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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 5
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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 3
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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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-- DargonZine Volume 5, Issue 3 10/02/92 Cir 1130 --
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-- Contents --
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Pact V Max Khaytsus Yuli 15-17, 1014
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To Be Continued Michelle Brothers
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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1 Pact
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Part 5
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by Max Khaytsus
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(b.c.k.a. <khaytsus@cs.colorado.edu>)
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Many hours passed before Aimee gathered herself and forced
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herself to look for a way out. Her father always taught her that she
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should never be afraid and running to hide in the darkness was the
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wrong thing to do. Of course neither did she want to let anyone here
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know she had seen them and Captain Koren and that she knew that they
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killed him.
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At first she ran back up the stairs to the heavy oak door and
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tried to get out, but the door was locked and banging on it did not
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help. Aimee then went back to the base of the second set of stairs, to
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hide in the maze of rooms and corridors, not far from the guards. She
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was afraid of them, but she was more afraid of the dark, far reaching
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tunnels. At least she would not get lost if she hid near the guards.
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Aimee wandered up and down the passages, looking into rooms, but
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never letting the lit corridor fall out of her sight. She heard the
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physician leave and cowered in the corner of a side corridor, afraid
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to breathe, while a pair of guards replaced the dying torches along
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the corridor. After they had all left, she again checked the corridor
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and her stash of stolen food, to make sure nothing had happened to it,
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but she was still afraid of going to look in the room where the guards
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watched Captain Koren's body.
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She was very tired now and, taking her food, Aimee retreated to
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one of the rooms in a dark corridor and fell asleep in a corner,
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wishing she had a blanket or a sheet to wrap herself in on the cold
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stone floor.
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Kalen closed the door to Captain Koren's office and took a seat
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in the chair before the desk. Across from him sat Ilona Milnor,
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surrounded by piles of paper.
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"It's my shift," he said when she looked up.
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She nodded. "We need to talk."
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They had not seen each other for almost a full day now, ever
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since the last shift change between them. There was a lot of work to
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be done, perhaps too much. In the last day alone there were two
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murders, one of a man suspected of being an employee of Liriss and
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another of a now dead merchant who ventured out a day before the rest
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of his caravan was due to leave. His two horses, wagon, goods and even
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clothes had disappeared and his body was simply left to lie in the
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road, not a quarter league from the guard gate.
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There was also the usual rash of fights and thefts and a priest
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who showed up early in the morning, saying he had found a dead rat
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floating in his pool of golden water. Above all, Aimee Taishent was
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still missing and after so much time, foul play was suspected. The
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guards, who were already on extra long shifts, were forced to spend
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more time looking for the girl. Jerid himself had not slept at all and
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did nothing but continue to question people who had seen her and
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dispatching guards to check all possible leads.
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Ilona brushed her hair back, looking through the papers on the
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desk. "It's been a busy day," she then got up and walked over to
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Kalen. "You look like you haven't slept."
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"I did," he answered, "a little. Sergeant Griebel and I searched
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the outside of the town wall earlier."
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"Kalen! That's a couple of leagues!"
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"I know," he agreed, "but Jerid will kill himself if we don't
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help. I also spoke with Dyann and he has an idea that he said he'll
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try tonight."
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Ilona sat down in Kalen's lap and put her arms around him. "I
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don't think Aimee was kidnapped."
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"What?" Kalen tried to look at her, but Ilona did not release the
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embrace.
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"I saw Liriss last night," she said, "right after I transferred
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the shift to Caisy. Liriss asked me to help him. He said he suspects
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one of his lieutenants of trying to ruin him, by setting him up. He
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claims he never gave the order to kill Koren, nor did he send the note
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or the gem."
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"Do you believe him?" Kalen asked, again putting his arms around
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Ilona.
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"I don't know...he was surprised when I mentioned the gem and the
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note. I think there might be something here."
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"But if that's true, all it means is that he didn't kidnap Aimee.
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Someone else could have."
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"I just have the gut feeling that she wasn't kidnapped," Ilona
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said. "Other things would have happened by now if she had been..."
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"Who would be setting Liriss up?" Kalen tried a different
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approach to the problem.
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"Just about any living being in Dargon. It's not like he's well
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liked."
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"I'd suspect there's someone on his side," Kalen said. "He can't
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be so desperate as to run to us!"
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"Well, a woman delivered the message to me," Ilona said. "I guess
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she's one of his whores, so Madam Tillipanary is probably still with
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him. I would guess Kesrin is also loyal, even though Liriss doesn't
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want to believe that."
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"You're probably right," Kalen said. "Maybe we can use this to
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our advantage."
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"How?" Ilona asked. "I'm in good with Liriss. I'd rather not have
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to start this over."
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"If we could only bring them all down..." Kalen thought out loud.
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Ilona hugged him tightly. "What if we help him now...?"
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"I knew I saw him here," the maid smiled, picking Karl up from
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where he slept in the alcove by the heavy oak door leading down into
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the castle dungeons. She brushed off the dust the puppy managed to
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pick up off the spotlessly clean floor and handed him to Dyann
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Taishent.
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"Thank you, my girl," the mage accepted the puppy.
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"I sure hope you find your granddaughter, sir," the maid bowed
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and left to resume her duties.
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Dyann looked Karl, who licked his nose, over and took him to the
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kitchen where Corambis and Thuna were preparing for the enchantment.
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It was late already, but Aimee had gone missing for well over a day
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and Dyann was not going to lose more time while the guards beat all
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the bushes around town.
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Although it was almost midnight, there were still people in the
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kitchen, cleaning up from the previous day, preparing things for the
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next.
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"Blast it, woman," Corambis snapped. "I know it's late and you
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just washed it, but I want that pot!"
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"Sage, I warn you," the elderly matron declared, "if I come down
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tomorrow and the pot is dirty, I'll have your hide!"
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"You will be more than welcome to try," Corambis said, taking the
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clay pot from the woman. "Thuna, get me those herbs and some water."
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Dyann submerged Karl in a prepared bath while looking at the
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exchange and smiled.
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"Goodness, what are you doing to that dog?" the cook exclaimed,
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having finished with Corambis.
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"We shall be cooking him, madam," the sage snapped and held the
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clay pot out for Thuna to fill with water.
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"You will do no such thing!" the woman declared. She looked
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around, then picked up a large roller and looked menacingly at the two
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men. "I will not have the two of you cooking dogs in my kitchen!"
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"Relax, madam," Dyann said firmly. "The dog will not be harmed.
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He is the subject of our enchantment to find my granddaughter." With
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those words he wrapped Karl in a towel to dry him off. The puppy
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struggled, but soon settled down to the rubbing and scratching he
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received and produced a yawn.
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"Here are the herbs," Thuna put a bag before Corambis.
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"Very good," the sage approved. "Dyann?"
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"Thuna, would you hold Karl?" the mage asked and as soon as she
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took the dog from him, stepped past the cook to help Corambis with the
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preparations. "Be careful not to let him leave the towel," he added as
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Thuna adjusted Karl in the bundle.
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The two elderly men carefully measured a batch of herbs, mixed
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them in a clay pot with some water, then filtered the brew into a
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shallow dish and offered it to Karl, who started lapping at the
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liquid.
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"Am I glad I'm not a dog!" Corambis sniffed the pot with the wet
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herbs.
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Dyann also took a sniff. "We made it a little strong."
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"So much the better," Corambis muttered. "It will make the dog
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more sensitive."
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The two men waited until Karl finished the brew and stopped
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licking the dish. Dyann took out a tunic Aimee had left lying on the
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floor of her room and let the puppy sniff it. Karl was already very
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familiar with Aimee's scent, but the tunic and the potion were used to
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reinforce the smell and make him more sensitive.
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Dyann took the dog from Thuna and went into the corridor.
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"Wash the equipment," Corambis instructed Thuna and followed his
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friend out.
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Dyann put Karl on the ground and the two men stood over him,
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looking down. "Karl, go find Aimee," Dyann finally said.
