1459 lines
85 KiB
Plaintext
1459 lines
85 KiB
Plaintext
From WHITE@DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU Tue May 12 10:32:53 1992
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Received: from DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU by eff.org with SMTP id AA26738
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(5.65c/IDA-1.4.4/pen-ident for <RITA@EFF.ORG>); Tue, 12 May 1992 10:32:44 -0400
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Message-Id: <199205121432.AA26738@eff.org>
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Received: from DUVM by DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU (IBM VM SMTP R1.2.2MX) with BSMTP id 3297; Tue, 12 May 92 10:29:47 EDT
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Date: Tue, 12 May 92 10:29:37 EDT
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From: "Avid Reader - Fledgling Writer" <WHITE@DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU>
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To: RITA@EFF.ORG
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Status: OR
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1 /
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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 1
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==========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Issue 1
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-- DargonZine Volume 1, Issue 1 11/04/88 Cir 687 --
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-- Contents --
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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DAG Dafydd Editorial
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Unlikely Partners, Pt 2 Max Khaytsus 12-16 Naia, 1013
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Runaway Michelle Brothers 29 Seber, 1012, and
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16 Naia, 1013
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Steel Souls John Sullivan 10-11 Yule, 1013
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Inquiries John Doucette 29 Yuli-7 Sy, 1013
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Trial by Fire, Prologue M. Wendy Henniquin 6 Sy, 1013
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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1 Dafydd's Amber Glow
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Hello, readers! Here it is, the first issue of the
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'replacement' - or rather, continuation - of FSFNet. As the new
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Editor, I hope that DargonZine serves you all as well as my
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predecesor's magazine did.
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DargonZine is not really a replacement for FSFNet, but
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rather a vehicle for the continuation of the Dargon Project,
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which made up a substantial part of the material in FSFNet.
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DargonZine will not be publishing anything non-Dargon, but R.
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Allen Jervis (C78KCK@IRISHMVS) has consented to take up the
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slack and publish any non-Dargon SF or Fantasy that anyone out
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there would like to write and/or read.
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This first issue contains five stories, three from authors
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new to the project. The first is from Max Khaytsus, and continues
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his "Unlikely Partners" story, Part 1 of which was in FSFNET
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Vol11N2. The second story, "Runaway", is by our first new author
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Michelle Brothers. The first part of the story provides some
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background to the rest of the story, and the second part, which
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happens some 9 months later, happens shortly after Max's story
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ends - in fact, they cross to a minor extent.
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The third story is from another new author, John Sullivan.
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"Steel Souls" gives us a little insight into the character of
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Ittosai. It takes place between "Worthy of the Title" and "A
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Visit to Connall", which appeared in FSFNet Vol10N5 and Vol11N3
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respectively, before Ittosai has become the Castellan of Connall.
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The fourth story is by John Doucette (our third new author)
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and is titled "Inquiries", which introduces some foreign
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intrigue. And last is the beginning of an exciting new story
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line by M. Wendy Henniquin called "Trial by Fire". A well
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packed issue for the initial issue of DargonZine - I hope that
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you readers will enjoy it.
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Dafydd, Editor DargonZine
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(m.k.a. John L White)
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(b.c.k.a. WHITE@DUVM.bitnet)
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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1 Unlikely Partners
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Part 2
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by Max Khaytsus
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(b.c.k.a khaytsus%tramp@boulder.colorado.edu)
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Terell poured together the last of the solutions. If his books
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and speculations were right, he would be able to keep the virus
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alive for days. Finding a cure would be profitable, but how often
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would a cure for lycanthropy be needed in a civilized land? To turn
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a profit he would have to have a disease to cure. If only there was
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a way to make people get the disease...and of course in sight of
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profit, there is always a way!
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Deep in thought Terell started his walk home. The first thing he
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needed was a constant source of the virus, then a place to spread it.
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By the time Kera came downstairs to breakfast, Rien was already
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up, waiting for her. To her it seemed he invested far too much trust
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into a common street thief. At least more than she would. Most
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people don't just pick up thieves off the street and hope for the
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best. It's not like she had any plans to stab him in the back or
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anything, but he was still far too trusting.
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"I didn't grow any new body hair last night," Kera said,
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slumping down in a chair across from Rien.
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"Good morning," he answered. "I take it you're late because you
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stopped to check?"
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"I'm used to getting up late, since I do most of my work in the
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late afternoon and evening."
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"Warriors get up with the chickens," Rien said, motioning for
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the innkeep to serve breakfast.
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"I was wondering about your sleeping habits," Kera grinned. "So
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what do you want me to do first?"
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"After breakfast we need to get your equipment and I want a
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wizard to check you over. Then we will worry about your training."
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"Sorry, I don't do wizards," Kera said, looking over what the
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bar maid placed before her.
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"If you want to be apprenticed, you will have to do what I say,
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especially if it is to save your life."
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Kera's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
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"I don't take apprentices so that they foam at the mouth and
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howl at the moon," Rien answered calmly.
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"Why didn't you just leave me? Or kill me? I stole from you,
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hurt you! For God's sake, I wanted to kill you!"
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"That's not my way," Rien continued in his calm tone. "I do not
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kill for pleasure or sport. Life is a right I can neither grant to,
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nor revoke from an individual."
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"Even in defense of yourself?"
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"Defense is different. Yesterday and the day before were different."
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"Your eyes changed color yesterday!" Kera remembered.
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Rien's voice became even quieter. "A gypsy once told me that
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what you saw happened derives from another duality within me."
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"Like what?" Kera leaned forward, not quite realizing that she
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was also beginning to whisper.
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"It's nothing that should concern you at the moment," Rien said.
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The rest of the meal passed without a word.
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"Where is she, old bat?" Cril screamed, throwing the old woman
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to the ground.
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"I don't know. She never came back..." was the weak response.
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"You're lying!"
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This time there was no answer.
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"Put her in the blocks," Cril breathed his anger to the guards.
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Kera had become very important to Liriss two days ago, when she
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made the biggest theft since she started. Apparently that was also
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enough to have two of Liriss' men arrested and two more beaten
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beyond recognition. Whomever that purse belonged to, was seemingly
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mad about the whole affair. For that matter, so was Liriss.
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Cril stepped back to allow the guards to drag out the old maid.
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"Be you damned!" she hissed as they half carried her out. He
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restrained himself from the urge to break her neck.
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Cril took the time to dress in medium armor before before
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presenting his information to Liriss. There was no reason to expose
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one's self to unnecessary danger. His boss has been known to kill
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people for as little as saying "good morning". Naturally those
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mornings were in no way good. This was another morning that did not
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seem good to Cril. All he was able to learn was that the girl was
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last seen leaving the alley with a tall, blond man. Odds are she
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never even made it inside the building. That was more than reason
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enough to believe the old chamber maid and believe her he did, but
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she was going to drown just for a show of force, for the memory of
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all those before her and all those yet to come...and most of all,
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for these who may have known the answer to his question and withheld
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information.
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Cril knocked on a door and entered. On the far side of the room
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stood Liriss, holding a nearly full wine glass, staring out the
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window in deep thought.
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"Sir!" Cril began, but was abruptly interrupted.
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"Spare me your excuses. I heard what you did."
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Cril took a single step back in fear.
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"The maid is too old to serve properly, but should you lay
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another hand on any of my staff, no matter how decrepit, you shall
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be joining them in their fate."
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Cril drew in a breath of relief. Refraining from punishment
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would not be hard.
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Placing the glass on the window sill, Liriss turned around. His
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harsh features expressed anger. "If you do not locate Kera in a
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week, don't bother coming back."
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"Grandfather!" yelled the young girl. "Some big guy wants to see
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you!"
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Rien smiled in spite of his serious visit. There was some
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innocent, naive quality in children that always produced this reaction.
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"Oh, I'm coming!" he heard the wizard's voice. "Doesn't anyone
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know I work at this time?" His soft expression changed at the sight
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of Rien and Kera. "I don't want you here and I certainly don't want
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her here. Go."
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Rien blocked the closing door with his foot. "You have to help
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me. You are the only expert on this in town."
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"No," the wizard insisted. "What I know is only history. I am no
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alchemist. There are plenty of others who are better equipped to
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help you. Please, go now."
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There was no arguing with the man and Rien was not about to try.
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He could always challenge a fighter or a thief, but uninvited
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pesterance of a mage could be costly. "Just one thing," he finally
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asked. "Tell me if she has the disease."
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Unwillingly Taishent pulled out the white orb and taking a step
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towards Kera, uttered the incantation. A faint green glow
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illuminated his hand.
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Rien looked at the glow with a feeling of helplessness. No
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explanations needed to be given, but at least now the truth was
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clearly available. "Thank you," he said quietly and taking Kera by
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her arm, lead her away from the door.
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"Wait!" Taishent called out. "If you are unable to find help in
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the city, I hear there is an old woman living deep in the woods
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south of Dargon. She may be able to help."
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Rien wanted to turn around to thank the man again, but something
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inside of him urged him to keep going.
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In the morning of the following day, Rien returned to visit
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Terell, who he had not seen since the day of his initial visit. Many
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changes had taken place in the alchemist's mind since then.
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"I can't have you running around all the time!" Terell yelled at
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Rien. "I need you to provide me samples when I need them, not at
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your leisure!"
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"I came here to get a cure, not to be bled into a glass. There
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is only so much blood I can provide for you."
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Terell paced his lab, glancing at filled and empty glassware.
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"How can you expect me to find you a cure if I have no samples to
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study?"
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Rien shrugged. "How can I expect to be cured if there is no life
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fluid in me?"
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Grabbing a vial off the shelf, Terell thrust it to Rien. "Drink
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this. It will relieve your fatigue."
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And indeed it did so. With a single sip Rien collapsed to the
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floor, spilling the potion and breaking the vial. The sound of
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breaking glass filled his ears even after darkness filled his eyes.
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Kera searched out the scribe's cart at the market place and
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carefully approached, searching the crowd for familiar faces. Public
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appearances like this could be dangerous now.
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"Ellis, do you have the book I asked for?" she inquired of the
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shifty man watching the cart.
