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Back to the previous chapter: Beginnings
Second Draft
The town of Armagh stretched before the travellers, its gently peaked roofs resembling a small mountain range along the river's side. The Llwelyn River coursed to the east of town, the water flowing north past the travellers towards Londoun and the Vasmar beyond. Even this far from the mouth of the river, the waterway was still wide enough and deep enough to accommodate smaller sea-going vessels. Even now a small ship sailed along the river, its single triangular sail billowed to one side as the ship traveled south towards Merthyr, or perhaps even Llwelyn itself (which was as far as most ships could sail on the river).
West of Armagh, half a mile past those last few outlying homes and the city's Kelltic church, was a low hill with an elaborate, walled manor house. Surrounding the hill, mostly on the townward side, were dozens of colorful tents and wagons, brilliant colors of every description. They were scattered about in chaotic patterns of color, creating winding and twisting paths of green grass surrounded by blues and violets and reds and yellows. Even from a distance, people could be seen moving around the merchants' stalls, merchants visiting one another or people making purchases a day before the festivities got underway.
Eric brought his horse alongside the lead wagon. He looked over to the squat, ruddy man driving it. "Quaeven, are you going to the open market over there?"
The merchant bobbed his head. "Yes, ajami. My wagons will join those wagons and tents for the market tomorrow."
"Do you have a place reserved for your wagons?"
"Reserved? No, Lord Ithell does not require a reserved place for each merchant. A merchant takes the first place possible, and then the next merchant takes the next place possible. You see?"
Eric nodded.
"But, for me, a chance will give me a better place for placing my wagons, you see."
Eric looked at Quaeven blankly.
"Ah, the ajami does not see. My second-brother arrived in Armagh, maybe a day or two ago, if he does not wish to be disowned by his sister, my wife. He is keeping room for the wagons, in a good place along the road." Quaeven craned his neck forward and squinted. "Ah! Do you not see the empty place along the road, near the small castle-house? The yellow and red banners waving? That is my second-brother's place he has chosen. A fine place it is, as well."
Eric rode alongside the merchant's wagon in silence as they passed around the edge of town, bouncing along a road that was not yet paved with stones. Beyond the city's church was a large field of closely-cropped grass. A tall pole with colorful ribbons stood in the center of the field, and several stands for musicians and tables for refreshments had been erected around the edge of the dance-field.
The two wagons -- the first driven by Quaeven and the second still under Adria's expert hand -- rolled past several tents and brightly-colored wagons now that they were on the paved road from town to the Ithell Manor. Eric looked at some of the stands that had been set up -- bolts of cloth, carved wooden goods, finely sculpted pewter serving mugs, and other odds and ends beyond mention.
They arrived at the cleared area, staked off with yellow and red ribbons matching the large banners overhead. Quaeven's brother, another squat gnomish man whom Quaeven introduced as Hadash, quickly pulled stakes out of the way to make room for the wagons and the oxen teams pulling them.
Quaeven drove his wagon to the front of the space, moving it as far into the lot as possible, before he jumped down and climbed onto the second wagon with Adria. He took the reins from her and offered to help her climb down from the wagon.
"Hadash, my second-brother," Quaeven said, "these fine people have saved me and our wagons from the scourge of men whose very graves do not deserve consecration from the basest of petty gods. I have paid in part my life-debt to them, for my very coin was taken by men who claimed themselves as escorts, but who are only escorting the thieves who tried to rob me to the underworld."
Hadash bobbed his head and gesticulated towards the party. His voice had an odd accent to it, and the pitch at the end of each word turned upwards slightly. "Good people, friends of my half-brother and therefore my friends, as well, please accept the thanks of this humble merchant as well for delivering Quaeven to me safely. You will please visit us during this fine Fire Festival?"
Quaeven finished parking the second large hut-wagon behind the first. His voice was scolding, but more half-hearted than serious. "Hadash, my half-brother! How can you speak like that to such people? They are here for their own celebration, not to be spending their precious time on the likes of us!" He turned to the party. "Please accept my humble apologies. We would be honored by a visit from the fine men and exquisite woman who saved us from those vile highwaymen, but we know you have much to do. I thank thee again, ajami for saving my life. You may find shelter under my roof, if ever you visit my home in al-Qayir, in the Sultanate of al-Rhayidh."
Quaeven bowed deeply towards the party; his half-brother mimicked the gesture.
The party turned and started riding towards town, Adria now on her own horse. Bilbus led the column of horses they captured from the brigands.
The thief looked at his comrades. "Do you think we'll find any inns with rooms? The town is looking pretty full."
They were close to the dance grounds again when Sturm spoke up. "Eric, your father is the lord of Armagh?"
"Yes," the Azirian said, "he is."
"Why are we trying to find rooms at an inn? Doesn't he have guest rooms in that mansion?" Sturm jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the Ithell Manor. "It certainly looked roomy enough for visitors."
Eric stopped his horse. The rest of the party did as well, filling the street.
"Well," Eric considered, "I have not visited my parents in almost five years. It is possible that they are hosting guests already..." He grinned. "We can find out. Let us surprise him." Eric turned his horse around and started it trotting towards the manor house. "On one condition," he called out to the rest of the party as they caught up with him. "Bilbus, I want everything in that house to still be there when we leave."
"No problem," the thief said, his voice neutral.
"No. I mean I don't want anything missing when we leave the house."
"I said 'okay'."
"Bilbus, promise me you won't steal anything."
"I won't steal any thing."
"Promise?"
Bilbus let out a long sigh. "Eric Ithell, I promise you I will not steal anything from your father's house."
"Let's go, then," Eric said as he kicked his horse to a canter.
The Ithell Manor was a roomy, stone-walled multi-story house on top of a hill west of town. A low wall, perhaps four feet tall, surrounded the manor house, giving the impression of a scaled-down castle. Several outlying buildings around the edge of the walled yard completed the impression -- a spacious stable building just to one side of the wide front gate, a building with some large smoke holes on top and open side-walls showing a blacksmith's shop, and a third building that looked like barracks: many windows, doors on both ends, and several gruff men sitting outside maintaining armor and weapons.
A garden filled most of the north half of the grounds, several trees and the colorful blooms of dozens of varieties of flowers visible even beyond the chaos of the temporary marketplace.
Beyond the hill, a spotty forest stretched for several miles, parallel to the river.
Bilbus looked at the forest. "That is your father's forest? Off limits to the peasants, I'm sure."
"It is my father's land," Eric admitted. "However, he does not forbid the townsfolk from using it. There is a fine herd of deer in that forest, and a few very good berries grow wildly in there."
The party reached the front gate of the manor house a few minutes later, after they weaved through the vendors and craftsmen in the marketplace.
Eric jumped off of his horse and approached the two guards at the front gate. They had been leaning against the stone wall, their polearms nearly forgotten next to them. The wooden gate was open, a low door held by a rope to a stake in the yard.
