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+-+--+-+--+-+ VOLUME SEVEN NUMBER FIVE
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| | ==========================================
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+___________+ FFFFF SSS FFFFF N N EEEEE TTTTT
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| ++ | F S F NN N E T
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| ++ | FFF SSS FFF N N N EEE T
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| | F S F N NN E T
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|_________| F SSS F N N EEEEE T
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/___________\ ==========================================
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| | BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine
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___|___________|___ X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE@MAINE>
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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CONTENTS
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X-Editorial 'Orny' Liscomb
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*A Difficult Recovery: Atros 6 Joseph Curwen
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*Two Journeys Rich Durbin
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*The Treasure: Part 1 of 4 John L. White
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Date: 042787 Dist: 352
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An "*" indicates story is part of the Dargon Project
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All original materials copyrighted by the author(s)
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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X-Editorial
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Well, as opposed other recent issues, we actually have a rather
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significant amount of news. Firstly, I've taken the plunge and
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bought myself a new Amiga 1000 personal computer. Very nice. But
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that's really not FSFnet material, now, is it?
|
||
The big news is that after some consideration and deliberation
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||
with the Dargon authors, it has been decided that in the near future
|
||
subscriptions to FSFnet will be available via standard
|
||
non-electronic mail. This policy will enable persons with no network
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||
access to get the zine, and permit people who lose their accounts
|
||
but wish to continue receiving FSFnet to do so. I also will be
|
||
printing up issues using desktop publishing on the Amiga, and
|
||
possibly including artwork. Of course, because postage isn't free, I
|
||
will have to charge postal subscribers a distribution fee, which
|
||
will basically cover postage and printing costs. At this point the
|
||
costs of postal subscriptions is unknown, and I'll be setting up a
|
||
policy regarding them in the next few weeks. If you are about to
|
||
lose your account, and are interested in a postal subscription, you
|
||
might drop me a mail file with your postal address, and I will
|
||
forward you the information as soon as I get it all ironed out. I
|
||
will also be announcing the official policy in FSFnet, for those of
|
||
you who might be interested.
|
||
Well, that's all the news for now. Remember, if your account is
|
||
going away, please drop me a line so I can remove you from the
|
||
distribution list. Now, on to the issue!
|
||
-'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE@MAINE>
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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A Difficult Recovery: Atros 6
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After an instant, Atros awoke on the rough pallet in Pravo's
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house. The full light of the sun bore down upon his face through a
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high window. Atros shielded his eyes in the shadow of bundle of
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roots hanging in the window to dry. He guessed that was very late in
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the afternoon. Pravo must have let him sleep through the morning.
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Atros was still wrapped in his tattered gray cloak, which he now
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noticed was spattered with black mud. He had even slept in his high,
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calf skin boots. A myriad of small untreated cuts lay across his
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arms and chest. His arms and back were very sore from the exertions
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of the previous night and the ravages of the hard pallet. Atros
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wondered at this. Pravo had been so meticulous in his care for
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Darla, spoiling her with a luxurious down bed and an expensive
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physician, while ignoring Atros entirely. Hadn't the physician been
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concerned for a bleeding man lying across the entrance to the house?
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Yes, Darla was a more serious case and should be treated first, but
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wouldn't it be natural to see to him after she had been dealt with.
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It was very puzzling. He wished to question Pravo though he was
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uncertain whether he should draw attention to Pravo's oversight.
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But now, he must see to Darla's health. He rose carefully but
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was still rewarded with fresh stabs of pain. He would pay dearly for
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||
over spending himself last night. Seeing that he was already
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dressed, he could avoid going through that morning ritual, at least
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until after he saw Darla. It was rather obvious that he would need a
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fresh change of clothing soon though. Still, it would worry Darla
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unnecessarily if she saw so much mud and dried blood. Trying not to
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make too great of a mess on Pravo's floor, Atros quickly brushed off
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the cakes of dry mud from his clothing. Availing himself of the
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pitcher and basin he found on the shelf next to the low pallet,
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Atros washed his face and hands. Fortunately, most of his wounds
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appeared superficial if painful. He was very glad to be spared
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tortuous treatments of stitching or cauterizing. Having thoroughly
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prepared himself, he set out to find Darla.
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With a few quick strides down the narrow back hall and around
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the corner, Atros arrived at the closed doorway to Darla's room. He
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knocked softly but heard no response, so he slowly inched the
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doorway open and almost instantly gasped. Darla lay motionless,
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breathing only shallowly. The portion of her face not covered by
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thick gauze was white with pallor. The sight caused intense memories
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to overwhelm Atros momentarily. Memories of another life.
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He entered the white and gray semi-private room slowly, timidly.
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The hollow echo of his footsteps had haunted him since leaving the
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elevator. The partial translucency of the fringeless partitioning
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curtains muffled the light of the drab, overcast day visible through
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the distant window. He passed the first partitioned bed without
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trying to glimpse one of the contributors to the intermittent buzzes
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and beeps plaguing the ward.
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His steady stride faltered and stopped as his eyes fell on the
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tiny, pale figure lying rigid on the wide, white mattress next to
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the low window. For a moment the sight paralyzed his his body and
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mind in a flood of contradictory emotions: compassion, disgust,
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sympathy, terror, love, loathing, satisfaction, and remorse. But his
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mind choked them down.
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How could she have deteriorated so much overnight? (A sleepless
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night for him, apparently something much worse for her.) The
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hospital frock dehumanized her in its half effort to allow modesty.
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It would have been better if they hadn't made any pretenses. Her
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back was arched unnaturally upward in a tense strain. She seemed so
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much like a turtle that lay upset in the middle of the highway,
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waiting motionless..stunned for the next in an endless series of
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inconceivable abuses. He glanced at the pain stricken face peeking
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out from under the thick, restrictive bandaging, but he quickly
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looked away. Her eyes were open, staring unfocused at the wall lamp
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above her head.
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"Mother..." he said softly, tentatively. She did not respond.
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"Mother..." he called again, taking her hand in his own. It was
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cold...lifeless. The fatty flesh of her arms hung loosely from her
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bones. He saw a flicker in her eyes, almost a response.
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"Mother..." he repeated leaning close to her ear, clutching her
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hand in his own.
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"Dewar...Dewar," she murmured turning her head from side to
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side, her eyes still unfocused.
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"No, Mom, it's me, Statsul...your son. Can you see me?"
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But it was no use. She squirmed and thrashed about, so that
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Statsul was afraid she would pull the sensors off her neck and
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chest. He released her hand and it dropped to her side. She
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continued to call out "Dewar" for some time...the name of Statsul's
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father, dead for more than a decade.... Finally, she became calm
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again. It was as if nothing had happened.
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Statsul shrunk from the room and into the hall. Hands trembling,
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he took a plastic bottle from his coat pocket. He fumbled for a
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moment, took two capsules from the container, and popped them into
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his mouth. With the open bottle still in his left hand, he triggered
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the stainless steel water fountain with his right and swallowed the
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pills as the water gushed into his mouth. He turned and she was
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there, he choked. The ward nurse, a dark, middle aged woman with a
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once stunning figure and tired eyes. She took the bottle from his
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hands, glanced at it, closed it, and returned it to Statsul.
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"Don Diagoros?" she said. Her accent was hardly noticeable.
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"Yes...hmph...What can you tell me about my mother's condition,"
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he stammered.
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"We're not allowed to discuss the patients, Don Diagoros. You'll
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have to see a physician or an ablegate. The Legals, you know?"
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"Oh," he resigned and began a hesitant turn.
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"But if you won't tell anyone. I guess I can help." The same
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qualities that made her a good nurse prevented her from not helping
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this man. "Dona Diagoros... I'm sorry, but she's not responding to
|
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the medication, transvection treatments, or microsurgery. I'm sorry,
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but it doesn't look good." She hadn't fully considered what she'd
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have to say when she agreed to help him. She was out of practice at
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this sort of thing.
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"Oh..." he whispered barely audible.
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"Her a..illness is just too advanced. If we'd only known
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sooner.. She should have had a genome map done years ago."
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Statsul mumbled something about her being a Dissenter.
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"I see...Well, that's her right...I'm sorry Don Diagoros but I
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must go now. The patients...." She made a brisk half turn on her
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flats and was gone in a blur of blue and white.
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Statsul began a slow return to his mother's bedside.
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Atros was recalled from his flashback by the force of the door
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slamming into him from behind. While his mind had been distant, his
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body had walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He did
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not know how long he had stood there staring at Darla.
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"Atros!" Pravo nearly shouted. "You startled me. I didn't hurt
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you, did I?" Pravo asked entering the room after Atros had been
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jostled forward, allowing the door to open completely.
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"No..." Atros stammered then recovering his composure added, "Do
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you have some fresh clothing and perhaps some food?"
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"Yes, of course, how careless of me. The clothes first. You're a
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mess... Through here in your room. I pointed them out last night.
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Don't you remember?" Pravo asked leading Atros back to the room he
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had occupied.