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He glanced around and motioned her to follow him to the side of
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an enclosed booth. Shielded by the wall, he produced a book and
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handed it to Kera.
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"The Realities of Myths" read the silver lettering on the cover.
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Kera flipped it open to reveal the seal of Dargon on the inside. The
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book immediately snapped shut.
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"You stole this from the Duke's library?" she almost exclaimed.
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"You said you only wanted to borrow it for a few days..."
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"And Rish Vogel just handed it to you?"
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"Well, no...it's kind of on a secretive loan."
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Hiding the book in the folds of her cloak, Kera thanked Ellis.
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"I'll have it back to you in a few days," she promised.
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"No hurry. No one knows what happened to it. Keep it."
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Kera smiled and turned to leave.
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"Wait," Ellis stopped her. "There are a lot of people out there
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who want to see you dead. Be careful. I heard some men are looking
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for you. I am sure if you come back now and tell them you were
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detained, they won't punish you."
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Pulling the hood of her cloak up, Kera disappeared into the
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crowd. The decision she was about to make would be very final.
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The ringing continued in Rien's ears even after his sight
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returned. With great effort he focused his eyes on his surroundings.
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He was sitting upright, in some laboratory, with his back against a
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wall. A heavy wool blanket was draped over him. Someone was spilling
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some liquid down his chin.
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"Stop dribbling and drink it," he heard Kera's voice and turned
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his head. His detached thoughts registered a liquid splashing on the
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blanket.
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'The potion!' he thought, trying to avoid the glass, but only
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succeeded in spilling some more of it.
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"It's only water," he heard Kera's voice again. "Drink it."
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He did. A minute passed as Rien tried to compose himself. For
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some reason his body still did not follow the instructions he gave
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it. 'What was that damn potion?'
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"Terell..." Rien tried to voice his thoughts.
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"He's not here," Kera's voice sounded again and he again felt
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the glass at his mouth and swallowed.
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"My clothes..." Rien struggled, realizing the blanket was the
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only thing he had on.
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"Bring me his clothes!" Kera ordered and Rien struggled to look
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up. A vague shape and running footsteps were the only evidence of
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another presence.
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"You didn't have any when I found you," Kera told Rien and gave
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him another sip of the water.
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Rien's head was beginning to clear and the ringing in his ears
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subsided. Again he looked around the lab. The most noticeable
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feature was a body in a pool of blood.
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"Who was that?" Rien asked.
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"An assistant, I guess," Kera answered. "He tried to stop me, so
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I jabbed him a few times."
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Rien tried not to look disapproving. "How long was I here?"
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"Today is the 15th of Naia; it's past sunset."
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"Almost two days..." Rien murmured. "What did that damned idiot
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do to me?"
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"There are a lot of scratches on your right arm," Kera said
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cautious not to disclose that her examination had been more thorough
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than that.
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Rien pulled his arm from under the blanket. It barely responded.
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On it were three deep incisions that still produced traces of blood.
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"He bled me. Damned idiot!"
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Running footsteps again filled the room and a young boy appeared
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with a bundle of clothes. He carefully handed them to Kera and
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backed off.
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"Are you strong enough to get up?" Kera asked Rien.
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He nodded and stood up, clutching the blanket.
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"I assume you want me to turn around," Kera grinned, handing
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Rien his clothes.
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"Up to you," he answered and let the blanket drop.
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Kera instantly spun about to face the wall. "I see you have no
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problems with modesty."
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"Do you?" Rien asked, starting to dress.
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"I might not have had a great childhood, but I did have some
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social values implanted in me."
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"Oh, those..." Rien said. "Modesty was not a very big thing
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where I grew up."
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"This might come out a bit foolish, but just where did you grow
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up?"
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"East of here, a very long distance away."
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"Past the mountain range?" Kera insisted.
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"Past the mountains," Rien agreed. "In the forest on the other
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side."
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"I've never even been outside of Dargon," Kera sighed.
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"You may get your chance soon. I just lost all my trust of
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Terell. Tell me what happened in the last two days."
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Kera leaned against a table, still facing the wall. "I went to
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see a friend yesterday morning, asking about that book you wanted..."
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"Did you get it?" Rien interrupted her.
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"It should be on that big table with straps," Kera answered and
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continued her story. "He told me to come back in a day, so I
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returned to the inn to wait for you. I began getting worried by the
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time it got dark, but decided to wait until morning. In the morning
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I picked up your book and went back to the inn to see if you were
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back, but only found that my room had been ransacked. Yours wasn't
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touched, so I had all of our stuff moved to an inn down the street.
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I don't think anything was taken.
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"It was late afternoon by the time I decided to go look for you.
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You mentioned Terell before you left yesterday, so this shop seemed
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like a good start. Terell wasn't here, but his apprentices were. The
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big one didn't want to let me see the work area, so I grew
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suspicious and started a fight with him. I guess all bookworms are
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weak by nature."
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Kera paused, having finished her story. She waited a moment,
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then asked. "Are you done yet?"
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"One way to find out," Rien answered.
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Kera cautiously turned around. Rien sat on the large table in
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the middle of the room, legs crossed under him, examining the book
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she had brought. He was dressed.
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"This book belongs to the Duke of Dargon," Rien accused.
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"Uh-huh," Kera said carefully. "You said it was very important,
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so I spared no effort."
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"Doesn't matter either way," Rien said. "We'll be dead, should
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we fail. Liriss is after you, Terell has it in for me, the town
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guard is probably after us both and with lycanthropy on top of
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this...seems pretty grim, doesn't it?"
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Kera simply nodded.
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"Let's go get our stuff. We'll meet Terell here in the morning
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and be out of town by night fall."
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Kera moved about the room in the bulky field plate. "This is
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very heavy," she complained to Rien. "How do you expect me to fight
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in it?"
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"You'll get used to it," he said, checking to make sure nothing
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was left behind. "A horse saddled for the first time is also
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uncomfortable, but it gets used to carrying both gear and rider."
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"A saddle is probably more comfortable than this," Kera continued.
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"This is only for your protection," Rien said. "You'll get used
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to wearing it and fighting in it or you won't live very long. Grab
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your pack and let's go."
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The innkeeper was the only one up downstairs. He lazily looked
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at Rien and Kera clanking their way down the stairs. A look of
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surprise spread on his face. "Leaving so early, sir?" he inquired of
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Rien.
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"One has to get up early to go hunting," Rien responded.
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"Looks like you're ready to hunt a dragon," the innkeep laughed.
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"A small one," Rien said and placed some money on the counter.
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"A deposit for the room," he said. "We will return."
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"Do you require assistance with your horses?" the innkeep
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hurried to ask, placing the coins in his pocket.
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"Thank you, but no," Rien answered.
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"Then good luck on your hunt!"
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"You intend to come back?" Kera asked Rien once outside the inn.
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"No, but if we are traced this far, the innkeep's belief that we
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will return may delay pursuit," Rien answered. "I believe in dealing
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with only one problem at a time."
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"Do you think Liriss will follow us?"
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"Might. I'd rather expect the worst and be faced with only
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pleasant surprises." He stopped near Kera's horse. "Get on."
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"How!?"
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"Place your left leg in..."
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"In armor?" Kera interrupted him.
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"Unless you have other means of protection, yes."
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"It looks like it's going to rain," Kera said. "The armor might
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rust."
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"Well maintained armor will not rust from getting wet," Rien
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answered. "Get on."
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Kera looked at the horse apprehensively, then grabbing the sides
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of the saddle and placing her left foot in the stirrup, tried to
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pull herself up. The horse shifted uncomfortably.
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"Don't pull," Rien instructed. "Jump up and swing your leg over,
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just like you do without armor."
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"Yeah, right!" Kera exclaimed and after a moment of preparation
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did so, landing in the saddle with a grunt. "That hurts!"
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"Be glad it wasn't full plate," Rien answered, swinging into the
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saddle of his own horse.
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"Does that hurt men too?" Kera asked mockingly.
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"Only if they don't know what they are doing," Rien answered.
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The two made it down to Terell's laboratory-shop by sunrise.
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Using the key they took from the store a few hours before, they
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unlocked the door and walked in. The boy, who they locked in,
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hurried to the back of the room in fear.
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"Give him some food and have him stay in the other room," Rien
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instructed Kera, relocking the door behind them.
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After Kera left, he started looking over the vials located on
|
|
the shelves. Things useful on quests were often found in places like
|
|
this and while not having a lot of experience with magic, Rien felt
|
|
he could lay a little claim to knowledge of herb lore and simple
|
|
alchemy...especially if labels were available. By the time Kera
|
|
returned, four of the vials stood separately on the table.
|
|
"What's this?" she asked, taking a seat across from the door.
|
|
"Three of them save lives, the other takes them," Rien continued
|
|
rummaging through the shelves. "It's going to be a long journey. We
|
|
may need them all."
|
|
Kera nodded slightly. "What are you going to do about Terell?"
|
|
"Listen to him. He may have a good reason for what he did."
|
|
"What if he does?"
|
|
"Let him continue his work."
|
|
"And if he doesn't?"
|
|
Rien faced Kera. "A reason that I do not find satisfactory does
|
|
not necessarily have to be bad. When he provides his reason, I'll
|
|
make my judgement."
|
|
"And the boy?" Kera asked.
|
|
"The child is only an apprentice. He did only what he was told;
|
|
I can't blame him for that."
|
|
"Sometimes I wish things were simpler," Kera sighed.
|
|
"The simpler your life, the harder you would have to work to
|
|
keep it that way," Rien answered, finally giving up on the rest of
|
|
Terell's potions. He sat down, looking at Kera, who turned to face him.
|
|
"A maid in Liriss' chambers told me to be careful of what I wish
|
|
for. Someday someone may grant it..."
|
|
"And you won't like the results," Rien finished the famous
|
|
proverb. "I don't believe that's true."
|
|
"What do you mean not true? Do you think it's not true for
|
|
everything?"
|
|
"I don't think any of it is true. It depends on who hears your
|
|
wishes, not what the wishes are."
|
|
Kera opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of a key turning
|
|
in the door lock forced both her and Rien to take cover behind the
|
|
furniture in the shop.
