not recognize it. I left for a walk to visit some of the
families. I wanted to give Liosliath a chance to do his business without
me feeling like I was intruding on his privacy. When I came back he was
dead."
     "How long were you gone?"
     "Only long enough for a cup of tea with the Ceara family."
     The Cearas were a young couple whose village was destroyed in the
war. They had one girl. I knew they were as fond of Blind Peadar as he
was of them. The time he spent with them could have been of any length.
I asked him to tell me anything he knew about Liosliath.
     "The only thing I know for certain is that he once had a wife and
daughter. From my understanding of the tale the wife's father used his
influence in the Stevenic church to dissolve their marriage. Then he
sent the wife and daughter to live with relatives in the south. The
locket was the only reminder of what was once his."
     I thanked Blind Peadar and left him deep in thought. Liosliath had
told me the same story. Our common experience with nobility had been one
of the things that created a bond between us. The loss of his wife and
daughter had marked him with a sorrow that would last a lifetime. The
only hope he had was that one day he would be reunited with the woman he
loved and the daughter he adored. It was that single thought that drove
him onward. But I still did not have enough information to find his
killer. I would have to look elsewhere for that.

     I went over to where the warehouses had burnt down behind the
docks. This was where the rougher members of our society lived. It was
here that I would find Flann the Red. Flann was the leader of the
krucha. The krucha were mercenaries who stayed in one area waiting for
the next battle. Some spent their time as part-time bodyguards. Some
spent their time as street entertainers. Most of them spent their time
as bandits. They had an understanding with the rest of us. We gave them
sanctuary in return for fresh game and an understanding that they would
not harm those that lived here. This gave many of the families food to
eat and the krucha a place to hide. Flann had fought beside Liosliath
and myself. He was a good friend of Liosliath. I found him sharpening
his war axe, a habit he had in both war and peace.
     "Good day, Flann. I would like to talk to you."
     "I thought you would get around to us, Alsandair. I heard about
Liosliath. When you find the person who did this, let me know. I know of
at least seven men who would like to test the edge of their swords on
the bastard."
     "I am trying to find out all I can about Liosliath. I have the
feeling that the key to his murder may lie in his past. What can you
tell me about him?"
     "I have known Liosliath all my life. We grew up together in a small
village south of Tench. It was burnt to the ground by outlaws. Liosliath
and I went to Magnus to seek our fortunes. That is where he met Galatea
Neysa of the House of Westbrook. Although the Neysas are distant cousins
of the Westbrooks they take their position seriously. But position and
class did not matter to Liosliath and Galatea. They had fallen in love
and nothing would keep them apart. They got married through the Stevenic
church. And because Liosliath moved from skirmish to skirmish it took a
while for Putnam Neysa to find his daughter. When he did find her things
became very unpleasant for both Galatea and Liosliath. Putnam tried to
have the marriage dissolved by claiming that marital law was not
observed and so the marriage was false. I do not know if you follow the
same law up here in the North but down around Magnus and in the southern
regions it is considered marital law that the father transfers the right
to have authority over his daughter and the right and duty to protect
her in public domain to the husband. Without this transference, the
marriage can be considered illegal. This might have worked except that
Galatea had already given birth to Ketti. And by doing that, Galatea had
bestowed the quality of a true marriage in the eyes of canon law. Putnam
then turned to an old law called 'father's rights'. According to this
law any failure to respect one's father, any rebellious behavior,
insult, or neglect could be punished by the father or by public
authorities. Putnam threatened to throw Galatea in prison if she did not
dissolve her marriage with Liosliath. Liosliath loved her far too much
to let that happen and so he released her from her vows. Putnam then
claimed guardianship over Ketti. This proved to be too much for Galatea.
She disowned her father and joined a nunnery. I think some part of both
Galatea and Liosliath died as a result of the end of their marriage.
After Putnam was done with Galatea he turned his attention towards
Liosliath. Putnam demanded that Liosliath give back the locket that
Galatea had given him as a wedding gift. Putnam claimed that the locket
was a family heirloom and should stay in the family. Liosliath refused
to give it to him. Putnam threatened to throw Liosliath in jail if he
did not give him the locket. Liosliath told Putnam that he would be
happy to settle the matter in Magnus's common law court. Putnam was
livid with rage. He wanted the locket but felt that appearing in court
would hurt his reputation. I thought Putnam would challenge Liosliath to
a duel but once again Putnam's pride came to play. Putnam thought of
Liosliath as scum. Putnam did not want to dirty his hands by fighting
Liosliath but Putnam would never forgive Liosliath for not giving in to
him."
     "Why didn't Liosliath and Galatea get together again?"
     "I know Liosliath wrote a half dozen messages to her. She answered
the first one telling him that she was now Sister Angeline and she was
in a nunnery outside the northern part of Magnus but she never answered
any of the other messages. Putnam had spread the rumor that she was
dead. I think Liosliath found that easier to believe than that they
would never be together again. Personally I think that Putnam found out
about the first message and intercepted the rest of them. It would be
the type of thing he would do. I know that Liosliath lost most of the
joy of he had had as a boy when he lost Galatea and Ketti."
     "What happened to Ketti?"
     "Putnam raised her in his image of a lady. She mimicked him in
every way. Liosliath tried to see her when she was nine. She spat on him
as Putnam watched and laughed. Whatever spark of joy Liosliath had died
that day leaving a haunted man who wore sorrow like it was the only
clothing he possessed. I know he talked about trying again when she got
older but he did not try again as far as I know. Liosliath never forgave
Putnam and neither have I."
     I felt a rage go through me with the force of a hurricane. I knew
that the worst monsters were those who wore human skins. I had seen more
than one example of man's inhumanity to man. And each time it invoked
the same deep rage. I swore to myself that after I had found Liosliath's
killer I would seek vengeance against Putnam Neysa even if it took me a
lifetime to do it. I felt the darkness drawing me in once again but then
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to be meet by a pair of brown
eyes filled with compassion. It was my mother.
     "You always had a passion for justice. Just remember that there is
a fine line between justice and vengeance. Seek justice for your friend.
Leave vengeance for the Almighty One to deliver in His time."
     She kissed me on the cheek and then she was gone. I stood quietly
for a moment with a tear in my eye. Flann's voice broke my
contemplation.