The guards smiled when they saw the explorer approaching. "Young Lord Ithell! It's been a long time!" one of them said.
Eric nodded. "It has been a long journey. My father is home?"
"Of course. Lady Ithell is out, but Lord Ithell is still here."
"Do you know, does he have guests?"
The guard shook his head. "I know he has no guests. He had been hoping you would make it here this festival."
Eric turned back to his friends. "We have somewhere to stay, after all." He took his horse's reins and led it through the gate.
Some stablehands raced from the stables to take reins from the riders. Kasey warned his stableboy about Farran, but not before the destrier had nipped at the boy's shoulder. The hands led the horses towards the stables as Eric led the party to the front doors of the manor house.
Inside, one of the servants nearly jumped when Eric swung open the door and walked in. "Young Lord Ithell!" he shouted in surprise. The servant then turned and ran towards the back of the house. "Lord Ithell! Young Eric has returned! Lord Ithell!"
Lord Janus Ithell entered the atrium through the hallway the servant had disappeared in. He was tall, about Eric's height, with dark hair. He was clearly not Azirian -- he did not have the olive tint to his complexion or the almond- shaped eyes that Eric had.
"Eric!" he greeted his son warmly. "How have the travels gone?"
"The travels go well. I will have to tell you about them when we can. Father, I have guests for the Festival." Eric introduced everyone to his father.
Janus Ithell greeted each of them warmly. "We will have rooms made up for all of you." He turned back to his son. "Your mother is busy with the preparations for the bonfire this evening. She should be back later in the evening, but I expect all of you will be off to the dance by then."
Bilbus leaned close to Eric and spoke quietly. "He's not from Azir?"
Janus overheard the question. "No. I am originally from Armagh. I spent my youth traveling, exploring distant lands. Over time, I managed to get a few trade routes started with some distant ports. I met Meko, Eric's mother, in Karasimi. It took me two years courting her before we wed. We spent years traveling, until we needed to settle to raise Eric. Now, we have to see the world through his eyes." He turned back to his son. "How long has it been? Five years?"
Eric nodded. "I have sent reports from time to time..."
"And we received many of them. Still, I would like to talk to you about your travels. Perhaps later this evening. I am sure you would all like a chance to bathe after your ride and before the dance?"
Adria nodded quickly.
"Let me get the servants busy preparing rooms. Then I will get a bath drawn for you, Lady del Quintin. If you would care to wait for a moment?"
A few minutes later, servants escorted the party to their rooms, and a pair of maidens escorted Adria to the bath.
Near sunset, the party gathered on the dance greens along with hundreds of other people -- most of them from Londoun. A gigantic pyre of logs burned rapidly, making one end of the dance greens very warm in the late spring evening. The local priest and priestess conducted several rites, and they led a prayer to Bres, asking the god of agriculture for healthy crops and fertile lands.
After the invocation and solemnity of the prayer were completed, the dancing began. Several bands had set up along the edge of the dance green, and each tried to outplay the others, both in terms of volume and enthusiasm. Beer flowed readily from the taps set into kegs on the far end of the dance greens, and hundreds of men and women -- mostly unmarried -- danced about the greens.
Well into the evening's festivities, Kasey managed to corner Eric. "Eric," the Church Knight began, "this beer isn't too bad. But..." he paused. "Isn't there anything better? You know, something dark. Something you can't read through?"
Eric scratched his shoulder for a moment. "My father might..."
Bilbus interrupted. "It's in his private stock up in the basement," the thief offered helpfully.
"Up in the basement?" Kasey echoed.
"You take the secret corridor from Lord Ithell's bedroom -- you know which one, right Eric?"
The explorer answered levelly, "Yes."
Bilbus continued. "Take it down the hidden stairwell to the private reserve in the basement."
Sturm scowled at the thief. "I suppose you found the treasure room, too."
"It was too well guarded." Bilbus took a step back as the Sun Knight's scowl deepened. "I didn't take anything!"
Kasey clapped Eric's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get a keg of the good beer."
Eric and Kasey walked off towards the merchant tents and the manor house on the hill beyond. Sturm watched the dancing for a few seconds, scowling, then jogged after the other two.
Bilbus watched the three walking away, then turned to watch the dancing. He was tapping a foot along to the nearest set of musicians before he realized it.
The thief noticed Rishala dancing with a young woman. She looked to be about ten years younger than the storyteller. That would make her Adria's age, Bilbus realized. He then spotted Adria standing alone several paces away, also watching the dance.
The young noblewoman watched the dance, unaware of the thief for nearly a minute. She turned her head towards Bilbus, smiling disdainfully at him.
"Why don't we dance?" Bilbus asked. He turned on his winsome smile and waited.
Adria turned to face Bilbus. Her cool eyes cast over the thief, as if inspecting an inferior bolt of cloth. She had to fight a smirk when she saw his smile -- it struck her as goofy more than anything. "Can you keep up?" she finally asked.
The noblewoman launched herself into the dance green, spinning wildly in time to the music. As she swung about, her skirt billowed out until her shins were bare. She continued the dance until the nearest musicians stopped for a break, then approached the slack-jawed thief with a smirk of her own.
"Decided not to dance?" she asked coyly.
The musicians started again, changing pace to a slower tune so the dancers (and the musicians) could catch their collective breath. Adria waited patiently for Bilbus to formulate a response -- she could almost imagine smelling smoke as the thief's face twitched.
Over Bilbus's shoulder, Adria saw Sturm and Kasey stealthily approaching the thief. They were exaggerating their motions in their effort, creating an image that would have had Adria doubled over laughing were Bilbus not their obvious victim. Even if the two knights had simply walked up to Bilbus, he would never have heard them over the music, dancing, and laughter of the greens.
Bilbus finally found a response. "M'Lady," he emphasized the word in a manner that bordered on disrespect. "I had no idea you knew any dances beyond the courtly ones. Perhaps there is hope for you yet."
One corner of Adria's lip curled upwards. The nearest set of musicians were playing a romantic aire. "Very well, Bilbus. Don't you dare try to lay a Bride's Wreath at my feet though." The Beltane Fire Festival -- or Fertility Festival -- was a popular time for emboldened young men to propose to available young women. To emphasize her warning, the noblewoman pulled two needle sharp metal sticks from her hair, letting the golden hair fall loose from the bun that held it. She put the sharp darts into her belt, leaving them where she could easily draw them were she so inclined.
Bilbus glanced at the darts, realizing for the first time that they were shaped and sized for throwing, and replied, "I would not dream of it."
Just as the thief reached one hand towards Adria, Sturm and Kasey rushed him from behind, shouting "Keg Dive!"
Bilbus looked over his shoulder in surprise. He half turned so Adria was to his right and the knights were to his left. He tried to backflip out of the path of the oncoming knights, but he did so in such a clumsy manner that the knights simply grabbed Bilbus's legs, hanging him upside down between them. The thief struggled uselessly for several seconds against the steel grips of the two knights.