|
|
A moment later the door opened and someone walked in.
|
|
"Kapatil? Baska?" Terell's voice sounded as the door slammed shut.
|
|
Rien permitted the footsteps to get past him, before getting out
|
|
from behind his cover. Terell spun around and tried to back out, but
|
|
the door to the laboratory was locked.
|
|
"I will give you one chance only to explain your actions," Rien
|
|
stated.
|
|
Terell's response was drawing a dagger. "Damn half-breed! I
|
|
should have killed you two days ago."
|
|
Rien's eyes flared as he drew his sword.
|
|
"Damn bastard half-breed!" Terell muttered again, swinging his
|
|
dagger. It impacted against Rien's chest plate, doing no more damage
|
|
than a light scratch.
|
|
Rien thrust his sword forward, flawlessly penetrating the
|
|
alchemist's upper chest. He looked on as his victim slid down to the
|
|
ground, letting out his final breath. With it the truth of the
|
|
events of the last two days fled forever.
|
|
Kera's hand clamped down on Rien's shoulder. "Half-breed?"
|
|
He shook his head. "An old, evil man."
|
|
Kera looked at the slain body against the wall for a moment. "I
|
|
guess we're finished here. Let's leave before the town guard finds us."
|
|
"We're not leaving just yet," Rien walked over to the main door
|
|
and relocked it. "Right now we need to get some rest."
|
|
"We can't stay here!" Kera protested. "We'll be discovered! With
|
|
him!" She thrust her hand out, pointing to Terell's body, grimly
|
|
staring at the arguing pair.
|
|
"I will put up a sign that will announce the shop as being
|
|
closed for the day and at nightfall we will leave town. One day will
|
|
not steer anyone's suspicion and we need the rest. At least you do."
|
|
"I have been up for almost two days now," Kera admitted. "But
|
|
being in your shoes does not seem like an appealing alternative."
|
|
Rien smiled. "Be ready to leave at dusk."
|
|
|
|
Cril and three of his men stepped out of the latest inn to be
|
|
checked. Doing the work himself made him feel better, since a found
|
|
trail was quickly lost the day before, due to a subordinate's
|
|
negligence. This last visit uncovered a lot more than Cril had hoped
|
|
to learn. Kera and her new companion left early in the morning on a
|
|
hunting trip.
|
|
There were two clear alternatives--follow them or wait. The wait
|
|
could be extremely long. Their rooms were paid for a week in advance
|
|
and Cril had now well under that for a deadline. He looked up and
|
|
down the street in deep thought. There was no need to test Liriss'
|
|
threat by waiting around. To follow would give a better chance of
|
|
success. That was the only thing he had left to do.
|
|
"Spread out," Cril told his men. "Two armored individuals can't
|
|
be hard to find. Ask everyone!"
|
|
The guards proceeded in different directions.
|
|
|
|
Shortly before dusk Rien sat down to speak with Terell's
|
|
remaining assistant. The boy sat quietly in a corner, fearing to
|
|
even bring his eyes up to look at Rien.
|
|
"You are afraid of me. Why?"
|
|
The boy did his best to regain his posture. "You killed Master
|
|
Terell..."
|
|
"And you are afraid of my companion as well?"
|
|
"I saw her kill Kapatil..." the boy whispered.
|
|
"Do you think we will kill you?" Rien inquired.
|
|
"Yes," came the barely audible response.
|
|
"If you promise to do something for us, I promise we will let
|
|
you go..."
|
|
"You do?" the boy looked up.
|
|
Rien nodded. "You must promise not to tell anybody that we were
|
|
here or what we did and you will be free to go."
|
|
"Really?" the youngster's eyes looked hopeful.
|
|
"But you must promise! And keep that promise...or we will come
|
|
back and find you." Rien's expression was hard. "You will say that
|
|
some men came and killed everyone and that you were scared and ran
|
|
away."
|
|
The boy nodded silently, dropping to his knees. "I swear it, Sir!"
|
|
Rien waited patiently to stress the moment. "You will leave
|
|
after we do." He quickly got up and exited the laboratory.
|
|
"What happened?" Kera asked him in the other room.
|
|
"I wish I didn't have to scare him like I did," Rien admitted.
|
|
"He looks no older than ten years."
|
|
"Did he agree to keep quiet?"
|
|
"I said we'll come back and find him is he tells anyone... I
|
|
haven't seen anyone that scared in along time."
|
|
"Will we?"
|
|
"If anyone learns of what we've done here tonight, I fear we
|
|
will no longer have to worry about that issue," Rien said. "Do you
|
|
need help with your armor?" he tried to change the topic.
|
|
"Just a little," Kera said. "My arms don't bend backwards."
|
|
At dusk they unlocked all of the doors and set on their way out
|
|
of Dargon in a strong downpour.
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
1 Runaway
|
|
Part 1
|
|
by Michelle Brothers
|
|
(b.c.k.a. brothers@tramp.uucp)
|
|
|
|
"What the hell do you mean she's disappeared?" bellowed Teran,
|
|
slamming his flagon onto the table, slopping liquid over the brim.
|
|
"Damn it, Apollo, you were supposed to be keeping an eye on her!"
|
|
Blue eyes flashed dangerously in the man's fair face.
|
|
Apollo toyed with the idea of beating a hasty retreat, but
|
|
decided against it. The fact that Teran would probably beat him to
|
|
the door was almost as daunting as what would happen to him when he
|
|
was caught.
|
|
"I followed her into the market, just like you told me to," said
|
|
Apollo, keeping his voice steady. "She shopped around a bit, bought
|
|
a few things, then the next thing I knew, she was gone."
|
|
Teran's glare darkened. Apollo forced himself not to cringe
|
|
under the man's penetrating gaze.
|
|
"You're one of the best people I've got and you lost her."
|
|
Teran's voice was quieter than his glare and sounding all the more
|
|
dangerous for it. His fingers drummed rhythmically on the table top,
|
|
near his double edged eating dagger. He stood up slowly.
|
|
"I have the twins looking for her..." Apollo said desperately.
|
|
"That doesn't excuse-"
|
|
The door to the room slammed open, effectively cutting Teran
|
|
OFF. A PAIR OF IDENTICAL BROWN HAIRED BOYS STOOD, FRAMED IN THE
|
|
doorway.
|
|
Apollo whirled at the sound. "Well?" he snapped, masking his
|
|
relief at the interruption in anger.
|
|
"She's not in the city anymore," said one of the pair, fingering
|
|
the cheap copper medallion around his neck. "She wasn't in the
|
|
market or the area around it."
|
|
"I checked the docks," said the other twin. He looked from one
|
|
glaring man to the other. "According to...someone I know there, she
|
|
got passage on the Dolphin's Anchor. It's headed for the mainland. A
|
|
city by the name of Foroni."
|
|
Apollo paled and Teran let loose an explosive string of curses.
|
|
The twins looked at each other, then slipped back out the door.
|
|
Their hastily retreating footsteps could be heard over the blond
|
|
man's muttering. Apollo turned back to Teran, who had sat down again.
|
|
"Have to get her back here," he murmured, oblivious to Apollo's
|
|
presence. "Can't make a damn move without her."
|
|
"Why?"
|
|
"What?" Teran's head snapped up, realizing that he hadn't been
|
|
left alone by the twins exit. He smoothed the obvious anger from his
|
|
face and forced himself to relax back into the chair.
|
|
"Why can't we make a move without Eliowy? Why is she so
|
|
important?" Apollo leaned against the wall and folded his arms,
|
|
looking more confident than he actually felt. Steady black eyes
|
|
studied Teran from across the room.
|
|
"She has to lead the attack from the castle," said Teran
|
|
frankly. "You know that."
|
|
"There are other people far more capable to lead that attack,"
|
|
snapped Apollo, pushing himself off the wall. Black hair flopped
|
|
into his eyes. "Why her? Why not you or Vargis or even me?"
|
|
Teran was silent.
|
|
"Does it have something to do with that little trip she went on
|
|
last year?" pressed Apollo, advancing a little closer to the table.
|
|
"Something she found along the way to make her more formidable,
|
|
perhaps?"
|
|
Teran was still silent, but his bright blue eyes glittered.
|
|
"A new power, perhaps?" Apollo advanced another step. "Magic,
|
|
maybe? IS THERE magic involved?"
|
|
"No!" Teran didn't specify which question the violent negative
|
|
was appended to.
|
|
"Then what the hell is it? Why is Eliowy so gods-damned important?"
|
|
Teran rose slowly to his full, nearly seven foot, height,
|
|
glaring down at his black haired companion. Apollo held his ground
|
|
stubbornly. "That is quite enough," said Teran, expression
|
|
completely neutral. "I want you to find the Anchor's destination and
|
|
make arrangements for me to follow. Don't argue!" he snapped, as
|
|
Apollo opened his mouth. "You will go now and do as I've told you.
|
|
I'll have the bribe money ready as soon as you find me a ship."
|
|
There was a brief stare-off then Apollo nodded sharply and
|
|
headed for the door. He looked back. "I'll find out, Teran. Sooner
|
|
OR LATER." HE LOCKED GAZES WITH TERAN, THEN LEFT, LEAVING THE DOOR
|
|
open.
|
|
Teran sat down once more. "Hopefully later," he said softly.
|
|
"Hopefully much later."
|
|
|
|
By the time Eliowy arrived in the town of Dargon, it was pouring
|
|
rain. Water dripped down her hood, into her eyes and down her neck,
|
|
chilling her. Her well worn boots were covered with mud and they
|
|
squished with each step. Her small pack, which contained little more
|
|
than a change of clothes, a few personal belongings and a hand harp,
|
|
had become almost unbearably heavy during the last hour of walking.
|
|
The sword banging at her hip was like a dead weight, dragging her down.
|
|
Eliowy stared down the road leading into the center of town. It
|
|
was deserted except for a few heavily cloaked figures hurrying to
|
|
their various destinations amid the clusters of houses. None of the
|
|
people seemed like the type to give directions. Eliowy sighed
|
|
deeply, pulled her hood further down over her head, scattering
|
|
droplets against the rain and resumed her trek into the city, her
|
|
way dimly lit by an occasional heavy shielded street lantern.
