During the trip back from the hidden lair were the Earl of Yorma was being held captive in a strange Ancient artifact, the group spent a fair amount of time convincing the nobleman that he really had been missing for over a year.

“I swear, it couldn’t have been much more than a tenday,” he kept repeating. “They kept waking me up, and taking me to a large chamber, with a great dragon sculpture… I remember the glowing eyes… and then the nightmares would begin… I remember at least ten days… surely not more…”

When Mariala finally asked him if he had ever eaten during his periods of wakefulness, or if he’d even been hungry when he “awoke,” he fell silent for a moment before admitting he had neither eaten, nor been hungry.

“What’s the last thing you clearly remember?” Vulk inquired once the young Earl had begun to accept the truth of the nature of his imprisonment.

“We had tracked the escaped murderer north, pushing him hard. We finally cornered him in a narrow box canyon, one my man Yardin knew of old, being native to the district. There was no way out, other than the way he had entered.

“But when we pushed in after the villain, we found him already dead, killed by a band of Gülvini that seemed to have made their camp there. The foulspawn wasted no time in attacking the three of us, but despite their superior numbers I have no doubt we’d have done for them, if not for… the other.

“I only caught a glimpse of the tall figure behind the pack, but it was arresting – a man in deep midnight blue robes, trimmed in a pattern of golden flames, carrying a gnarled staff and wearing a golden mask. I remember it distinctly, despite the turmoil of the fight, for it was unnerving… the mask seemed a solid piece, without eyeholes or mouth!

“Yet he spoke clearly enough, if in a language unknown to me, and followed the battle closely enough. When it became apparent his minions (for so I believed them to be) would not subdue us, he raised his staff and cried out some chilling command that caused our limbs to grow suddenly numb and nerveless.

“Even as my sword and shield dropped from my hands, I saw my men bourne down my the Gül and torn to pieces.”

For a moment Lord Sedris paused, overwhelmed at the, to him, very recent loss of two good and loyal men. But he soon picked up the story, frowning in concentration.

“There’s little more to be said… I fully expected to meet the same fate as Yardin and Rosek, but before the snarling beast-men could pull me down the mysterious masked man called out an order, and they grudgingly backed away.

“The numbing effective was passing as quickly as it had come on, and I dove to retrieve my sword… but even as I did, the man raised his staff, I saw a brilliant light… and nothing, until I awoke the first time in that strange chamber where you good people found me.”

Further questions revealed little more… each time he had been awakened from his strange slumber there had been four figures, whether male of female he couldn’t tell as they were wrapped in black robes, and masked and gloved in black leather… these masks too, seemed to lack any opening for sight or speech, although the figures never spoke to him.

Each time he awoke he felt more confused and lost than before, and each session of nightmares reinforced the feelings. He claimed not to remember the specifics of his nightmares, but Mariala sensed a certain evasiveness from him on that score.

As they paused at the Nitarin Vortex that would return them to the environs of the Nebulon Chapterhouse, his wife, and his father-in-law, Mariala took out a sheet of her remote writing paper and jotted down a few words:

“Earl Yorma found. Ancient device involved. Secrecy not possible.”

Later that evening, in his quiet study just outside the port city of Devok, Master Vetaris did his daily check of the parchment slips he kept in his desk…

♦ ♦ ♦

Vulk convinced Lord Sedris that, given his long absence and the political roil currently going on around the potential Succession Crisis, it would be best if he arrived incognito at the conference that was going on between Earl Kinen, the Knight Commander Ser Remiu, the Lord Marshal of Kurikmarch Baron Bolnik, and the Lady Thalisa.

“Indeed, Ser,” the young Earl agreed, “never give up the element of surprise. One may not need it, but if one does…

“I’m glad to hear the King still lives; when you told me how long I’ve been missing, my first thought, after how my poor wife must be faring, was that the country might be in the midst of a civil war!”

“Not yet, your grace,” said Drake. “But His Majesty’s health is not improving… indeed, they delayed the Royal Tournament a month, due to his last illness.”

“Which turned out well for you,” added Devrik, “else we’d not have come this way and so found you.”

Arriving in Nebulon just after the evening meal, the group found that the conference had only just resumed in the library of the chapterhouse. Cris was full of information he’d managed to glean through judicious eavesdropping, and eager to share it, once he’d been assured that the cloaked and hooded figure with his employers was a friend.

“The Earl is trying to convince the others that his daughter should be made Countess in her own right, if her husband doesn’t return soon, and that they should back her with the clan succession council, which I guess is making noises about naming a new clan head.

“They keep talking about “keeping the North united” if things go bad when the King dies, and keeping Urkonis in Lady Thalisa’s hands is key…”

With his rescuers around him, and Cris trailing behind, Earl Yorma made his way into the Chapterhouse, pausing only to lower his hood and reveal his face to the startled guards outside the library.

His entrance into the room was perfect.