     "Are you alright?"
     "Yes ... Yes I am. I will tell you now, Flann. I will make Putnam
pay for the harm he has done."
     Flann looked at me quietly as he was deep in thought then he said,
"When that time comes, find me and wherever I am, I will join you."
     "I will."
     "I do not know anymore about Galatea or Ketti but you might want to
ask Balamier. I know he has sources everywhere."
     I gave Flann a wave as I left. I had a lot to think about before
night came and I found myself at Balamier's place.

     On my way to Balamier's place I thought of how different Flann's
story was from the one Liosliath had told about his wife and daughter. I
was inclined to believe Flann's story more. I knew all too well how easy
it can be to deceive yourself, to believe so strongly in something that
it twists your view of life and of yourself. I, myself, have believed in
friends where there were none and have counted on feelings that were no
more than phantoms of my hearts. I tell you, friend, we seem to need
something to believe in even if that something only exists in our mind.
I could feel the darkness pull at me but I was a man on fire and I would
not give in to the sadness that beckoned me.
     Balamier worked out of a run-down warehouse in the back of the
docks. He was well known. His dog fights and cock fights attracted all
strata of society. In any given night, you could find nobles and
peasants betting on the same animal to win. He was a remarkable
collector of gossip and information which he would give out in
abundance, if the price was right. Balamier looked more like a kindly
grandfather than the ruthless cutthroat that he was. I have only known
of one time when he had shown any feelings at all and that was over
Toby. Toby was a terrier that had lost one of his legs in a fight.
Balamier asked me to save him, which I did. It created a debt which
Balamier was eager to pay. I wanted to know why Toby meant so much to
him. Balamier promised he would tell me some day. It should prove to be
an interesting tale. Balamier was standing outside welcoming guests and
collecting money. Toby was right beside him warily watching those that
entered his master's domain. I greeted Balamier and patted Toby on the
head.
     "You are not going to do your reputation any good by showing a lot
of friendliness to such a vicious beast," laughed Balamier. He was
referring to the fact that Toby only allowed Balamier and myself to
touch him. The only other person to try had lost two fingers. "I am
sorry about Liosliath. He was a good customer. I have some information
you might find interesting. Come on inside."
     Although most of the place lay in shadows the fighting arena was
well lit and crowded by people shouting at two cocks who were fighting
to the death. The smaller of the two was winning and I could tell the
larger one would not last much longer. Balamier pointed out a young
couple.
     "The Lady Ketti Hanriette Neysa and her betrothed, Lord Banain
Iniga."
     I could see parts of Liosliath in her. She had his black hair and
high cheekbones. But there was a hardness about her that belied her
looks.
     "I see that you have noticed it too. I feel sorry for Banain to be
stuck with something like that. It is bad enough that her foul temper
has already lost me one patron but the way she waves that dagger around
makes me nervous. Banain tried to talk to her and got a lecture from
Putnam Neysa about how a lady needs to protect herself. She is just like
Putnam," sneered Balamier.
     "Why not ask her to leave if she causes so much trouble?"
     Balamier was quiet for a moment and then he replied in a low voice.
     "Putnam Neysa got me exiled from Magnus. I do not need trouble
here. That is why I am helping you, Alsandair. By helping you, I am
hurting him."
     I was surprised that Balamier was not using this opportuniy to pay
off his debt. I needed all the help I could get even if that help came
from unexpected allies. I was curious to get a closer look at Ketti
Neysa. I got about an arm's length when she turned towards me. It was as
if the earth had opened to swallow me whole. She was wearing the locket.
I could feel myself being thrown head first into the darkness when she
spoke with a voice full of contempt.
     "What do you want? You have no business with me. Leave or else."
     I could see her hand resting on her dagger. I could not give myself
away and give her a chance to escape.
     "I am sorry, my lady. I only wish to pass on my congratulations to
you and Lord Iniga on your upcoming wedding. I hope you receive what you
so richly deserve."
     Lord Iniga was about to thank me when she cut him off.
     "You said what you came to say. Now begone or I will cut."
     I bowed towards her and Lord Iniga. Then I made my way to where
Balamier stood. He leaned over and whispered.
     "Now that you have had a chance to meet the great lady I have a few
more people for you to meet."
     On the way back into the warehouse where Balamier conducted his
private business Balamier said, "I knew as soon as I saw the locket.
Ketti comes here every night. I told you before that I always pay my
debts whether they are for good or bad. This pays my debt to Putnam. I
hope she hangs."
     Back in Balamier's room sat three people, two men and a woman. None
of them seemed surprised to see me which meant they were expecting
Balamier to be bringing someone. Balamier made the introductions. The
older man was a jeweler. He was the first to speak. He kept looking over
at Balamier which made me think he was more nervous than he had first
appeared.
     "The Lady Ketti brought in the locket for me to clean and fix the
clasp. Broke clean away it was. I had to do it twice. First time she
looked at me with those hard eyes of her and told me to fix the design
as she said to or she would gut me. I knew she meant it by the look in
her eyes. The design was a hard one but I did it."
     I could hear a touch of pride in his voice over a task well done.
After he was done speaking he looked at Balamier one more time then he
looked at me. He gave me a nod and left. The couple waited till he left
the room before the woman spoke. She would look over at her husband who
just sat there nodding and holding his wife's hand.
     "My name is Sophie Newhouse and this is my husband George. Master
Balamier told us you might be able to get us justice for our girl."
     I looked at Balamier. He just nodded toward Sophie. She looked as
if she were gathering her thoughts before she went on. When she started
to speak her voice was quieter and sadder than before.
     "Ketti and Cybele, that was my girl's name, were rivals for a son
of one of the merchants in Magnus. Ketti was used to getting her way.
You could tell that by being around her for only a short time. The boy
liked my girl. Putnam with all his money could not change the boy's
mind. My girl came home and told us that she and Hugo, that's the boy's
name, were to be married. It was the happiest I ever saw her. The next
night she was stabbed to death."
     I cleared my throat. I had to ask but I really did not want to.
     "How do you know it was Ketti?"
     George Newhouse answered in a gruff voice tinged with anger,
sorrow, and frustration.
     "I saw her do it. I was coming down the road heading home when I
saw her attack my girl. I tried to get to her in time but I was to late.