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The puppy looked up at him and yawned.
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"Karl!" Dyann warned. He rubbed the tunic in Karl's face again
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and gave him a push. "Go find Aimee!"
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Karl stood up, but did not budge.
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"He's not a bloodhound," Corambis sighed, "and he's too young to
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understand what we want."
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"He's stubborn just like Aimee," Dyann said, slapping the dog's
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behind. "Get going!"
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Karl let out a yelp and took off down the corridor, quickly
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outdistancing the two elderly men.
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"Well, now you've done it," Corambis sighed. "He'll find her and
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lose us."
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The two men hurried down the corridor after the puppy. After some
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twists and turns they reached the great hall and stood there, looking
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puzzled.
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"Which way?" the mage muttered to himself.
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Corambis pointed in the direction of the exit. "He might have ran
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out."
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"Or back to the kitchen," Dyann pointed down the great hall,
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where it forked.
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"Let's check with the guards first," Corambis suggested and the
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two men went to the castle entrance to question the men.
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The two sleepy soldiers on duty could do little more than shrug.
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If there was a puppy that ran out past them, they had not seen it.
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"...but the gates are closed," one of the men assured Dyann. "The
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dog won't be able to leave the castle."
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"Great," the mage worded and the two men went back inside.
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"We should have tagged him," Corambis said, "or at least found
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some rope to put him on."
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Dyann nodded. "Let's check the kitchen and if he's not there,
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we'll get some torches and look outside."
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"Let's do that," Corambis agreed.
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The two men walked up the steps leading out of the great hall
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when the maid who had helped Dyann find Karl earlier stopped them.
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"Sirs, did that lazy mutt help?"
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Dyann shook his head. "That lazy mutt ran off soon after you
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found him."
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"Oh, sir, I'm sorry," the woman apologized. "I had sincerely
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hopped you'd be able to find the girl. The puppy I just saw sleeping
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by the dungeon door, just like earlier. He probably just found a cool
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spot on the stone, where the draft is."
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"Who is it?" Ilona asked over the sound of the rapid knocking on
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the door of her apartment.
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"Ovink," a male voice coughed. "Lord Liriss wishes to see you."
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It was a voice familiar to Ilona -- she had brought him in for
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questioning a number of times -- but it was also the middle of the
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night. "Do you realize how late it is?" she asked.
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"Yes, but I was told not to return alone."
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"All right, then. Wait."
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Ilona quickly dressed, strapped on her belt and sword and left a
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note on her table for Kalen. It read:
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`Ovink came for me. I will return by mid-day.'
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She folded the note and left it on the desk, right under the ink
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bottle.
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"All right, let's go," Ilona opened the door.
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Instantly two men rushed in, knocking her off balance. They
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wrestled her down to the floor and tied her arms behind her. From the
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other room Ilona could hear sounds of a struggle and Tara yelling
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something at the men.
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"Let her go!" Ilona struggled against her attackers, forcing one
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man to lose his grip on her. She swung her legs, knocking him off
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balance and he crashed down to the floor.
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Ovink appeared above Ilona, holding a dagger. "I'd hate to have
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to cut you prematurely, Lieutenant," he smiled viciously in warning.
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Ovink was well known for his bad temper and sadistic streak, in
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contrast to Cissell's cool arrogance and Kesrin's politeness. She
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stopped struggling as he brought the knife a little closer to her neck
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and his smile deepened.
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"Good. Tie her legs." The dagger did not leave Ilona's neck. It
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slid slowly up to her jaw and then along it to the back of her head.
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The blade left behind a cold trail that Ilona could not identify --
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was it blood or just her imagination? The men continued to fumble with
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the rope and Ilona did not dare breath so long as Ovink stood over
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her.
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"That's a good soldier," the brigand chuckled, getting up and
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hiding the dagger before Ilona could see if it was stained with blood.
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She could still feel the lingering chill on her jaw and neck. A drop
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ran down her throat and dripped off to the floor. Sweat or blood? She
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could not tell by Ovink's reaction, but guessed that it had to be
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sweat. If he drew blood, he would do more than just stand and watch
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the men tie her.
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"What do you want?" Ilona asked. "Why did Liriss send you?"
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"To be honest," Ovink's smile grew wider, "Liriss didn't send me.
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You see, Liriss needs your help. On the other hand, many of us want to
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see him hang...and you're a good device to get the wind blowing."
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Two more men brought out Tara, tied and wide eyed.
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"Let her go, Ovink," Ilona insisted. "She's just a girl."
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"Don't worry about her," the cutthroat fingered his dagger. "She
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won't be joining you. She's young enough to get a good price on the
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market. Perhaps even in Beinison, as soon as they win the war."
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Ilona kicked her tied legs at him, but did not have the reach to
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hit.
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"Take her to the blocks," Ovink ordered. "And take the girl to
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the pits."
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One of the men stuffed a rag into Ilona's mouth, managing to
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avoid getting bit. A bag was placed over her head and she was wrapped
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in a blanket.
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There was little Ilona could do in the way of struggling against
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two full grown men while tied and blind and for the time being had to
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accept her fate of being loaded onto a wagon. She was glad that she
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left the note for Kalen and that she directed it at Ovink, not Liriss.
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If need be, it would save a lot of time and perhaps her life.
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She hoped she would live through Ovink's plans, anyway.
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"Where's Aimee?" Dyann demanded of Karl. The puppy lay stretched
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out on the floor by the heavy oak door leading to the old castle
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dungeon, his black eyes looking up at the mage.
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"I know you know what I want!"
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Karl buried his face under his paw.
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"Oh, for Sevelin's sake!" Dyann stood up. "This will never work!"
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"We'll find her," Corambis assured Dyann. "We just have to use
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better methods."
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"What better methods?" the mage grumbled. "This was the best
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one!"
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"Well," Corambis thought, "you know, I did a casting yesterday
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while waiting for Madam Labin to come for her second casting and the
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future showed no change. I did the same casting on Clifton and again
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on Koren. I had Clifton on fire and Koren on water. And that's wrong!"
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"That could be interpreted either way," Dyann said. "It's easy
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going for Koren -- he's dead now -- and Clifton's in the middle of a
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war."
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"But that's now, not down the road!" Corambis protested.
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"For all we know the war will last years," Dyann retorted.
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"That's not a problem with castings."
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"But that's wrong," Corambis stressed. "You know how the table
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works."
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"It has a mind of its own, you said so yourself."
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"Through three castings?"
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"Well..." Dyann scratched his head. "It could be a minor mana
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shift."
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"In Dargon? Goodness, no," Corambis said. "There hasn't been one
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for ages, not since the Fretheod ruled!"
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"Then we're probably due for one."
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"That and Stevene's return," the sage grumbled. "I tell you
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there's nothing wrong with the casting. What's wrong is that
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something's going on that we don't know about."
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"Perhaps," Dyann agreed, "but what worries me now is that the
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potion didn't work. We made it together. It wasn't wrong."
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"Well, we had a clay pot," Corambis said. "If it was made of red
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clay..."
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"It wasn't," Dyann interrupted. "You yourself looked. It was
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brown as mud."
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"What then? What are we missing?"
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"We're becoming senile, my friend," Dyann laughed.
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"Indeed," Corambis said.
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Dyann shook his head, "and when looking for Aimee of all people!"
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"Come," Corambis pulled his friend away from the puppy. "Let's
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try something else. Let's try some real magic."
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Tara fought the ropes that bound her hands. If she could only
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free them, she could untie her feet and run. The window of this room
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was on the second floor, but it overlooked the docks and that meant
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that she could be helped by the sailors. She hoped she could be
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helped, anyway. The rope that bound her delicate hands was coarse and
|
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thick, good for holding a large man or an animal, but not enough to
|
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hold someone as small as she. At the same time, the rope was extremely
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tough, scratching her hands and making it hard for her to work herself
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free.