“Thalisa’s been running the fief brilliantly, and there’s a strong sentiment in her favour,” the Earl Kinen was saying. “I fear if we wait much longer, though, the Council –”

He stopped in mid sentence, his mouth hanging open in shock, as his son-in-law stepped into the chamber. Lady Thalisa, seated with her back to the door, gave her father a puzzled look before turning to see what had so undone her usually unflappable father.

“Sedris!” she cried, leaping up. “You’re alive!”

This was immediately followed by “Where the Void have you been?” before she threw herself into his arms.

The confusion and babble in the room went on for quite some time, as the assembled nobles questioned their returned peer and his rescuers. Eventually the whole story was told, and the real worry set in.

“This is clearly not the work of some brigand band,” Lord Clarin stated. “Much less the Gülvini. Even if such rude folk had stumbled onto this Ancient relic, and somehow divined its workings, Sedris’ capture and imprisonment seems much too arcane a plot.”

“Yes,” agreed the Baron Tirfall. “Ransom would be the goal of common outlaws, who lucked onto such a catch; and the Gülvini would simply kill and devour.”

Lady Thalisa paled at this, and held her husbands hand tighter.

“A mage of some power is behind this,” she said. “Could it be the same enemy who has attempted assassination on you, Father?”

The Earl frowned and thought for a moment.

“Possibly,” he said at last. “But if so, he’s playing a long game. The first attempt on my life was some months after Sedris’ disappearance. Is this, then, some plot aimed at me, or my family, directly? Or some larger plot to destabilize the kingdom when the King finally passes?

“Whichever, it becomes even more imperative then ever that we here form a united front; and that the king be made… well, encouraged… to name an heir.”

He turned to Vulk and the others.

“Ser Vulk, you and your companions have done a great service to both my family and to the realm,” he said. “Indeed, it is not the first such – I come to think taking you into my entourage was the best decision I’ve made in recent months.

“I know we share the pursuit of a common interest.” Even amongst allies, the Earl was too canny to reveal their joint animosity toward the Constable of Dür. “But I would ask that you now bend your efforts to uncovering what you can of this seemingly larger plot… it seems more vital to me than anything else just now, certainly to the Kingdom.”

“Of course, milord,” Vulk agreed, bowing. The others murmured their assent and dipped their heads, all except Drake, who looked mutinous. But he kept silent, and the Earl continued.

“And now we should continue our discussion, however wonderful this interruption has been!”

The friends took the hint, and filed out of the room. They soon found a quiet corner of the main hall, and had food and drink brought to them. When the servants had laid it all out and departed again, Drake finally burst.

“We can’t give up the search for evidence against Bernan! We…”

“Calm down, little buddy,” soothed Vulk. “No one said anything about giving up on our primary goal here, not even the Earl. We’re just going to expand our circle of interest.”

“And it’s not like we have anything much to go on at this point,” added Mariala. “It’s all still just rumors and innuendo.”

“Yes,” agreed Devrik. “And since we know even less about this other matter, we’ll still be casting about looking for any lead… we’re just as likely to find one that leads us to Dür as to this mystery mage.”

Drake seemed mollified by these assurances, and the group fell to talking about what they knew and what they suspected, talking long into the night.

♦ ♦ ♦

The return to Urkonis the next day was a major event. Thanks to the military discipline of Nebulon and the Order of the Lord of Paladins, no word of the Earl Yorma’s return preceded them to the castle. But once they entered the gates, the word spread like wildfire, up into the fortress, and down into the town.

The feast that night was spectacular, despite the short notice – the castles cooks and servants went all out to prepare a banquet worthy of their well-beloved lord, his lady wife, and their august visitors. And to the surprise of everyone except Mariala, one of those guests was the famed scholar Magister Viril Vetaris, who arrived at the gates late in the afternoon.

“I came as soon as I could after I got your message, my dear,” he explained after the meal, when he and the group had found a quiet spot in the library to talk. “The number of Ancient artifacts you people seem to stumble across is becoming quiet alarming!”

“Hey!” objected Drake. “This is only the second one we’ve uncovered.”

“Most people never uncover any, young man” the mage observed dryly. “Even those who actively search for them.

“But in all seriousness, what really concerns me is who found this artifact before you, and why were they using it to… restrain… the young Earl.”

The group then filled him in on what Lord Sedris had told them, of the attack by Gülvini, the masked figure who seemed to control them, and the silent jailers who led him to his torment. They also filled him in on the details of the mage they fought in the highlands above Lake Everbrite, and the drug trade that he seemed involved in.

Master Vetaris was sunk in deep thought by the time they finished, his frowning gaze fixed on the first stars appearing in the evening sky outside the windows.

“There is clearly something going on here,” he said at last. “Something deeper and more serious than I, at least, have suspected.”

“I think I had better take this all directly to the Council, as soon as possible… perhaps they know more, or we can piece together a picture from the reports of other agents…

“In the meantime, you’re the agents on the ground, and I think you should continue to do as you’ve agreed to do for the Earl Kinen. But keep me posted, as often as seems necessary!”

Before they parted he gave each of them several slips of Mariala’s Parchment that he had created himself, which he assured them would last indefinitely. With that he slipped off to wrangle an interview with the Earl Yorma.