Ketti was covered with a cloak and she was wearing a hood but I got a
look at her face as she rode by. I even tried to stop her but all I got
was this scar from where she cut me."
     George pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a long ugly
scar.
     "What happened then?"
     George looked at his wife. She had tears streaming down her face.
She nodded at her husband. George continued with his tale.
     "We brought charges against Ketti. Lord Neysa came to the house and
told us plainly that if we brought charges he would challenge me to
trial by combat. He said he would kill me and make life so hard on
Sophie she would wish she was dead. I was scared of him. I am not
ashamed to say. Down Magnus way, Lord Putnam has a reputation of being a
cold-hearted killer. I know of five men he has challenged and all five
of them are dead. I will tell you the truth sir, Lord Neysa likes to
kill. You can see it in his eyes. His granddaughter, Ketti, is the same
way. I know Sophie has prayed every day that justice be done. I hope you
are the answer to her prayers. Watch out for Lord Neysa. If ever a man
was pure evil, he is it."
     George stopped talking. Both he and his wife looked expectantly at
me. I did not know if I was the answer to Sophie's prayers but I did
know that I could not forgive myself if I did not try to bring Ketti to
trial for the murder of her father. I hoped the wheel of justice would
turn towards retribution, serving both myself and the Newhouses.
     "I will do everything I can to see that justice is served not only
for my friend but for your girl too."
     Balamier motioned for me to stay. He showed the Newhouses out. Both
of them thanked me before they left. I could feel myself becoming
hardened to the task that lay ahead of me. I would set a trap for Ketti,
one that Putnam would not be able to get her out of. Balamier came back
and gave me the name and address of the jeweler.
     "Is he not afraid of Putnam Neysa?"
     Balalmier laughed, "I do not think he is worried about Putnam.
After all, you will be the one Putnam is coming after. Seriously,
Alsandair, be careful of Putnam. He is a dangerous man."
     "Thanks for your help, Balamier."
     I had a lot to think about. After I was done with bringing Ketti to
justice then I would go after Putnam. I had enough to think about that I
did not have to worry about sleep and it would not be the dream that
kept me awake.

     It took three days to set everything up. I gathered my people
together and told them to stay in the shadows until they were needed.
Flann and I moved the horses. Then we waited a short distance from
Balamier's place for the trap to be sprung. Ketti was the first one to
realize that the horses were missing but by that time Flann had the way
blocked by armed men.
     "This is not a robbery, Lord Iniga. Ketti Neysa. I, Alsandair
Wacuman, accuse you of the willful and brutal murder of your father
Liosliath Meave."
     She started to laugh but the look on my face must have told her I
was serious. Her face became a mask of rage and contempt. She drew her
dagger and I drew my dirk.
     "Beware, girl, I am a seasoned soldier and I will not hesitate in
killing you."
     This surprised her and she put her dagger down. Her eyes were
filled with hate. It did not matter to me; I would see this monster hang
if it was the last thing I ever did. My only regret was that I would not
be one of the men to hoist her from the ground.
     "You have no proof that I did anything wrong. Send someone for the
guards. My grandfather will see that I am set free."
     "Like he did when you murdered Cybele Newhouse?"
     All the color drained from her face and she leapt at me with her
dagger drawn. I tripped her. I placed my foot on her hand and my dirk at
her throat.
     "Nothing would please me more than to cut your throat and watch the
blood spill from as it spilt from your father. But I want you to hang
and I want your grandfather to see you hang. Only then will I be
satisfied that justice has been served."
     I kicked the dagger away from her. She looked up at Lord Iniga. Her
voice took on a pleading sound.
     "Will you not defend your lady against these false accusations?"
     Lord Iniga looked at her for a minute then he shook his head.
     "I never wanted to marry you but I wanted the fortune your
grandfather promised and I wanted the rich lifestyle I would have by
marrying you. So I turned a blind eye to your behaviour. I cannot turn
away any longer. I wish to hear the proof this man offers and if it is
sound then I will testify against you. I mean this, Ketti. If you have
killed someone I will testfy against you."
     All pretenses were gone. Ketti showed herself for what she was. A
creature of anger and hatred. And I saw in her a mirror image of the
dark part of myself. Without the love of my parents, my wife and my son
I could have been the monster Ketti had become. I should have felt some
type of pity for her but all she invoked in me was anger. The coldness
of her voice could freeze a man's soul.
     "You will regret your decision. My grandfather will ruin you. Go
ahead beggarman tell this weakling your proof. I did nothing wrong."
     I motioned for Blind Peadar to step out of the shadows.
     "I have a witness."
     Ketti laughed. "The word of a beggar against a lady? You know who
will be believed and who will not."
     "You would be right if I only had the word of a beggar but I have
many witnesses that you use your left hand. The killer was left-handed."
     "I am not the only left-handed person in this city."
     "That is true but you are the only left-handed person to be wearing
the locket stolen from a dead man."
     "You cannot prove this locket is not mine."
     "Open it. I know what is inside the locket that Liosliath wore. If
the contents of your locket are different then perhaps I will believe
you are innocent."
     Ketti tried to open it. I knew that the locket opened from the
bottom not the side as many do now. You also had to press a small latch
at the bottom to get it to open. I was counting on the fact that Ketti
never saw the locket so she would not know how to open it. After several
attempts she gave up.
     "Why should I have to open it?"
     "Perhaps it is stuck. May I try to open it?"
     Ketti knew she was trapped. If she did not allow me to try she
would show her guilt and if she did allow me to try, her guilt also
would be shown. She took off the locket and threw it to Lord Iniga. He
caught it and looked at her.
     "Give it to your beggarman. I do not wish to dirty my hands."
     Lord Iniga gave me the locket. I opened it and inside were two
minitures; one of Galatea and one of Liosliath. I showed them to her and
then I handed the locket to Lord Iniga. I was hoping that she would make
an attempt to get the locket back. I will be honest with you, my friend,
I was looking for an excuse to cut her down and any excuse would do. She
just stood there with eyes filled with hate, looking at my dirk and at
the locket. She knew the trap had been sprung and that she was caught.
Perhaps she thought that not only would her grandfather get his revenge
against us but recover the locket as well.
     "Give it up, Ketti. Your deeds have found you out and you will hang
for them."