"Eric!" Sturm called. "Grab that little keg there!" The knight pointed at a smaller keg of beer that had been opened. A ladle had been left in it.
Eric set down the keg of his father's private stock beer and picked up the keg Sturm had indicated.
"Mark off where the top of the beer is!" the Sun Knight commanded. Eric found a dark candle and made a smudged line on the outside of the keg.
Lowering his voice to a conversational level, Sturm turned to Bilbus. "If you want to get free without drowning, the beer betteer be down to that line when your head is in the keg."
The two knights lifted Bilbus over the keg, then dipped him headfirst into it. They counted slowly and loudly to ten as some of the nearby dancers stopped to watch. They lifted Bilbus until his head was clear of the keg.
The thief sputtered, spraying everyone within five paces of him with beer. He gasped for air and rasped, "I'll kill you all! Let me go!"
Sturm looked into the keg. "I didn't see the beer level change." He looked at Kasey, who still held Bilbus's other ankle. "Dunk him!"
"No! Wait!" Bilbus managed to shout before his head disappeared into the keg once more.
Again the two knights counted to ten, this time with the help of a dozen of the onlookers. Again the knights lifted Bilbus's head clear of the keg.
Bilbus again spit and sprayed. "What am I supposed to do?!? Drown?"
Sturm replied, "Unless you start drinking the beer, yes." He and Kasey dunked Bilbus once more.
The thief suffered half a dozen more dunkings before Sturm was satisfied that Bilbus had consumed enough beer. He and Kasey released the thief to the cheers of the crowd, and they watched him stagger away, mumbling incoherently under his breath and tripping over individual blades of grass.
"It wasn't that much beer, was it?" Sturm asked.
Kasey shook his head.
"Huh. Maybe he just can't hold his liquor," the Sun Knight concluded.
The following morning, Bilbus staggered into the lesser kitchen of the manor house. The manor house had two kitchens: the lesser kitchen handled lighter duties, such as breakfast and lunch, while the greater kitchen handled the task of evening feasts.
The lesser kitchen was also a very informal dining room, with a number of stools arranged like one would find in a bar, so the kitchen staff could serve hungry visitors directly.
The thief stumbled to the only empty barstool and dropped onto it stiffly. He rubbed his temples and looked at his fellow travelers, who occupied the remainder of the stools. After seconds of temple massage, Bilbus asked, "What's for breakfast?"
"Breakfast was four hours ago, Bilbus," Adria replied. "We're just finishing lunch." She grinned evilly. "Of course, I'm sure the cook could prepare some eggs for you. Maybe a little sausage, while she's at it?"
Bilbus smiled wanly at the noblewoman. She laughed until he scowled at her. "Next time, it's your turn, Adria."
She smiled the smile of a deadly carnivore. "Go ahead and try, Bilbus."
"Later, my dear lady. When you least expect it."
Lord Janus Ithell entered the lesser kitchen. Servants who had been moving lazily in the kitchen snapped to, moving briskly. Several members of the party straightened as well.
"Relax," Janus said. "This is midday, not a formal dinner." He looked at his son's companions. "Everyone survived the dance, it appears."
Bilbus had picked up a small loaf of still-hot bread. His face was buried behind it as he moaned softly.
Eric spoke over the thief's moans. "We are doing well, father. Will you have some time later today? We have uncovered a disturbing event that I would like to discuss with you."
Janus picked up another of the small loaves. "I have no business this afternoon. Would you like to speak now about it? Perhaps we should adjourn to my study."
"I shall meet you there. I need to fetch some things from my room."
Eric left for his room. Janus led the rest of the party to his study, a spacious office with an impressive array of books on several shelves along the outer wall, between large windows that looked over the garden. The room was decorated with numerous souvenirs of Janus's days of travel: old charts, relics of distant cultures, navigational equipment.
"Please, take seats. We're not holding an audience," the elder Ithell urged his guests.
Eric arrived a minute later, carrying a small coinpurse and the black metal sword. His father and most of the party had already taken seats, lounging on soft chairs and couches within the room. Bilbus was still on his feet, eyeing a large brass sextant with a speculative eye. When the thief noticed Eric in the room, he jumped and appeared to lose all interest in the sextant.
The explorer addressed his father. "We found some merchants under attack. We were able to defeat them without too much trouble..."
Rishala sputtered. "I was almost killed by that arrow!" He looked at the bandaging still on his shoulder.
Eric glanced at Rishala, embarrassed. "Well, other than Rishala's injury, the fight went well for us. The leader of the group was a man named Esgal Cadell. At least, we think his first name is Esgal. Could that be some sort of foreign rank?"
"It is not familiar, son. Cadell, you say? I don't recognize that name."
"He had this note," Eric offered it to his father and waited for his father to finish reading it.
Janus set the note on his writing desk. "Griffon's Beak... The name is not familiar. It isn't nearby, at least."
Eric reached into the coinpurse. He withdrew the golden coins and black medallion they had recovered from Cadell. "Cadell also had these coins and medallion." He then set the sword on his father's writing desk. "As well as this sword."
Lord Ithell picked up the black leather scabbard. He gripped the sword and drew it several inches out of the scabbard. He eyed the thin, black blade closely. "This is an odd metal."
Eric nodded. "I agree. Do you know what it is?"
"No. Ask Itami. If anyone here would know, it would be he."
Itami Silksteel was the Ithell's personal blacksmith. He had worked for Meko Ithell's father when Janus had arrived in Karasimi. After Janus and Meko's courtship, the smith decided to travel back to Avillonia with the Ithells.
Eric took the sword back from his father. "I will talk to him shortly. Have you heard anything about bandit raids in the area? Or have you heard about any other problems?"
"There is always some banditry, but nothing unusual has happened in recent memory. I will ask my men to keep an ear out for any increase in problems."
"Thank you, father. Is Itami at the forges today?"
"Of course. I insisted he take today to enjoy the fair, but he does not care to participate in the gaijin religious ceremonies."
Eric chuckled. "I will take my leave now." He looked at his friends. "You should go ahead and enjoy the fair. I shall catch up momentarily."
The party rose to leave. Eric walked from the house towards the smith's shop.
Bilbus followed him. "I'm curious about that blade, too," he said when Eric noticed him.
The smith's building was open -- large panels of the walls could be removed to create a breezeway, as they were now, or they could be put up to enclose the forges during inclement weather. One of the three forges in the building was active, the other two cool from disuse. A single man was working in the shop this afternoon, a short man with long, black hair that had been weaved into a single braid down his back. He had a stout leather vest and gloves, and the grim look of concentration. He had the complexion and facial features of an Azirian, more pronounced than Eric. Itami Silksteel stood over an anvil, a large hammer in one hand and heavy steel tongs holding a glowing, orange length of steel against the flat top of the anvil.