The next morning, as the cavalcade prepared to set off on the next leg of the Progress, Master Vetaris was gone, departing before dawn according to the gate guards.

♦ ♦ ♦

It was a long days travel to Dolint Abbey, the seat of the Kleros of Gostrial, and the Progress’ next stop, but the mood in the cavalcade was merry. The unexpected return of the Earl’s son-in-law had pushed out the cloud of worry and fear that had hovered over them since the assassination attempt at Zebarin.

And it was the first afternoon of their two-day stay at Dolint when Ser Petral pulled Drake aside to tell him they were ready for the final stage of their potion to attempt to cure the Lady Lania. After several hours of mixing the final ingredients, they had six vials ready.

“One of these each evening, for the next six days, and if the effect is what we hope… well, we’ll see.” Ser Petral seemed equal parts nervous and excited as they entered Lady Lania’s room to give her the first dose.

Drake was a little disappointed not to see an immediate, flashy result, but Ser Petral assured him that they couldn’t expect much for several days. But in fact, he was wrong – the very next morning, Lady Lania responded to her daughters voice by turning her head and smiling at her.

The Earl, only half dressed, and that in mismatched pieces, rushed to his wife’s side as soon as the news was brought to him. Ser Petral at last told him all that he and Drake had been working on, and his hopes for the potion.

The trip back from the high heaths of Lake Everbrite was uneventful, although Vulk found the return portal opening to be more difficult than when they had gone out. It seemed to take more effort, seemed to open less “wide,” and left him more drained than the last two gates he’d opened.

But the transfer was successful, and the group was able to catch up with the Earl’s Progress in the town of Lorethal. Once they had unloaded both their own hard won herbal bounty as well as that captured from the tribesmen and mysterious trader/mage, they each went on to their own tasks.

Vulk reported to the Earl, in his guest quarters in Lorethal Keep, to inform him of the results of their search and the encounter with what might be yet another element of the drug ring operating in his domain. The nobleman was disturbed to find that the network was apparently not completely broken, but pleased that they’d suffered another set-back.

“Although I could wish that you had managed to capture this mage, or at least killed him,” he said as Vulk prepared to take his leave. “But I know how devilishly trick that sort can be… Keep me posted if you find anything of interest in his possessions.

“Also, Ser Vulk, I have a request of you…”

♦

Drake stayed with Ser Petral as he sorted through the harvest they’d brought, then accompanied the physician to the makeshift work tent he’d set up near Devrik’s tent. Ser Petral had divided the sample of the Baylorium Fungus they’d given him into several pieces, and already had it growing in various meat cultures.

“A fascinating discovery my boy,” he murmured to Drake as he prepared to make the first of the compounds they’d need to save Devrik’s eye and possibly his life. “I’m intrigued by the spectacular results you claim for it in that little kerfuffle in the Theocracy… I look forward to replicating it here!”

“Now pay attention, and I’ll walk you through the preparation for the making of the Elmithra elixir, which will take awhile…”

♦

While Erol helped Cris stable the horses and unload the captured mule, Mariala hurried into the tent that Devrik was sharing with Raven and Blackhawk, to check on their friend. The wounded man was sleeping, and though a film of sweat covered his face, she thought his color looked better, and the gashes that peeked out from the bandage over his eye not quite so inflamed as before.

“The phisicker has made him more comfortable,” Raven said, running her hand over his brow. “But, although the fever has slowed, he still burns too hot… and the eye…” she started to tear up, and turned away.

“We’ve found what Ser Petral needs to help Devrik,” Mariala reassured her, putting an arm around the pregnant woman. “He and Drake will soon have your man up and strong again, I promise you!”

♦

Drake didn’t join the group for dinner that afternoon, sending word via Cris that he and Ser Petral were deep in their work to create the medicines that were needed, not only for Devrik, but for Lady Lania and other sick and wounded in the entourage.

But Erol did join them, and announced the results of his and Cris’ search of the mysterious trader/mage’s clothes and saddle bags.

“The usual crap that men carry, of course.” he said as he sat down, dropping one of saddle bags on the table.

“A few coins, which I gave to Cris,” he said as the boy ducked out of the tent to fetch their food. “Some cheap jewelry, the bracers he wore, a dagger, and the clothes themselves. Nothing of interest, but you should probably check them for any… um, arcane energies… Mariala. They’re in the bag.

“But the thing I’m most interested in,” he continued, reaching into the scruffy leather bag. “ is this!”

He pulled out a narrow waxed leather tube, about 8” long and 1” in diameter. The black leather case was unadorned, but the end cap of red leather was stamped with strange, disturbing symbols.

“I missed this, but Cris found it in a secret pocket at the bottom of the bag, sewed into a seam.” He shuddered slightly as he handed it to Mariala. “I don’t know from magic, really, but this feels… wrong, somehow. Trying to read the symbols on the cap made me want to throw the damn thing away.