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"How is Darla? Has she awoken?" Atros responded with a question.
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"Don't worry, she'll be fine. She's just lost a great deal of
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blood. She's slept since you left her last. The drugs the healer
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gave her for the pain make her sleep." Pravo opened a chest in one
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corner of the room.
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"Hhm....good. She would be in a great deal of pain now," Atros
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said. "This one?" Atros asked pointing to a blue-gray woolen shirt.
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"Yes, that's fine. I have not worn that in years. Nearly since I
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was your age."
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Atros dressed himself in silence. Minutes past.
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"You killed a man last night, didn't you?" Pravo asked suddenly.
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"Yes,no...no. I fought two but I killed no one." Atros finished
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dressing, closed the chest, and sat on the lid.
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"But you were involved." Pravo's stance was very tense.
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"Yes, I was protecting myself."
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"And Darla?"
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"And Darla." Atros was uncertain. His hand unconsciously moved
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toward his boot knife. He pretended to tighten the lacings.
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"It wasn't a simple mugging, was it?" Pravo asked forcefully.
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"You seem to know a great deal about it." Atros still hoped to
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diffuse the situation. He tried to appear relaxed and calm, though
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if anything he was more anxious than the older man appeared.
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"The word of murder in the streets travels quickly. And you told
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me something of it last night."
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"I did?" Atros paused. "Yes, I suppose I did."
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"But it wasn't just a mugging, was it?"
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"No, I don't believe so," Atros responded tentatively. He still
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couldn't predict which way the confrontation would go.
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Pravo sighed then admitted, "Atros, I've debated betraying you
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to the city guard since you arrived last night bloodied and torn."
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"Why didn't you? I am really just a stranger to you."
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"I don't know. I'm harboring a murderer and I don't know...."
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Pravo's voice softened as the tension of the past few moments began
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to drain from his pores.
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"At first, I couldn't because Darla needed immediate help.
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Later, I saw how much she loves and trusts you. I just
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couldn't....." Pravo shuffled his feet and brushed back his straggly
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graying hair. He was so occupied by his own thoughts that he had
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missed Atros' flinch at his mentioning of love.
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"Also, you intrigue me. We are alike and yet unlike. I've
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studied legends and myths all my life yearning for the mysterious
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and the exotic, and you appear on my door step late one night. I
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honestly don't know what I should do."
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"But it's not just that, is it?"
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"No, it isn't. But you'll have to let me keep my own secrets,"
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Pravo said with a touch of humor.
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Atros chuckled and agreed.
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"You promised last night to tell me your story. Maybe that will
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help me make my decision."
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"You've already decided or you wouldn't have said anything to
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me," Atros accused playfully.
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"Maybe," Pravo smiled broadly, "but you still owe me that story."
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"I owe you a bit more than that, but if it will make you happy,
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I will try. You will pardon me if I omit details to protect myself?"
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"I doubt that I could force a full confession from you," Pravo
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responded a bit sarcastically.
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"True. Well, where should I begin?" Atros said settling back.
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"How did you learn so much? Where were you educated?" Pravo was
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suddenly transformed into an over eager schoolboy.
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"I was the third son of a minor lord on a manor far to the east
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of here. I was trained to read and write by the parish priest
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because I was supposedly destined to the ministry, though I never
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really felt a religious conviction. I was more interested in
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scholarly pursuits even then. My childhood was relatively normal,
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though I had little time for anything but labor of some sort."
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"That is hardly what I expected," Pravo interrupted. "I thought
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you were a street urchin or at least a city resident."
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"No, not until much later," Atros began, paused, and resumed, "I
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lived quite contentedly on the manor until my late childhood. Then,
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I began to experience peculiar dreams. Frightening dreams. The
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dreams changed me."
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"What were the dreams like?" Pravo tooking a stool opposite Atros.
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"Oh it is difficult to remember specifics now. I was very
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confused at that time. But most the dreams were about other places
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and other cultures. Upon awakening I could remember bits and pieces
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of things which were very unsettling.
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"At first I told everyone about my dreams. Slowly, my family and
|
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friends grew frightened of me. Frightened of the strangeness in my
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dreams and the reflection of this strangeness in me. Rumors of
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possession spread quickly. My father decided that I should be sent
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to a distant monastic retreat. I assented, of course. I would never
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have gone against my father's wishes. Not then.... But the retreat
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wasn't dedicated to scholasticism as I had been lead to believe. I
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discovered that it was a prison for undesirables: the diseased...the
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deformed...and the insane. I was kept in that place for many months.
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I will not tell you what the conditions were like, but during that
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time I lost a portion of my sanity. The boundary between dreams and
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wakefulness slipped away. I lived fully and completely in my
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dreams." Atros paused for long moments.
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"You eventually escaped?" Pravo prompted after some time.
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"In a way, I was released. I convinced the jailers to free me."
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The volume of Atros' voice trailed off in mid sentence.
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"That easily? You just spoke to them and they released you?"
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"Yes, something like that. Over the years, they'd grown rather
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shaky of mind themselves. I played on their fears until they
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complied with my wishes." Atros paused then continued, "My mind was
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still very disordered. After leaving the asylum, I drifted,
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inhabiting slums and deserts, doing things I now regret. With time
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reason returned. I fought to drive off the dreams and I have
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continued that fight ever since," Atros said finishing up quickly.
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"But where did you read so much? What library has so many books?"
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"I hoped to find release from my dreams in research. I traveled
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widely and searched broadly."
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"You understand this, don't you?" Pravo asked in Cantonian, a
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long dead tongue of the region.
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"Yes, I've picked up a number of languages," Atros admitted
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without thinking.
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"You could not have learned that from books, the Cantonese used
|
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runes not an alphabet. Who taught you such a thing?"
|
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"Perhaps your friend Baughis?" Atros suggested.
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"No, Baughis is too lazy to learn ancient languages. Who taught
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you, Atros?" Pravo nearly demanded.
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"To tell the truth, I don't remember. I simply understood your
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meaning. The tongue is related to the dialects still spoken in the
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far east where I have traveled. I picked things up as was necessary."
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"I'm not entirely satisfied with your answer, but I realize that
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I'm not likely to get any better response... You still have many
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secrets, Atros."
|
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"Yes, they are necessary."
|
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"Have you had any sorcerous training? I'd think you'd have a
|
||
talent for that sort of thing."
|
||
"No, only theory. I know nothing useful."
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||
"Unfortunate, if true." Pravo was deciding that vague answers
|
||
were more annoying than mysterious.
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"Perhaps it would be even more unfortunate if I did."
|
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"I don't get your meaning." Pravo paused, but Atros did not
|
||
volunteer anything. "Well, then never mind. You're not planning to
|
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leave the house today, are you? Captain Koren is searching the
|
||
streets for someone of your description."
|
||
"Then last night's fight was seen by someone?"
|
||
"No, apparently only your bandaging of Darla after the combat."
|
||
"Hhm. Well, they did ambush us."
|
||
"So you say. Who was the man who helped you with Darla? A short
|
||
elderly man in a light coloured cloak. A physician of some sort?"
|
||
"An ally who most probably saved our lives."
|
||
"Hhm. Then he killed the men found in the street?"
|
||
"Men? There was only one body when I left."
|
||
"Two dead they say."
|
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"Two? Hhm...possibly..." Atros drifted off into deeper thoughts.
|
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Growing tired of Atros' show of cryptics and poetics, Pravo was
|
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rather glad to remember his hunger. An offer of food was quickly
|
||
accepted by his guest. They spent several minutes in the preparation
|
||
and consumption of a large, early dinner.
|
||
After the meal was completed, Atros and Pravo settled in
|
||
comfortable chairs in the study just off the main entryway. Atros'
|
||
soreness lingered on, but the worst of his pain was already over. In
|
||
any case, the effects of a thick, warm mead helped deaden what
|
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discomfort remained.
|
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"Pravo, I must go...." Atros said slowly.
|
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Pravo interrupted, "I thought we'd been over this. You are not
|
||
well and the city guard are looking for you. You will go nowhere,
|
||
it's not safe."
|
||
"No, Pravo, hear me out. There is more to it than that."
|
||
"Okay, what is it?"
|
||
"I must go... and I must stay. I'm still being sought after both
|
||
by the guard and by the men who attacked us last night.... They want
|
||
me, not Darla. By being here, I endanger her. If I leave I will draw
|
||
them off. But I also must stay and protect her. But my being here is
|
||
likely to attract notice.... What did you tell the healer of me?"
|
||
Atros asked suddenly.
|
||
"Why, nothing. He never saw you."
|
||
"But I lay in the entryway last night.?."
|
||
"Yes, but I brought him through the servant's entrance. It was
|
||
more convenient. He never saw you."
|
||
"How did you explain Darla then? He did see her."
|
||
"Yes, of course. I told him that she is my servant and that she
|
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had fallen in the cellar. He has his own ideas no doubt, but they
|
||
don't matter. I can trust him, he will say nothing to anyone without
|
||
first consulting me."