     "I will never hang for killing anyone. Do you think that the word
of beggars or the imaginings of a weak merchant boy will stand against
my grandfather. My grandfather will destroy all you of in order to save
me."
     Lord Iniga looked at her. It was a look with a strange mixture of
compassion and horror. He spoke to Ketti in a soft voice.
     "Why did you kill Liosliath, Ketti?"
     The look she gave him made me glad that I had taken away her
dagger. Her face was filled with such a look of hatred that it no longer
seemed human. Her voice was devoid of everything but rage.
     "Why?! I will tell you why. He wanted to come to the wedding. 'I
will stay in the back. No one will know that I am there,' he said. I
would know and I did not want him there. That scum had no right to come
to my wedding or to wear my locket. I asked him to give me the locket
and he gave me such a look of pity that it turned my stomach. He told me
that to give me the locket would disgrace the woman he loved and who
gave me birth. Then he turned to walk away as if it was over. I hit him
then I stabbed him over and over again. When I was done, I took the
locket, my locket. I will never hang for killing that scum. My
grandfather will set me free. And when I tell him what you have done he
will make you pay for the trouble you have caused me. I hope he kills
you slowly so you suffer. I will enjoy that."
     The rage welled up inside of me and before I could stop myself, I
had slapped her hard across the face. The mark my hand left on her skin
was like a strange birthmark.
     "You will never leave this city alive. The only reason you are not
dead now is that it would make us as bad as you. I am not afraid of your
grandfather. And I will tell you right now if Putnam tries to harm any
of my people I will see him hang right beside you. If Putnam comes
looking for me I will not be hard to find."
     Flann's men grabbed her, kicking and screaming curses on all of us.
They tied and gagged her then they threw her over her horse. Lord Iniga
came over and handed me the locket.
     "I must go tell my family of what has happened. You have proven
yourself to be a true friend and a brave man. Be careful, my friend,
Putnam Neysa is a very dangerous man. I do not think he will stop at
anything to get his revenge."
     "Godspeed to you Lord Iniga. I hope you and your family will be
safe."
     He got on his horse and gave me a wave then he was gone. I turned
and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.
     "We have brought a killer to justice and laid a friend's spirit to
rest. You have done well my friends. Go in peace."
     I watched as the crowd went its separate ways. I could feel a
burden being lifted off the shoulders of all of us. I saw some of the
shadow boys slipping off to follow after Ketti and her escorts. I know
that they were hoping Ketti would be able to escape. Flann came up to me
and grasped my shoulder.
     "It seems that you are heading into trouble, my friend. I hope you
do not mind if I come along for the ride."
     "I would be happy for the company."
     "What are you going to do with the locket?"
     "After this is done I was thinking of going to Magnus to deliver it
to its owner."
     "Count me in, my friend."
     I took the long way home enjoying the peace of the moment. I knew
that once Putnam found out about his granddaughter I would be in for
another battle. As I turned the corner I saw Liosliath. He was with
Brangwen and Cuilean. Liosliath approached me smiling.
     "Thank you, my friend. I wanted to give you a piece of advice. If
you ever have to go against Putnam in a fight, watch his eyes. He is
fast. He tends to move his feet a lot to confuse his opponents but his
eyes betray where he will go."
     "Thank you Liosliath."
     I watched as he walked away fading into the night. My wife and son
came up to me.
     "I want you to promise me that you will fight against the darkness
when it comes upon you. We love you and we will always be with you."
     "I promise, my love. I love you both and when my time comes we will
be together again."
     My son hugged me. I felt the soft touch of my wife's lips upon my
cheek. The tears streamed down my cheeks as I stood alone once again and
whispered goodbye.

     I have not had the dream since. No, I have not heard from Putnam
Neysa yet. He is busy trying to free his granddaughter. I am sure he
will get around to me. Yes, I still have the locket. Yes, I still see
ghosts. It does make life more interesting. Let me walk you part way
home. What? Yes. Yes, we are starting to build homes once again. The
city is beginning to heal my friend and so am I ... so am I.

========================================================================

                                 Beans
                              by Jim Owens
                         <jimo@moose.erie.net>
                               Circa 1009

     By dawn, Pudlong and his wife, Thully, had been in the field for
over a bell already. By Pudlong's estimation, they had ten leagues of
beans to hoe before they could plod back to their mats for the evening's
sleep. Add in a break around the tenth bell for supper, and that would
be a typical day for the couple. Life as a peasant was nothing if not
predictable.
     "'Ere, Thully," croaked Pudlong, cradling a few string beans in his
calloused hand. "These 'ud make a fine prize come fair time."
     Thully lifted her head from her hoeing to squint at the indicated
vegetable, then nodded her lips and nodded. "Yup, that'd do it." She
immediately returned to her hoeing, her medium length brown hair hiding
her face. Pudlong had thought that hair to be her best quality when he'd
married her fifteen years before. She'd never been a true beauty, but
that was probably for the better. Life as a peasant was hard, but it was
better than life as a slave girl.
     Now Pudlong followed her example, churning up the dirt with one
hand, pulling up the weeds and lining the bean rows with the other. The
uprooted weeds would choke out newer ones, and keep the water in the
soil longer. It was back-breaking work, but Pudlong and Thully knew no
other kind. Which was not to say that their lives held no pleasures --
even a peasant has his joys. There was abundant, albeit simple, food;
there were friends, in the next hut, and the next. If one was lucky
there was children, and even if there were children there was still sex.
Pudlong no longer thought her hair to be Thully's best parts. And, in
the fall, there was the fair, with all its excitement and color.
     It was a change in the color of the light on the bean leaves that
first caught Pudlong's eye. He glanced up just as Thully gave a slight
gasp. Just ahead of the couple, right in the bean field, there was a
violet pillar of light. It swirled and grew, then solidified into the
figure of a young man. He stood there looking perplexed, shield on one
hand, sword in the other, while Thully and Pudlong both straightened.
     " 'Ello, lord," Pudlong offered. The man was properly, if
strangely, dressed, and had epaulets of chainmail. He was little more
than a stripling in Pudlong's opinion, well- shaven and quite out of
place in a bean field. By the looks of him, Pudlong judged him to be one
of the many well-born youths with too much money and time, and not
enough responsibility.