Itami finished hammering the steel bar, then acknowledged his visitors. "Eric! It has been too long. What brings you and your friend to my forges?"
"Itami, my friend." Eric greeted the smith. "I need to know if you are familiar with this metal?" The explorer held the sheathed sword towards Itami, grip towards the smith.
Itami drew the sword and swung it experimentally to feel the balance and weight of the blade. He examined the blade and hilt closely, his practiced eye studying the workmanship. He even flicked the blade with his finger, listening to the ring of the metal.
Finally, Itami walked over to a large box of tools and withdrew a chisel. He ran the chisel along the fuller, the recessed center portion of the blade. He squinted where he had expected a mark. Finally, he put the weapon back in its scabbard.
"This is adamantine. Very rare metal. Very hard to work without Heka forges. It makes the best weapons, though. Where did you find this sword?"
Adamantine was an unusual black metal that was found in a handful of places throughout the world. It was characterized by its dull black finish, extreme light weight, and unsurpassed strength. It was difficult to work with at best, for it did not become very malleable with normal forge heat. Its properties almost required Heka-enhanced forgework; for this reason alone, most adamantine weapons were imbued with other magickal properties.
The largest known deposit of adamantine was deep within the dwarven nation of Clemendeev, on the northwest coast of the Vasmar. The short, stout dwarves had discovered a number of veins of the metal deep in the mountains within which they burrowed. The otherwise metal-poor nation of Karasimi had the second largest workable deposit of adamantine, although that vein was found in a volcanically active region on the southern end of that island nation.
Eric described the fight he and his comrades had with the bandits. He detailed Cadell's intended execution of Quaeven and the nearly-fatal wound Rishala had suffered.
When Eric finished the narrative, Bilbus asked, "Is this a dwarven sword? I thought they were the ones who worked in adamantine."
Itami thought for a moment. "No, I think it is not dwarven. Dwarves do not favor swords, most times. Even when they make a sword for larger peoples, they tend to have a much more functional, less elegant decoration." He pointed at the crossguard. "Look at those flowing lines. A dwarven crossguard would be straight, with no twist or taper. This is not a sword of dwarven design."
Eric then asked, "What about Karasimi? I know father had mentioned seeing a katana fashioned from black metal once."
Itami shook his head. "There are perhaps six men in Karasimi who can work adamantine. None of them would make Avillonian swords. There is such a small supply of adamantine, and such a demand for katana, that they would not consider forging weapons for a foreigner."
Bilbus stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting... It appears we still have a mystery here."
Eric nodded. "I think we will not find anything else about this sword here. We may as well see if we can find everyone else and enjoy the festival."
Bilbus grinned. "I think I slept through half of it already. Let's go."
Kasey and Rishala weaved through the throngs of people in the marketplace. Men and women, children and elders, all milled about, stopping at the innumerable merchant stalls and wagons to inspect wares or to buy goods. The rest of the party had split up in the confusion, but Kasey had managed to keep track of the Caledonian storyteller.
Kasey spotted the church on the edge of town, past the market and the dance greens. He tapped on Rishala's uninjured shoulder to get the Caledonian's attention. "Hey, Rishala. Come with me."
The storyteller glanced up at the Church Knight. "Why, Kasey?"
"We should visit the church. I think the Mother in this town can heal your injury, and I could use a blessing and some healing, myself."
The church in Armagh was a stone building, well fitted, with a wide wooden porch in front. The two doors were wide open, very inviting to the occasional passers-by. Kasey climbed the steps to the porch two at a time, with Rishala following behind.
Inside the atrium of the church was a prayer labyrinth. The prayer labyrinth was a common feature of the Kelltic churches, a maze, usually of inlaid and contrasting woods, that the devout would walk along while contemplating or praying. The path led inevitably to a center platform, a step above the level of the atrium, that had seats or benches for meditation. Also on the platform was traditionally some sort of icons to indicate which of the Kelltic gods and goddesses were the primary deities of that particular church. Some of the larger prayer labyrinths were impressive -- the labyrinth at the cathedral in Kells was a full one hundred paces in diameter.
The labyrinth of the church in Armagh was much more modest, a mere six paces across, marked with dark woods to denote the "walls" and lighter wood, matching the rest of the atrium floor, for the "path". The platform in the center was small, slightly larger than a pace wide, and round. A single seat, flanked by wooden vases, was all that was on the platform. The vases each held several stalks of golden, dried wheat, indicating that the agricultural god Bres was favored in town -- not surprising, since Armagh was still predominantly an agrarian town, although trade had been increasingly important over the recent years.
Besides Kasey and Rishala, no one was in the church's atrium. Kasey started walking around the edge of the labyrinth. While it was considered rude, at best, to cross an occupied labyrinth, there was no such impropriety for crossing an unoccupied one. Even so, Kasey felt it more appropriate to walk around the circular wooden paths. Rishala followed the Church Knight around the edge and through the doors into the church proper.
The interior of the church was very open and spacious. Tall windows let light in, and light colored woods enhanced the airy feel of the room. A dozen rows of benches, also made of lighter woods, faced towards the dais and altar opposite the entrance. Two wooden bowls on pedestals were placed at the back of the church, one to each side of the entrance. Assorted coins, mostly bronze or copper, were in each of the donation bowls. The church was peaceful and quiet.
An older priestess, very motherly in her flowing violet robes, sat on the front row of benches. She turned when she heard the knight and the storyteller walking towards her. She rose and met the two in the center aisle of the church.
Kasey dropped to one knee in front of her, lowering his head in deference. "Mother, I ask a blessing," he said quietly.
"Of course, Child. We see few of the Order traveling alone." She held his face in her hands and quietly recited an ancient Kelltic blessing. "You are wounded, Knight."
"Yes, Mother. Are you able to heal me?"
She continued to hold Kasey's head. She spoke quietly, uttering a prayer to Bres asking for his power to heal the knight. Kasey's body tensed as a sudden, shocking chill coursed through him. He gasped and stood as the priestess released his head.
"Thank you, Mother. Are you alone today?"
The priestess nodded. "Father Abloc is visiting the festival market. He has heard there are some beers from far away, and Father Abloc is a true aficionado of beers, sacramental or otherwise."
Kasey smiled. "Mother, my friend is not a frequent visitor to the Church, but he, too, is hurt, and far worse than I."
She smiled back at Kasey. "You know we won't refuse someone truly in need."
The Church of Kells was old when the Sun King, Uther Paendroeg, unified the Kelltic peoples over two thousand years ago. It was easily the oldest continually intact organization in the Kelltic lands. However, in the centuries after the fall of Camelough, the influence of the Church waned. A major schism in the hierarchy of the Church over a millenium ago changed the priorities of the Church away from the political entity it had become towards the religious organization it was now.