|
||
"How can you be so certain?"
|
||
"He's kept my confidences in the past, besides he cannot afford
|
||
my displeasure even at the expense of lying to the guard."
|
||
"It's not the guard of whom I'm concerned...You do trust him
|
||
completely?" Atros belabored the point.
|
||
"Yes, as completely as is reasonable."
|
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"Good. And I am forced to trust you....You will take care of
|
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Darla should I decide to go?"
|
||
"I still think you should stay, but yes, of course, I would not
|
||
let you move her. Not so soon."
|
||
"Good. I don't think anyone could trace us here except through
|
||
your healer..whom you trust..Our meeting last night was fortuitous."
|
||
"Yes, it was."
|
||
"You haven't suggested that I should turn myself in.?."
|
||
"No. My impression was that my suggestions carried little weight."
|
||
"No, I am still considering. I am taking you for your word in
|
||
the matter of the healer, the weakest link in our safety. Don't
|
||
think that I don't appreciate what you've done. It's just that there
|
||
is much more to this business than you know...more than you could
|
||
know. In the end the decision is mine."
|
||
"Then I will leave you. I will be reading by Darla's bedside."
|
||
"Good, call me if she awakes," Atros said to Pravo as he departed.
|
||
Atros tried to reason out his situation. Though he would not
|
||
insult the old man by saying so, he believed Pravo was poorly
|
||
qualified to protect Darla, though he did seem devoted to her care.
|
||
To leave and continue his investigations, he must find someone
|
||
capable of guarding her well. But he must leave to find such a
|
||
person. He knew that in the end he would serve both Darla and
|
||
himself better if he tried to uncover the parties involved rather
|
||
than waiting for them to find him. He could not entrust his errands
|
||
to anyone else. Also, though he denied it to himself, Atros wanted
|
||
to leave Darla and Pravo. He had exposed his own weaknesses to them
|
||
last night and now felt shame. But though such feelings influenced
|
||
his decisions, Atros would never admit them in his carefully ordered
|
||
patterns of reasoning. Finally Atros decided that he would leave
|
||
Darla and Pravo, at least temporarily, on the basis that since he
|
||
was in poor condition himself, he could not hope to defend Darla
|
||
alone. His immediate presence or absence had little effect on
|
||
Darla's safety. He realized that he would be taking a chance if he
|
||
went abroad now, particularly since he would have to return to some
|
||
of his recent haunts, but he believed that the benefits outweighed
|
||
the potential hazards.
|
||
Rising, he went to Darla's room and told Pravo of his decision.
|
||
He promised to return before morning unless he was being followed.
|
||
Pravo once again tried to dissuade Atros from leaving (he half
|
||
expected never to see Atros again) but fell silent once he realized
|
||
that Atros could be more stubborn than himself.
|
||
Atros left using the servant's entrance, which proved to be more
|
||
discrete. He wore a short brown cloak with the hood up, which did
|
||
not unduly attract attention as the night had already grown cold. He
|
||
proceeded to the tenement where he had been staying through an
|
||
indirect route over well traveled streets. He saw groups of city
|
||
guardsmen twice (Where had they been last night?) but passed by them
|
||
without incident.
|
||
Arriving at the inn, he was recognized by the landlady which
|
||
gave him a momentary start. The landlady seemed to know something
|
||
was in the air because she quietly signaled him into a covered
|
||
stairway for a private conference. The grubby matron told Atros that
|
||
men had broken into his apartment that morning but were gone now. As
|
||
soon as she completed that statement Atros launched himself up the
|
||
stairway and through his front door. The sight which greeted him
|
||
wrenched at his gut.
|
||
The room had been ransacked for some unknown purpose. The simple
|
||
wooden table Atros had used as a desk was overturned, the stiff back
|
||
chairs broken. Papers splattered with dried ink lay everywhere. But
|
||
it was the absence of the piles of books that drew Atros' attention.
|
||
Looking about the rummage he could see a few scattered about, but
|
||
not nearly enough to account for them all. With fear in his heart
|
||
Atros turned to the stone fireplace, the view of which was
|
||
obstructed by the overturned table.
|
||
As he dreaded, the charred remains of dozens of volumes were
|
||
apparent. Atros sank to his knees, his hands sifting idly through
|
||
the remains of the irreplaceable tomes. Atros' head fell back, his
|
||
voice a screech of pain. "FOR THIS THERE WILL BE BLOOD!" he vowed to
|
||
the heavens. For long moments his ears were filled by the sound of
|
||
his agonized heart and the dry sobs of his breathing.
|
||
Then he heard the drone of a voice, some one had been addressing
|
||
him for sometime. He turned to see the landlady had entered the
|
||
room. She was explaining why she hadn't called the guard yet, why it
|
||
wasn't her fault that they got in, why she couldn't be expected to
|
||
protect her tenants from armed men. Atros didn't care.
|
||
He asked her to completely describe the men. She said that there
|
||
had been three. It seemed she had an eye for detail. But after much
|
||
questioning, Atros was sure that their leader had been the man who
|
||
had struck Darla last night. They all seemed to be hired swords, he
|
||
could try the local mercenary groups and taverns. Still, his chances
|
||
were rather dismal in a city as large as Dargon. Atros told the
|
||
landlady that she had been right not to involve the city watch and
|
||
that he would be paying for the damages and vacating as soon as he
|
||
sorted through his things. She left with a few more coins in her
|
||
greasy bodice, satisfied.
|
||
Atros first discovery was that the vandals had been careless. A
|
||
few of the most ancient tomes were proof against fire and had
|
||
survived unscathed. Some others were only partially consumed. Atros
|
||
sorted through the ashes with a full inventory of the room's
|
||
contents in mind. It did not take long to realize that about one
|
||
third of the books were still missing. These seemed to be either
|
||
highly ornate tomes or books written in the script of Baranur, which
|
||
included several of Atros' personal journals. Obviously, an
|
||
uneducated ruffian had chosen which books to steal and which to
|
||
destroy based on superficial appearances. Atros would teach that
|
||
person what it was to play god.
|
||
Atros quietly gathered his salvageable belongings. In doing so
|
||
he noticed a note which had lain face down on the floor. The note
|
||
was on high quality vellum but was written in a rough hand. It read:
|
||
|
||
Raffen Yeggent,
|
||
We grow tired of pursuing you. Now it is your turn to
|
||
come to us. Go to the abandoned millery east of Dargon as
|
||
soon as you are able. We don't have to tell you not to
|
||
involve outsiders.
|
||
Balthus
|
||
|
||
Atros decided it was about time to see a friend. He left that
|
||
boarding house for the last time making sure that he was not
|
||
followed. The burden he carried from that place weighed heavily on
|
||
his weakened frame.
|
||
-Joseph Curwen <C418433@UMCVMB>
|
||
|
||
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
|
||
|
||
Two Journeys
|
||
|
||
Injury
|
||
Nathan half supported and half carried Lana through the streets
|
||
of Tench. He espied his goal and made way to the door. After a few
|
||
brief raps an older man, balding with a salt and pepper beard
|
||
answered. His eyes opened wide at the sight of the bloody mess that
|
||
was Lana. "Quickly man, bring her in and lay her on my table here"
|
||
he gestured.
|
||
"Doctor, please, help her" Nathan pleaded.
|
||
The doctor pulled out a small knife and began to cut away the
|
||
ragged clothing hanging over and in the wounds. "What the devil
|
||
happened! She looks like she's been mauled."
|
||
"It was her twin" he replied "she had some sort of giant ferret
|
||
with her, and sicced it on Lana. The bitch didn't call it off til it
|
||
had nearly killed her."
|
||
The doctor frowned as he worked over the wounds, he hadn't seen
|
||
anything nearly as bad since he was a doctor with Morion's company
|
||
years ago. Still, he knew what had to be done. He looked up "Nathan,
|
||
fetch the headsman, and tell the blacksmith to heat his irons."
|
||
"No" Nathan said unbelievingly, "not that."
|
||
The doctor looked deep into Nathan's eyes "It's that or her life
|
||
lad, I've seen wounds this bad before, and this is the only sure way
|
||
to do it."
|
||
Lana groaned again, fighting her way to consciousness. "Easy
|
||
lass" the doctor said "you've lost much blood, just lie still."
|
||
Nathan hovered near her, holding her good hand "just rest Lana"
|
||
he whispered. Nathan stood, and with a last agonizing look, raced
|
||
from the building to see to the tasks the doctor had ordered.
|
||
|
||
A New City
|
||
Tara packed up her equipment and carefully arranged it on her
|
||
horse, Boxter. She shivered in the early morning damp. Running a
|
||
cold camp the night before hadn't helped, but with the warnings
|
||
she'd heard and Lana's threats on her life there was no point taking
|
||
chances. Tara knelt down to check the bandages on Zed's ear. The
|
||
shivaree didn't seem much worse for the wear considering that Lana
|
||
had cut off most of his ear when he attacked her. Tara's own wound,
|
||
a shallow slice across her chest just below her breasts was minor as
|
||
well, the bandage serving only to keep the dirt out, and to keep her
|
||
from scratching it when it itched. Which it did now with a vengeance.