“I resisted the impulse, though, and popped the cap… but I don’t know what to make of the contents…”

Mariala studied the tooled symbols for a moment before opening the cap, and also shuddered, more deeply. It took a definite effort of will not to hurl the leather case from her and try to forget she’d ever seen it.

“Oh yes, there’s magic here,” she said grimly, as she pulled the cap off, letting it dangle from it’s attached cord. “And not clean magic.”

She turned the tube over and tapped it on the table to make its contents slide out – three tightly wound sheets of very fine vellum parchment, and a strange metallic object. She quickly set aside the case, and picked up the papers, glad to have the leather out of her hand. Vulk picked up the strange object, turning it in his hand.

After a moment of fiddling with it, he gave a start as what had seemed to be a single crooked arm suddenly snapped out into three, equally spaced around their pivot point. Each arm was of a different colored metal: bright silver, deep red copper, and a stange, almost translucent black metal. The body of the object was made of bronze; on each face was a raised disk of gold.

“I have no idea what this might be,” he admitted, setting it on the table. “Maybe it’s a paper weight…”

When no one else offered any better ideas, they all turned their attention to the papers Mariala still held, as s set them on the table as well. The three sheets immediately unfurled and lay perfectly flat. Each one was notched on one of the short edges, near the corner.

“Well, these don’t need a paper weight anyway,” she observed dryly.

As her companions watched, Mariala spread the pages apart and examined each one carefully, then placed them one on top of the other, with the notches aligned. She shuffled them into all the possible orders and combinations of sides facing one another, but the sheets remained utterly blank.

“Hmmm… I’m sure there’s an enchantment around these sheets, though I’ll have to… um, study them… more closely, to be sure. But I don’t yet know how to reveal whatever they may be hiding, if anything. What do you think?” she asked, handing them to Vulk.

But Vulk could make no more of them than she, and set the sheets down in frustration next to the metal object, which he had managed to retract into its original state. By then Cris had bustled back in with their food and laid the table, and everyone turned their attention to the meal.

It wasn’t until they had finished eating and she was preparing to take the papers and the strange paper weight back to her own tent that she remembered the leather tube – and then only because she stumbled on it as she stood up to leave.

“Oh, that’s right,” Erol said in surprise as she picked it up. “I’d forgotten about that creepy case.”

“Yes, so had I,” Mariala agreed with a worried frown. “I think this thing should be destroyed, and sooner rather than later.”

Thus, after stowing the blank vellum sheets in her locked chest in Lady Lania’s coach, she headed into the woods outside of town, accompanied by Erol and Cris. In a secluded glade she built a fire, and when it was at its hottest she tossed the leather map tube into the flames – although it took her a moment to remember why she’d built the fire or that she still held the case in her hand.

The flames eagerly devoured the waxed leather, turning a sickly green and producing a thick, oily smoke. Mariala made sure that they all stood far downwind until the fire died down to embers. Cris shoveled the remains into a pit she’d had him dig earlier, and tamp the earth over it solidly.

Maybe, she thought as they turned back toward town, I should have Vulk come out here and consecrate the spot…

♦

Vulk, meanwhile, was busy preparing to fulfill the Earl Kinen’s request of him – to act as the Crown Prosecutor at the Shire Moot the next day, where the surviving members of the Zebarin drug ring would be tried. It was more usual that an itinerant herald or cantor of Kasira such as he would act for the defense of commoners accused before the courts, but under the circumstances he was happy to let another take that job.

He worked long into the night, by the Light of Kasira, in the keep’s library, a room that the Sheriff apparently seldom visited and had been happy to turn over to his use, at the Earl’s request. By the time he finally retired to the small chamber he’d been given, he felt he was as prepared as he was ever going to be for his public debut before a Nolkiori court.

♦

The next morning Vulk accompanied the men-at-arms and the defense, a cantor of Agara, to the dungeons to retrieve the accused. Several other men and women, clearly peasants, were also brought out of cells and trooped off to stand before the moot court, but Vulk noticed one older man, clearly of higher blood, who was left in his remote corner cell.

The man caught his gaze and came to the bars, where Vulk could see that a ball gag was securely affixed around his head. But before he could do more than step toward the cell, the sergeant of the Sheriff’s guards rapped the man’s knuckles hard with his truncheon.

“Back, you!” he snarled as the prisoner shrank back in fear. “The Sheriff’ll deal with you in good time. ‘Til then be glad he ain’t ordered your tongue cut out!”

At Vulk’s surprised look the sergeant gave him a half-salute and a shrug, as he herded him back toward the group.

“He’s a bad ‘un, Brother, make no mistake. A dangerous warlock… charged with betraying the King’s Peace.”

Vulk had little time to ponder the matter, as they were quickly led into the Great Hall of the keep, where the Sheriff was seated in his Chair of Judgement. The Earl sat off to his right, chief among the spectators, stone faced and silent. Several score other folk, from gentles down to the meanest commons, lined the sides of the hall, though most of them were standing. Vulk caught sight of Mariala, Erol and Blackhawk in the crowd… Drake must still be working with Ser Petral, who was also absent.