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She had no idea what she would do if she could get away from the
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men that kidnapped her. Run to Rish? Tara knew she could only trust
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him in this war between the mob and the town guard, but could she
|
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really safely stay in the castle? Obviously the mob's infiltration of
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the guard was great and one would have to believe that the inverse was
|
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true as well, but who could be trusted? More importantly, why had the
|
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mob turned on one of their own?
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|
When being transported, bound and gagged, Tara heard one of the
|
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men say that Ilona was no longer something that Liriss could afford to
|
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be gentle with and that she was a weight he should no longer have to
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carry, whatever that meant. It sounded like she did something he did
|
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not like and would now have to pay for it. Tara always liked Ilona,
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since that day she met her when she had finally found her uncle. It
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was she who would go shopping with Tara and talk to her about things
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|
Uncle Glenn tried to avoid. What did Ilona do to make Liriss so upset?
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|
Whatever it was, it had to be the right thing. She always said how
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much she wanted to rid Dargon of crime. Tara struggled with the rope
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more furiously than before. If Ilona were to die before she could go
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for help, it would be her fault. She did not want to see anything
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happen to the Lieutenant, no matter what she had done.
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Tara ground her teeth into the leather gag securely tied in her
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mouth as one coarse loop of rope slipped off her hand. `One more,' she
|
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thought, `one more loop and I'm free.'
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|
It was obvious to Tara why she was taken. She was a witness to
|
|
Ilona's kidnapping, but having had a chance to sort things out in her
|
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head, Tara could not believe that Ilona had sold out to Liriss. Why
|
|
then did she plead for Tara's release and did not once ask to be
|
|
released herself? What good would it do her if Tara could identify her
|
|
as a member of the mob? Perhaps Rish was right when he said not to
|
|
trust anybody, but Tara could not bring herself to believe that such a
|
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good friend was responsible for the death of her uncle.
|
|
With one last effort, Tara pulled her right hand out of the ropes
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and having brushed the lose coils off her left arm, proceeded to untie
|
|
her legs. She still did not know where she would go. All she knew was
|
|
that Rish was suspicious of everyone and that Ilona knew more than she
|
|
let on, but there were others in town who might be able to help.
|
|
Lieutenants Darklen and Taishent could be helpful, as could her
|
|
uncle's neighbors, Doctor Savitt or Madam Labin. They were of noble
|
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birth and could not possibly be involved in any sort of crime.
|
|
The rope on her legs was off and Tara was quick to remove the
|
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gag. It skipped across the room and hit the opposite wall with a wet
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squishing noise.
|
|
The dirty window, covered with soot and tar on the edges where it
|
|
was sealed against the elements, was very small, but not too small for
|
|
Tara. She looked out through the torn waxed paper for the sailors she
|
|
had seen before, when first brought into the room. She carefully tore
|
|
away more of the paper covering the window and looked down. All that
|
|
was in her line of sight was a sleeping drunk, up against the wall of
|
|
the building. Tara hesitated, then tore the remaining paper off and
|
|
started climbing through the window. Just then she heard the sound of
|
|
a key being inserted into the lock.
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|
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|
Leaning back in his chair, Kesrin set his jaw, listening to Ovink
|
|
tell his story. He was contemplating his new plan, made when Liriss
|
|
received the intercepted note from the chronicler to the Captain of
|
|
the Ducal forces. Kesrin's ascent to the top had started, but it would
|
|
have to be a slow process, one step at a time. Ovink was going to be
|
|
today's step.
|
|
"...so I thought we'd keep the girl for the next time Lord Isom
|
|
is in town... If you don't mind, of course, my Lord," Ovink finished
|
|
his report.
|
|
"That will be fine," Kesrin approved. "Liriss will be happy with
|
|
the extra profit."
|
|
Ovink smiled. "Yes, Sir. I'll bet he will." Ovink appeared so
|
|
happy with his success, that Kesrin had no doubt the man would not see
|
|
the wool being pulled over his eyes.
|
|
"You did the right thing by bringing the girl. I had hopped we
|
|
could take the Lieutenant alone, but it's just as well. Her death will
|
|
give us an entrance and we can put the girl to good use as well. Just
|
|
be sure to have her out of here tomorrow. By tomorrow night this place
|
|
will be filled with guardsmen."
|
|
Ovink's smile changed to a laugh. "I like your idea."
|
|
Kesrin chuckled as well. He told Ovink that a dead member of the
|
|
town guard, and especially a high ranking member, would be a strong
|
|
incentive for the authorities to take action -- her home was already
|
|
filled with clues that would lead the guard to Liriss -- things like
|
|
the gem and the note. What he neglected to mention was that Ovink
|
|
would not have the time to leave town. "Everything is set now.
|
|
Tomorrow take the girl and your men and take a trip to Tench to sell
|
|
her. I shall abandon Liriss for a few days myself and soon we will all
|
|
be a step closer to the top."
|
|
"With your leave, Sir," Ovink stood up, "I will begin the
|
|
preparations."
|
|
"Just be sure to leave by way of the pier first thing tomorrow,"
|
|
Kesrin reminded him. "I don't want the guard to stop you if you go
|
|
through the main gate."
|
|
|
|
Ilona stirred as cold water licked at her side. She had been well
|
|
aware of her unfavorable position, chained to a large rock sticking
|
|
out of the water under a pier, with a gag in her mouth. She tried
|
|
struggling against the chains, but they were far too strong for her to
|
|
escape. At first she believed she was only being held here, but the
|
|
incoming tide made her acutely aware of the danger of drowning.
|
|
Now, as the water level slowly rose, a lot of things started to
|
|
make sense. All those unexplained drownings, sometimes one or two
|
|
every night, made sense. People whom everyone knew could swim well
|
|
being fished out of the ocean early in the morning as sailors loaded
|
|
and unloaded their ships along the docks. At times the dead men and
|
|
women had unexplained bruises on their wrists and ankles. Now those
|
|
could be explained as well.
|
|
Ilona wondered if she would live long enough to tell others about
|
|
this method of execution, or if she would die when the tide came in.
|
|
She tried working on the gag, hoping that she would be able to call
|
|
out for help, but she had little hope of that working. The gag was
|
|
tied tightly around her head and refused to budge. Besides, she was
|
|
probably right beneath Liriss' personal pier. No one would come, even
|
|
if they heard.
|
|
Perhaps if Liriss came down, Ilona mused, but she knew it was a
|
|
slim chance. He had no reason to be here. When he killed people, he
|
|
more than likely sent others to do it for him. No one at all would
|
|
find her tonight and by tomorrow it would be far too late.
|
|
|
|
As the door to the room she was in opened, Tara exerted the last
|
|
bit of effort, knowing full well that once she is out through the
|
|
window, her only path would be an uncontrolled downward plunge.
|
|
"Stop!" she heard a male voice shout. She increased her efforts.
|
|
A second later she was falling to the ground, not far from the
|
|
sleeping drunk she saw previously. She wished it had been the drunk
|
|
she had fallen on -- that way the landing would have been much softer.
|
|
"You! Stop her!" Tara heard the same voice from above her and
|
|
looked around. Except for the drunk, she was alone in the street.
|
|
"Get up!"
|
|
She looked at the man yelling down at the drunk. "Shut up and do
|
|
it yourself, you bastard!" She slowly got up off the ground, holding
|
|
on to her skinned arm. Blood dripped to the ground. To her surprise,
|
|
the brigand started climbing out the window.
|
|
Tara slowly backed away, watching him, then picked up a rock and
|
|
threw it at the man. It hit the wall, but was close enough to make him
|
|
take notice and give what he was doing a second thought.
|
|
Tara turned and bolted.