|
||
All packed up she worked her way to the road and headed towards
|
||
Dargon, mounted on Boxter and with Zed trailing behind. Tara
|
||
traveled this way for a week, occasionally scrambling off the road
|
||
and hiding in the forest when a larger party came her way. The
|
||
shivaree's keen senses detecting the groups long before they
|
||
themselves were sighted. Finally after a week of careful traveling,
|
||
cold camps, and preserved foods bought in Tench, they came over a
|
||
rise and saw the sea, a town, and the three legendary spires of
|
||
Dargon keep.
|
||
Tara stopped at the crest of the rise, and stared at the
|
||
bustling city she had set as her goal so long ago. Just a little
|
||
over two weeks before bandits had raided her town, murdered her
|
||
parents, a fired the farm, it seemed like a lifetime ago.
|
||
She nudged Boxter into motion set forth on the final leg of her
|
||
journey. She would arrive at dusk, too late to search for her uncle
|
||
but in time to seek out an inn and a hot dinner. She reached the
|
||
outskirts with no trouble. As she penetrated into the more populated
|
||
parts of town the shivaree drew many stares and interested looks.
|
||
Since she was exhausted from her journey Tara decided to go to
|
||
the first inn she came to. This evening that inn happened to be the
|
||
Inn of the Hungary Shark. She looped her reins around the hitching
|
||
post and walked into the inn. The inside of the inn was set up more
|
||
like a tavern. There was no typical desk as the other inn she had
|
||
seen in Tench. There was already a small crowd gathered for drinks
|
||
and good cheer. Tara decided to try the bartender. She walked up and
|
||
took a seat at the bar. When the bartender approached her she looked
|
||
at him with a hopeful smile.
|
||
"You'll have to leave the ferret outside miss" the bartender
|
||
told her.
|
||
"Oh, yes, certainly" she answered "but perhaps I could have a
|
||
room and stable space in which to put him. And he's not a ferret,
|
||
he's a shivaree."
|
||
"I see, it's a room you want" he smiled. He turned and called
|
||
"Dilp get out here, we've got a customer."
|
||
Presently a boy in his teens appeared "yes Thomas, you called?"
|
||
Thomas the bartender pointed to Tara, "stable her shivaree and
|
||
any other critters she's got, sign her in, and take her stuff to
|
||
room 219, now hop to it boy."
|
||
Dilp turned to her "This way please lady...?" he asked quizically.
|
||
"Tara, just Tara" she told him. Soon Boxter was in his stall
|
||
with fresh hay and straw while Zed was put in another pen with water
|
||
and meat scraps on the way. Then Dilp took her to the bar where he
|
||
pulled out a rather largish leather bound book. He opened it a
|
||
little more than midway through, made some marks and asked Tara for
|
||
her full name. "Tara n'ha Sansela" she replied.
|
||
He made a few more marks and presented the page to her and
|
||
handed her the quill, freshly dipped in ink. "Please" he said "put
|
||
you mark right here" and he pointed down where he had just written.
|
||
Tara scrawled an X there like there appeared at most of the other
|
||
entries. Dilp then picked up the pile of her stuff they had taken
|
||
off Boxter and showed her to a room upstairs.
|
||
It was about fifteen feet deep and ten feet wide with an eight
|
||
foot ceiling. There was a large feather bed and a dresser. The room
|
||
was lit by an oil lamp which Dilp ignited after he put her gear
|
||
down. "Do you wish to have dinner brought up here or will you be
|
||
dining in the common room tonight?" Dilp inquired.
|
||
Tara smiled "I think in the common room tonight, I haven't had
|
||
much company lately." Satisfied with that he went down stairs to
|
||
resume his duties.
|
||
Tara used the wash basin on the dresser and attached mirror to
|
||
wipe off the road dust she had accumulated on her trip. When she was
|
||
finally satisfied she went down to the common room and with a word
|
||
to Thomas had her dinner served at one of the tables. She enjoyed
|
||
her dinner to the tune of a bard who was singing tonight. As she ate
|
||
she noticed a sad looking woman with a silver half-mask covering her
|
||
face, and her equally odd companion who's face was hidden in the
|
||
shadows of his cloak hood. After dinner and early in the evening
|
||
Tara returned to her room and fell into a deep slumber.
|
||
|
||
Tench
|
||
Lana awoke, blinking in the mid afternoon sunlight that was
|
||
streaming into the room. Across the room in a cushion armchair
|
||
slumbered a haggard looking young man, in twenties perhaps? He
|
||
looked like he'd been there a week without changing. He had brown
|
||
hair and a thin beard, a bit shy of six feet in height and slimly
|
||
built. Somehow he looked familiar. Nathan. Now she remembered, she's
|
||
had several dalliances with him the times she had been in Tench.
|
||
Suddenly it came back to her. The girl who looked so much like her,
|
||
and ruined her reputation. It would take a number of killings to
|
||
remind people that Lana was not one to be trifled with. She'd have
|
||
killed the girl if that giant rodent hadn't attacked her. Lana tried
|
||
to brush her hair out of her eyes, but nothing happened. She looked
|
||
where her left arm was supposed to be. There was nothing but a
|
||
bandaged stump. Lana let out a tremendous scream of shock and rage.
|
||
Nathan awoke with a start and tumbled out of his chair. He
|
||
looked up and saw Lana staring at the stump where her left arm, her
|
||
fighting arm used to be. They'd had to remove it, the damage was so
|
||
great. The headsman had chopped it off with one true blow, while the
|
||
blacksmith had cauterized it, stopping bleeding and infection. They
|
||
still had almost lost her. Lana had lain unconscious for over a week.
|
||
He stayed at her side, leaving only to relieve himself. After what
|
||
they'd been to each other could he do any less?
|
||
Lana stared at her stump, realizing that she'd be helpless in
|
||
any kind of fight. Once word spread she'd be unable to come to
|
||
Tench. Her enemies were far more willing to draw swords than her
|
||
friends. It was all that little peasant girls fault, and she must
|
||
pay! The young man sat down on the bed and held her to him. A
|
||
pointless exercise she thought, but still strangely comforting.
|
||
|
||
Looking For Uncle
|
||
Tara rose mid morning, having slept uncharacteristicly late.
|
||
Still, the journey was long and she had needed the rest. She dressed
|
||
and went down to the stables to check on Boxter and Zed. Both were
|
||
in fine shape, Zed never the less was pleased to see her. She
|
||
checked his ear, which was healing quite well. Her own wound had
|
||
scabbed over and ceased to itch. She returned to the inn and had a
|
||
good breakfast.
|
||
As she ate she reviewed in her mind what she knew about her
|
||
uncle. He'd left their village some twenty summers before, seeking
|
||
to make his fortune. The last they'd heard from him he'd become a
|
||
guardsman in the city of Dargon. He'd also cast aside his peasant
|
||
name of Glenn and started using the more aristocratic sounding
|
||
Adrunian Koren. There hadn't been word of him since, but that night
|
||
after the raid, her father's ghost had sounded so certain he would
|
||
be here, unless it was after all, a dream.
|
||
Tara set out into the city just an hour before the the sun
|
||
reached it's highest point in the sky. She quickly located a shop
|
||
where she could buy a new outfit, and then a bath house where she
|
||
could clean the road grime from her body. Tara felt much better all
|
||
cleaned up and with a fresh tunic, new boots, and a fine cloth
|
||
skirt. She girded on her father's sword and set out to search for
|
||
some guardsman to ask about her uncle.
|
||
Before long she ran across a patrol making it's rounds through
|
||
the markets. Tara hurried up to the leader of the group and caught
|
||
his attention. "What can I do for you lass" he grinned.
|
||
Tara curtsied and answered "I am Tara n'ha Sansela, and I am
|
||
looking for my uncle."
|
||
The officer laughed "I'm Lieutenant Kalen Darklen at you service,
|
||
but I'm afraid finding misplaced relatives is a little out of our
|
||
line of work. We're here to keep order. Where did you see him last?"
|
||
Tara giggled "I've never met him, he left home before I was
|
||
born." Seeing the look forming on Kalen's face she hurriedly added
|
||
"but I know he 's a guardsman, or at least was one for awhile".
|
||
Kalen looked thoughtful "what's his name then?"
|
||
Tara looked at him "The name he uses here is Adrunian Koren."
|
||
Kalen Darklen's eyes widened and several of the guardsmen
|
||
mumbled to each other. Tara thought she heard someone say "Captain
|
||
Koren", but she wasn't sure. She was positive however that these men
|
||
recognized the name.