     "Straight down the road, sire, and past the village," Pudlong told
the youth.
     "What?" The man was quite lost.
     "The castle, sire. Straight down the road, past the village. Ya
can't miss it. Big stone thing."
     "Thank you. Yes. Thank you." The man began walking toward the road,
still holding his shield and sword erect, as if they were frozen in
place by shock. After a few steps he turned back. "How did you know
that's what I wanted?" His accent placed him slightly further up the
coast.
     "That's what they all want, those what just show up in my bean
field. Been three of them 'ere since last fall, there has. You're the
fourth, if you please, lord."
     "I see." The man pondered a moment. "Did these others, that just
showed up, say they were ... looking for ... something?"
     "I reckon they were looking for that treasure what's been hidden
here abouts by that wizard, Marcellon."
     "Ah! I see. Quite." He stood a moment, then continued on his way,
calling back over his shoulder. "Thank you!"
     Thully and Pudlong watched him trod through their beans, to the
road, then head up the road, still holding his sword upright. Thully
returned to hoeing, while Pudlong moved up to where the youth had
appeared. Sure enough, several plants were trodden down and broken.
     "Blasted magician," Pudlong muttered, then returned to hoeing.

========================================================================

                      In the Company of Strangers
                           by Mark A. Murray
                     <mmurray@slis.lib.uoknor.edu>
                         Dargon City, Yule 1015

     As evening fell on Dargon City, the merchants closed their shops
and a multitude of people made their way home. Envy crept into Lylle as
he watched them pass by. Damn Art, he thought. While he had no home to
go to, at least he wouldn't be dragged into a different inn every night.
Lylle looked over at Art and cursed again.
     "What?" Art stopped and questioned. Lylle hadn't realized that he
had spoken aloud.
     "Um, nothin' Art. I was just clearing my throat," Lylle quickly
said as he slipped a little more into the shadows.
     "Let's go," Art ordered and started walking again. Lylle followed
and thought about his predicament. He had lived on the streets as long
as he could remember. He would just have to weather this out. One of the
rules he had learned was not to get into fights with opponents who were
larger and more powerful. Lylle broke that rule but only by being in the
wrong place at the wrong time. Lylle fell back onto the next rule. Go
along with the more powerful opponent until there is an opening. Lylle
hoped that an opening would appear before he angered Art too much and
ended up with a severe beating.
     "Get out of da shadows," Art ordered. "We're almost late. If'n we
don't get more'n a couple of Rand silver this time, you're gonna get
pounded. Ya need ta tell it better. Add somethin' ta it," Art said.
     "Aw, Art, you know I'm no good at this story tellin'," Lylle
whined.
     "Ya gonna go through that door or am I gonna have ta boot ya in?"
Art threatened. A lump formed in Lylle's throat as he opened the door to
the inn.
     Waves of laughter, shouting and music assaulted him. The inn was
crowded. Lylle stopped just inside the door, unsure of where to go when
several people noticed him and made a path to the bar. He was just a bit
uncomfortable with his newfound fame. If it wasn't for Art and the
money, Lylle wouldn't be here. He couldn't believe that just a short
time ago, he was just another shadow boy living on the streets. He knew
the strangers were not from around Dargon City, but he would never have
guessed that these two strangers would put him in the spotlight. Two
strangers and Art, he corrected himself.
     "Tender, Lylle's glass's empty. Jus keep it full 'til this Rand
silver's gone," a patron yelled. "Now, Lylle, yer gonna tell us yer
story or not? I heard ya wuz at da Shattered Shfere de other nite tellin
all ya knew. People said yer story was a good'un. It'd better be or I'll
wring my shilver outta yer hide."
     "If you'll quit yellin' at me, Ian, I'll tell it," Lylle said. As
Ian settled back, the bar became quiet and Lylle began.
     "It was just before midday and I was starting to get hungry so I
was making my way over to the main gates to, um, lighten people's
burdens, if'n you follow me. Just as I get there, in comes two visitors.
Now we get visitors here all the time, but these two were stranger than
usual. He was dressed in worn leather and cloth with boots that looked
like they had seen many leagues. And the dust, whew! Both of 'em covered
head to toe in it. They must have rolled in it to get it that thick on
them. The dust was so bad, you really couldn't get a good look at him.
He walked oddly enough with that wooden cane, but there was something
else odd about him that you couldn't put your finger on right away. It
took me a while before I realized that it was the way he walked. The
only way I could describe it was that he walked softly. I mean his head
and body didn't bob like most people's do. It was as if he didn't even
disturb the air when he walked. With him lookin like he walked half of
'diar, I just figured that must be the way you get when you walk a long
ways. As odd as he was, though, his companion was even odder. You almost
couldn't tell if it was a he or a she from the cape and hood that
covered most of her. Yeah, it was a her. You could see the boots right
enough. From the dust they looked red, but I'd bet they were pink. Pink
boots with frilled lace around them and a bow-tied ribbon on the front.
No self-respecting man would be caught dead in them, but you never know
around here," Lylle said and winked. There was a ripple of laughter
through the crowd. Lylle sipped his beer and started his tale again.
     "Every now and then the cape would open some and give you a glance
inside. Never the hood, mind you, just the cape. Looked like a real nice
blue silk blouse she was wearin'. She walked beside him with her arm in
his and her head tilted toward the ground. Her hands looked delicate and
she had long, slender fingers. She was slouched some so that you
couldn't tell how tall she was, but I would've bet that she was taller
than him when she straightened. A lot of the onlookers thought she was
blind, but they were wrong. No, she wasn't blind. It may have looked
that way to most, but the thieves and robbers could tell. They're always
looking for an easy mark. They knew. So did I. I guess I'd been on the
street too long, because I saw that she didn't stumble over anything as
she walked. Even if you can see and you aren't watching, it's easy to
stumble on that street. She just walked beside him with her head down.
     "Since I was hungry and they were new, it didn't take much courage
on my part to stop them. My stomach dealt with that. I ran over to them
and asked them if they needed a guide through our city. I gave them the
usual pitch. He stopped and looked at me. I mean he really looked at me.