|
|
|
|
As Ovink left, Kesrin took out his dagger and balanced it on his
|
|
desk, the tip of the blade cutting into the fine wood grain. Soon he
|
|
would not need this desk anyway -- his fist came down hard on the
|
|
hilt, making the blade sink into the wood -- he would soon be using
|
|
Liriss' office. Kesrin stood up and walked over to the window. The
|
|
view. It would also change. Instead of seeing the docks and the dirty
|
|
sailors burning tar and frying fish, he would look out at the market
|
|
place. One step at a time. Today Ovink, tomorrow Liriss. In a month he
|
|
would be no less than the undisputed lord of the city. Lord of all
|
|
that his window would let him see and finally, after so many years,
|
|
his heart could finally rest for having kept the promise he made years
|
|
ago.
|
|
"Stop!" he suddenly heard Ovink's voice come through the window,
|
|
followed by a dull thud of something falling onto the boardwalk
|
|
outside.
|
|
Kesrin stepped closer to the window and looked down. A teenage
|
|
girl lay on the ground by the wall of the building, not far from a
|
|
sleeping bum. She clutched her arm as if she had hurt it in a fall.
|
|
"You! Stop her!" Ovink appeared in a window of the second floor.
|
|
"Get up!"
|
|
Kesrin chuckled sadly. This was a man Liriss trusted to do his
|
|
work?
|
|
"Shut up and do it yourself, you bastard!" the girl yelled back,
|
|
getting up to her feet. Kesrin suspected she was Captain Koren's
|
|
niece. She looked around, picked up a rock and threw it at the wall of
|
|
the building, then, with another moment of hesitation, turned and ran
|
|
down the boardwalk. Another moment passed and a crashing sound
|
|
signified Ovink falling out the window. The man quickly got up and,
|
|
limping, ran after the girl.
|
|
With a soft chuckle Kesrin turned from the window and walked out
|
|
of the room. The plan was slowly coming together. Now the last step
|
|
needed to be set into motion.
|
|
|
|
Ilona desperately fought the chain cuffs that held her arms and
|
|
legs to the stone block now submerged in the water. In the course of
|
|
the last hour the level of the ocean had risen high enough to cover
|
|
the rock completely and the water continued to rise. She knew it would
|
|
cover her soon as well. The shackles on her refused to come off as
|
|
they had for countless other people who must have died here in the
|
|
last few years. They were too well made and too strong to even think
|
|
about tearing them free.
|
|
Ilona looked up at the wooden walk of the pier above her, where
|
|
occasionally a person or two would walk by. She wanted to yell for
|
|
help, but the gag in her mouth would only make her choke on her own
|
|
spit. Nothing. There was nothing she could do, but at the same time
|
|
she refused to wait to let death come and take her. She had always
|
|
fought and this time would be no exception.
|
|
Uneven splashing of water alerted Ilona. The noises sounded like
|
|
someone walking towards her, disturbing the rhythmic motion of the
|
|
waves. She tried to raise her head to look, but a strong wave forced
|
|
her back down, making her swallow the salty ocean water.
|
|
A shadow paused over her, looking. Waiting. Ilona blinked to
|
|
clear the ocean water from her eyes. Kesrin. He looked somber and
|
|
tired, as a man ten years his senior.
|
|
"You know, it's strange what twists fate puts on our lives," he
|
|
sighed. "Just yesterday I wanted you dead, out of my way. I would've
|
|
killed you with my own bare hands, if necessary, because you were bad
|
|
for my business, but now I have to come to you for help."
|
|
Ilona continued to look at him, listening, unable to speak and
|
|
well aware of the quickly rising level of the tide. Another wave
|
|
passed over her head and lifted Kesrin off his feet.
|
|
"Something changed last night," he sighed. "I realized my life
|
|
was in danger and I could do little to help myself. What I want..." he
|
|
paced to the other side of the rock in the stomach deep water,
|
|
"...what I need is for you to help me. In exchange I will let you go
|
|
and give you evidence against Liriss. Is that fair?"
|
|
Ilona had little choice now. She was willing to promise almost
|
|
anything, including this. She nodded.
|
|
"Good," Kesrin said. "You already know it was Liriss who ordered
|
|
Koren's death. It was Ovink who kidnapped you on his orders. Ovink
|
|
will be heading out of town early tomorrow by the East Gate, taking
|
|
some men and Koren's niece to sell to slave traders in Tench. If you
|
|
capture him, he'll sell his own mother, not just Liriss." With those
|
|
words Kesrin took a chain with a key from around his neck and placed
|
|
it in Ilona's hand, leaving her to fend for herself.
|
|
"Don't forget I did this for you when the day of reckoning
|
|
comes."
|
|
He disappeared from sight, leaving behind the sound of splashing
|
|
water as he waded towards the stairs.
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 "Can you see anything ahead?" the merchant called up to the lanky
|
|
guard in the lead. His voice fell dead amid the damp moss and still
|
|
water. "Do you see the castle? Ragan?"
|
|
"No, Burgamy, I can't see the castle yet," Ragan replied with
|
|
exaggerated patience. It wouldn't do to aggravate the man who was
|
|
paying him, no matter what he thought of the heavy-set fool. "Be
|
|
careful," he warned after a minute. "There's a fallen tree in the
|
|
path. Goddam swamp."
|
|
The sound of dull splashing in the thin veneer of water fell dead
|
|
amid the dangling vines and moss. The usual tenants of the marshy area
|
|
were silent as the intruders noisily made their way through. Ragan led
|
|
his horse around the green and brown obstacle, leather armor creaking
|
|
softly over his cursing. Behind him, rich vermillion cloak dragging in
|
|
the scummy water, paced Burgamy. He paused briefly and glanced over
|
|
his shoulder at his companions.
|
|
"Are you all right, Sister Moya?" he asked solicitiously as a
|
|
woman, clad in what surely used to be a white robe, appeared out of
|
|
the ragged mist. He offered a plump fingered hand to assist her
|
|
forward.
|
|
"I am well, thank you, Burgamy," replied Moya, avoiding the
|
|
merchant's grasp. She paused to allow her mount, also white, to steady
|
|
its footing, then continued around the tree.
|
|
Burgamy made a disappointed sound deep in his throat and turned
|
|
to follow.
|
|
"She won't have you, merchant," laughed a voice from behind him.
|
|
A rakish figure in gaudy red and blue appeared beside him, a globe of
|
|
bright green trailing along like a puppy behind. "You know how those
|
|
*devout* Stevenic women are. You won't see her outside of chapel, let
|
|
alone out of her robes."
|
|
"Silence, juggler. I didn't ask your opinion."
|
|
"That's High Mage Tagir to you," admonished the mage cheerfully.
|
|
"Coming, oh great Sir Knight?" he called over his shoulder as the
|
|
merchant moved off after Moya.
|
|
"Coming, High Mage," a voice, followed by a large man clad in a
|
|
remarkably shiny breast plate and a green surcoat. He was the only
|
|
traveller not leading a horse. He paused beside Tagir. "Move it, boy."
|
|
Bringing up the rear was a fourteen or fifteen year old boy,
|
|
leading a heavy horse, a pony, and two mules. His worn tunic bore the
|
|
same crest that blazoned the shield slung over the knight's back.
|
|
"Yes, Sir Ceneham." Gindar, the squire, picked his sodden feet up
|
|
a little faster.
|
|
The motly party had been tracking around this swamp for days in
|
|
search of a lost keep that Burgamy claimed was filled with treasure.
|
|
The merchant had hired his companions for half of whatever treasure
|
|
was found, to be divided among the five as they chose. Following a few
|
|
obscure references in a an old diary he'd found, they made their way
|
|
into the marshy tracts upriver of Quiron Keep. Each had their own
|
|
reasons for coming, be they honor, adventure, or holy quest. Burgamy
|
|
didn't much care why they were there, only that they followed his
|
|
orders and abided by their half of the agreement. There hadn't been
|
|
any difficulties as yet.
|
|
"I've hit solid ground," declared Ragan out of the mist. "And the
|
|
fog clears up once you get here."