The Church did not completely eschew politics, however. It maintained a diplomatic corps that communicated with the kingdoms of the land, and it still held the Knights of Kells -- the Shield of the Church -- to defend the Church and her peoples, and the Church maintained some international legal oversight: Church-witnessed contracts were nearly impossible to break without a number of stringent requirements being met.
Even so, most of the Church's functions involved meeting the spiritual needs of the Kelltic people of Avillonia. The Church still conducted weddings, ceremonies to the various gods, all the annual holy days, and miraculous healings and curings.
The priestess looked at Rishala. "Let me see your wound."
Rishala cringed as he unwrapped the dried bandages from his shoulder. The Mother looked at the wound closely, then reached up and gently, but firmly, grabbed Rishala's head. She again whispered the invocation to Bres, asking for the power to heal the wound. Rishala almost fell to his knees when the sudden cold of the healing magicks rushed though him. He reached out to find something to steady himself, then realized he had used his injured arm. With surprise, he realized it didn't hurt. The Mother released Rishala's head.
"The wound in your shoulder was severe, visitor. I have healed it, but you will feel tired for another day, perhaps. Do not work your shoulder too hard, or you will feel much worse tomorrow night."
"Thank you, Mother," Rishala said as he rotated his shoulder experimentally.
"Thank you, Mother," Kasey echoed as he pressed a small bag of coin into the priestess's hands.
"Go in peace, Child. Go in peace, visitor, and be welcome to visit again," she said.
Rishala and Kasey left the church to go find their friends.
Eric and Bilbus wandered about the merchant stalls, looking at the myriad goods available for purchase. Bilbus stopped at a wagon and purchased a strip of beef skewered on a long wooden stick. He tore steaming chunks of meat from the beef as he and Eric continued walking. Eric stopped several stalls down and looked at some finely-carved wooden miniature animals.
It was several minutes later that the two spotted Kasey. The Church Knight was standing at a table just past the edge of the merchants' stalls.
Bilbus slapped the knight on the shoulder. "Hey, Kasey. What are you doing?"
Kasey turned around. "Oh, hi, Bilbus! I was signing up for a wrestling match. If I can win it fast enough, I also want to try to go do the axe throw." The Church Knight looked at Eric. "You didn't tell me there were so many games here! I should have gone out earlier today. I missed a couple of fun ones already..."
Eric chuckled. "Are all Church Knights this interested in games? I always had the impression of very solemn men in shiny armor guarding churches."
"Oh, no, not at all! The formal church ceremonies are just a small part of the Shield of the Church."
"Shield?" Eric asked. "I would think the Church Knights are more of a Sword of the Church."
Kasey looked puzzled. "Huh? No. We are the Shield of the Church. We protect the Church and Her people from dangers. We are not an offensive Order of Knights. The Church tried Her hand at politics years and years ago. She doesn't dabble in that game any more."
The man sitting behind the table cleared his throat. Kasey looked at him, embarassed. "Oh, sorry. I want to sign up for the wrestling."
The man looked at the knight. "We may have someone close to your weight for a fair match. Will you be ready in about ten minutes?"
"Ten minutes?!?" Kasey started pulling his tucked-in shirt loose. "I can be ready in two!"
"The match stage is in use, right now, Sir Knight."
"Oh. I guess I have to wait, then." He turned back to Eric. "Most Knights of Kells are no different from any other military order's men. We have a number of footmen -- they are not really knights, but mounted heavy cavalry needs men to support it. We spend a lot of time practicing fighting. I guess it's normal for soldiers to play, too."
Eric nodded, taking Kasey's impromptu lecture in. "If you are just another Order, what makes the Church Knights so special? I have heard stories about grand deeds..."
"Well, most Church Knights know how to control divine Heka. I never was good at it, myself. The gods just never listened to me, or I never learned the right way to ask them. We also participate in Church rites and formal occasions by supplying an honor guard. Mostly it's nobles who do that -- they can afford the prettier armor, and they have enough servants to keep the armor shiny."
"You are a noble, right? Lord Kasey Bittrand of Sulster?"
"Lord Sir Kasey Bittrand of Sulster." The Church Knight emphasized his military honorific, placing it closest to his name. Noble members of some Orders of Knighthood treated the the order as a country club, and they placed their noble title closer to their name to emphasize the importance that the noble title held. Kasey continued. "Yes, but I never did well with all that courtly manners stuff. We didn't need it at home."
Bilbus watched the exchange between the two nobles with passing interest. The thief noticed Sturm in the crowds. Bilbus stood on his toes and waved, catching the large Sun Knight's attention.
When Sturm reached Bilbus, he spoke in quiet tones. "I've been checking around with the merchants. No one has noticed an increase in raids lately. And no one has any idea what the medallion is -- I described it and the coins as well as I could."
"Odd," Bilbus said. "I would have figured that anyone as well-traveled as some of the merchants around here would have seen some coin like that somewhere."
"None I talked to did. I know some of them were from distant lands."
"Strange," the thief's voice trailed off as he watched Kasey climbed onto a nearby stage.
The stage was similar to the one used by the prize players in Londoun, except there was no weapon table on the side of it. Kasey, his chest now bare, was stretching his arms and back on one side of the stage. Another large man on the other side of the stage, a local farmer, watched the knight with quiet amusement. When Kasey finished stretching, the match began.
Kasey and the farmer were closely matched in size and strength. The early part of the match was much like watching a pair of statues -- neither one moved much as they tried to overpower one another with sheer strength. Kasey's military training ultimately gave him the edge, for he started moving around the stage and using feints to catch the farmer unprepared and off balance. After five minutes, the Church Knight had pinned the farmer.
Kasey helped the farmer to his feet. "Good match! Let me buy you a beer. No! Let me buy you two beers!"
Whatever embarassment the farmer may have felt at losing the match was quickly displaced by the opportunity for some beer.
Rishala joined Eric, Sturm, and Bilbus shortly after the match. "Did Kasey finally get to wrestle?"
Bilbus nodded.
"Good. He's been talking about it since we left the church. The priestess healed my shoulder." Rishala flexed and moved his now-healed arm.
Sturm looked at Rishala. "Good. Now you can enter the archery contest with us."
"Archery contest?"
Sturm nodded. "I found the sign-up table. Come on. We may still be able to get into the match."
They found the archery sign-up table surrounded by a crowd of people arguing. In the center of the crowd, Bilbus spotted Adria. Oh, great. What has she done now?
Bilbus turned on his charming smile and pressed through the crowd. "Here, now! Here, now! What seems to be the problem?"
One of the men near the table shouted, "This woman wants to compete in archery!"
Bilbus stopped next to Adria, giving her a sidelong wink. He turned to the man. "Why is this a problem?"
"Well, it wouldn't be fair. She's the only woman. She would be competing against the men."
Adria said quietly, "And they are afraid of losing."
The man glared at her indignantly for a moment.