|
|
A few of the buildings along the way were lit, but none of them
|
|
were an inn; not that she had the money to pay for a room.
|
|
Three...no, four coppers would barely get her an indecent meal,
|
|
never mind alone a dry place to sleep.
|
|
"Damn," mumbled Eliowy. "Maybe I can play for my supper. Maybe
|
|
they'll let me spend the night too. Maybe they'll like my playing
|
|
enough to hire me." Lightning flashed directly overhead, closely
|
|
followed by thunder. The rain abruptly increased. "Maybe I should
|
|
worry about finding an inn first.," decided Eliowy glumly. "Nothing
|
|
like a dose of cold, wet reality to ruin a perfectly good fantasy."
|
|
She resumed walking, keeping her head lowered to keep the rain
|
|
out of her eyes. She had walked about a block when a glimmer in the
|
|
mud caught her eye. A silver piece lay in the road, rain having
|
|
washed the mud from it. Lightning constantly flickering from cloud
|
|
to cloud, caused the coin to flash dimly. Eliowy waited for another
|
|
burst of lightning before bending down to pick it up. What a stroke
|
|
of luck!
|
|
"What have you found, youngster?" someone asked.
|
|
Eliowy jerked back in surprise, tripping over her cloak, as she
|
|
tried to stand. She found herself staring up at a trio of hooded,
|
|
armored men. A lantern made it impossible for her to get much more
|
|
detailed.
|
|
The foremost figure moved a step closer and lantern light
|
|
glinted off the long wood and metal sheath at his side.
|
|
|
|
Lieutenant Kalen Darklen stared down at the young woman sitting
|
|
on the ground before him. Rain ran down her face like tears,
|
|
plastering her hair to the cheeks and soaking her tunic. Lantern
|
|
light glinted off cloak clasp and weapon hilt and gave her eyes an
|
|
odd amber shine.
|
|
"You all right, miss?" Kalen asked, taking a step forward when
|
|
the girl didn't get up. Her fall hadn't been hard enough to do
|
|
damage, so there was no reason for her to continue sitting in the
|
|
mud. He reached down to give a hand up.
|
|
|
|
Eliowy scrambled back as the foremost figure reached out towards
|
|
her, not hearing the man's concerned question. She stumbled to her
|
|
feet, putting muddy foot prints on the hem of her cloak and tangling
|
|
her scabbard in its folds. She stared at Kalen as he drew his hand
|
|
back. The pair eyed one another for a few moments. Kalen with
|
|
curiosity. Eliowy with rapidly growing panic.
|
|
"They must have heard," she thought wildly. "Town guards are
|
|
always talking with each other..." She stepped back.
|
|
A puzzled frown crossed Kalen's face. "What is the matter with
|
|
you?" he stepped forward decisively, to get the girl's face back in
|
|
to the light.
|
|
THAT SETTLED THE MATTER FOR ELIOWY, WHO PROMPTLY PANICKED AND
|
|
BOLTED.
|
|
With a started shout Kalen and company chased after her, the
|
|
bouncing lantern making the shadows dance crazily along the walls.
|
|
People were not in the habit of running from the guard, even in
|
|
Dargon and Kalen's curiosity, not to mention his concern, was aroused.
|
|
Eliowy dodged down the first side street she could find, cloak
|
|
flapping behind her. "They know!" the thought pounded through her at
|
|
the same speed as the racing of her heart and the pumping of her
|
|
feet. "They must have heard bout Tench!" Another junction loomed
|
|
ahead of her and she skidded into a right turn.
|
|
Eliowy had arrived in Tench after several long months of travel
|
|
and all she had cared about was finding an inexpensive inn and some
|
|
food. Instead of this, she ran across three men who took exception
|
|
to her having a weapon much finer than their own. Eliowy's fight to
|
|
keep her most valued possession ended with one man dead, another
|
|
injured and the third running for his life.
|
|
Terrified that the last man would call the town guard after her,
|
|
Eliowy fled the city, not realizing that he and his fellows would
|
|
not admit to having been beaten by a lone girl.
|
|
The footsteps grew closer and she slipped into another alley
|
|
filled with crates, trying to use her size to her advantage. The
|
|
fading sounds of cursing behind her was testament to her success.
|
|
She paused, took several deep breaths, then resumed running.
|
|
Eliowy rounded yet another corner and was back on the main
|
|
street into and out of the city. Without thinking, she started
|
|
across the street towards the waiting shadows of a nearby alley and
|
|
was almost trampled by two armored figures on horseback.
|
|
In her mad scramble to get out of the way, Eliowy slipped and
|
|
once again landed full length in the mud.
|
|
"Are you all right?" demanded one of the riders, swinging down
|
|
from his mount.
|
|
"Leave her, Rien. We haven't the time," the other rider, a
|
|
female, shifted uneasily.
|
|
"We have enough time to be certain she's all right," said Rien
|
|
calmly. He reached down and helped Eliowy to her feet. "Be careful
|
|
where you're going next time. You might have gotten hurt."
|
|
"Sorry," gulped Eliowy. Her eyes scanned the area behind Rien.
|
|
"I've got to go now!" She turned, shook off Rien's helping hand and ran.
|
|
Rien returned to his horse. "Hey!" he heard and turned to see
|
|
the lieutenant of the guard charging towards him. "Did you see a
|
|
young girl come this way?" panted Kalen. Rien pointed in the general
|
|
direction Eliowy had run in. "Thanks!"
|
|
Rien remounted his horse as Kalen trotted away. "Let's go. And
|
|
you don't have to tell me that was the city guard."
|
|
His partner simply smiled and looked smug.
|
|
|
|
Eliowy leaned against the wall of a building, breathing heavily.
|
|
It looked like she had finally shaken her pursuers. Now all she had
|
|
to do was find her way back out of the city and she'd be home free.
|
|
Shouldering her pack with a sigh, Eliowy moved out into the
|
|
street again, right into the arms of Kalen Darklen.
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
1 Steel Souls
|
|
by John Sullivan
|
|
(b.c.k.a. JSULLIV@VTVM1)
|
|
|
|
From the seawall I watch as the sun flows down to the ocean,
|
|
bleeding red into the water. The wind from the sea is cool and
|
|
vigorous. It blows my hair in a black cloud around my head and whips
|
|
the heavy fabric of my clothing until it snaps like the sails on the
|
|
ship that brought me here. I come here whenever I can, and sometimes
|
|
I work my way down the rocks to the water's edge to dip my fingers
|
|
in the sea. It is my friend, the sea. I am stranded on this alien
|
|
soil, but I can touch the sea. And the sea touches Bichu.
|
|
The wind turns colder as the evening deepens. The sun has almost
|
|
completely set now and the dockmen slowly filter away to homes, to
|
|
taverns, to wherever they go. Some look at me as they walk away,
|
|
noticing my different clothes, my face. They are peasants,
|
|
uneducated and of no status, but they belong here, and they can see
|
|
that I do not. They look at me with distaste as they pass and I try
|
|
to ignore them and look at the remaining spot of the sun. Sages have
|
|
told me that when the sun sets on Dargon, it rises over Bichu. If
|
|
that is true, then my father is waking now, and remembering that I
|
|
am gone. It has been a year since I left Bichu in disgrace. For a
|
|
year my family has been shamed, my father without an heir. I fled
|
|
from honor, and my life becomes more intertwined with this place
|
|
every day. So my father awakes and begins a second year of sorrow
|
|
and shame. His shame feeds on my own and feeds it in turn. How can I
|
|
ever go home?
|
|
|
|
The tavern is called Grey Talka's. It is an ugly place, near the
|
|
warehouses and the docks, noisy and full of smoke, smelling of vomit
|
|
and cheap ale. I sit alone at a table in the corner, my swords
|
|
beside me for the people here are not to be trusted. A maid brings
|
|
me a tankard of ale and I examine it for a moment, then dump the
|
|
contents on the floor, carefully clean it with my sleeve and return
|
|
it to her. "Another," I say, "this mug." She says nothing but
|
|
returns with it to the long table where the keeper has set up his
|
|
barrels. In Bichu a hosteler so insulted would either seek a
|
|
champion to defend his reputation or close his tavern. Here, so long
|
|
as I pay for the slop, I may pour it wherever I wish.
|
|
The barmaid returns with my ale and collects her copper, saying
|
|
nothing. The ale is bitter and poor. I drink it in large gulps,
|
|
shaking my head to fight it, and order another. Time passes.
|
|
"Mo iti do itte!"
|
|
The barmaid does not come, and the men at the other tables
|
|
glance at me, their eyes nervous behind their dullness. I realize
|
|
that I have spoken in Bichanese. "Bring me another!" I lean forward,
|
|
resting my elbows on the table; my head is heavy so I rest it in my
|
|
hands. I'm weary of this land, its coarseness and barbarism. Decent
|
|
men are so rare here that when they discover one they murder him
|
|
from a place of concealment with crossbows. Their honor is blood in
|
|
the table linens.
|
|
The barmaid must be frightened of me, for the keeper himself
|
|
brings my ale. He doesn't set it down, but demands three coppers
|
|
instead of one, hoping I will leave. Several men have gathered in a
|
|
nervous group near the kegs, waiting. His ale isn't worth three
|
|
coppers, but neither is it worth one, and I have no intention of
|
|
being intimidated by these peasants. I take a Bichanese crown from
|
|
my pouch and let it glitter on the table.
|
|
"You'll bring me as much as I ask for and leave me alone, won't
|
|
you?"
|
|
He looks at the flash of gold for a moment, then snaps it up and
|
|
sets down the tankard with a muttered "Of course, milord." He goes
|
|
back to his kegs and argues quietly with the others.
|
|
After that word circulates that I'm not the street character
|
|
they took me for; I have money. A few even consider taking me. I see
|
|
them sizing me up, trying to appear dangerous. Meeting their gaze is
|
|
enough to send them slinking back to their tables like rats.
|
|
Crude beasts in a land of animals! I stand on the seawall to be
|
|
upwind of them.