|
|
"About damned time," Burgamy muttered. "Can you see the keep?" He
|
|
laboriously climbed the little rise that elevated him a few feet above
|
|
the water line to stand beside the thin man. Behind them, the rest of
|
|
the party straggled up.
|
|
Ragan pointed to a large, shadowy lump in the growing dusk. "That
|
|
looks to be it."
|
|
Burgamy's hungry eyes devoured every curve in the indicated
|
|
direction before turning reluctantly back to his companions. "Since it
|
|
will soon be too dark to investigate, we'll camp here for the night."
|
|
The squire promptly dropped the reins of the animals he was
|
|
leading and stared pulling dry fire wood out of the oiled canvas pack
|
|
on one of the mules. Ragan's muttered "First intellegent order he's
|
|
given all week," was lost in the general bustle to set up camp before
|
|
sunset.
|
|
Following traditions set from the first day of their journey, the
|
|
squire laid out the fire, and went to tend the horses. The fire was
|
|
always lit by Tagir, as the wood was too damp to respond easily to
|
|
normal flames. Ragan staked out a perimeter while Burgamy and Sir
|
|
Ceneham rested by the dancing fire. Sister Moya had taken care of
|
|
providing fresh drinking water, since their own stores ran out a few
|
|
days ago.
|
|
She carried an iron pot down to the edge of the swamp and
|
|
collected as much water as she could. Bringing it back to camp, she
|
|
knelt beside the fire, leaning over the pot.
|
|
"We have drinking water yet, Sister?" demanded Sir Ceneham a few
|
|
minutes later, coming closer and looming over the woman.
|
|
"In God's time, Sir Knight," replied Moya placidly, not stopping
|
|
her prayers.
|
|
"I just wish God would hurry," muttered the man, pacing away,
|
|
around the fire and back behind the priestess. Realizing that his
|
|
glaring was having no effect, Ceneham went over to harass his squire.
|
|
This too was a ritual, and no one bothered to take notice any
|
|
more.
|
|
The boy took the berating in stoic silence. When you're finished
|
|
with this, do that. When you finish with that, polish my armor, and
|
|
make sure there's not a single speck of rust on it. Since coming into
|
|
the swamp, rust was Ceneham's biggest concern. By the time he'd
|
|
finished his list of orders, the water was already being made into
|
|
soup.
|
|
|
|
The ruins were silent. A coat of dampened dust layered everything
|
|
and tainted sunlight crept down the holes in the ceiling through the
|
|
remains of the second floor. The musty scent of wet stones mingled
|
|
with the smell of rotting plants. Torchlight caused the shadows to
|
|
dance against the worn stone floor and unsteady walls.
|
|
"This way," said Sir Ceneham, voice rolling out from beneath the
|
|
heavy torch. The sound of cascading chainmail echoed slightly in the
|
|
crumbling hall. He'd decided that since there might be wild creatures
|
|
holed up in the keep's remains, that he should be better armored, so
|
|
he could better protect the party. He cut an impressive figure in the
|
|
full armor; it was the first time he was able to wear the entire suit
|
|
on this little expedition without the fear of sinking into the muck
|
|
and was enjoying preening in front of the group. No one paid him much
|
|
attention.
|
|
"Are you certain, Sir Ceneham?" was the return query from behind
|
|
the light. Burgamy, with Tagir at his side, moved up next to the
|
|
knight.
|
|
"Quite certain," was the sharp reply. Because his back was to the
|
|
merchant, Burgamy couldn't see the look of contempt on his face. "I've
|
|
walked through many hallways in many keeps. This one is no different."
|
|
"Unless they changed the floor plans from the last time you were
|
|
here," teased Tagir, his magelight making him look faintly sinister.
|
|
"If you get lost, call. I'll be happy to help you out."
|
|
"Thank you, magician," said Sir Ceneham through clentched teeth.
|
|
He had to force himself to be polite to the cocksure mage. Considering
|
|
the man could kill him with a single spell or two, it was well worth
|
|
the effort.
|
|
"Can we get on with this?" Burgamy demanded peevishly. "Where's
|
|
the rest of the party?"
|
|
"Listening to you argue," said Ragan bitingly. "If there's
|
|
anything around, it's sure to know where we are."
|
|
"We haven't seen a living creature since we crossed the
|
|
drawbridge," scoffed Ceneham. "And that includes the gods cursed
|
|
insects."
|
|
"Except that squirrel Gindar tossed rocks at," observed Tagir.
|
|
"Don't swear, Sir Knight," said Moya softly. She held her robe a
|
|
few inches off the keep floor out of habit, despite the fact that the
|
|
hem was nearly black with mud. "Taking the Lord's name in vain isn't
|
|
necessary."
|
|
"I'll decide what's necessary, Sister. Where's my damned squire?"
|
|
While Gindar rejoined the party from gathering more rocks, Ragan
|
|
and Tagir started investigating deeper down the corridor. They found a
|
|
door which Ragan was busily investigating when the rest of the party
|
|
joined them.
|
|
"There seems to have been a trap set on the lock," he observed
|
|
professionally, pulling a bit of metal out of his pouch. "Opening the
|
|
door sets the trigger off. Somebody was obviously paranoid about his
|
|
privacy. It's a pretty good lock to have lasted all this time."
|
|
"Just how old is it?" asked Tagir, curiously peering over his
|
|
shoulder.
|
|
"How should I know? It's not new, that much I can tell you. Now,
|
|
if someone will push the door open, this should keep the mechanism
|
|
from triggering."
|
|
"Be careful. There might be something dangerous in there,"
|
|
whimpered Gindar. Moya put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
|
|
Cautiously, torch held high, sword drawn in in his other hand,
|
|
Ceneham kicked the door open. The worn wood crashed back on its green
|
|
brass hinges. Silence rolled in after the echo and torchlight
|
|
illuminated the damp, dusty bedroom. Off in a corner a pair of bright
|
|
black eyes watched the group enter.
|
|
"Well, there's your dangerous monster," laughed Tagir, pointing.
|
|
The creature twitched its bushy tail and cocked its head to one side
|
|
for a better view.
|
|
"A gods be damned squirrel!" swore the knight angrily. He
|
|
brandished his sword in the animal's general direction. The squirrel
|
|
sat up on its hind legs and stuffed another seed into its mouth.
|
|
"Oh, allow me to deal with it," Tagir said gleefully, making a
|
|
few slight gestures. "Wouldn't want you to strain yourself on
|
|
something so deadly."
|
|
A thin jet of fire leapt out from the mage's finger towards the
|
|
squirrel. With a surprised noise, the animal jumped and bolted for the
|
|
door, past the kneeling Ragan.
|
|
The mage laughed again, and beneath his half helm Ceneham smiled
|
|
grimly. His squire giggled. Burgamy started to search the room while
|
|
Sister Moya looked on disapprovingly.
|
|
The merchant was soon joined by Ceneham and his squire in
|
|
ransacking the remains of the room. Ever helpful, Tagir lit his light
|
|
and centered himself so that he could illuminate every corner. Sister
|
|
Moya waited patiently for them to finish. It didn't take long. Four
|
|
pieces of tarnished jewelry and a pile of dead moths later they
|
|
grouped back together by the white clad woman.
|
|
"This was a bit of a disappointment," commented Tagir. "I wonder
|
|
why the former occupant wasted so much time on a trap for such paltry
|
|
remains." He glanced casually about the room as though trying to
|
|
determine something of the former occupant from the wreackage.
|
|
"Let's try and find the real treasure," Burgamy said, pocketing
|
|
the dirty bits of gold. "We'll divide this later."
|
|
"Yes, we will," growled Ceneham darkly as the merchant walked out
|
|
past the still kneeling Ragan. "Come on, man," he added, slapping the
|
|
mercenary on the shoulder as he went by.
|
|
Ragan fell flat when Ceneham touched him.
|
|
Moya stifled a surprised scream.
|
|
"Oh, yuk," added the squire.
|
|
A short, thick bolt protruded from the back of Ragan's neck.