Vulk thought the Sheriff, although about the same age as himself, and despite the rich clothes and the chain of office he wore, seemed rather young. He also seemed rather nervous at having the Earl present, given the covert glances he kept darting at the nobleman, who remained impassive. But he nonetheless took his job seriously, and dealt both fairly and quickly with the relatively minor cases on the docket first.

Within a watch he had disposed of them all, and the big case, the one that concerned the Earl and possibly the whole kingdom, was brought before him. His nervousness under the Earl’s gaze, which had faded during the lesser cases, seemed to return as Vulk stepped forward to present the Crown’s case against the accused drug smugglers and attempted assassins.

It took most of the next watch to bring forth all the witnesses and for both Vulk and the cantor of Agara to make their cases; although the older cantor was dignified and eloquent, Vulk had the evidence heavily on his side, and the best the other could do was plead for mercy.

The Sheriff seemed of divided mind at that point, but once the Earl rose and spoke forcefully of the chaos and disorder that this drug trade was already creating in the kingdom, with only the most oblique reference to the possible Succession Crisis that loomed over the realm, his resolve firmed up quickly.

“I have heard the testimony,” he said in a carrying voice when the Earl had finished. “And in the name of the King and under the eyes of the Immortals, I find these prisoners guilty of all charges brought against them.

“Except,” he went on as the crowd began to murmur in approval, “ for Yovon Targeld. She I find innocent of the charges of attempted assassination and of murder, as she was apparently not involved in the creation or delivery of the worried woreen.”

The crowd’s murmuring turned to surprise at this, but he overrode them.

“But there is no doubt that she was intimately involved in the smuggling and dissemination of numerous illicit drugs, and on those charges I find her guilty. As this plague of drugs has caused many deaths throughout the Realm, as His Grace has so eloquently summarized, I find I can extend no mercy to her, no more than to her companions.

“I sentence you all to be hanged by the neck until you are dead, your bodies to be quartered, and the pieces buried in unconsecrated ground. This sentence to be carried out at dawn two days hence; use the time to make peace with your souls. In the King’s name, this Court is adjourned.”

As the condemned were led out and the crowd began to break up into excited, chattering clumps, Vulk noticed that while the air of approval at the Sheriff’s decree was universal, amongst some of the local nobility it seemed a bit grudging.

As he was pointing this out to his friends, who were congratulating him on a well presented case, the Earl motioned him over to where he stood talking to the Sheriff, who seemed relaxed once again. Apparently the Earl had expressed his approval of the younger man’s performance.

“Well done, Ser Vulk,” the Earl said, with one of his rare smiles. “You are and eloquent and effective speaker. I was right to select you for this job.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Vulk replied, bowing. “It’s always easier when you have truth on your side.”

“Indeed Ser, indeed. The Sheriff and I are going to the chapel to pray for the souls of the condemned. If you’d care to lead us in our devotions, I’d be well pleased.”

Surprised at this invitation, given that the Earl’s preferred Immortal patron was, like most of his fellow noblemen, Cael, Vulk accepted with alacrity. After a few more minutes of the social graces with the local gentry (during which he noticed both the cool regard they felt for the Sheriff and the warm enthusiasm they held for the Earl), the party was able to slip away.

The chapel of Lorethal Keep was in the southwest corner of the pile, on the third floor. It was obvious at a glance that it had been very recently refurbished, and rather lavishly at that. The three men knelt before the alter and the large silver Eldaran ankh that hung on the wall behind it, both bathed in the multicolored light from the west-facing stained glass window. Vulk led them in the prescribed prays for the souls of those condemned to die, that they might be reborn anew to try again to find favour with the All.

♦

That evening Drake joined the group for the banquet being held in the Earl’s honor; Ser Petral was at the high table, in his usual spot, as well. Both men seemed in good spirits, and his friends quickly began peppering Drake with questions.

“Yes, it’s been going very well,” Drake laughed, taking a deep pull on his beer, having as usual eschewed the wine selections. “Ser Petral is really a rather fine fellow, and a very good teacher… I feel like I’m learning so much; more than I ever did from my thrice-cursed uncle.”

“I suspect you’re actually relearning many things, my friend,” Mariala said, smiling. “The mind is an amazing sponge, and much that we learned without knowing is retained, to sprout forth when conditions are right.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m excited to be working with such a great teacher and healer,” Drake shrugged. “And we’ve concocted a potion that utilizes some of my… our… Baylorium, to heal Devrik. We gave him the first dose at the beginning of the watch, and already his fever has broke completely, and the redness is fading from the slashes on his cheek and forehead.”

“What about his eye,” asked Erol, frowning. “I know your brother does alright with just one eye, but it’s a terrible loss for a warrior, and a danger in a fight.”

“It’s too soon to tell, of course, but Ser Petral feels confidant that he’ll regain full sight. Raven is also quite sure, though I’m sure that’s just love and hope talking.