Adria spoke more loudly. "It would be a shame for me to return to Portsdale to inform my father that the people of the Kingdom of the Five Crowns are so disrespectful to nobility. Surely, my father and my two brothers would express their disappointment and outrage to the Outer Circle of the Dales. What a travesty it would be to stop selling our fine goods and superb yew bows to the people of the Kingdom, simply because they were so fearful of a woman out shooting them in archery that they would deny her the chance to compete fairly."
Several of the men who had just finished arguing against letting her compete tried to slink away unnoticed. Soon, just the one man remained who opposed letting Adria participate. He mumbled an apology enfused with "m'Lady"s and half-bows, then found an excuse to leave hastily.
Adria smiled to the tired man who was keeping the archery sign-up ledger. "Lady Adria del Quintin, of Portsdale, the Dales."
"Yes, m'Lady," the man said as he scribed her name into the ledger.
Eric, Rishala, and Sturm signed up in turn for the contest.
The archery contest was divided into two groups, nobles and commoners. Rishala and Sturm competed in the Commoners' Match, even though the latter was a knight -- a knight was a military rank, not a noble rank, in the Kelltic lands. Eric and Adria participated in the Nobles' Match.
None of them won his or her respective match, although Adria placed better than two of her six opponents, much to those two men's chagrin. They stayed to watch the final archery competition, in which the winner of the Nobles' Match competed against the winner of the Commoners' Match. The noble won that match, but only by a slim margin. Had the commoner bested the noble, the commoner would have received a hefty bag of coin.
As the afternoon slowly drifted towards evening, the party wandered between tents and wagons, listening to dozens of merchants shouting their wares for all to hear. The crowd was thicker than it had been, since the athletic competitions were over.
In front of a small, garishly colored tent, an elderly woman sat in front of a tiny round table. She wore colorful robes -- or multiple layers of dresses, it was hard to tell -- that clashed with one another and with her tent. Her salt-and-pepper hair was long and curly, pulled back into a tail that seemed almost to explode from the back of her head. Her face was heavily wrinkled and thin, but her dark eyes were still bright and sharp. On the table was a deck of cards, obviously old and worn, with an intricate pattern on the backs of the cards. Across from the old woman was an empty stool, squat and equally worn.
As Sturm walked past her, not paying her any attention, she spoke in a harsh, almost croaking, voice. "Shall I tell a fortune, kind sir?"
Sturm stopped and looked at the woman sitting on her stool. "How much will the fortune cost me?"
"For you, Sir Knight, nothing. Please." She gestured towards the empty stool opposite her at the table. "Sit down."
The fortune teller picked up the deck of cards as Sturm sat down. The rest of the party formed a half-circle around the knight to watch.
The woman gave Sturm the deck. "Take these cards and shuffle them. Reflect on your life as you do, and, when the cards have arranged themselves as they will, place the cards upon the table, in front of me."
Sturm had a small smirk on his face as he started shuffling the cards. He did a couple of simple dealer's tricks as he shuffled, tricks he'd learned over the years living in military barracks to pass the time. When he had thoroughly mixed the cards, he set them down on the table in front of the old woman, then tapped the top card of the deck. He folded his arms and sat straight, waiting for her to do her presentation.
She held her hands over the cards, as if they were warm coals on a cold day. Her fingers were long and bony. She swayed slightly with her eyes closed as she mumbled an incantation quietly.
The woman picked up the first card on the deck and flipped it over in front of her. The middle of the tree had an illustration of a tree with white bark. The tree was placed in a winter scene. Along both the left and right edges of the card was a curious marking of a line with a second line jutting out of the middle of it.
The fortune teller looked at the card. "Ah. Beith. The birch tree indicates beginnings, a new start."
She turned over the next card and placed it to the right of the birch card. A dark tree, it had vicious thorns on it as well as white flowers. There was another curious mark on the edges of the card, this time four straight lines projected out of the side of long line.
"Straif, the blackthorn, shows strong forces of fate affect your life. You may not always have choices, no matter how unpleasant the outcome."
She drew the next card, placing it in front of and between the other two cards, forming a triangle. On it was another tree. Five straight lines jutted from one edge of the long lines along the sides.
"The ash tree, Nuin, tells me that your actions are linked to the cosmos. The ash tree connects the three circles of our worlds: past, present, future, or perhaps confusion, balance, and creation. What you do is part of the greater weave of Time. An interesting connection to Straif."
The fortune teller flipped a fourth card, placing it in front of the third, forming an arrow pointing at Sturm. The tree on it was full and green. Three diagonal lines cut through the line along the two sides of the card.
"Phagos. The beech tells us that the past provides a key to the present. You must look back to see forward."
The woman produced a sheet of paper. She pulled a stick of charcoal from the folds of her dress, and scribed the marks from the cards onto the paper, drawing short lines from the side of on long line.
"Beith, Straif, Nuin, Phagos," she said as she drew the characters.
"Hey!" Kasey exclaimed. "That's really neat. Can you read mine?"
"I will for a donation..."
"How much?" Kasey asked as he reached for his coin purse.
"Is four Nobles fair, Sir Knight?"
Like all the Kelltic nations, the Kingdom of the Five Crowns used several different coins of different denominations. The basic coin was a round bronze coin called the "Common". The coin had an image of a farmer in relief on one side and a "1" on the other side surrounded by "Kingdom of the Five Crowns" along the edge of the coin.
The Noble was a copper coin worth five Commons. It depicted the head of a "noble" man on one side (it was commonly rumored that the model was, in fact, a beggar that lived on the steps of the Royal Mint in Londoun), and had a "5" and the Kingdom markings on the other side.
Larger denominations included the Crown, a silver coin with a crown on the face, worth five Nobles or twenty-five Commons; the Lion, a larger silver coin with a lion rampant on the face, worth eight Crowns or two hundred Commons; and the Drake, a gold coin worth five Lions, or one thousand Commons.
Kasey happily dug out four of the copper coins and placed them on the table. The fortune teller swept them into one cupped hand and quickly dropped the coins into a pouch hidden in her robes.
Kasey sat down on the stool Sturm vacated. The fortune teller collected the four cards she had drawn for Sturm and slipped them into the deck of cards. She then slid the deck across to Kasey and repeated her instructions for shuffling them.
Kasey picked up the deck and started haphazardly shuffling them. "Am I supposed to think about any part of my life?"
"Any part that comes to mind. The cards must be able to know who you are for them to tell me your future."
"Okay," the Church Knight said, accepting her explanation.
He finally set the cards down in front of the old woman. Again, she held her hands over the deck and whispered an invocation. She then flipped the first card over.
"Beith, again the first card. You travel with the other knight? Perhaps your threads are close? The threads of individual lives can often intertwine together, creating a weave. We see again beginnings."
The fortune teller flipped over the second card. It had vines crawling up a trellis in the middle of it.
"Muin, the vine, tells you that there will be a time when common sense will be less reliable than your other senses. In wine is truth, yes?"