|
|
|
|
When I can stand the tavern smell no longer I flee into the
|
|
darkness of the streets, but the streets stink as well. The entire
|
|
filthy city stinks, like the unwashed people, their disgusting
|
|
rotted meat, their uncivilized habits. Even the ones who attempt to
|
|
be civil cannot overlook their delusions of superiority. "We'll
|
|
teach you to dance in our fashion, Lord Ichiya," with the slightest
|
|
nuance of mockery on the honorific. "I've learned your language from
|
|
reading your poets," he says, speaking like an addled child,
|
|
disappointed when I do not fall at his feet in gratitude. I hate
|
|
Dargon.
|
|
I've admitted it and the hatred flows through that crack and
|
|
washes over me like a flood. Even drunkenness here is low. Instead
|
|
of freeing the spirit, it drags me down into the filth in the
|
|
gutters. I walk rapidly through streets unfamiliar in the night,
|
|
trying to find some clean place but there is none here, not in the
|
|
street, or in the dishonor of the people. "Bastard dogs!" I shout at
|
|
the dark, crumbling buildings in Bichanese, then "Zyatai an!"
|
|
lapsing into Bichoi, the lower class dialect of peasants and
|
|
beggars. Perhaps they will understand this.
|
|
"Koshaddan! Tokodoshi esuna ko!" The hoarse cry echoes in the
|
|
abandoned street and I laugh. I can imagine my mother hearing me,
|
|
learning that I know such language. I can see the look on her face,
|
|
as if I had greeted guests by pissing in their teacups.
|
|
It has been a year since I saw my mother and thieves prowl these
|
|
streets. I had scarcely left the ship when they began hurling
|
|
themselves at me clumsily from the dark. With Roissart and Luthias
|
|
they came and countless other times, as if this land itself feels my
|
|
alienness and reacts with all the violence it spawns. But I can
|
|
resist Dargon for there is violence within me as well.
|
|
Around me, in the darkest corners of the alleys, furtive shapes
|
|
move when they think I don't notice. No one moves through these
|
|
reaches of the city unobserved at night. But these see my swords and
|
|
move with caution. I realize that I have ceased my shouting and the
|
|
fire moves in my blood with more than the ale. I sense their
|
|
brutality, ebbing and flowing like the tides and I find some part of
|
|
me that needs it.
|
|
I begin to call to the inky shapes like a lover. I sing old
|
|
Bichanese drinking songs, anything at all. I weave in my steps as
|
|
the drunkenness crests within me. For a block they shadow me, and
|
|
more. "Why are you waiting?" I cry in Bichoi, "I am foolish with
|
|
drink and my purse is heavy." Come to me now, now.
|
|
They come, two figures, weaving toward me, running from behind
|
|
me, one at each quarter. They hold their swords reversed, their
|
|
bodies curled around them. From that grip they will slash upward
|
|
from their left then thrust down. I step, step, one more then one
|
|
leg wavers under my weight and I stagger. Then, as my katana feels
|
|
the fire as well and leaps into my hand with a metallic singing,
|
|
time expands into the montage of battle. There is the sharp cry of
|
|
the duellist and the right foot planted behind for the spin. The tip
|
|
of a sword nicks my clothing as I spin away from it and I can feel
|
|
my blade moving like a part of myself. The clatter of a parry and I
|
|
continue my spin. Even drunk I can take these fools apart.
|
|
I luxuriate in the force of my body's motion, the kinesthetics
|
|
of the sword. A dark form before me as I complete the turn and my
|
|
left hand completes its following arc and slaps against the lower
|
|
menuki, fingers wrapping around the base of the hilt. The hand
|
|
shifts the balance of the sword and I hold my breath, feeling the
|
|
descent. And then the bite of the steel. The ecstasy of it! The
|
|
bite, oh, the bite.
|
|
|
|
Dim light brings the morning and the wind is chilling. I am on
|
|
the floor of my rooms, drenched in sweat. I have committed murder.
|
|
The watchmen who came soon after, drawn by the commotion, saw dead
|
|
thieves and an acquaintance of Lord Dargon, and did not hold me. But
|
|
I know the truth. There is no honor in inviting attack from an
|
|
inferior fighter to justify a killing. There is only shame,
|
|
cowardice, weakness.
|
|
It's strange how little a moment of shame leaves of life. Once
|
|
there was family, honor. Now there are only disjoint snippings from
|
|
time, not unlike the way of a battle. The trunk with my belongings,
|
|
opened less frequently every day. The remaining length of unused
|
|
rice paper tucked under one arm, flashes of street life around me as
|
|
I walk toward the harbor. Fishsellers, marketwomen, apprenticed boys
|
|
running on the errands of their masters as if nothing has happened.
|
|
Near the docks I discover a bowl of fish stew in my hand, the
|
|
stewmonger expecting payment. I give him my purse.
|
|
Then there is only myself, the sun rising behind me, the wind,
|
|
the seawall and the nervous tossing of the sea. There is only one
|
|
way to remove a stain such as this. I wonder if my parents across
|
|
the ocean will feel the sting of the blade.
|
|
I kneel on the seawall, the end of the ricepaper beneath my
|
|
knees to keep it from blowing away in the wind. My katana weights
|
|
the other end. I watch my hands wrap a length of cloth cut from my
|
|
sleeve around the blade of the shorter wakizashi, once, twice, three
|
|
and then four times. Then I hold the blade, one hand ginger on the
|
|
cloth wrapping, the other butted against the hilt. When I was born
|
|
my father expected only that I would carry the name of our family a
|
|
step or two forward and not do it dishonor. I have done nothing
|
|
else. I have fled from a challenge to the family name to this
|
|
forsaken place, and I cannot even uphold the basic tenets of honor
|
|
here, in a place without honor. Oh father, how I have shamed you,
|
|
how I've shamed myself!
|
|
There is only one way to undo the violence I have done to the
|
|
reputation of clan Ichiya. Enough stalling, enough wallowing in the
|
|
magnitude of my shame. A flash of courage to cleanse it. A stillness
|
|
comes over me. Honor welcomes the intention to restore it and helps
|
|
quiet the fear. The sounds of the town around me fade away and I
|
|
breathe shallowly, in time with the rhythmic beat of the surf
|
|
against the seawall. With the next wave, the surge of strength
|
|
through my arms, and then peace. It comes. The water climbs, foaming
|
|
white, the pitch of it rising, and then it crashes with a tremendous
|
|
booming sound against the seawall. The muscles of my arms tense and
|
|
move.
|
|
And in the next instant I fall sideways, knocked over by some
|
|
impact. There is pain, and grating of flesh against stone. For the
|
|
briefest moment I am confused, like one just waking from a vivid
|
|
dream. Then I see a body, on hands and knees over my legs, having
|
|
dived into me from the right. Rage floods through me instantly, as
|
|
if it has always been there. The ignorant brutes can't even keep
|
|
from interfering in my most private moments! I kick his chest with
|
|
both legs, knocking him away so that he rolls back until he is a
|
|
pace away from me and seated in a clumsy sprawl. As quickly I roll
|
|
forward to my knees and move after him. The wakizashi's wrapping
|
|
begins to unwind and trail behind the blade like the tail of a comet
|
|
as I raise it sideways, holding it over my head for the quick slash
|
|
downward. As I loom over the man he moves forward, pride and
|
|
ferocity in his bearing. He snaps his head back to expose the vital
|
|
areas of the throat and barks "Ko choro an!"
|
|
"Do what you must."
|
|
The ritual words stop me as if paralyzed, frozen in attack
|
|
posture, the wakizashi still held overhead. The cloth still hanging
|
|
from the blade waves in the wind. I recognize the face of the
|
|
stewmonger, eyes locked into my own. He is frightened, but he does
|
|
not move. There is an instant to wonder how he comes to know our
|
|
customs so well. Then he says the words again, softly this time and,
|
|
unlike that damned fool of a chronicler perfectly, with no trace of
|
|
accent. "Do what you must."
|
|
He is right. I have murdered; I cannot expunge their blood with
|
|
my own. In death there is escape, but the situation remains behind.
|
|
It is only an escape, the apotheosis of self-pity. There is no honor
|
|
in death to avoid responsibility. The realization is painful.
|
|
Something I have been taught since childhood is a lie, but the
|
|
stewseller is right! Honor requires the facing of responsibility,
|
|
living with it, dealing with it. I will do what I must. I will go on.
|
|
There is a clatter as the wakizashi falls from limp fingers to
|
|
the stone. I fall forward, sobbing like a child and he draws me in
|
|
and holds me silently. It's a hard thing; nothing has seemed to take
|
|
on such scope before. Life had always seemed so brief a thing.
|
|
When we rise to our feet there is blood, soaking my clothing,
|
|
dripping into the crumpled length of rice paper. The blade of my
|
|
wakizashi has slashed my side during the aborted thrust and my fall.
|
|
Working quickly and efficiently the stew seller bandages it with the
|
|
cloth from the blade. He is a man of many talents, my rescuer. I
|
|
wonder why he contents himself selling fish stew on the docks.
|
|
From a pocket he takes my coin pouch and returns it to me. "If
|
|
my stew is so bad, I shouldn't charge so much for it." A light
|
|
comment, denying the seriousness of the incident. He is telling me
|
|
that the matter is closed. I bow deeply and he returns the bow, then
|
|
turns and walks back toward his cart.
|
|
I retrieve my swords and return them to their place. Suddenly
|
|
freed, the bloody length of rice paper whips away in the wind. It is
|
|
carried over the harbor for perhaps the length of a ship before
|
|
fluttering down to float on the surface of the water. My blood soaks
|
|
into the water, and the outgoing tide carries it toward distant Bichu.