|
|
Quickly pulling herself together, Moya stepped up to the body.
|
|
"High Mage Tagir, if you please."
|
|
Obligingly the magician allowed his light to fall over the wound,
|
|
turning the blood a sickly shade of purple. The rest of the party
|
|
grouped around the priestess as she probed around the bolt with
|
|
skillful fingers.
|
|
"There is nothing I can do for him," she pronounced finally. "I
|
|
assume that the trap he discovered was set off, as there was no
|
|
indication of someone about to shoot him. The wound was poisoned as
|
|
soon as he was hit. Even if I could have gotten to him immediately, I
|
|
don't think I could have negated the poison."
|
|
The party was silent while the nun prayed over the body, then
|
|
Burgamy shrugged. "Means a larger share of the treasure for the rest
|
|
of you. Let's go."
|
|
Moya's head snapped around at the merchant's statement, real
|
|
anger in her usually peaceful eyes. The rest of the group walked out
|
|
of the room before she could say anything. Rather than be left alone
|
|
in the darkness, she completed her prayers and rose to leave.
|
|
"Oh, Lord, this is a difficult path You have set for me to
|
|
follow. But follow it I shall, and bite my tongue about my companions,
|
|
because I need them to complete Your holy task, to Your everlasting
|
|
glory. Go in peace Ragan." Making a gesture of blessing and another of
|
|
reverence, she followed the ragged company down the hall.
|
|
|
|
Several hours later they grouped together in the crumbling main
|
|
hall. Shafts of afternoon sunlight dribbled through the ceiling that
|
|
used to be the second story floor. No sounds beyond that which the
|
|
party made themselves could be heard.
|
|
Pickings had been lean throughout the first floor. A few pieces
|
|
of old fashioned jewelry in questionable condition and a small pile of
|
|
coins were all they had found for many hours of searching. The second
|
|
floor was in ruins and the likelyhood of finding anything of value
|
|
there without a full salvage company was unlikely. Ragged bits of what
|
|
might have once been tapestries were piled on the floor and the
|
|
furniture, not particularly stable to begin with but salvageable as
|
|
antiques, had been all but dismantled by the searchers. Burgamy was
|
|
not happy.
|
|
"If you're trying to find the main treasury," said Ceneham after
|
|
the merchant finished his stream of complaints, "then it's probably
|
|
down with the cellars and the dungeons.
|
|
"Underground?" squeaked the squire.
|
|
"Where else, you twit?" Ceneham cuffed the boy, sending him into
|
|
a little heap on the moss covered flagstones. "What's the matter? You
|
|
afraid of the dark?"
|
|
"No, my lord," Gindar mumbled.
|
|
Tagir helped the boy up. He'd shut off his light several hours
|
|
ago, pleading fatigue, and now carried a torch just like everyone
|
|
else.
|
|
"We can give the place a cursory look at least," said Tagir.
|
|
"There's enough light for that. We can investigate further if we find
|
|
something."
|
|
"That sounds like a satisfactory course of action," said Burgamy.
|
|
"All right, Sir Knight, lead the way."
|
|
Ceneham moved off and everyone fell in behind, the squire taking
|
|
up the rear.
|
|
|
|
The passage that led down to the cellars was in better repair
|
|
than the rest of the first floor. Dust covered the stairs, where wind
|
|
couldn't reach and largish rocks were scattered around like pebbles,
|
|
but the walls were intact and the steps solid. The unsteady torchlight
|
|
caused fungi and moss to glow an eerie pink.
|
|
As they rounded the final corner into a small antechamber, a pile
|
|
of rubble taller than the mage loomed up to block their path.
|
|
Apparently part of the roof had given way years ago, choking the
|
|
corridor with dust and dropping the impressive pile in the path.
|
|
Ceneham looked a little annoyed and the squire turned pale.
|
|
"And how do you propose we get past that?" Burgamy demanded,
|
|
glaring at the knight and the mage. "This was your idea." Although
|
|
ostesibly in charge of the party, the merchant was more than willing
|
|
to let someone else make the decisions so he could pass the blame of
|
|
failures off later. Ceneham glared back.
|
|
"Allow me," said Tagir, stepping forward with a flourish of
|
|
cloak. He pushed past the knight and the merchant and made a show of
|
|
rolling up his excessively full sleeves. Muttering softly, the mage
|
|
made a few obscure gestures and started shifting the rubble aside,
|
|
into smaller bundles than the amount should have been able to fit
|
|
into.
|
|
The rest of the party stepped as much aside as possible to allow
|
|
him room to work.
|
|
A pair of heavy, jagged boulders became visible as the smaller
|
|
loose debris was cleared away. Tagir ended his first spell and took a
|
|
deep breath. Moya observed him closely, out of professional curiosity.
|
|
"I'll have to shift the rock straight up to get it out of the
|
|
way," he declared. "You'll all have to move into the hall on the other
|
|
side, so I'll have someplace to put it."
|
|
"But how will we get back out?" asked Gindar, white faced.
|
|
"There will be room enough to move around the boulders once I
|
|
shift them away from one another," said the mage smugly. "Now stand
|
|
back, but be ready to run through after I move it." He began to
|
|
gesture and mutter again. After a long pause one of the stones
|
|
shuddered and began to rise. To get it clear of the intended walkway,
|
|
Tagir had to levitate the rock over his own head, which he did with
|
|
agonizing slowness.
|
|
He nodded significantly to the party as the boulder reached the
|
|
designated threshold and watched as they passed, one by one beyond
|
|
him. Turning his his attention to the place he wanted to put his rock
|
|
in, he prepared to muster more power to do it.
|
|
Then his eyes went wide as he spotted something on the stairs.
|
|
It smiled at him, winked, then flickered into something else. And
|
|
in that brief instant of Tagir's shock, he lost control of the spell.
|
|
The rock landed with heavy finality, tiny plumes of dust rising to the
|
|
ceiling. The mage's four companions stared in silent horror and shock.
|
|
Moya fell slowly to her knees and started offering the prayer for
|
|
the dead.
|
|
"What do you think went wrong?" whispered Burgamy, staring, a
|
|
little glassy eyed at the dusty stone.
|
|
"Perhaps it got too heavy," Ceneham said. "He did indicate it
|
|
would be difficult." He didn't sound very confident. Both men knew
|
|
that keeping the rock in the air was well within Tagir's powers.
|
|
"The damned squirrel is back," declared the squire abruptly.
|
|
The two men looked to where the boy pointed. Atop the boulder
|
|
that had crushed Tagir, the dark brown squirrel stared down at them.
|
|
Its tail twitched and it turned, vanishing into the shadows.
|
|
Ceneham cuffed his squire again .
|
|
"It wasn't important," he said sharply.
|
|
"I think it would be a good idea to go back up and camp for the
|
|
rest of the day," offered Burgamy hesitantly. To his surprise the
|
|
knight nodded in agreement. Ceneham touched the nun's arm with
|
|
uncharateristic gentleness to get her attention and repeated the
|
|
suggestion.
|
|
Sister Moya started, looked up, then stood.
|
|
"I think open air would be a good idea," she said quietly. "And I
|
|
feel the need for purification."
|
|
Strangely, the knight made none of his usual caustic remarks. The
|
|
four made their way back up the narrow stairway and into the
|
|
over-grown courtyard. By unspoken agreement, no one wanted to shelter
|
|
in the great hall. Their horses and pack mules were still tethered by
|
|
the remains of the fire.
|
|
"If nothing else," commented Burgamy while Moya purified more
|
|
water for the evening meal and the squire polished Ceneham's armor,
|
|
"you'll get a larger share of the treasure."
|
|
Moya actually stopped in the middle of her prayers and turned to
|
|
glare at the merchant. "That is the second time that you have said
|
|
that," she said angrily. "There are two men dead and all you can think
|
|
of is gold?"
|
|
"Sister, I don't know why you came along, but the others were
|
|
just treasure hunters and adventure addicts," said Burgamy frankly,
|
|
looking steadily at Moya's face for the first time during the journey.