“And we’ve begun work on a new version of Ser Petral’ “torazium” potion for the Lady Lania. I suggested adding Lyrin Oil to the mix, along with the Baylorium… if only we knew where to get hold of such an esoteric and illegal substance…” He glanced sideways at Mariala as he said that, and she returned a cool stare.

“I’m sure something will turn up Drake,” she said. “It always does.”

♦

Over the next two days, as the entourage moved from Lorethal Keep to Forest Manor, Devrik steadily improved. On the morning of the 10th, as they prepared once again for a long day of travel, he was up and helping with the packing. Both Raven and Ser Petral discouraged him from trying too much, but it was obvious that he was much himself again.

The bandage remained over his damaged eye, however, and Ser Petral suggested that he ride at least one more day in Lady Lania’s coach. Previously too ill to appreciate the company, the last couple of days had seen Devrik being drawn out by the enthusiasms of young Maid Carissa. She in turn was fascinated both by the quiet (and therefore mysterious) fighter and by his healing wounds.

“I plan to be a healer myself,” she assured him as the Progress got under way that morning, an assertion she had made to Mariala many times over the last tenday. Mariala rolled her eyes and smiled, but discreetly.

“What does your father say to that?” Devrik asked the girl as he held his hands apart so she could wrap yarn around them.

“Oh, Papa won’t hear of it, of course,” she sniffed disdainfully. “He’s determined to marry me off to some stuffy old lord. In fact, that’s at least part of the reason he’s doing this whole Progress thing – to check out potential husbands for me.”

She seemed undismayed by this, however, apparently quite certain she would not be taking anyone to husband that she didn’t want to.

“Once he sees me with the Healing Sisters at Rivona Abbey, and they tell him of my true vocation, I know Papa will let me join them.

“Of course, if he decides to marry me off to a young, handsome knight, I suppose I could take up healing on the side… My sister has done something of the same, even though she’s married to an Earl.”

That train of thought set her off on an excited tangent about the prospect of seeing her much admired older sister, the Countess Thilisa Kleftin, by the end of the day.

“Oh, you’ll both like her, I’m sure. She’s very beautiful, even if she is quite old – 23 last month. Her husband Sedris is even older, of course, 27 at least, but he is a great man, everyone says so!

“It’s very sad, of course, what’s gone forward this last year, but Thilisa is so strong…”

“What’s sad?” Mariala asked, setting down her own stitching to listen more intently to the girl. It was always good to get as much inside information about the places and people you were about to visit…

“Oh, don’t you know? No, of course – you’ve been adventuring in far off lands, so you mightn’t have heard yet.” The girl gave up all pretense of darting her yarn, and Devrik happily untangled his own hands.

“Well, Sedris, that is Lord Kleftin, the Earl Yorma, disappeared over a year ago. He set out from his castle – Urkonis, where we’ll be this evening – to track down a murderer” (she said that word quite breathlessly), “a man who had killed his wife and fled before he could be brought to justice.

“Sedris had taken the woman under his protection, when she had fled from her husband after he had beaten her terribly, so when the man managed to kill the poor woman anyway, well Sedris was honor-bound to avenge her personally.

“My brother-in-law is very honorable,” she added aside. “Papa says it’s his finest quality.

“But anyway, no one has seen Sedris since he rode out that day, nor the two men-at-arms he took with him. My sister has run the Earldom very well, Papa says, but if Sedris doesn’t return soon he worries about what will happen… they haven’t had any children yet, you see, so if a Kleftin succession council is called, who knows what will happen?”

For a moment she was silent, as she contemplated her sister’s tragic plight, but soon enough her naturally cheerful temperament reasserted itself.

“I’m sure Thilisa will find a way to make it all come out alright; she’s quite brilliant, everyone says so!”

♦

Later that evening, as everyone sat down for a formal, but quiet, welcoming banquet at Kar Urkonis, both Mariala and Devrik found themselves agreeing with Carissa’s assessment of her sister. Lady Thilisa, the Countess Yorma, was not only extremely beautiful, but obviously equally intelligent. She greeted her father and his guests with subdued dignity, but her conversation was sharp and quietly witty and she had a firm grasp on what was going on not only within her own domain, but throughout the realm.

A life-size portrait of the countess and what was obviously her missing husband, the Earl Yorma, hung on the wall behind the dais in the Great Hall. Mariala studied it closely as the party was ending, after she had been introduced to the Lady Thilisa, who noted her interest.

“My husband,” she confirmed, smiling. “He commissioned that for our wedding day, and surprised me with it when we returned from the Temple.”

“He is most handsome,” Mariala said, as indeed he was – tall, dark haired, clear gray eyes, a square jaw, and a trim figure. “You must miss him very much.”

“Yes, but I have every confidence in his skill and abilities. Whatever keeps him from us, I’m sure he will overcome it and return to us.

“But I understand I owe you thanks,” she continued, deftly changing the subject. “You have been caring for my lady mother during this… ordeal my father insists on putting her through. And shielding her, I hear, from mystical attack.”

“Well, there’s been no attack to defend against, at least not of that sort,” Mariala said. “But I have had the honor to help care for her, along with your sister and her nursemaid.”