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
1 Inquiries
|
|
by John Doucette
|
|
(b.c.k.a JDOUCETTE@UPEI)
|
|
|
|
The guards at the end of the hall immediately snapped to
|
|
attention upon noticing the black-robed figure approaching. Although
|
|
the robes the individual wore hid all distinguishing features, the
|
|
guards recognized who it was without so much as a second glance. It
|
|
was fear, and a little common sense, that dictated their gesture of
|
|
respect. Unpleasant things happened to those who displeased this
|
|
man. The fact that their lord held this dark figure's abilities in
|
|
high regard also warranted some display.
|
|
He stopped at the doors to Lord Myros' study and waited, arms
|
|
clasped within the sleeves of his velvet-soft robes, as one of the
|
|
guards entered the study to inform his master of his guest's
|
|
arrival. A moment later, the guard exited the study. "My Lord Myros
|
|
will see you now," he announced in a deep voice. Without so much as
|
|
a gesture of acknowledgement, the visitor entered.
|
|
It was a moderately sized study, but it more than made up for
|
|
its lack of space with the quality of the collection of books Lord
|
|
Myros had acquired over the years. There were first editions of some
|
|
of the finest books dealing with the art of war, and second or third
|
|
editions of books dealing with such varied topics as governing,
|
|
economics, and literature.
|
|
In the center of the room sat a round oak table of the finest
|
|
quality and around this were placed five exquisite high-backed
|
|
chairs upholstered in dark purple velvet. A fireplace set in the
|
|
wall opposite the entrance to the study was happily alight with a
|
|
fire that was just now beginning to burn down. The candles in the
|
|
candelabras were extinguished, thus casting the room into dancing
|
|
shadows made by the firelight.
|
|
Lord Myros sat in a sixth finely crafted chair by the fireplace,
|
|
sipping brandy. He made sure that he and his visitor were alone
|
|
before speaking. "Well, Celeste," he said, staring into the
|
|
fireplace, "are the rumors true?"
|
|
Celeste regarded Myros for a moment before answering. In his
|
|
early forties, Myros looked like a man ten years his junior. His
|
|
trim, fit body bore the scars of a lifetime of battle. Myros had
|
|
long since lost count of the skirmishes and petty wars he had fought
|
|
in. His blond hair was cut close in the military style. His blue
|
|
eyes could be alive with emotion one moment, and as cold as ice the
|
|
next. He was known for his ruthlessness towards his enemies, and his
|
|
generosity towards his friends. A valuable ally, Celeste thought. Or
|
|
a dangerous enemy.
|
|
"I don't have all night," he said sharply.
|
|
"Yes, my lord," she replied. "I was merely sorting out pertinent
|
|
facts. To answer thy question, my lord, Baranur is rife with talk of
|
|
an impending Bichanese invasion. The general consensus among the
|
|
king's advisors is that Baranur should attack Bichu first before
|
|
Bichu's forces are concentrated. King Haralan hath been giving this
|
|
line of reasoning serious thought--"
|
|
Myros laughed uproariously. "The fool! The Bichanese will cut
|
|
him to pieces!"
|
|
"If I may continue, my lord," she said icily. Celeste was not
|
|
fond of interruptions. "There are two in Baranur who advise against
|
|
attacking Bichu. The first is Duke Clifton Dargon. His Grace
|
|
believeth most strongly that Bichu would never attack Baranur in the
|
|
face of that nation's powerful navy. He also hath an earnest desire
|
|
to avoid war. The second is Haralan's Knight Commander, Sir Edward
|
|
Sothos. Sir Edward thinks it ludicrous to attack Bichu for purely
|
|
military reasons, not the least of which is the unenviable task of
|
|
supplying an army so far from home."
|
|
"The combined efforts of both of these powerful and respected
|
|
men, particularly Duke Dargon, hath thus far prevented any conflict."
|
|
"So Edward is Haralan's Knight Commander, eh?" Myros muttered to
|
|
himself.
|
|
"You said something, my lord?"
|
|
"Nothing of importance. What of Bichu? What are they planning?"
|
|
he asked.
|
|
"Regretfully, my lord, my scrying powers cannot reach such a far
|
|
off land. Only the Bichanese know what they are planning."
|
|
Myros rose and began pacing, pondering possible courses of
|
|
action. After several minutes of this, he set his brandy down on the
|
|
table and turned to face Celeste. "I think it's time we paid a visit
|
|
to Baranur. I'd like to see how my dear friend Edward is faring. You
|
|
will come as well, of course."
|
|
"Of course, my lord," she said. Both knew that the price Celeste
|
|
would ask would be high.
|
|
|
|
Baroness Elaine Myros strolled the battlements in the warm Yuli
|
|
breeze. She paused in her wanderings to take in the beauty of the
|
|
sunset. The cloudless sky was crimson red. Elaine had never seen the
|
|
sky this color. What does it portend? she thought.
|
|
"There you are, my dear," Baron Myros said.
|
|
She whirled around, a startled look on her face. "Corneilious!"
|
|
she said. "You frightened me!"
|
|
"I apologize, Elaine. I didn't mean to. I didn't realize you so
|
|
deeply in thought. What's troubling you?"
|
|
"Nothing, Corneilious."
|
|
"Are you sure?" he asked dubiously.
|
|
"Yes," she replied. "Really darling, there is nothing wrong. I
|
|
was just enjoying the beauty of the sunset."
|
|
"Ah. Well now that that's cleared up, I have a surprise for you."
|
|
"Oh? What is it?" she asked expectantly.
|
|
"We're going on a trip to Baranur."
|
|
"Baranur? I've never heard of it."
|
|
"Not many in the Empire have. It's a country about three months
|
|
journey away. I have friends there, and I'd like to visit them. We
|
|
haven't seen each other in almost six years."
|
|
"When are we leaving?"
|
|
"In about a week. It will take that long to organize things."
|
|
"That should give me plenty of time to get ready," she said. "Do
|
|
you know much about Baranur?" she asked her husband.
|
|
"Some," he said. "Why don't we go to the study and I'll see if I
|
|
have any books dealing with it?"
|
|
"You should," she said with a smile. "You have a book on just
|
|
about everything."
|
|
Myros laughed. "Shall we?" As the sun dipped below the
|
|
mountains, Myros and his wife descended the steps to the courtyard
|
|
arm in arm.
|
|
|
|
Others were discussing Myros' planned visit to Baranur. An hour
|
|
previously, Celeste had finished gathering the spell components she
|
|
needed. Now she stood in front of a body length mirror. The mirror's
|
|
surface was a swirling, impenetrable grey mist. Celeste waited
|
|
patiently.
|
|
After several minutes, the mist gradually began to calm and then
|
|
faded entirely. The figure reflected in the mirror could have been
|
|
Celeste but for the fact that it was a man. "Cho dakh, Primus,"
|
|
Celeste said in greeting.
|
|
"Cho dakh, Celeste," he replied in a voice that was barely above
|
|
a whisper. "You have something to report?"
|
|
"Yes, Primus," she answered. "Myros plans to journey to Magnus
|
|
on the seventh of Sy."
|
|
"Magnus?" he said, a faintly surprised look on his face. "A long
|
|
journey. What dost Baron Myros wish to accomplish there?" he inquired.
|
|
"He claims he wishes to visit a friend residing there, Primus.
|
|
From his tone, this friend is more likely an enemy. I suspect that
|
|
Myros has other motives than simple revenge, Primus. Unfortunately,
|
|
I know'st not what they are."
|
|
The man in the mirror paused, considering options. Celeste
|
|
waited in respectful silence. Finally after ten minutes of
|
|
pondering, he spoke. "There is only one reason that I can determine
|
|
that would be sufficient to cause Myros to undertake such an arduous
|
|
trip. He is undoubtedly scheming some method of turning the strife
|
|
between Baranur and Bichu to his advantage. Perhaps he seeks
|
|
allies." He nodded his head as if agreeing with himself. "Our Master
|
|
must know of this. Thee hath done well, Celeste."
|
|
"I thank thee for thy praise, Primus," Celeste said humbly.
|
|
"What are your instructions?"
|
|
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Thee will go with Myros as
|
|
thee hath no doubt already agreed. Thee may even keep his money."
|
|
His smile disappeared. "Remember where thy loyalties lie, Celeste."
|
|
The mist reappeared and quickly faded. Celeste now gazed upon
|
|
her own reflection. Icy fingers of fear gripped her heart. He knows!
|
|
she thought. How could I have been so careless? She began shaking
|
|
violently at the thought of what the Primus would do to her if she
|
|
transgressed again.
|
|
I must remain calm. "Control," she repeated to herself over and
|
|
over again. Within a few minutes, to all outward appearances Celeste
|
|
radiated complete control and competence. Inwardly, she was still
|
|
terrified. She went to the table and mixed a potion that would help
|
|
her sleep, and more importantly, would cause her not to dream. She
|
|
drank her concoction and was asleep in moments.
|
|
|
|
The day dawned bright and clear. Myros stood on the balcony
|
|
overlooking the courtyard. Preparations were almost complete. Myros'
|
|
bodyguard of fifty men were mounted and ready to move out. Celeste
|
|
had arrived two hours ago. Myros and his advisors had been ready one
|
|
hour ago. Elaine said she would be ready soon. "Elaine," Myros
|
|
called. "We're ready to leave. Would you care to join us?"
|
|
"Just a few more minutes, Corneilious."
|
|
Myros was ready to scream. He was just about to pack Elaine's
|
|
things for her when he was distracted by a commotion in the
|
|
courtyard below. A messenger had just ridden through the gate and
|
|
was demanding to see Baron Myros immediately. Myros' aide was trying
|
|
to explain that he could see the baron when His Lordship was ready.
|
|
Myros let the argument continue until it came to the point when blow
|
|
were about to be exchanged.
|
|
"Jordaan," he called, "what is the problem?"
|
|
"A messenger to see you, my lord. He seems most anxious to speak
|
|
with you."
|
|
"So I gathered. Who have you come from?" he inquired of the
|
|
messenger.
|
|
"I have come from His Imperial Majesty. I have instructions to
|
|
deliver this message to you personally, Your Lordship."
|
|
"Jordaan, show our guest to my study. I shall be there shortly."
|
|
"Yes, my lord. This way, please." Myros entered his quarters as
|
|
the messenger was being shown to the study.
|
|
"A messenger has arrived from the Emperor," he told Elaine.
|
|
"The Emperor? What could His Majesty want?"