|
||
"Well, well" the Lieutenant said "perhaps you'd better walk along
|
||
with us, I just may know the gentleman you seek." The troop made
|
||
it's rounds without incident, making it's way back to the guards
|
||
quarters in Dargon keep. Kalen dismissed his men and bade Tara
|
||
follow him. He led her through several passages and corridors to an
|
||
office. In the office was a large man with Iron grey hair and a
|
||
great walrus mustache. He wore a blue uniform jacket with gold
|
||
epaulets and brass buttons. He looked up from his paperwork as Tara
|
||
and Kalen entered.
|
||
"Good day Lt. Darklen, what have you brought me today?" he
|
||
rumbled, his voice seeming to come in a gravely way from the depths
|
||
of his chest.
|
||
Kalen answered "Captain Koren, this lady claims to be your niece."
|
||
"Oh really now" the Captain said, focusing icy blue eyes on Tara
|
||
"and what proof do you bring me that you're my niece? and what is
|
||
your name anyway?"
|
||
Tara was startled, she hadn't stopped to consider that she would
|
||
have to prove her identity. "Um" she said brightly "your real name
|
||
is Glenn, and your brother was Samuel."
|
||
"Was?" he asked, looking at her strangely.
|
||
"Yes, he and my mother and the rest of the village were
|
||
murdered by bandits."
|
||
He was staring at her sword, "let me have a look at that blade
|
||
of yours". She drew her sword and handed it to him. The Captain
|
||
looked up "Kalen, get my sword will you? the one the Bichu fellow
|
||
got back for me." Kalen pulled a sword off the wall where it was
|
||
mounted and handed it to Captain Koren, who then placed next to
|
||
Tara's sword. After a moment a strange look appeared on his face.
|
||
"Where did you get this" he asked, indicating the sword.
|
||
"It was my father's, I took it from him when I buried him and
|
||
mother" Tara replied, brought near tears by the memory.
|
||
Koren looked at her "My brother and I were given these matching
|
||
swords when each of us reached his majority. Come Tara my niece,
|
||
come give your uncle a hug." And they hugged each other for a long
|
||
time, as Kalen stood there, pleased to have made this pretty young
|
||
girl, and his friend and commanding officer Adrunic Koren so happy
|
||
by bringing them together.
|
||
|
||
A Seed of Vengeance
|
||
The smell of roast pheasant filled Lana's nostrils. Nathan was
|
||
serving her dinner in bed. She was still too weak from blood loss
|
||
and hunger to get up. Nathan had been treating her exceptionally
|
||
well since she'd awaken. He was behaving better than any other man
|
||
she had known. He had tried to take nothing from her, not her money,
|
||
her body, nor had he tried to use her for her skills, ever.
|
||
Nathan carefully sliced the pheasant and piled it high on Lana's
|
||
plate. He knew she would only get better with plenty of rest and
|
||
nutrition. He was happy to be taking care of her, but he didn't know
|
||
what to do about her sulking about the loss of her arm. It was to be
|
||
expected, the loss of a limb would disturb anyone, and especially a
|
||
warrior like Lana. But he would continue care for her as long as she
|
||
would permit him.
|
||
"Nathan" she said, staring absently at the ceiling "the doctor
|
||
says I'll be well enough to travel in another week. I have too many
|
||
enemies in Tench, I'll have to leave."
|
||
Nathan looked at her intently "but where will you go? what will
|
||
you do?"
|
||
"I'll go to Baranur, I have money, lands, and connections there.
|
||
I'm been saving away for the day when I would have to retire. It
|
||
looks like that day came sooner than I ever imagined."
|
||
"Surely you knew something like this could happen any time, with
|
||
the kind of life you lead."
|
||
"Yes Nathan, but not this soon, and not because of some amateur.
|
||
An amateur with my face! It wasn't even honorable, sending that
|
||
overgrown rodent after me! And that Nathan, is why I am going to
|
||
kill her. I can't go after her myself, but I am going to kill her."
|
||
"But how Lana, how? You won't be in any shape to go after anyone
|
||
for quite awhile."
|
||
"I'm going to Baranur, Blastomere, is there. I have enough gold
|
||
socked away to pay him. But I need your help Nathan, I need your
|
||
help to travel to Baranur. I cannot go alone like this. Will you
|
||
come with me Nathan?"
|
||
Nathan sat in his arm chair for a few moments, deep in thought,
|
||
not looking at anything. Then, his decision made, he turned to Lana
|
||
"Yes, I shall go with you, and I shall help. I am yours to command."
|
||
-Rich Durbin <MS33OPER@MIAMIU>
|
||
|
||
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
|
||
|
||
The Treasure
|
||
Prolog
|
||
|
||
Reference A
|
||
"...toiled and wrought long and hard, and harnesser of the
|
||
Yrmenweald, the great Master Staff, was completed after many, many
|
||
cycles (1). Swithwald, the most exalted Master of the Clear Fire
|
||
Weavers (2), completed the bindings between the (an untranslateable
|
||
rune - a name?) (3) source and the Master Staff, and left the siring
|
||
of the lesser staves to the rest of his brotherhood, being exhausted
|
||
nigh unto death by his feat. And so was the way forged for us to
|
||
become the most powerful ever seen in Keinald's Demesne (4)..."
|
||
|
||
Reference B
|
||
"...it was commanded by our King to set down herein the manner
|
||
by which was hidden the access to the Source. Once my pen has
|
||
darkened these pages with that information, then shall the Weavers
|
||
remove all knowledge of what has been so recorded from the minds of
|
||
the Sons of Aelther (5). Thus shall the might of our nation be safe
|
||
from our enemies. This tome shall be in the keeping of my Office
|
||
until time ends, and with it, the supremacy of Fretheod (6), and the
|
||
Sons of Aelther."
|
||
|
||
Reference C
|
||
"The demise of the Fretheod Empire is an oddity. At one time,
|
||
they were the masters of all lands, unconquerable, ever spreading
|
||
their empire to all points of the globe. Legend has it that they
|
||
maintained their supremacy through a magical construct, what they
|
||
called the Master Staff, and a collection of lesser staves somehow
|
||
linked to the Master one. The lesser staves, carried by all captains
|
||
of war, and all exploring parties, could draw upon the power of the
|
||
Master Staff, enabling the bearers to accomplish amazing feats of
|
||
foresight. Where the Master Staff got its power, or exactly what
|
||
that power was, no one now knows.
|
||
"In the final days of the Fretheod Empire, civil war broke out -
|
||
the first ever in the long history of the Sons of Aelther. Twins
|
||
were born to the ruling monarch, Queen Earnfled. As the two sons,
|
||
Osgeofu and Tilgeofu, grew to maturity, it became apparent that they
|
||
were alike in only their looks. Everyone knew that Osgeofu, being
|
||
first by mere minutes into the world, would inherit the Empire,
|
||
becoming the next monarch. But, everyone wished that Tilgeofu would
|
||
have that honor, being the more noble, kind, and strong of the pair.
|
||
Osgeofu was petty, cruel, and just short of a coward. But the laws
|
||
of the Sons of Aelther were inflexible, leaving only one way for the
|
||
people to get the desired person onto the throne - revolution.
|
||
"Tilgeofu did not instigate the civil war, but there was a large
|
||
faction of the nobles who refused to submit to the reign of Osgeofu.
|
||
They organized, planned, arranged, and finally struck. But, Osgeofu
|
||
was aware of the unrest, and he had planned, too. So, the planned
|
||
quick coup turned into a long and bitter battle, and eventually into
|
||
a full war.
|
||
"In the second month of the war, the Queen died. Osgeofu crowned
|
||
himself, and declared Tilgeofu's followers outlaws. The war began to
|
||
go against the rebel brother, but Fretheod was suffering more.
|
||
"At the end of the Fourth month, the last remnant of the
|
||
instigating faction, along with Tilgeofu, penetrated the Palace, and
|
||
made it to the throne room. There, Tilgeofu confronted his brother.
|
||
With the people loyal to him rioting in the streets, Tilgeofu
|
||
demanded his brother's abdication. Osgeofu refused until Tilgeofu
|
||
threatened him with Huaetec, the Royal Sword of State. The king,
|
||
cowed by the threat, stepped down from the throne, but, before
|
||
removing his crown he smashed the head of the Master Staff on the
|
||
stone floor of the throne room, and then cracked the polished wood
|
||
length across his knee. Then, laughing and shouting, "If I cannot
|
||
have it, no one can!", he dashed to a window and leaped through it,
|
||
still wearing the crown. He was torn to shreds by the mob outside.
|
||
"Shortly thereafter, a neighboring kingdom, formerly in thrall
|
||
to the Fretheod Empire, revolted, and attacked the barely recovered
|
||
nation. Fretheod tried to hold firm, but something was gone out of
|
||
the Sons of Aelther. They still fought as fiercely as before, and
|
||
they had superior numbers, despite the harrowing war, but their
|
||
masterful leadership was gone. Their generals made stupid mistakes,
|
||
and were led into obvious traps. Tilgeofu sent his Skaldric,
|
||
Tarhela, across the sea to get help, but Tarhela never returned.