Rishala chuckled. "In wine may be truth, but in Caledonian whiskey is enlightenment."
Kasey glanced over his shoulder at the Caledonian. "Okay," Kasey he said uncertainly.
She flipped over the third card, placing it in front of the other two to form a triangle again. The card had a large tree on it.
"The mighty oak. How appropriate for a Knight of the Church. Duir tells us of your strength, and your ability to overcome and survive. Your path may not be an easy one, brave knight, but you are strong enough to survive."
She flipped the fourth card over, placing it at the head of the arrangement of cards, pointing at Kasey. The waves of a sea filled the middle of the card. The etchings on the side of it looked almost like a net projecting from the line.
"Last, we have Mor, the Sea. There are resources hidden from you now that may be found later to help your journey. Mor also tells us that you face a long journey, in the material world as well as the spriritual."
Again the old woman drew the markings on the edges of the cards onto paper. She slid the paper across to the Church Knight.
"Beith, Muin, Duir, Mor."
"That is really neat." The Church Knight paused. "I didn't understand any of it, but it sounded like a Church sermon." He looked over at Bilbus. "Hey, Bilbus, how about getting your fortune told while we're here?"
Bilbus half-smiled at the Church Knight. He had seen a few really creative scams to part the fool with his money, and he had run a few grifts of his own. He was not about to fall for this one. He glanced up at the sun, now hovering low above the Ithell Manor. "Why don't we find a good tavern for dinner, instead?"
"Sounds good to me, Bilbus." The Church Knight stood up, grabbing the piece of paper on which the woman had drawn the glyphs. "Lead on."
Bilbus led the party through the now-thinning crowds towards the dance greens. The musicians' stands had already been disassembled, and the scorched region where the bonfire had burned was already cleared of most of the debris, save the hot coals that had been in the middle of the pyre.
Armagh was still bustling with visitors, many of whom had decided to stay the night instead of setting out near sunset. Many of the taverns and inns were crowded, but Bilbus finally decided to settle on a tavern on the south end of the town. The sign hanging in front of the tavern showed the tavern sitting on a hill surrounded by bright blue water. Engraved on a plank above the door of the tavern was "Llwelyn's Rise".
Bilbus walked into the tavern and glanced about. It was roomy, with a lot of decor that looked like it was taken from river boats. Bilbus spotted a large table near the front windows that was currently empty.
The thief turned to his companions. "There's a table. Let's eat here."
Most of his companions went to the table. Eric still stood outside, staring across the street.
"Hey, Eric." Bilbus said, walking back out of the tavern to tap the explorer on the shoulder. "The table's inside, you know."
Eric nodded. "I know. It looks like Master Shipley finally found an apprentice."
Bilbus looked across the street to a small shop. Herbs hung in the windows, and a sign next to the door read "Herbs and Mixes". Bilbus looked more closely into the window of the apothecary's shop. An attractive young woman, her auburn hair flowing down onto her shoulder, was at the counter, mixing something.
The thief chuckled. "Well, if you're going to have an apprentice, you may as well have one you can stand to look at all day. Come on. I'm hungry."
Bilbus pulled Eric into the Llwelyn's Rise. They joined their companions at the table Bilbus had spotted.
Bilbus took a seat next to Adria, then started scanning the other patrons of the tavern as he habitually did when looking for easy marks.
Five men sat at the table adjacent to the party's. Four of them wore non-descript clothing, something one would expect of any Kingdom commoner. The fifth wore an oddly-colored tunic -- a strange lavender shade -- under a dark green vest. This fifth man was also thin as a plank and tall. All five of the men wore strange conical hats that looked like some sort of bowl that had been flipped over. The hats also were the most garish, bright, shade of pink Bilbus had ever seen.
The thief leaned towards Adria. "Would you look at that?" he nodded past her towards the men.
"Look at what?" Adria asked, not noticing where he was trying to indicate.
"Look at those hats," Bilbus said quietly, trying to subtly point towards the five men. "Where did they come from?"
Adria turned to look at the men.
"Those hats are hideous!" she exclaimed too loudly.
One of the men with non-descript clothing, a taller man with dark, curled hair, looked over at the party's table. He started to turn back to his friends when he noticed Adria. Sporting a wide grin, the man pushed his chair back, stood up, and walked over to the travelers' table. He stood next to Bilbus's chair, his back in Bilbus's face as he looked down at the seated noblewoman.
He folded his arms as he gazed at Adria. "Hello, My Lady," he said, his voice quiet. "Why don't we settle down somewhere and have children?"
Adria kept her face neutral while one hand slipped towards a needle sharp stilleto knife she had concealed in her sleeve.
Bilbus tried to lean around the man. "Excuse me," Bilbus said.
Without turning, the man said, "I wasn't talking to you. Butt out."
Bilbus stood up next to the man, who turned to face him. "She's not interested."
"Look, rat. I am not interested in you. I am interested in settling down with this wonderous specimen of womanhood."
"And I told you she is not interested. Where on Oerth did you get that hat?"
"You have a problem with this hat?"
"It is the most noxious piece of headware I could imagine. No, it is worse than that, even." Bilbus kept his face straight as the man started to scowl, then become downright angry. "I can hardly imagine any sane man who would wear such a thing. Even the madmen I know would gouge out their own eyes first."
Bilbus had no warning when the man swung at him. He was barely able to deflect the sucker punch to his gut. Bilbus counterattacked with a swift kick to the man's shin. The man staggered back several paces, giving Bilbus room to maneuver. Someone in the tavern shouted.
The two men continued to exchange blows, tit-for-tat, with neither holding an edge, until Bilbus's opponent landed a solid hit to Bilbus's chin. The thief staggered back towards his party's table, woozy.
Adria watched as the man closed towards Bilbus. She picked up Bilbus's empty pewter mug and threw it at the man, intending to hit his head. The mug passed low and to the left, smashing instead into the table where the fighter's comrades had been watching the fight with amusement. Bilbus's mug slammed into two of the mugs on the table, spilling their contents.
The smiles on the four men's faces disappeared.
One of the other men stood up. He shouted, "You wench! You spilled my beer!" He charged towards Adria.
Blindingly fast, Adria grabbed another mug from her table -- this time, Kasey's partially emptied ale -- and threw it at her erstwhile assailant. The mug missed its target as well, and Adria chose to dive under the table.
Kasey stood up to block the man's path, smiling. "Let her be," he said, his voice calm and reasonable. "We can replace the beer, friend."
The man muttered under his breath and swung at the Church Knight. The blow landed solidly on Kasey's abdomen, but the Church Knight seemed unaware of it. Kasey's smile changed from a calm expression to one of gleeful abandon as he swung back at his assailant.
Around the table, Bilbus had fallen to the ground and scrambled underneath the table, only to find Adria already there. His attacker put a hand on the edge of the table and leaned down to peer under it. "Get out here and fight, little rat!"