“Ser Petral tells me he may be close to a cure, thanks to the knowledge you and your companions have brought him. If that is true, you will all have more than just words in thanks – from both my self and my father!”

With that she moved off to greet the next of her guests and Mariala turned to find her friends. Vulk and Drake were not far away, appearing to speak quietly together. But asa she approached, she realized they were actually eavesdropping on an increasingly heated exchange the Earl was having with two of the local nobles.

“I have every reason to believe my son-in-law is alive, Ser,” he said. “And full faith in his eventual return.”

The companions couldn’t quite make out the response of the smaller of the two locals, but no trouble hearing Lord Clarin’s response.

“Rubbish! My daughter is quite capable of handling the affairs of the fief as effectively as Sedris could. Indeed, she did much of the work even when he was home. This threat of a succession council is nothing more than a power grab, Ser, and you would do well to consider all the ramifications before you put your own weight behind it…”

At this point the Earl seemed to realize the conversation had become indiscreet, and he and men moved off to find a more private venue, no doubt to continue the debate. The comapnions turned then to head out of the hall themselves and to find their beds.

♦

The next morning the group gathered in a small chamber off the great library to discuss their next move in the fight to bring down the Constable of Dür. Drake reported that he had a brief break from his work with Ser Petral, as much of their material now needed time to age properly.

“And what a stoke of luck it was to find a stash of Lyrin Oil on our doorstep, as it were, yesterday,” he said, carefully not smiling at Mariala. “Now we have a real chance of a cure for Lady Lania.”

When Devrik and Raven entered the room, everyone was pleased to see that he had his eye patch off, and though still bloodshot, he seemed able to see perfectly.

“And these pale scars just add interest to my face,” he growled. “Or so Raven assures me.”

After they had all congratulated Devrik on his recovery, and Drake for his hand in it, and he’d thanked them all in return for finding the shrubbery needed for his recovery, they got down to business.

Mariala pulled out the sheets of vellum they’d found on the trader/mage, along with what they were calling Vulk’s paper weight, and spread them all on the table.

“I still think these are important,” she declared. “They were too well hidden and warded to be just blank sheets of paper and a paper weight.

“I have an idea for learning more about them…”

The morning after the disastrous feast at Zebarin Keep, and the resulting discovery of the Zalik-mal drug cache, was a hectic one. Both Erol and Vulk were still a bit singed from the encounter with the trapped lantern, but no more. However, despite Vulk’s best ministrations Devrik remained badly wounded, in pain and unfit for any serious duty. It fell to Drake and Erol, under the command of Ser Kovar, to catalogue and secure the contraband, while Vulk and Mariala assisted in the interrogation of the surviving Zalik-mal.

While the surviving criminal did give up several of her local accomplices, some (but not all) of whom were seized before they could flee, none could say who was responsible for the overall operation. It seemed that only Joet, Captain Kovar’s double-dealing informant, was privy to that information. He led the Zebarin cell, receiving his orders when he would ride out of town for two days, passing on instructions as required. Around the first of each month he would load up a pack horse with drugs and, under his cover as a simple tinkerer, head south, returning after five or six days.

None of his henchpeople knew where he went or who he received orders from, although one fellow claimed to have followed him on one of his two-day excursions. He swore that he witnessed a meeting between Joet and two shadowy men in a ruined farm on the outskirts of Dinmel, a village west of Dür Keep. He feared to get too close, and could give no certain description of the men, save that one was large, with muscle or fat he couldn’t say, and the other smaller and thin.

The volume of illicit substances, both herbal and prepared, that Drake and Erol helped to secure was rather shocking. If this amount of drugs were being shipped out each month, half the kingdom could be supplied for a year. In fact, this was a somewhat oversized lot, as they learned from the interrogators over diner that night. It seems the usual routine was interrupted a little over a tenday ago, when Joet suddenly had them drop everything and begin to prepare the “worried woreen.” He himself had delivered it to the keep the afternoon before.

By evening it was known that the Constable of Zebarin would survive the poisoning attempt, news which Ser Andro received with what might charitably be called cool indifference. Other’s would also survive, including Nursemaid Hila, but four members of the entourage and two of the keep’s residents were not so lucky. Services would be held in the morning, before the cavalcade departed on the next leg of the Progress, which the Earl was adamant would not be delayed by this outrage…

Ser Petral pulled aside Vulk and Mariala after the subdued evening meal (no woreen was served, or indeed any alcohol but beer) to report that his traveling pharmacy had been broken into last night, no doubt after he had come down to the feast, and all his medicines and herbs had been stolen.

“I’m certain that it was all part of the poisoning plot,” he said grimly. “To leave me without any possible antidote. Fortunately I always carry certain remedies and useful potions on my person, and so was able, with Ser Vulk’s aid, to save the Constable.

“Equally luckily, my current store of torazium is kept in Lady Lania’s carriage, so there is no danger to her at present. But I now have no ingredients to make more, a lack that must be addressed soon.”