|
|
"I have no idea. I'd best go and see him. Keep packing, dear.
|
|
This shouldn't take long." Myros did have an idea of the message's
|
|
content. He hoped he was wrong.
|
|
He entered the study, his manner brisk. The messenger came over
|
|
to greet him, but Myros dispensed with pleasantries. "Let me see
|
|
it." The messenger handed him the message without comment. Myros'
|
|
worst fears were true. The Emperor had learned of his impending
|
|
departure for Baranur and had decided to appoint Myros as Ambassador
|
|
to Baranur. His Imperial Majesty commanded Myros to determine which
|
|
country should be supported in the upcoming war: Bichu or Baranur.
|
|
"I was instructed to wait for your reply, Your Lordship," the
|
|
messenger said.
|
|
"Inform the Emperor I most humbly accept." The messenger nodded,
|
|
then left Myros alone with his thoughts.
|
|
How did he find out? No one but my advisors and Celeste knew of
|
|
this. She would not betray me; she has no reason to. The cold
|
|
realization hit him that one of those in his inner circle of most
|
|
trusted advisors had to have betrayed him.
|
|
He quickly ruled out Jordaan. He is absolutely loyal to me. But
|
|
so are the others. Who is it? Celeste. She can find out. I'll have
|
|
her use her magic. I have three months before I get to Magnus.
|
|
Plenty of time. Slowly, he turned from the table and exited the room.
|
|
When Myros entered the courtyard, Jordaan noticed something
|
|
different about his liege. His eyes were like ice and his face a
|
|
stone mask. The only time I have seen him this way was when we were
|
|
in battle, he thought. What was in that dispatch?
|
|
Jordaan rode over to where Myros was mounting his horse. "Is
|
|
everything all right, my lord?"
|
|
"Fine, Jordaan. Fine. Why do you ask?"
|
|
"No reason, my lord," he replied carefully.
|
|
"Then let us be off."
|
|
"Yes, my lord." He turned in his saddle and ordered the column
|
|
to move out. Flanked by the escort, Myros' party rode out the gate
|
|
and began the long journey to Baranur.
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
1 Trial by Fire
|
|
Prologue
|
|
by M. Wendy Henniquin
|
|
(b.c.k.a. HENNEQUI_WEM@CTSTATEU)
|
|
|
|
Roisart Connall watched silently as his cousin, Clifton, Duke of
|
|
Dargon, donned elaborate Bichanese armor with the adept assistance
|
|
of Ittosai Michiya. The Castellan of Connall already was prepared
|
|
for the impending battle. Roisart's twin brother, Luthias, armored
|
|
like a hero of old, stood nearby, his sword already in his hand.
|
|
Coolly, Roisart cast an appraising eye on his cousin's armor. "It's
|
|
really beautifully-made," Roisart concluded.
|
|
"It is Bichu's finest," Castellan Ittosai announced proudly. He
|
|
finished armoring the Duke, then put on his own stout helm. "I am
|
|
ready for whatever comes," the castellan said.
|
|
Luthias nodded respectfully to his castellan, warned, "We'd
|
|
better go," and cast a nervous look over his shoulder at the white
|
|
wall. Despite the concern flooding his face, Luthias looked
|
|
brilliant, brave, like a knight in a legend. He wore his father's
|
|
battle-scarred armor and bore his family's crest into war. His
|
|
weapon, a fine steel sword, was worthy of a king. He gripped it more
|
|
firmly, ready for whatever fighting would come.
|
|
"You are right, Luthias-san," Ittosai concurred. He hefted his
|
|
katana. "This will not be an easy battle."
|
|
Nodding, Clifton reached out to his young cousin, Roisart and
|
|
grasped his shoulder. "Get the defenses ready. You'll be safe here
|
|
in Dargon Keep, but they may attack the city any day now ." A
|
|
sorrowful look swept Clifton's features. "And take care of Lauren."
|
|
I didn't know Roisart knew Lauren, Luthias thought, then
|
|
wondered at his own idea. How could Roisart not know Lauren, their
|
|
cousin's wife, the Duchess of Dargon? Roisart was at the wedding. He
|
|
must have been.
|
|
Roisart gripped Clifton's arm. "Be careful, Clifton." Roisart
|
|
released the Duke, then turned to his brother, his twin.
|
|
"Luthias..." Roisart paused awkwardly. Of the twins, Roisart
|
|
usually had an easier time with words, with expressing feelings.
|
|
Finally, he said, "Don't worry, twin. Everything will be well. I'll
|
|
take care of the Duchy, and Sable's quite capable of taking care of
|
|
our barony--and herself." Again Roisart paused, but this time he
|
|
shook his head sadly. "You should have married her. The Baron of
|
|
Shipbrook wants to marry her to Oleran now. You shouldn't have let
|
|
him have the chance; you should have married Sable yourself."
|
|
Upset that Roisart should throw this in his face, and angry that
|
|
there was nothing he could do about the situation anyway, Luthias
|
|
closed his eyes briefly. The sword trembled in his grip. "She's in
|
|
love with someone else." Fury tainted Luthias' words. "And she won't
|
|
say--"
|
|
"Come on, manling," Clifton ordered suddenly. Luthias knew that
|
|
Clifton was trying to sound light-hearted, but the words were rough,
|
|
impatient, angry. Luthias let the 'manling' go, nodded a final
|
|
farewell to his twin and joined his cousin and his castellan.
|
|
Together, the three threw open the gates of Dargon Keep.
|
|
Surrounding the walls were a hundred thousand men--the King's army.
|
|
Ittosai vanished, as if he had been merely a figure in a dream.
|
|
A knife suddenly flashed past Luthias' eyes and embedded itself in
|
|
Clifton's gut. The Duke of Dargon fled desperately, pursued by
|
|
countless, faceless soldiers. For a moment, Luthias froze so
|
|
completely that he knew it couldn't be natural; in that moment,
|
|
strong, bodiless arms secured his limbs, threw him to the hard
|
|
ground, and held him fast. He watched them; they were ripping his
|
|
chest plate with knives. Soon, blood covered his armor, and his
|
|
kinsman Clifton sprinted past, his belly wound belching blood.
|
|
Luthias tried to move to help his cousin, but the hold was
|
|
iron-strong. And there was a pain, an annoyance, a torture. The
|
|
butchers were hacking at his chest.
|
|
"Luthias, help me!" Clifton yelled, frantic.
|
|
Luthias could see him bleeding, his life soaking into the earth.
|
|
Anguished, Luthias cried, "I can't!"
|
|
"Help me! HELP ME!"
|
|
Luthias almost wept; he couldn't move, he couldn't help as the
|
|
King's guards caught his cousin and threw him to the ground. But
|
|
Clifton rose again and sprinted.
|
|
And there was pain again, horrid pain. Luthias looked at his
|
|
chest. It was open, and the butchers no longer used knives, but
|
|
their own, dirty hands. With bloodied, muddy fingers, they tore at
|
|
his ribs.
|
|
And there was no one to help but--
|
|
"Roisart!" Luthias called. "Help me! I need you!"
|
|
Somewhere above him, in the castle window, Luthias saw his
|
|
brother, no longer a healthy young man, but a specter of
|
|
death--gray-faced, two black bolts sticking from his side and chest.
|
|
The specter shook his head sadly. "I can't help you anymore, twin,"
|
|
Luthias heard his brother say regretfully, and then, Roisart, too
|
|
was gone.
|
|
"Roisart!" Luthias cried out in horror. The apparition did not
|
|
return. His physical pain increased when his anguish did; both were
|
|
now sharp. Luthias saw chunks of red fly past his eyes as the
|
|
butchers clawed at him.
|
|
And Clifton went past Luthias again, running for his life.
|
|
Desperately, Luthias struggled, but the grip was too strong.
|
|
"Clifton, run!"
|
|
"Luthias, help me HELP ME!"
|
|
"I can't reach you!" Luthias almost sobbed. "Run!"
|
|
A wave of pain claimed Luthias then, strong as thunder, sharp as
|
|
lightning. For a moment, the world before his eyes blackened. From
|
|
above, Luthias saw himself, his chest opened like a poisonous
|
|
flower, and the butchers' hands were tugging on his aorta. The veins
|
|
around his heart were stretching--THE PAIN!
|
|
The pain returned him to his body. Blood, his own blood, spurted
|
|
in his eyes. He could scarcely breathe.
|
|
"Luthias, where are you?" his cousin called from somewhere. "I
|
|
need you!"
|
|
Luthias tried to scream. The pain was incredible. He couldn't
|
|
breathe.
|
|
"Help me!"
|
|
"THEY'RE TEARING MY HEART OUT!"
|
|
Then the pain vanished, and the butchers faded as Ittosai had.
|
|
Luthias found himself looking at Sable. Her hands held his heart in
|
|
place. Luthias closed his eyes, tried to regain his strength.
|
|
"You're mine now, woman!" and the pain returned with that
|
|
declaration, made by a vaguely familiar voice. Luthias opened his
|
|
eyes. Baron Oleran--that son of a --was holding Sable, viciously
|
|
ripping her gown off, hitting her. She cried out. Blood geysered
|
|
from her temple, spilled into her hair: on a field sable, blood
|
|
gules. Oleran hit her again and laughed at her pain.
|
|
"Luthias!" she cried, trying to reach him.
|
|
Luthias tried to move, tried to help her, but the butchers were
|
|
back, playing catch with his disembodied heart. They laughed,
|
|
throwing it to each other, as it pumped Luthias' life blood onto the
|
|
dusty ground.
|
|
And then he saw Clifton, dead, his body being dissected before
|
|
the King of Baranur. Someone was binding Ittosai's arms behind his
|
|
back. Marcellon tried to cast a spell, tried to help them all, but
|
|
the magic was gone; nothing happened. Not far from Luthias' own,
|
|
stone body, Oleran beat and raped Sable. Oleran held a sword, moved
|
|
to kill her--
|
|
"Sable!" Luthias screamed, bolting to a sitting position. "SABLE!"
|
|
|
|
And Luthias awoke, sitting, gasping in reality. Frantic, his
|
|
hand felt at his chest; it was smooth, intact, and the heart still
|
|
within it beat wildly.