Scared me so bad, I almost ran then and there. Most of the new people
hardly give me a second glance and then it's just a passing one. He
seemed to be searching my soul, like I had one. It was like I was being
judged and if I failed, well, I believe he would have killed me. If I
wasn't so scared I could have told him he was wasting his time. Then he
asked me where a safe inn was. A not-so-expensive safe inn, located away
from the bad sections of town. I told him I could take him there for a
few Rand coppers. He handed me ten and motioned me forward. I led him
towards May's place. She never liked me much but the stranger had paid
and it was what he wanted. Everything would have been fine except we ran
into Art. Or rather Art ran into the stranger."
     "Is that right, Art?" one of the patrons asked Art. Art was sitting
at the bar next to Lylle.
     "Let Lylle tell some more and then I'll add my piece," Art said and
glanced suspiciously at Lylle.
     "Yeah, shuttup and let Lylle say some more," came a voice from the
back of the group.
     "Anyway," Lylle said, "Art's got a way of bullying those smaller
than him. And as you can see, that includes most people. Art comes
around the corner and sees the stranger. He puffs his chest and bumps
into the stranger, pretending he didn't do it on purpose. The man stops
and looks at Art all the while Art is telling the man he had better
apologize. And then all of a sudden the man shoves the point of his cane
into Art's gut. Art gives a whoosh and starts to bend over, but before
he gets too far the stranger reverses the cane and strikes Art right
between the eyes. Next thing I know, Art hits the ground on his rear and
has that far-away look in his eyes." Lylle sipped his beer and quickly
glanced at Art. Make something up, Art had said. Lylle could see the
hostility in Art's eyes. He hoped that this small satisfaction would
ease the pounding he would get.
     "Art finally shakes his head and starts to get up. That's when the
stranger did something weird. He knelt down so that he was at Art's
level and was close to Art. No one I know gets close to Art willingly,
but this man did. To make matters worse, I could tell Art was getting
real mad. This stranger leaned a little closer, looked in Art's eyes,
and said something that only Art could hear. Art's face went white. He
looked in the stranger's eyes and then down at the cane and finally back
to the stranger's face. Art didn't look into his eyes again. I
understood why, but you'd have to be on the receiving end of one of
those looks. The stranger stands up again and takes the lady's arm in
his and walks away from Art. I didn't want to stay around and feel Art's
anger so I led them to May's place. I, um, brought Art here with me to
tell you his side of what happened, " Lylle said and looked to Art.
     Art looked back and his eyes narrowed in anger. Then he stepped off
the barstool and those who had doubted his size before, now got a good
look at him. Art stood around six feet tall and had broad shoulders. He
had no beard to hide his square jaw. Cords of muscle ran down his arms
to thick wrists and large hands. His leather pants were large and baggy
to fit his muscular legs. While Art was large and imposing, most people
had never heard about fights involving him. Of course, most people took
one look at Art and didn't care to find out how good of a fighter he
was.
     "It wasn't a great morning and something was itchin' my craw," Art
began. "I came around the corner and saw Lylle here leading two
scraggly, flea-bitten strangers down the road. They just looked, I dunno
what they were, but they made that itch in my craw turn sour, so's I
bump into the man. I should have known things weren't right when he
didn't fall down. I put a lot of weight behind my bumping inta him
because I had a bad morning and he was makin' it worse, but he didn't
fall down. That just gets me madder, so's I start yelling at him. I
never would have guessed the little man would fight back. Anyways, he
gets the jump on me and jabs that stick inta my gut and the next thing I
know is that I'm on my rear end in the street. When I think about it, I
never even felt that stick hit me between the eyes. So's here I am
sitting in the dirt looking up at this stranger. So's I start thinkin'
about what happened and I start gettin' real mad. This guy is in for a
pounding, I think to myself. Just when I start ta get up and give him
this pounding, he kneels down in front of me. I'm thinkin' that this guy
is crazy. He's got to be crazy gettin' that close to me, I'm thinkin',
and then he looks me in the eyes. Lylle here is right. He looks deep
inside you. It's like he's looking for something and you don't wanna be
the one who has it. So's he looks me in the eyes, and then he tells me
that he could easily have hit me in the throat, both times. And he
emphasized easily so's that I knew it didn't matter one way or the other
ta him whether I was alive or dead and that the next time would be dead
and he wouldn't even be breathin' hard when he did it. He said a lot in
that one word, or maybe it was his eyes. I don't know. I just know I
looked down at that stick and it looked a whole lot bigger. I swallowed
hard and looked back up at him, only I couldn't bring myself ta look in
his eyes again. Then he got up and walked away, leavin' me in the dirt
and there ain't been no happier place I wanted to be," Art said and
finished his beer in one gulp. "And just because there was one person in
this city," Art thundered, "who got the drop on me and kept it doesn't
mean that I can't pound any of you two bit, scrawny, raggedy excuses fer
men inta the floor." Just to emphasize his point, Art squeezed his thick
mug until it shattered in his hand.
     Art had incorporated the added something as well as he could, Lylle
noticed. If anything, the crowd seemed to enjoy this version better than
last night's crowd. More enjoyment meant more money meant no pounding,
Lylle hoped.

     The room was quiet for a few moments and Lylle gave them no more
than that few moments before he began his tale again and pulled the
group deeper into his story.
     "If you thought the fight with Art was something, then you just
keep listening 'cause it gets a lot better. I led those two down to
May's place. We get there and the stranger looks up at the sign and
stops. He looks down at me and I thought I was dead. I looked into his
eyes like a fool and I saw my death in them. I started silently praying
to any god that would hear me, and then I started praying to them by
name. I don't know who or what saved me, but the stranger's eyes
softened some. Then he muttered something that I almost didn't catch,
but I caught part of it," Lylle said and then paused to drink his beer.
He found that his glass was empty. Before he could say anything, Art
spoke up.
     "Ian told ya ta keep that glass full, bartender. If'n ya can't do
that, I'm gonna give ya a thumpin' you'll never forget. And get me one
while yer at it," Art told the bartender. The stranger may not have
feared Art, but the bartender was a different story. He set two mugs in
front of Lylle and filled them both full and then he set one of his
largest mugs full of ale in front of Art. Lylle smiled inwardly. He
would be swaggering drunk when this was through.