|
|
"They knew the risks, just like they knew the rewards, so save your
|
|
recriminations for the sinners and your pity for the masses. Ragan and
|
|
Tagir knew full well what they were getting into and don't deserve
|
|
your sympathy."
|
|
"And do you feel the same way, Sir Knight?" Moya turned to
|
|
Ceneham, trying with only moderate success to hide her horror at the
|
|
merchant's coldness.
|
|
Ceneham looked up from peering over his squire's shoulder. "I
|
|
agree with the merchant, Sister," he said calmly. "They were seasoned
|
|
professionals. They knew the potential consequences. Save your worry
|
|
and your prayers for the people who can benefit from them."
|
|
Moya stared at the two men for a minute more before turning back
|
|
to her pot of marsh water. Anger smoldered in her eyes. She hadn't
|
|
been prepared for such callousness when she undertook her holy journey
|
|
and joined with these companions. Some of Moya's faith faltered as she
|
|
listened to the camp sounds and knelt beside the pot.
|
|
It took longer then usual to get fresh water that night.
|
|
|
|
With two of their party members dead, it was necessary for
|
|
everyone, including Burgamy and Sister Moya, to take a turn on guard.
|
|
Gindar woke the merchant just after moon rise for the second watch. At
|
|
the knight's insistence, he carried the squire's short sword for
|
|
defense, and Ceneham's shield was leaned against a log so it could be
|
|
banged in case of an emergency.
|
|
Barely an hour had passed and already Burgamy was bored and
|
|
sleepy. Resolutely he started wandering around the perimeter of the
|
|
camp with a torch trying to stay awake. He allowed his mind to wander
|
|
a little with thoughts of himself, Sister Moya, a few common objects
|
|
he kept around his shop in town, and the wonderful things they could
|
|
do together.
|
|
As he made another circle around the tiny camp a motion by a
|
|
boulder caught his distracted attention. Burgamy stopped in
|
|
mid-fantasy and mid-turn, gripping the short sword a little tighter in
|
|
his sweaty palm.
|
|
"Who's there?" he demanded hoarsely. As far as he had seen, none
|
|
of his companions had gotten up or even moved since the start of his
|
|
watch.
|
|
There was a soft rustling of dry tipped marsh grass and a woman
|
|
stepped around the shadowed rock.
|
|
She was tall and slender, wearing nothing except the mane of
|
|
red-brown hair that spilled over her forehead and down her back. Pale
|
|
moonlight silvered her limbs from behind and the torches flickering
|
|
yellow glow caused shadows to dance on her taut stomach and breasts.
|
|
Her eyes were fathomless black in the uncertain light. She smiled at
|
|
the merchant, revealing long, even teeth in the yellow torchlight.
|
|
"How did you get here?" Burgamy asked, cautiously moving closer.
|
|
He wondered if he had dozed off during his watch after all and was
|
|
having a better dream than chaste Moya could ever provide.
|
|
The woman's smile deepened and she slipped around the rock with a
|
|
ripple of heavy hair.
|
|
"Hey! Come back here!" Abruptly more confidant, Burgamy followed
|
|
the elusive figure back into the first floor ruins.
|
|
|
|
They found Burgamy's body laying in the middle of the great hall,
|
|
stark naked, without a mark on him. His clothing was nowhere to be
|
|
found and no reason could be found for him to have come out to the
|
|
great hall.
|
|
Sister Moya dropped her cloak over the body then blessed the dead
|
|
man while the squire triumphantly declared; "I told you I woke him up.
|
|
I didn't shirk my duty!"
|
|
"Silence, boy," growled Ceneham, adding another bruise to the
|
|
morning's set. Gindar accepted the cuff silently, and glared at the
|
|
knight after he turned away.
|
|
"We'll need to bury him," said Moya finally, gathering up her
|
|
skirts and standing.
|
|
"We don't have the time," Ceneham told her. "We need to find out
|
|
what killed him."
|
|
"We can't just leave him here!"
|
|
"We don't have a choice, Sister. And you didn't seem to have a
|
|
problem with leaving High Mage Tagir or Ragan, so I don't see the
|
|
trouble now." Ceneham turned away. "Now come on, if you're coming. I
|
|
want to check out that corridor where we lost the mage. The last thing
|
|
we need is something trying to kill us before we can finish our
|
|
business here." He marched off, calling for his squire to come help
|
|
him with his armor.
|
|
In the silence of the great hall, Moya again knelt and settled
|
|
herself to pray.
|
|
"Highest," she whispered softly. "I have erred. I did not do my
|
|
duty by my companions and thereby to You in their hour of need. I beg
|
|
Your forgiveness. Whatever they were in life, they are Yours now,
|
|
either cleansed or damned. Aid me then, in granting a last bit of
|
|
decency to their bodies, along with my prayers for their souls."
|
|
A soft white glow grew around Moya after a few seconds, then
|
|
spread towards the body of Burgamy. It touched it and leapt away,
|
|
dividing itself to go to the lower level and Tagir's resting place and
|
|
along the wall to where Ragan lay.
|
|
For an instant the glow became incandescent, then it faded,
|
|
leaving behind only Moya's dingy white cloak. The priestess opened her
|
|
eyes and sighed deeply with fatigue. Only rarely did she try spells of
|
|
such complexity, for just this reason. She spent a few more minutes in
|
|
contemplation and prayer before getting up to join her companions.
|
|
|
|
The dust had settled in little swirls around the rock that had
|
|
killed Tagir and the footprints from yesterday were wiped clean away.
|
|
Ceneham strode past without so much as a glance down, but Moya made a
|
|
gesture of blessing and warding and the squire went pale again.
|
|
They edged past the offset boulders and down another short flight
|
|
of stairs to a heavy door. Time, in conjunction with the damp had
|
|
warped the wood and turned the brass binding a sickly shade of green.
|
|
Cobwebs choked the corners of the frame and the ancient keyhole.
|
|
Ceneham made a quick survey of the barrier, then held his torch
|
|
back for the squire to take. With several powerful thrusts of his
|
|
mailed shoulder, the door bent back on its hinges, then fell to the
|
|
cobbled floor with a dull boom, ripping the now useless crossbow trap
|
|
out of the wall. Stale, musky air whispered up the corridor.
|
|
Gindar jumped at the quick succession of sounds, and Moya winced.
|
|
The knight took the torch back and stepped over the ruined planks into
|
|
the cellar. Pale torchfire trebled as Moya and the squire joined
|
|
Ceneham, reflecting off dank walls covered in something flourescent
|
|
and yellow. The mold gathered the light and aided in brightening the
|
|
dim chamber.
|
|
Chests were stacked along the walls, with tatterd, moldy bolts of
|
|
cloth leaning against them. Something long and wide lay in the center
|
|
of the room, covered in oiled canvas.
|
|
Gindar gasped softly.
|
|
"I'd say that we found the treasury," rumbled Ceneham, flipping
|
|
open one of the tattered lids. Leather bags, some with holes worn in
|
|
them, lay piled inside, and bits of gold and silver glinted through in
|
|
the wan light.
|
|
"I thought we were looking for what killed Burgamy," said Moya
|
|
sharply.
|
|
"You thought wrong, sister." Ceneham's voice was harsh. "He's
|
|
dead, just like the others. If what came after him comes after us,
|
|
I'll kill it. But until then, it's stupid to go looking for trouble."
|
|
He turned back to opening the chests. Gindar joined him, raising his
|
|
torch high.
|
|
Furious, Moya glared at the knight's back, then turned and
|
|
marched out of the cellar. He was a lost cause, and she was worldly
|
|
enough to realize this, but she didn't have to stay in his company.