|
||
"It took a long time for Fretheod to die. Even after that first
|
||
invasion razed the capitol and killed Tilgeofu and his sons it took
|
||
many years for the far-flung colonies of the Sons of Aelther to
|
||
fail, or to become nations in their own right. Eventually only the
|
||
name remained.."
|
||
|
||
Reference D
|
||
"...I fear that I have failed my King. The storm that blew us
|
||
off our course has only just died away, leaving the ship a near
|
||
wreck, and us utterly lost. I watch now as the captain stands at the
|
||
wheel, cursing the gods, the sea, the wind, even the King, as he
|
||
brandishes one of the now useless Son Staffs upon which he used to
|
||
depend. Such a storm would never have caught a ship of Fretheod
|
||
unawares before Osgeofu's treachery.
|
||
"I have in my posession the Tome of the Yrmenweald, passed down
|
||
from Skaldric to Skaldric since the beginning of the Time of the
|
||
Master Staff. It was the only hope my King had of regaining the
|
||
power of the Master Staff and saving our people. But, we know not
|
||
where we are, and so the chances of happening on the citadel that
|
||
holds the secrets are almost none. Wudamund might as well be on the
|
||
larger moon for all we can get to it now. Only by the will of
|
||
Keinald will Tilgeofu and Fretheod now be saved..."
|
||
|
||
Reference A - Translation of the "Tome of the Yrmenweald", by
|
||
Hrothgrim the Skaldric, page 185.
|
||
Reference B - Translation of the "Tome of the Yrmenweald", by
|
||
Hrothgrim the Skaldric, page 421.
|
||
Reference C - From the "History of the Ancient World", Volume 4,
|
||
by Trenta, Historian and Chronicler to King Vulpa
|
||
of Baranur, pages 231-233.
|
||
Reference D - Excerpt from the personal log of Tarhela, Skaldric
|
||
to Tilgeofu, page 642 (the second to last leaf).
|
||
|
||
Footnotes:
|
||
(1) A cycle is approximately the period of the Moon from New to
|
||
New. It equates roughly to one month.
|
||
(2) The Clear Fire Weavers were the cream of the crop of the
|
||
wizards of the land, distinguished by passing a fatal test
|
||
involving binding and controling elemental fire.
|
||
(3) Not only is the figure untranslateable, but it resembles
|
||
nothing remotely similar to any rune or figure in the
|
||
entire lexicon of the Fretheod - it seems to be an alien
|
||
inclusion, perhaps from another language.
|
||
(4) Keinald is the Over-god of the Fretheod, and the world is
|
||
considered to be his personal property.
|
||
(5) Aelther was (in legend) the first man to set foot upon the
|
||
shores of the land that became the home of the Fretheod.
|
||
Thus do the people of the Fretheod honor the first of
|
||
sailors.
|
||
(6) Fretheod was, at one time, the foremost Empire in the world,
|
||
spanning all the known lands of the time and finding more
|
||
all the time. They were inveterate colonizers, and their
|
||
markers - stone pillars or obelisks with sticklike writing
|
||
on them - can be found in almost every area of the world
|
||
now traveled.
|
||
|
||
Part I
|
||
The Thief
|
||
Ka'lochra'en stood before the huge, intricately carven doors of
|
||
the Bardic College, and wondered (as usual) if it would work. He was
|
||
a skilled thief of a special type - he didn't snatch and run, but
|
||
rather he spent a lot of time and preparation planning his thefts,
|
||
and making them as perfect as possible. Often, that meant assuming a
|
||
role, as he was now doing, or in some other way infiltrating the
|
||
premises of his target openly and making sure that he was not a
|
||
suspect in the crime. He found his own method of work to be much
|
||
preferable to that of the average thief, and it meant that he could
|
||
go after larger marks and enjoy the money he got for his services
|
||
without having to hide from reprisals.
|
||
But, no matter how foolproof his plans, or how perfect his
|
||
impersonation was, he always worried just before he began a job. He
|
||
let himself run over the details in his mind, reviewing his cover
|
||
story, assuring himself that he knew the layout of the place and the
|
||
exact location of the book. He thought that it was this worry that
|
||
had kept him alive so long - he had been in the business for over 15
|
||
years, and had never been so much as suspected of one of his crimes.
|
||
He was being well paid by a mysterious man to get a book out of
|
||
the College's main vault. The man, who refused to name himself or
|
||
give any details about the book, had provided the keys to the vault.
|
||
Ka'en had wondered aloud why the man needed his help to get the book
|
||
when he had the keys. The man had said that no one must know that
|
||
the book was missing, and that Ka'en was renowned for making things
|
||
disappear mysteriously. The number of gold coins that the man
|
||
offered got Ka'en to take the job, despite his misgivings.
|
||
Taking a deep breath and assuring himself that he was as
|
||
prepared as possible, Ka'en continued up the steps. His green cloak
|
||
was an exact copy of one worn by a bard. He wore a nondescript sword
|
||
and a leather harp-case on his back, though the case was empty and
|
||
padded. And, most importantly, he wore around his neck an absolutely
|
||
authentic Rank pendant. He had gotten it from Bellen, a disreputable
|
||
ruffian who, nevertheless, had ways of procuring certain things. He
|
||
had proved to be reliable before, and so when Ka'en had put out
|
||
feelers for a bardic Rank pendant, it had been just a few days
|
||
before Bellen had turned up with one. Ka'en hadn't asked where he
|
||
had gotten it, staving off Bellen's eager attempts to tell him
|
||
anyway. He had given the ruffian the five crowns he had promised
|
||
(which wasn't even a decent fraction of what he had already been
|
||
paid for the book), and had continued to prepare. He knew that the
|
||
Rank indicated was fairly high among the journeyman class. The owner
|
||
of the pendant had completed Eight of the Ten staves required before
|
||
advancement to Master class. That would make Ka'en's job both a
|
||
little easier and a little harder. Easier, because he, wearing that
|
||
pendant, would be taken for an important person. Harder, because
|
||
there weren't all that many Eighth Stave Bards proportionally, and
|
||
it might well seem suspicious that he was a stranger. But, the
|
||
opportunity was too good to pass up; he decided to take his chances.
|
||
A small nagging doubt remained in his mind - there was one thing
|
||
that would undo all of his planning. His second cousin,
|
||
Je'lanthra'en, a real Bard, would be able to unmask him if she
|
||
happened to be in residence. As he pushed the well-counterbalanced
|
||
massive doors open and entered the College, he decided to check on
|
||
Je'en's whereabouts with the option of aborting the mission if she
|
||
was in Magnus at that time.
|
||
Ka'en assumed his role as he strode purposefully through an
|
||
entrance hall as huge as the doors and tastefully ornate. It had
|
||
only one other door, much smaller, which led into the College
|
||
proper. Standing by the closed door was a young man wearing the red
|
||
sash of a SongWarder over his blue tunic and white hose.
|
||
"Greetings, brother," said Ka'en as he halted before the warder.
|
||
The young man in blue and white bowed formally to the tall,
|
||
tow-headed man in green cloak and proper pendant. "Welcome to the
|
||
College of Magnus, my Lord," said the warder, and shifted his weight
|
||
onto the plate in the floor that caused the inner door to open.
|
||
"Enter, and may all your needs and wants be fulfilled within."
|
||
"Perhaps you can assist me, brother," said Ka'en. "A friend of
|
||
mine, a travelling companion for a time, said she might be here this
|
||
month. I was wondering if you knew whether Je'lanthra'en was,
|
||
indeed, here?"
|
||
The face of the warder fell. He said, "I am sorry, my Lord, to
|
||
be the one to tell you this. Lady Je'en is in town, but she has
|
||
suffered an accident. Just this past week, in the Fifth Quarter. Her
|
||
injuries were severe, and she is being tended by Master Enowan in
|
||
the Palace. Did you know her well?"
|
||
Ka'en allowed his face to show the sorrow he did feel at the
|
||
news of Je'en accident, but he kept hidden the elation that he could
|
||
continue his night's work without fear of discovery. "Yes, brother,
|
||
I knew her well. I am sorrowed to hear of this. I leave again on the
|
||
morrow, but perhaps I will delay long enough to pay her a visit.
|
||
Thank you for the news, brother." And he passed through the inner
|
||
door shaking his head sadly for effect. He never made the connection
|
||
between the pendant he wore, the hints Bellen had tried to drop, and
|
||
the news of Je'en accident.
|
||
He went to see the seneschal of the College and got a room for
|
||
the night. He was in time for dinner and he actually enjoyed himself
|
||
at the meal, listening to the tales spun by the other bards and the
|
||
students as well. He had to supply a few, himself, but he had no
|
||
problem imitating the style of the others in the room. He also had a
|
||
vivid imagination so he managed to entertain the whole group as well
|
||
as any bard present.
|
||
He pretended to drink overmuch and finally excused himself from
|
||
the procedings with the excuse of needing sleep for his further
|
||
travels. He wasn't the first one to leave, so his going wasn't
|
||
unduly remarked. In other circumstances, he would have left with a
|
||
woman, and, after a little fun, he would have drugged her asleep for
|
||
the bulk of the night, providing himself with a "perfect" alibi.