     "Listen up then and I'll tell you true. What I heard was this, '...
he couldn't of known, not his fault. Maybe this time, the sign is a good
omen.' I didn't understand at the time what he was talking about, only
that I would live. That and I was glad I hadn't eaten in a while cause
for sure I woulda had to take a trip down to the river to clean up
afterwards," Lylle said smiling. Laughter broke out among the crowd and
continued on for a little while. A shout stopped the laughter and
brought more questions.
     "What did the sign say, Lylle. What did the sign say and what did
it mean?" the man in the back asked.
     "I guess I shouldn't have expected all of you to have been to
May's. Her place being upstanding and all," Lylle said and continued
before anyone had a chance to speak. "May's place is called Spirit's
Haven. As for what it means, I guess you'll just have to ask the
stranger that. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, we were at May's and I opened
the door for them. The stranger just stands there and ushers me in, so I
go in first and just my luck, May is walking out. Caught on the cliff
between the city guard and the sea, I was. With May not liking me and
all, she starts to say something. It was the stranger who stopped her.
He tells her that it was he who brought me there and that he only wanted
a room and a meal for a few days. I thought that May was going to throw
us all out, but she didn't. Now for those of you who don't know May, she
can tell the good from the bad at a glance. May's been known to spot a
thief before he even knows he is going to steal. That's why May's place
is so nice and upstanding. It's been rumoured that some royalty has even
stayed there. When May let them stay, I thought that either May had
finally gone deep into the sea or that these two strangers were all
right. I didn't care much one way or the other as I had my money and I
wanted rid of that man. I started to leave and stopped when he said
wait. I turned around and he asked me my name. I knew that lying to him
wouldn't be good so I told him the truth. He asked me to come back the
next morning and be his guide. I should have said no and stayed clear of
him, but for some reason I couldn't. Maybe it was the extra money he
gave me or the way he treated me, but I said yes and ran out of there. I
don't know what went on after that in May's place. Something happened,
that I know, but I never could find out what. I tried everything I could
to find out. I even took one of May's lectures after I asked her what
happened ..."
     "So have you walked the straight and narrow since then, Lylle?" a
member of the crowd jeered.
     "Hmmph, I see I haven't been the only one to receive a lecture from
May. It'll take more than May to make me curb my ways," Lylle retorted.
     "Aw, shuttup already. We want to hear about the strangers,
especially the female one. I heard some rumours about her," yelled the
man in the back. It was the same man who kept pushing Lylle to tell his
story. Strange, he thought, and then turned his attention back to the
story as murmurs of assent ran through the crowd.
     "It was just after sunrise when I returned to May's. I opened the
door and peered inside. When I saw the stranger and the lady sitting at
a table having breakfast, I knew it was safe to enter. When I got to the
table, the stranger asked me to sit down. When I did, he asked if I
would like some breakfast. The funny thing about this stranger was that
for all his outward appearance and his fighting ability he spoke with a
soft voice. Not a tint of hardness to it at all.
     "It was at breakfast that I finally got some glimpses of the lady's
face. Not many, mind you, but some. That damned hood covered a lot. She
was pale and fair-skinned for what I could see and not a hint of any
type of facial coverings or perfumes that I could detect. She ate in a
slow rhythmic pace. Her fingers were long and slender. She had beautiful
hands from what you could see, although her hands were pale. And she did
everything the stranger said. I noticed that more and more as I was with
them. He told her to stop eating, drink, wipe her mouth, stop, start and
a lot of other things. When he took her hand or arm, she followed where
he went. I swear he acted like she was an imbecile and blind, but she
acted like a broken slave and I never heard her say a word. She was more
mysterious than he was.
     "The first thing he wanted to do after we ate, was to visit certain
temples, so we did. He had me wait outside while he went inside. I asked
around afterwards about what happened, but he always insisted on talking
to the main priests of each temple, and you know they won't say anything
about what he said. Damn tight-lipped priests. What's the good of
knowing important things if you can't sell them? After we visited the
temples, he asked about mages. Where they could be found and he didn't
want to see the fake ones. That point was made very clear, not that I
would try to give him the run-around. I wasn't that stupid. I told him
that I would need to ask around some and that would cost money. He
handed me some Rand copper and two Rand silver coins. The thought of
running with the money entered my mind and left seconds later as I
thought about it. He would find me, I don't doubt. To make it short, I
found the whereabouts of a few good mages and offered him the change
that I had. He told me to keep it. I didn't argue with him. It was the
same with the mages. I stayed outside while he went inside. It was on
our trip to a mage that we had to go into the bad part of town. That was
the trip I'll not forget. Well, one of them at least. We were walking
down an alley full of drunks and winos when four of the bums got up in
front of us. The first one grabbed me and threw me into the wall. I hit
the wall and fell to the ground. I knew better than to get up, so I
stayed down and watched. These four bums turned out not to be bums after
all, but thieves and robbers, or so I thought. This is about how it went
and I swear that these are the exact words:
     "Ye be the one named Raphael," the leader asked as his companions
fanned out beside him. The alley was wide enough so that three of them
stood side by side and the fourth stood behind them in the middle. The
three in the front were armed with short and long daggers, while the one
in the back readied a crossbow. Raphael studied the three men in front
and then glanced at the fourth man in the back before he answered the
leader.
     "You have his tint about you," Raphael said. I had not thought his
reach would extend this far. I offer you the same that I offer all who
have been touched by him. Leave now and you leave alive."
     "We'll leave, right enough. After yer dead," the leader began. He
didn't get to complete his thought as Raphael had pushed his stick into
his stomach. The leader was expecting something and grabbed the end of
the stick and smiled. Raphael pushed and the leader stumbled backwards
still holding the stick. I had thought that the stick had broken because
there was a small sound like a snap or click and Raphael turned to the
right, with what looked like a part of the stick, and kicked out with
his left foot catching a thief in the gut. The leader had regained his
balance and stopped as he watched the head of the man to his left fall
to the ground. There was a sword in that stick. The click was the sound
of it coming out of the cane. It was that slight pause that cost him his
life as Raphael never stopped. Just as his sword finished the cut,
Raphael reversed his turn and thrust the sword into the leader's heart
and left it there as he dropped to the ground. The dagger just missed
him from the attack by the thief that Raphael had kicked. Raphael
punched upward into the thief's crotch. When the thief bent over,
Raphael grabbed him and sent him flying up and over into the last thief
holding the crossbow. Both thieves went down. Raphael retrieved his
sword and killed them both while they were down. The whole thing had
taken only seconds by my reckoning.