|
|
Ceneham didn't acknowledge the nun's leave-taking except to note
|
|
absently that there was a little less light to see by. He considered
|
|
the holy woman to be little more than a nuisince, useful only because
|
|
with her on the expedition they would neither starve, nor die of
|
|
wounds taken in combat. As a result of the sudden lessening of light
|
|
and his slight preoccupation, Ceneham misjudged the composition of the
|
|
next thing he picked up. The little box shattered in his hand as he
|
|
grasped it like one of the heavy leather bags.
|
|
Marsh nuts scattered over the damp floor.
|
|
"Ridiculous!" Ceneham stared at his fistful of splinters and
|
|
nuts. "Who the hell is stupid enough to keep nuts in boxes! Boy!"
|
|
"Sir?" Gindar appeared by his elbow, trying hard to conceal a
|
|
smile.
|
|
"Leave that torch and go get some more. And that lantern the mage
|
|
toted about with him. And make sure that damned nun didn't stray." The
|
|
knight dusted his hands off and his feet crunched on shells as he
|
|
wandered around the cellar searching idly.
|
|
Gindar quickly found two rusty scones to deposit the torches in,
|
|
then hurried back up the stairs and into open air. His relief was
|
|
indescribable. He didn't like the way the shadows moved in that
|
|
cellar. He'd never really liked cellars in general, but this one was
|
|
worse than any of the others he'd been in.
|
|
He trotted through the remains of the great hall and back out to
|
|
the campsite where Moya knelt in prayer. The torch she had been
|
|
carrying was stuck in the ground beside her, burning fitfully.
|
|
"Run off, indeed," sniffed the squire to himself. "She can't run
|
|
off any more than I can." In her case, she didn't have the survival
|
|
skills, in his, Ceneham would find him, no matter where he ran to and
|
|
make him wish he'd died. "Soon," Gindar thought, grabbing a handful of
|
|
unlit torches, then turning to root though the dead mage's packs.
|
|
"Soon, I'll know everything he does and I'll be able to do more than
|
|
run." But until that mythical time, he would follow and obey to the
|
|
best of his ability.
|
|
Arms filled with the lit and unlit torches and the battered metal
|
|
lantern, Gindar made his reluctant way back down to the cellar.
|
|
|
|
Moya was started out of her meditative prayer by the squire's
|
|
paniced screaming, echoing from the guts of the keep. She started up,
|
|
stood uncertainly for a second trying to place the disturbance, then
|
|
ran into the great hall.
|
|
Gindar nearly ran her down in his haste to escape the crumbling
|
|
walls. In his panic, he didn't recognize the hands that reached out to
|
|
try and halt his headlong flight. He struggled wildly as Moya pulled
|
|
him around and forced his back to a crumbling wall.
|
|
"What is it?" she demanded, giving the boy a brisk shake. "What's
|
|
happened?"
|
|
It took a sharp slap to get anything coherent out of the boy.
|
|
"C--C--Ceneham!" he stuttered out finally. "He's dead! Ripped to
|
|
pieces!"
|
|
"Lord above grant us mercy," breathed Moya. For a second she
|
|
wondered what could have been big enough to kill the knight, but
|
|
silent enough not to disturb her or the squire. Keeping a firm hand on
|
|
Gindar's skinny wrists, she pulled him back down to the cellar,
|
|
repeating like a litany that "God will protect us...God *will* protect
|
|
us..."
|
|
Sir Ceneham was indeed dead, although he was not, as Gindar had
|
|
said, ripped to pieces.
|
|
His breast plate was rent open, not with the clean cuts of a
|
|
sword, but by four jagged gashes, as though some other-planer creature
|
|
had tried seeking his heart. Beneath his helm, Ceneham's face was
|
|
twisted into a mixture of fear and surprise. His heavy sword lay in a
|
|
far corner of the cellar--in two pieces.
|
|
The only other thing in the room besides Moya, the squire, the
|
|
piles of boxes, and the cloth wrapped bundle was a squirrel busily
|
|
stuffing marsh nuts into its mouth. There weren't any signs of a
|
|
struggle.
|
|
Gindar whimpered from where Moya had left him by the door, then,
|
|
with a strangled sob, bolted back up the stairs. Moya jumped after
|
|
him, clentching her will against the sickness in her stomach. The
|
|
thought uppermost in her mind was that the boy could not survive
|
|
alone. And neither could she.
|
|
"Wait!" she shouted after the squire. "If we separate were
|
|
doomed!"
|
|
But Gindar, frightened and sickened beyond hearing, didn't even
|
|
slow down. Doggedly Moya followed him through the great hall and past
|
|
their camp. She hiked up her robes as he charged blindly off into the
|
|
swamp, continuing to call after him to wait.
|
|
Branches and vines tangled in her way, and the smell of rotting
|
|
leaves was kicked up more strongly for the pairs passing. Strangely,
|
|
no animals were disturbed by their charging blindly through the
|
|
undergrowth.
|
|
Moya lost the squire briefly in the growing mist, and only found
|
|
him again after he shouted in surprise. She reoriented herself in the
|
|
general direction the sound had emanated from, and ran after.
|
|
She came upon him suddenly. Moya stumbled to a halt, then
|
|
scrambled back a few steps as her worn boots began sinking into black
|
|
mud.
|
|
Gindar floundered in a mud pit, his paniced thrashing only
|
|
drawing him deeper under the sticky mud. His screaming was all but
|
|
incoherent from terror. Moya cast about for something to throw the
|
|
boy, calling platitudes all the while, but by the time she turned up
|
|
with a branch long enough to reach him, Gindar's head was beneath the
|
|
mud's slick surface. A hand grasped briefly, futilely at the knobby
|
|
root Moya extended, but despite the nun's impassioned encouragement,
|
|
he was never able to catch hold.
|
|
The last of Sister Moya's companions sank out of sight, without
|
|
so much as a bubble to show where he'd gone under.
|
|
For several long minutes the nun stared at the patch of mud that
|
|
now looked no more dangerous than any other patch of cleared ground.
|
|
Then she dropped the root and went to her knees.
|
|
"How could You do this to me, oh Lord," she moaned, rocking back
|
|
and forth without even realizing it. "How could You do this to Your
|
|
faithful, on Your holy quest? How? Was I unworthy? How? Why? How did I
|
|
fail You? How?"
|
|
Moya kept repeating this, and variations until it was nearly
|
|
dark. Night sounds and something hitting the back of her head finally
|
|
roused her to partial reality.
|
|
She coughed, voice raw from her prayers and tears, then jerked as
|
|
another nut bounced off her arm and landed in the moss beside her.
|
|
Bemused, the nun stumbled to her feet. "Must get back to camp..." she
|
|
mumbled. "Complete holy service...keep vow...at the keep..." And she
|
|
tottered off, deeper into the dusky, glowing swamp.
|
|
|
|
To Be Continued
|
|
by
|
|
Michelle Brothers
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 **
|
|
****** ****
|
|
** ** **
|
|
**** ** ** **
|
|
**** **** ** ** ** *****
|
|
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
|
|
** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
|
|
** ** ** ** *****
|
|
** ** ***
|
|
****
|
|
**
|
|
|
|
Quanta is the electronically distributed journal of Science Fiction
|
|
and Fantasy. As such, each issue contains fiction by amateur authors
|
|
as well as articles, reviews etc... Quanta is published in two
|
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formats, Ascii and PostScript* (for PostScript compatible
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Requests to be added to the distribution list should be sent to one of
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Send mail only- no interactive messages or files please. Note that if
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server and would therefore only want to be notified when a new issues
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has been released, please specify this in your request.
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Quanta now reaches an international audience of over 1000 subscribers.
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It is produced bi-monthly by Daniel Appelquist (da1n+@andrew.cmu.edu).
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* PostScript is a registered trademark of Adobe Systems Incorporated.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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|
(C) Copyright October, 1992, DargonZine, Editor Dafydd
|
|
<White@DUVM>. All rights revert to the authors. These stories may not
|
|
be reproduced or redistributed (save in the case of reproducing the
|
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whole 'zine for further distribution) without the express permission
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