|
||
But, he couldn't be sure that a bard wouldn't detect the drug in the
|
||
wine - bards were spooky that way, sometimes. So, he would just have
|
||
to rely on the image he had projected at dinner to prove he was who
|
||
he said he was.
|
||
He went up to his room in the sparsely populated Guest Wing
|
||
(larger than both the Student and Resident Wings put together) and
|
||
took a small nap, waiting for the college to fall asleep.
|
||
|
||
The Job
|
||
Ka'en's inner clock woke him shortly after midnight. The
|
||
intricately maintained time-lamp on the wall confirmed that his
|
||
personal alarm had worked properly, and the silence pervading the
|
||
wing attested to his choice of times. With a little care, Ka'en
|
||
would not be disturbed in his thieving.
|
||
Dressed in the black clothes packed in his harp case, carrying
|
||
the tools of his trade, and the keys to the vaults, Ka'en slipped
|
||
out of his room and down the stairs to the Leafy Atrium - a little
|
||
clear-domed hall that led from the work buildings of the College to
|
||
the three living wings. He crossed the open space, dimly lit by moon
|
||
light, and paused in the inky shade cast by the little garden in the
|
||
center of the hall that gave it its name. He waited to be sure that
|
||
no one was coming before moving on: the Atrium was where he was most
|
||
likely to run into someone.
|
||
He made it to the main building of the College without incident,
|
||
but just as he approached the stairs into the cellars, he heard
|
||
footsteps and voices. Hastily ducking into the nearest doorway, he
|
||
waited until he heard the three person parade fade into the distance.
|
||
Then, he heard a sound behind him. Turning lithely as a cat, and
|
||
as soundlessly, he noticed that the room wasn't empty. It was a
|
||
study room, adjacent to the main Library, equiped with a large table
|
||
and rather comfortable looking chairs. Perhaps too comfortable,
|
||
Ka'en thought. The sound he had heard was a stifled snore, which
|
||
repeated itself a few times more. A student was curled up in one of
|
||
the chairs, his candle burned down to a faint, blue glimmer amid a
|
||
pool of liquid wax, and the book he had been reading was lying on
|
||
the floor.
|
||
Ka'en paused for several more minutes before easing the door
|
||
open, and then shut again behind him, careful not to disturb the
|
||
sleeper. Silently blessing his fortune, and overzealous, sleepy
|
||
students, he padded to the stairs and continued down. When he
|
||
reached the third landing, he passed through the archway into that
|
||
cellar, leaving the mysteries of the still descending staircase for
|
||
someone else to explore.
|
||
There were more vaults in the cellars of the College than there
|
||
were in the Crown Castle, some said, and they were probably right.
|
||
Some also said that there was more wealth in the vaults of the
|
||
College than in all of the vaults the Kingdom of Baranur considered
|
||
its own. That, too, was probably correct, but there was more than
|
||
monetary treasure in those vaults. The Bardic College collected
|
||
knowledge, and art, and anything else that the wisdom of its leaders
|
||
commanded them to collect. Like old books.
|
||
Ka'en came to the correct door, just one of at least ten in the
|
||
long hallway. It was of a dull grey metal ten feet tall and three
|
||
wide. It stood out from the well carven walls of the hall even
|
||
though there wasn't a crack around the perimeter as most doors had.
|
||
There was also no handle, and no visible keyhole, either. But, Ka'en
|
||
knew what to do.
|
||
He took the first of the keys and measured its length eight
|
||
times from the floor up the right edge of the door, and then one
|
||
over. Two fingers' pressure moved a piece of the carving there
|
||
aside, revealing the first keyhole. He had been told to measure
|
||
carefully since the very similar carvings around the correct one
|
||
were traps, which would set off an alarm as well as incapacitate the
|
||
burglar in various ingenious ways.
|
||
Inserting the measuring key carefully into the hole it had
|
||
revealed, Ka'en turned it slowly to the left (right would have
|
||
released another trap). There was a faint snapping noise. He could
|
||
feel the key click as it turned. After the second click, he pushed
|
||
the key in hard and felt it sink home. A louder snapping noise
|
||
accompanied the appearance of the normal outline of a door on the
|
||
grey metal, as well as three triangular holes in the general region
|
||
of a normal keyhole.
|
||
Taking the second key from his belt pouch, Ka'en measured up the
|
||
left jamb of the now revealed door for nine of the shorter key
|
||
lengths and then four lengths to the left. The end of the key rested
|
||
on the center of one of many identical triangular projections, each
|
||
with an indented circle within each point. He pressed the indicated
|
||
triangle, and it sank deeply into the wall. There was a faint
|
||
whirring noise and after a few seconds the triangle reappeared with
|
||
the lower right circle glowing faintly. Ka'en inserted the second
|
||
key into the lower left hole in the door, and turned it. The proper
|
||
hole was different every time, or so his employer had said, selected
|
||
randomly with the pressing of the carving and indicated on that same
|
||
carving. The wrong hole or the wrong carving were, of course, traps.
|
||
When the second key had been turned all the way around, a
|
||
knob-like portion of the door popped out, just above the three
|
||
keyholes. Taking the third key, Ka'en inserted it slowly into the
|
||
center of the knob, deactivating the last trap on the door. He
|
||
turned the knob and the thick, but not heavy, door opened inward.
|
||
Relieved to have negotiated the complicated entry procedure,
|
||
Ka'en slipped inside after removing the three keys. His employer had
|
||
assured him that the door could be opened with ease from within, so
|
||
he closed the door behind him. When it met its frame, he was
|
||
astonished to see that it had become transparent. At least he would
|
||
have plenty of warning if someone tried to enter.
|
||
He turned his attention to the interior of the vault. This was
|
||
one of the College's knowledge vaults, which was just as well - no
|
||
temptation to take a little extra. The shelves and chests were
|
||
arranged just as the mysterious man had said. He went directly over
|
||
to the correct chest. It was the top one of a stack of four, so he
|
||
wouldn't have to worry about moving it to gain access.
|
||
Two more keys rested unused in his pouch; he retrieved the
|
||
first. The very thin leather gloves he was wearing allowed him to
|
||
trace the intricate lines graven into the side of the chest. He
|
||
found the hidden keyhole and unlocked the chest - the large,
|
||
normal-looking lock hanging where locks normally hung was yet
|
||
another trap.
|
||
He raised the lid and eyed the thick, leather-bound books
|
||
arranged neatly within. Carefully lifting the first tray out by the
|
||
handles, he set it on the floor and stacked the other three trays on
|
||
top of it. Taking the last key in hand, he pushed aside the lining
|
||
of the seemingly empty chest and released the hidden bottom. He
|
||
slipped the last key into the lock that bound his quarry into the
|
||
recesses of the false bottom of the chest with crossing straps of
|
||
iron, much like a cage. He carefully removed the required book. It
|
||
was light for its size and thickness. He traced the sticklike runes
|
||
laid in gold on the very light-colored leather of the cover, making
|
||
sure that they spelled out what the stranger had told him meant "The
|
||
Tome of the Yrmenweald".
|
||
Satisfied with his find, he placed the book in the other pouch
|
||
he carried. He relocked the cage and replaced the contents of the
|
||
chest as he had found them. With a brief glance around the vault, he
|
||
went back to the door. He surveyed the corridor through the
|
||
transparent door and eased it open without complicated precautions.
|
||
When he shut it behind him, it again became a featureless plane of
|
||
dull grey metal.
|
||
Ka'en made his way carefully back to his room, sure that he had
|
||
been undetected. He repacked his black clothes in the harp case,
|
||
adding the book to the bundle, and settled back on the comfortable
|
||
bed to sleep away the rest of the night.
|
||
|
||
The Payment
|
||
Ka'en left the College the next day with no suspicions trailing
|
||
him about his midnight activities. Once again, he had pulled off a
|
||
job successfully. He strolled casually out of town, following the
|
||
route he had hinted at the night before at dinner. Around noon he
|
||
reached his cache at the center of a stand of trees, sure that no
|
||
one had followed him. He changed clothes, burying the bardic ones
|
||
deep in the ground. Dressed as a nobleman traveler, he made his way
|
||
back to Magnus.
|
||
It was well after dark when he crossed the city limits. He made
|
||
straight for the rendezvous point, an inn called the Fighting
|
||
Unicorns. He knew that his employer would not still be there this
|
||
night, as his own wanderings to throw off any cunning trackers had
|
||
delayed him, but the inn was comfortable and cheap, and he wouldn't
|
||
mind a night in one of its large rooms.