Bilbus and Adria both kicked the man, landing a pair of glancing blows on his face as he tried to pull back.
Adria glanced at the thief. "How do you manage to do this, Bilbus?"
"Adria, my dear. You saw their hats. I had to!"
Bilbus rolled out from under the table and jumped to his feet. He launched himself at the curly-haired man, landing a solid right cross to the man's jaw. The man staggered back several paces and slumped to the ground. Bilbus turned back to face his friends at their table, a smug smile on his face. Adria crawled out from under the table to take her seat once more.
A crowd had started to form around the fight between Kasey and his opponent. Several people were cheering the fighters, and some coins were being exchanged. The bartender was still behind the bar, standing on his toes to watch the fight. One of the town watch poked his head into the tavern, uncertain whether he should intervene.
The fight ended quickly. Kasey's opponent found himself sitting on the floor, rubbing his jaw from a stunning punch. The Church Knight stood over the man, waiting to see if he would get back up to continue the fight. The man looked up at the knight and shook his head. Kasey offered the man a hand, which he accepted, and pulled him to his feet."
The bartender noticed the watchman and shooed him away, shaking his head. None of the furniture was damaged, so the bartender was willing to overlook the fight. The watchman nodded to the bartender and continued on down the road.
Kasey's opponent grinned. "Well fought, man. What is your name?"
Kasey grinned in return. "I am Kasey Bittrand. Who might you be?"
"I am called Neurth. My comrades and I were on our way back to Londoun after a job in Brallian."
Sturm sat forward quickly. "South? What news do you have from the south? Are there problems with merchants being attacked?"
The man shook his head. "Nothing outside the usual. We didn't spend too much time gathering information. We have a fairly close schedule to keep this contract. But, it's after hours. Let us not talk shop. May we join you?"
Sturm shrugged. "Feel free."
Neurth said, "My comrades and I call ourselves the Company of Unusual Headgear. We perform freelance recovery work."
Neurth and one of his still-conscious comrades dragged their unconscious man over to the wall and left him there, leaning against it. The Company then pulled their chairs over to the party's table.
Bilbus sat down in his chair once more. He asked, "What sort of recovery?"
"Whatever our customer has misplaced."
"Really?" Bilbus asked. He switched to the Thieves' Sign, or whatever they claim they misplaced.
Neurth winked at Bilbus and grinned. He answered, ""It is a good business. My comrades and I work well together."
Adria jerked a thumb towards the unconscious man against the wall. "What's that one good for?"
"Coalface? He's actually very good for planning. He has quite a way with the ladies. At least, he thinks he does. You should have seen the baron's daughter he chased after in Caledonia. Then her father found out. I think I've never seen anyone running that fast in my life!"
"If he hadn't, though," one of the other Company laughed out, "that Caledonian great sword would have cut him in half!"
"Are you kidding me?" Neurth retorted. "Baron McIntyre was mad enough, I think he would have torn Coalface in half bare-handed if Coalface would have tripped!" The rest of the Company laughed and nodded.
Coalface regained consciousness a few minutes later, as the rest of the Company described other mishaps and capers. He stretched slowly and gingerly probed at his face where he had been kicked. When he realized that his comrades had joined his opponent's friends, he grabbed his chair and dragged it noisily around the party's table until he was directly opposite Adria.
Adria pointedly avoided meeting Coalface's gaze. She noticed with some quiet amusement that Bilbus was very aware of Coalface's staring, and the thief was visibly jealous.
The Company of Unusual Headgear excused themselves about an hour later -- "We have to get an early start on the road for Londoun tomorrow," Coalface explained -- leaving the party once more along at their table.
They finished their delayed meal quietly as the long day started to take its toll. After eating, they finally left the Llwelyn's Rise.
The party started to walk back towards the Ithell Manor. The town was quiet this evening, a sharp contrast from the previous night's festivities. A warm breeze was just dying down, leaving the wooden signs hanging over many of the shop entrances swinging slowly. Several people were visible down the street, staggering together towards residences elsewhere.
Bilbus looked at his companions. "What was this Cadell doing? Eric, let me see that letter again."
Eric pulled the sheet of paper from his jacket. Bilbus stopped underneath one of Armagh's lampposts. The lantern, with its wide reflective top cover, provided plenty of light for reading. The thief unfolded the crumpled sheet of paper and started scanning through it.
Adria leaned over Bilbus's shoulder to read it as well. "Why would these people attack merchants?" Adria asked. "Was there something dangerous to this Cadell's master being shipped? Did he seek to raise prices in town, or prevent something from reaching town? It seems odd to provide a large sum -- assuming thirty Klals is large -- to fund the operation. There must be some other reason for disturbing trade besides snatching some spices and silks."
Bilbus gave the note back to Eric, then looked at Adria. "The way I see it, either this master is looking for something in particular, or it's a general disruption of the economy before a major invasion. We should find their base and raid it! Think of the mountain of profit there, recovering everything that this group has stolen."
The party started walking again. Adria shook her head. "I don't know that this is worth while. It may have been a one-time operation, and we disrupted it."
"I have this plan..." Bilbus chuckled at some private joke. "Okay, how's this sound: Cadell was supposed to go back to this meeting place around the solstice to dispose of his troops and head back to where ever he came from." He paused, waiting for someone else to agree. No one did, so he continued. "By dressing one of us up as Cadell, we would able to gain entry to the meeting place and discover the entire plan. Our entry would be assisted by 'Cadell' pretending to be injured so that he wouldn't have to talk much and someone," Bilbus straightened his jacket a bit, "could use a bit of magick so he would look like Cadell." Bilbus looked solemn for a moment. "It would, of course, be dangerous, but danger is what I live for..." He beamed proudly at his companions.
Adria looked at the thief disbelievingly. "Bilbus, might I remind you that Cadell's hirelings -- us, if we followed this ridiculous plan -- were to be killed off, as in dead, when they returned to this meeting place?"
"Not to worry, my dear Adria. I think that there is very little that the knights and Eric could not handle -- especially since we know of their plans beforehand. Plus, you will have no need to worry. You'll be playing the part of the rich merchant prisoner..." Bilbus smiled at her as he imagined getting to put a gag in her noble mouth.
"Lucky me..." Adria said, not meaning it.
"Bilbus? Adria?" Eric interjected. "Should we discuss this plan here? Just because we took care of Cadell does not mean that there is no one else helping his master."
Bilbus flinched as he realized that Eric was right. He looked around at the shadows, cursing himself for spending so much time underneath the streetlamp that his night vision was shot. He started walking back to the Ithell Manor, watching the shadows. His comrades followed the thief back to the house.
Back to the previous chapter: Beginnings
Continue to the next chapter: Journeys
Back to the Book I Index.
Back to the Dark Mysteries Campaign Chapter Index.
Second Draft 11 August 2001
Original Draft 30 August 2000
Contact for this page: JourneyMaster@BabylonByCandlelight.com