     "He killed all four of them?" someone asked incredulously.
     "All four of them and he made it look easy. Afterwards, he searched
their pockets and took what he wanted including their money. He gestured
onward to me and he acted like nothing out of the ordinary happened.
I've seen death and dying, but this was different. The only thing I can
remember that came close was some of the soldiers returning from war who
had gotten used to the killing. Even then, I don't remember them acting
like he did. He had no remorse or compassion for what he had done. He
acted like it was something that he had to do and so it was done. Made
me sick, it did. I threw up all over the place. After I was done and
opened my eyes, I saw that my vomit had mixed in with the blood and I
got sick all over again. Finally, I stood up and there he was, just
standing there waiting for me. He turned and took the lady's arm in his
and motioned me down the alley. I led him to the rest of the places and
when we got back to Spirit's Haven, I told him I wasn't coming back in
the morning. Come inside, eat with me and I will explain some things to
you, he said. I owe you that much, he said. I wanted to run, but the
curiosity in me took over so I went inside. He sat the lady down and
made sure she was fine before he sat down. We ordered and he told me
some things," Lylle said and paused as he drank his beer. Murmurs echoed
through the crowd with what did he say and I heard this and I heard
that.
     "This story sure makes a boy hungry," Lylle hinted.
     "You finish it and I'll buy you dinner and some wine," the man in
back called. It seemed to Lylle that this man must have something to do
with the stranger. He'd find out when the man bought him dinner, Lylle
thought.
     "He said he owed me some explanation and what I got was some
explanation alright. What he told me was like a tale a mother would tell
her child to frighten them into obedience. He said he had a best friend
growing up. While he learned fighting, his friend learned magic, but the
magic changed him. They were slowly separating as they grew older, but
most of the friendship stayed. Then a woman walked into their life and
things went from good to worse. They both loved her, he said, and she
loved only him. Years went on and the mage's lust and rage grew along
with his power. He said that finally the mage acted. He didn't say what
happened, but it must have been horrible because for the first time, his
eyes looked different.
     "He stopped talking at that point and there was a sadness in him
that overshadowed all else. Ever since then, he said, he had been chased
and hounded by men. He learned that the mage was behind all the attacks
by these men. It was always the same. The men would not stop until they
were dead. Distances didn't seem to matter to them, as they would follow
until they caught up to him. He said he didn't know how many men he
killed, but that it was many before he saw the taint left behind by the
mage on the men. It was many more before he could see it all the time.
They never left him any choice but to kill them. He was going to say
more when the three of the City Guard showed up to arrest him.
     "I thought it was awful quick of them to show up. Then I heard him
whisper something that froze my blood. He said, 'The leader has the
taint.' He left his stick against his chair and moved toward them. He
was quick. He reached them before they knew what to do. Some of those
men were big, but it didn't seem to bother him. He never stopped moving
and the guards seemed to just stumble around him. Just when I thought a
guard had him, he would step aside and turn sending the guard sprawling.
He would use one guard to smash into the others. It lasted longer than
his previous fight, but he didn't kill anyone this time. Oh, there were
some broken bones and whatnot, but no deaths. He looked at me and said
it would not be wise to kill a guard here at this time. Later, he said.
He took the lady, his stick, and left out the back. I never saw him
again and I think he's left Dargon," Lylle finished. There was silence
in the crowd and Lylle thought he was in trouble. Maybe it wasn't good
enough for them, he thought, but his fears were dismissed as the crowd
slowly smiled and people thanked him for the tale. Lylle collected the
money that was given him and put it in a purse at his side.
     Everyone left but one man and Art. Art stood up and grabbed Lylle's
arm.
     "How much did we get?" Art asked.
     "I don't know," Lylle answered.
     "Don' give me that. You knew how much 'fore the coins hit the
bottom of yer purse. Now empty that purse and let me count 'em," Art
ordered. Lylle emptied the purse on the bar and Art counted the money.
Art took all the silver and left the coppers. "Not bad for talkin'," Art
said and left. The man who stayed waited until Art had gone and then
approached Lylle.
     "I owe you a dinner, boy, and I aim to pay, but not here. I know a
place that has better food," the man said. Lylle knew it was the same
man that had urged him on most of the night. A dinner sounded good,
Lylle's stomach argued. Besides, Lylle thought, I may get to find out
why this man wants to know so much about the stranger. They walked out
of the inn into the night headed for their agreed upon dinner. Lylle was
thinking about how to dissolve the partnership with Art without getting
trounced and didn't notice where they were going.
     "Now, boy," the man said as he grabbed Lylle, "you're going to take
me to him. If you don't know where he is, you'd better find him. You
don't find him, I'm going to kill you ... " He never finished his
sentence as a sword in the back silenced his last words. As the man
fell, Lylle saw his saviour and grimaced.
     "I know, I know," Lylle said," he had the taint." For the first
time, Lylle saw the stranger smile briefly.
     "You tell a fair story, but you're slipping in the survival area.
And four thieves? I don't remember more than two, and one of them seemed
to suddenly trip at the right moment. Well, maybe the fame will help
dissuade others. They never stop and they do whatever they can to find
me. Even though he is disguised, if you look closer, you will recognize
him," Raphael said. When Lylle first looked at the dead man, he did not
recognize him. Remembering what Raphael had said about the men with the
taint never stopping, Lylle looked at the dead man closer and saw that
it was the guard who had come to arrest Raphael at May's place.
     "I owe you much, Lylle of Dargon. I will owe you much more, I hope,
in the coming future. I need you to be my eyes and ears here in Dargon.
I am looking for something, or more precisely, someone. I will pay very
well for this information. Without me here, the risks are small. Will
you keep my secret and help me?" Raphael asked. Lylle didn't have to
think about the answer.
     "Yes," he said," but you have to help me with Art."
     "Agreed," Raphael said smiling. "Let's go and I'll buy the dinner
owed you."
     "Hey, where's Megan?" Lylle asked as he finally realized that Megan
was not with Raphael.
     "Safe at Spirit's Haven," Raphael answered.
     "May's!" Lylle whined as he started to follow Raphael into the
shadows.

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