|
||
The Fighting Unicorns was situated as near the Fifth Quarter as
|
||
any legitimate business could be without being part of that warren
|
||
filled with underworld characters. That was the reason that its
|
||
rooms were so inexpensive - few dared to brave the proximity of the
|
||
haven of thieves and murderers that was practically on the inn's
|
||
doorstep. So, its few patrons were coddled, in hopes that good
|
||
treatment would bring more business. It didn't - the dark alleys of
|
||
the Fifth Quarter were more powerful than word of mouth - but Sir
|
||
Hawk, the owner and proprietor, was an optomistic sort, so he kept
|
||
up the treatment, just in case.
|
||
Ka'en slept well and stayed in his room for most of the next
|
||
day. As sunset approached, he went down to the taproom to have dinner
|
||
and wait for his employer.
|
||
The food at the Fighting Unicorns was as cheap as the rooms and
|
||
the portions as large, so Ka'en ate more than his fill for just a
|
||
few small coins. When he finished, he ordered a large tankard of the
|
||
fine inn ale and settled back in his booth to await the completion
|
||
of his mission.
|
||
Sir Hawk did his best to make his inn very attractive to his few
|
||
customers, so there was some very fine entertainment once the
|
||
kitchen had closed. This night, there were several singers - not
|
||
bards, but persons with the talent who simply didn't wish to undergo
|
||
the rigors of full training - and two fine dancers. Ka'en was
|
||
enjoying the show so much that he had almost forgotten why he was
|
||
there. The ale, of which he had drunk less than half, had given him
|
||
a slight buzz, and he was very relaxed and comfortable just drinking
|
||
and watching the floor show.
|
||
His comfort was interrupted when a very lovely woman approached
|
||
his table. She was dressed finely, but manner of her dress and the
|
||
style with which she had painted her face, indicated that she was
|
||
one of the more classy of those who plied the horizontal trade.
|
||
She attracted the glances and stares of most of the other male
|
||
patrons of the tap, but her destination was firm, and she slid
|
||
herself into Ka'en's booth across the table from him. He said,
|
||
"M'lady, please, not tonight. I am meeting someone here and..."
|
||
The woman smiled sweetly and said, "I know." She reached out a
|
||
lovely slim arm and pulled the curtain of the booth closed, shutting
|
||
the two of them in. Before Ka'en could protest, the woman smiled
|
||
again and put a long finger to her lips, shushing him. She closed
|
||
her eyes and began to shimmer. Her whole form wavered and glittered
|
||
and the woman disappeared. In her place was the brown robed figure
|
||
of his mysterious employer.
|
||
The man said, "Very effective illusion, don't you think? You
|
||
have the book."
|
||
Ka'en nodded, and patted the large satchel resting beside him on
|
||
the seat. "You have the money?" he asked. The man in brown nodded in
|
||
turn, and pulled a very large black bag out of thin air and set it
|
||
down on the table with a hefty and satisfying clunk. Ka'en lifted
|
||
the satchel onto the table and pushed to toward his employer while
|
||
pulling the bag of coins closer to himself.
|
||
The two opened their bags of loot at the same time. Ka'en's eyes
|
||
went wide at the sight of all of that gold. The man in brown drew
|
||
out his newly purchased book and looked at it with almost the same
|
||
degree of avarice. After fingering the locking clasp on the old
|
||
volume, he put it away and looked up at Ka'en. "Is our deal
|
||
completed to your satisfaction?" he asked. Ka'en nodded. "The keys I
|
||
gave you are in the satchel, too?" Again, Ka'en nodded. The return
|
||
of the keys hadn't been part of the deal and Ka'en had considered
|
||
keeping them, but presumably they only opened that one vault and
|
||
there was nothing of overtly monetary value in it.
|
||
The man in brown smiled faintly, and said, "Then I shall take my
|
||
leave. It has been a pleasure doing business with you, sir." And,
|
||
without offering to shake hands on the completion of the deal, he
|
||
closed his eyes again. With much the same effect as before, save now
|
||
in reverse, the man in brown vanished, and the lovely whore
|
||
reappeared. Though the man had been holding the satchel, it had
|
||
seemingly now vanished. She/he opened the curtain and slid out of
|
||
the booth. After leaning back in to give Ka'en a little kiss that
|
||
utterly embarrassed him, she walked away with a "See you later"
|
||
thrown back over her shoulder.
|
||
Ka'en stared dumbly after the illusion of beauty long after it
|
||
had vanished through the doorway. He had suspected, faintly, that
|
||
his employer was a magician - who else would have that much of a
|
||
need for an old book - but the proof was unnerving. He didn't like
|
||
magic much - it was too unpredictable. And, he wondered again why a
|
||
magician needed his help to procure the book. He didn't know that
|
||
the College was protected from outside magic by the power of the
|
||
Crystal of Oathes.
|
||
When Ka'en recovered, he remembered that there was a large bag
|
||
of money sitting out in the open in front of him. Hastily, hoping no
|
||
one had noticed, he yanked it off the table and onto the seat beside
|
||
him. Unfortunately, he had not been fast enough.
|
||
Just as he was about to return to his room for one last night of
|
||
comfortable sleep before moving on, someone else slipped quietly and
|
||
quickly into the booth with him. Startled, Ka'en recognized Skar,
|
||
the leader of the group of cutthroats that Bellen ran with. Skar,
|
||
who was leering at him very unpleasantly, said, "Greetings, Kane.
|
||
And good business come your way lately?"
|
||
Ka'en, who was known to the underworld of Magnus as Kane, said,
|
||
"What business might it be of your's, Skar?"
|
||
"Well, friend Kane, perhaps we could share a little of that gold
|
||
you just got from that fancy whore as just left. You know, share the
|
||
wealth, eh?"
|
||
"What makes you think that she brought me that gold, and why
|
||
should I share it in any case?"
|
||
"I know she brought it because you didn't have it when you came
|
||
down them stairs earlier. And, 'cause if you had that much money,
|
||
you wouldn't be staying here, now would you.
|
||
"And, we should share, 'cause I know something that the town
|
||
guard just might like to hear. I don't know just what that tart
|
||
wanted you to do in the Singers' school, but I know that you bought
|
||
a Singer's pendant from Bellen. And if the High Singers check real
|
||
careful, I bet they find something missing, eh?
|
||
"'Course, my yearning to do my civic duty just might be
|
||
subverted with enough gold..."
|
||
Ka'en was appalled. This gutter rat was blackmailing him. Of all
|
||
the gall! What was worse, of course, was that his record was in
|
||
jeopardy now. He just might be caught, finally, and all because of a
|
||
little greed.
|
||
Skar said, "I think about half of what's in that black bag there
|
||
should keep my mouth shut - for a while, at least, eh?"
|
||
Ka'en, a resigned tone in his voice, said, "I guess I have no
|
||
choice, Friend Skar. How about a little privacy, though, so no one
|
||
else decides that they need a little of my hard won gold?" So
|
||
saying, he drew the curtain across the mouth of the booth, again
|
||
isolating it from the rest of the taproom. Lifting the sack of gold
|
||
back onto the table with one hand, he drew his last resort from
|
||
behind his belt buckle.
|
||
With the tiny dagger - not much more than a pin, really -
|
||
carefully concealed in his left hand, he opened the bag and began
|
||
counting out the gold into two piles. Skar greedily reached out for
|
||
his pile after it had grown to six coins, and Ka'en managed to
|
||
surreptitiously scratch his hidden dagger along one of those
|
||
reaching hands.
|
||
He continued to count for another minute or so. Then, Skar's
|
||
head jerked up, his eyes wide with shock and fear. "What did y..."
|
||
he began to say, but in mid word, he simply stopped moving. His eyes
|
||
continued to blink, slowly, but the rest of his body was immobile.
|
||
Ka'en returned the coins to his bag and his last resort to his
|
||
belt. Then, he took his still half filled tankard, and put it
|
||
between Skar's chilling fingers. Molding the thief like a wax dummy,
|
||
Ka'en shaped Skar into the position of a solitary drinker - hands
|
||
around the tankard, body leaned forward, head down and staring into
|
||
the depth of his ale. He also managed to work the thief's expression
|
||
into one of contemplation. Then, he eased himself out of the booth,
|
||
opening the curtain and closing it again on the dying gutter rat.
|
||
He was up well before dawn the next day, packed and ready to go.
|
||
He hadn't been able to sleep very well, though - he didn't like to
|
||
kill. He left two gold pieces on his pillow to settle (and much
|
||
more) his bill, and slipped out the back way. He decided not to
|
||
return to Magnus for a very long time.
|
||
Skar was found, dead, just as dawn came, and the taproom closed.
|
||
No cause of death could be found - the slight scratch on his hand
|
||
couldn't possibly have killed him, according to the official
|
||
reports. The authorities wanted to question one Baron Kanning, the
|
||
last person to be seen with him, but the noble in question had left
|
||
before dawn, leaving a hearty tip behind him. Skar was a known
|
||
ruffian, and a denizen of the Fifth Quarter, so the inquest was
|
||
closed after only a cursory attempt to find the Baron in question.
|
||
Most felt themselves well rid of the thief.
|
||
-John L. White <WHITE@DREXELVM>
|
||
|
||
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
|
||
|
||
-John |