|
|
It was a dream, he realized, only a dream. There was no battle;
|
|
he was in the bedroom of his keep. Clifton was alive and well in his
|
|
own keep, two hours' ride away. Sable slept unharmed not forty feet
|
|
down the corridor. Ittosai, free and safe, dreamed peacefully in the
|
|
castellan's rooms downstairs. And Roisart--Roisart lay dead in the
|
|
crypts far below.
|
|
Only a dream, and nothing had changed. Roisart was dead, Luthias
|
|
was Baron of Connall, and he was alone.
|
|
No, not alone. The door to his bedchamber slammed open, and
|
|
someone bearing a pole weapon was standing, battle-ready,in the
|
|
doorway. Behind the intruder were two others, equally alert, bearing
|
|
swords.
|
|
Automatically, Luthias tensed with the reactions of a long-time
|
|
warrior. As his eyes adjusted, his hand began to creep toward the
|
|
blade kept beside his bed.
|
|
Then he recognized the closer visitor: Sable.
|
|
Luthias tried vainly to slow his breathing. To the guards, he
|
|
said, "I'm all right, men. Bad dream. Return to your posts, and
|
|
thank you." The guards exchanged a shrug, nodded respectfully to
|
|
their lord, and left.
|
|
Still panting, Luthias tried to laugh at the armed woman before
|
|
him. "Here you are, taking care of the Baron again."
|
|
The Baron of Connall again tried to slow his breathing as his
|
|
seneschal came forward and sat on the bed. She looked as if she had
|
|
been on her way to bed; her hair was partially unbound, and she was
|
|
clad in nothing but a gauzy nightdress made to be worn in the kind
|
|
of raging heat that had been eclipsing Dargon of late. As she set
|
|
her weapon against the bedpost, Luthias looked intently at her face.
|
|
She glanced around the room, as if confused.
|
|
"I thought you were being attacked," Sable said. "You were
|
|
screaming--"
|
|
Luthias scowled: pole weapon! It was a naginata, a weapon of
|
|
Bichanese origin, a gift from Ittosai Michiya to Myrande, and the
|
|
castellan had been instructing the seneschal in its use. Michiya had
|
|
told Luthias just yesterday that she was becoming quite a she-demon
|
|
with it. Oh, he understood, and it angered him. Sable had not come
|
|
only to take care of him, but to defend him, with her life. The
|
|
Baron scowled again. What the hell did she think they paid the
|
|
guards for?
|
|
Finally, Luthias sighed, half-amused, half-despairing. He
|
|
touched her hair, almost laughed. "Are you my bodyguard now, too?"
|
|
"I was closer than the guards," Myrande explained. "You sounded
|
|
like you were in trouble."
|
|
"Quit babying me," Luthias snapped defensively. "I'm strong
|
|
enough to defend myself; I don't need a woman to do it for me."
|
|
"I am your friend," Myrande returned angrily. "You would do the
|
|
same for me. And don't give me that stupidity about my being a
|
|
woman. Macdougalls says I'm a better shot than half your archers,
|
|
and with this--" she indicated the naginata-- "I could destroy seven
|
|
men together before they even got a shot at me."
|
|
Unfortunately, she was right: Macdougalls, the assistant
|
|
castellan, had praised Myrande's archery, and Ittosai Michiya had
|
|
told him already about her skill with the naginata. He shook his
|
|
head and looked at her in the moonlight: a dark, disheveled, fierce
|
|
woman, clothed in an almost indecent nightgown that clung in some
|
|
places to her sweaty skin...Luthias felt his body tense, but he
|
|
smiled, wondering if there were any woman more attractive in the
|
|
Kingdom--
|
|
And then the dream returned, and the young Baron groaned and put
|
|
his head in his hands. Sable put her hand on his hair; it was damp
|
|
with sweat from the horrid heat of reality, from the hot horror of
|
|
the dream. Gently, she stroked his head. "Do you want to talk about
|
|
it?" she asked softly.
|
|
Censoring selected episodes, such as Roisart's advice and the
|
|
later rape, he related what he could remember of the nightmare.
|
|
"Those letters really bothered you, didn't they?" she asked,
|
|
concerned. "More than you wanted to admit."
|
|
Luthias attempted to smile. "Sable, you could always see through
|
|
me."
|
|
"That isn't true," Sable claimed, moving back a little to look
|
|
at him. "And it isn't an answer, either."
|
|
The young Baron's expression changed from one of bitter
|
|
amusement to one of grim anger. "You're damn right they bothered me.
|
|
First, I'm informed by the Justices that I am now Duke's Advocate.
|
|
Now, I've got to be in Dargon City half my time, prosecuting
|
|
criminals before the Tribunal--and I'm not skilled at law. Now,
|
|
besides court time and traveling, I've got to do more reading. As if
|
|
I didn't have enough to do!"
|
|
"Don't yell at me," Sable protested. "I'm on your side,
|
|
remember? If anyone knows how hard you work, I do, Luthias."
|
|
Luthias smiled. She worked as hard--harder--than he did. "I
|
|
know, Sable, and I'm sorry. But I'm overloaded as it is, and now
|
|
this aggravation--"
|
|
"Speaking of which," Sable prompted, thinking of the second
|
|
missive that had arrived that day, "no one is better at aggravation
|
|
than my uncle."
|
|
"Yes, your stupid uncle, who never showed the slightest interest
|
|
in you now wants to arrange your marriage." Luthias' mouth
|
|
tightened. "That's bad in itself--I don't trust a man who would
|
|
throw his brother out of his barony for no reason."
|
|
"There was a reason," Myrande corrected. "He threw my father out
|
|
because he married my mother before my uncle got the chance." She
|
|
shrugged. "Doesn't matter. My father was happier being Castellan for
|
|
your father and knight to the late Duke."
|
|
"Well, he threw your father out, pretended he and your mother
|
|
and you never existed, and now, he wants to want to marry you to
|
|
Oleran--do you know what kind of man he is?"
|
|
Myrande nodded. "I've heard the rumors." There were many
|
|
rumors--nothing concrete--about Oleran, an older Baron from a
|
|
neighboring Duchy. It was said almost universally that he was a
|
|
brute, a killer, that he enjoyed others' pain, and tortured his
|
|
first wife until she died. Sable shuddered. "You know I wouldn't
|
|
marry him to save my life."
|
|
"Yes, I know," Luthias confirmed, and his voice left no room for
|
|
argument. "I forbid it."
|
|
Sable chuckled. "You forbid, Luthias?"
|
|
"I'm your guardian until you become twenty-one in Deber, and by
|
|
law and by God, I forbid it!" Luthias snapped. "I'd rather murder
|
|
Oleran and be imprisoned in the Keep for the rest of my life than
|
|
have you marry that monster."
|
|
"Don't worry," Sable advised him. She reached out and stroked
|
|
his forearm. "I won't marry Oleran, or anyone else, for that
|
|
matter--" She stopped, pulled her hand away.
|
|
"I really should arrange a marriage for you," Luthias sighed, as
|
|
if he regretted the situation. "Your uncle is right about that."
|
|
Impulsively, he grasped her small hands. "Sable, tell me who this
|
|
man is that you love. You might as well marry someone you care for."
|
|
He squeezed her hands imploringly and peered at her dark face in the
|
|
dimness. "Please...your uncle threatened to wrest your guardianship
|
|
from me."
|
|
Sable shook her head. "No. If he comes around on his own, all
|
|
will be well, but I won't beg him to love me or be forced on him, as
|
|
you seem to want, or sold to him like a horse, as my uncle prefers."
|
|
"You're too proud for your own good," Luthias accused her
|
|
angrily. "You should just tell him--"
|
|
"And gain his pity? No," Myrande answered firmly, her chin
|
|
stubborn. "I don't want your pity." She paused, as if finished, then
|
|
added, "Or--his."
|
|
"He'd be crazy if he pitied you," Luthias returned hotly. "Crazy
|
|
if he didn't accept you and marry you--"
|
|
For a wild, brief moment, it seemed like Roisart was there, and
|
|
Luthias heard his words of the nightmare: "You should have married
|
|
her yourself." Luthias sighed. The thought had crossed his mind
|
|
before. He cared for Sable, and she for him; they got along well,
|
|
and she would be an excellent Baroness. Looking at her again, in
|
|
that sheer nightgown, Luthias found the idea appealing beyond its
|
|
practical aspects.
|
|
But she would never accept him. Sable had always been proud, and
|
|
Luthias knew she would never accept his proposal, which she would
|
|
think was made out of pity. Luthias grimaced. He didn't pity her; he
|
|
loved her--she was his best friend--and he only wanted her to be
|
|
happy. And so would the man she loved. Or else.
|
|
If he could ever find out who he was!
|
|
Oh, she was impossible! Luthias sighed and decided to end the
|
|
argument. Not tonight, his head ached to much to argue with someone
|
|
as iron-headed as Sable. He forced himself to laugh, then he hugged
|
|
his seneschal. "Sable, what am I ever going to do with you?"
|
|
Sable withdrew a little from his impulsive embrace. "I'll stay
|
|
here and be your seneschal, Luthias, same as always."
|
|
"You deserve better than to be toiling like a slave for the rest
|
|
of your life."
|
|
"So do you," Sable countered, "but it seems the Tribunal won't
|
|
to let you get away with it." She drew a deep breath. "You should be
|
|
going back to sleep, Baron."
|
|
"Back to sleep?" Luthias echoed incredulously. "In this heat?
|
|
After that dream?" The Baron of Connall shook his head. "No, thanks,
|
|
Sable." He swung his legs over the side of the bed.
|
|
"Going to read in the study?"
|
|
"No, that would probably put me back to sleep," Luthias quipped.
|
|
He stretched his arms above his head. He looked at her and decided
|
|
not to look at her again until morning. He needed to move. "I'm
|
|
going to go out and beat up the pell--can't do it during the day in
|
|
this heat." He stood, looked back at Myrande's dark eyes; yes, that
|
|
was safe enough. "And tomorrow, we'll go see Clifton."
|
|
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|