After assurances from the friends that they would assist him as they could, he departed distractedly to go and check on his primary patient, before making his last evening rounds of the recovering poisoning victims.

Exhausted as they were, the companions, joined by Alakor, gathered in Devrik’s tent to discuss the progress of their goals and compare notes on the day’s activities. Devrik had slept much of the day, but he seemed no less tired then his friends, and Raven sat anxiously at his side, with a cool cloth for his forehead.

Vulk removed the bandages from his face, and frowned at what he saw.

“I don’t like the look of that eye Devrik,” he said, probing the wound.

Devrik flinched and growled, but said nothing. He was feverish and sweating, and seemed restless. Vulk and Drake exchanged looks and Drake stuck his head outside the tent to speak to Cris, who was standing guard with Blackhawk.

As Vulk changed the dressings on Devrik’s wounds (and tried the healing touch once more), Alakor summed up what they had learned over the course of the day.

“We’ve put a serious hole in the Zalik-mal’s operation in this area,” he concluded. “But with Joet dead there’s nothing to connect it all to Danyes Burnan. We need to find something solid, something that will see the man dancing on a gibbet!”

“But what in the Void killed Joet,” Devrik mumbled, frowning. “I know it wasn’t our weapons…”

“I for one would like to examine Constable Burnan’s wrists,” Mariala said. “I’d bet a large sum that we’d find one of those mysterious tattoos…”

“You may be right,” Vulk agreed. “And I’d love to know what they mean. If it was just here that we found the sigil I’d assume it was some Zalik-mal marking; but they have no reach into the Sea Kingdoms that I’ve ever heard. Besides, the attempted coupe in Sha Hesima was clearly political…”

“I wonder if this drug trade is as simply criminal as you assume,” Drake interjected, a thoughtful look on his face. “As the Earl mentioned the other day, the increasing drug use in the realm is creating trouble in every class. Could there be some larger political agenda behind it?”

“One of the potential heirs you think?” asked Mariala.

“Or someone else who simply wants to take advantage of maximum chaos during a Succession Crisis,” added Erol.

The conversation lulled as everyone considered these possibilities, and a few minutes later the tent flap was pulled back as Cris ushered in Ser Petral.

“I understand there’s a problem with your friend, Ser Vulk,” he said as he stooped to enter. “Let us have a look, eh Devrik?”

Removing the just applied bandages swathing the left side of the fighter’s head, he clucked in dismay.

“Oh dear, this is a mess, isn’t it. It was a taloxta attack, correct? Yes, nasty little creatures, and crawling with disease I’m afraid. Of course you’re lucky they didn’t get the eye out, eh? Though it looks like it was a close call…”

After applying a salve of his own to the wound the physician replaced the bandages and poured a dose of white liquid into Devrik’s untouched wine cup.

“Drink this young man; it will help you sleep, and you need to sleep to give your body a chance to fight this infection properly.”

Devrik grimaced, but silently took the cup and drained it. He then sank back on his cot, and in just a few minutes had drifted into a restless sleep.

Ser Petral turned to the companions and shook his head.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t look good… if I had all the herbs and medicines in my pharmacy, I could create a potion that would certainly fight off this infection and allow him to keep the eye. But as it is, if there isn’t a marked improvement in the next day or two, I’m afraid I’ll have to excise the organ.”

“There must be something we can do to help,” cried Raven. The others nodded anxious agreement.

“If we could gather the correct ingredients,” Ser Petral said, “perhaps…”

The group enjoyed several days of being praised, over-fed and generally celebrated by the grateful families of Port Kethim. The Port Master insisted that they lodge in his home, which had more than enough guest rooms to accommodate the heros of the hour. For once, Vulk and Drake didn’t have to share, which certainly made it easier to entertain those attractive townsfolk who wished to express their gratitude more… privately.

The Tritani were also grateful for the great service the friends had rendered them; and although they were seriously occupied in dealing with the wreckage and grief left behind by the false “princess,” on the third day a delegation arrived to hold a fete for the heros and the townspeople. The surface dwellers followed the Rous River some two kilometers inland, to a series of pools in the midst of a sunny glade surrounded by ancient oak trees, while the merfolk reached the same spot via underwater caves.

This was the Gareth Vall, the Meeting Place, where the Tritani had for centuries met with their surface-dwelling subjects and visitors. The pools and surrounding land had been fashioned in such a way as to allow the two peoples to dine and converse together easily, with the Umantari laying on low dining couches, in the Oceanian style, while the Tritani lounged half-submerged. Each group provided food for the feast, allowing both to enjoy foods not normally available to them, the harvest of both the sea and the shore.

The leaders of the Tritani delegation were Lord Korak, the Prince’s son and heir, and the High Priest Azador. Both were much recovered from their injuries, thanks in part to Vulk’s healing abilities, offered to help relieve the burden on the merfolk’s own healers, overwhelmed as they were with the injured. Both dignitaries bore gifts for the friends. The Heir formally presented them with the caskets of pearls that had been promised for each, the light but strong armour that had been crafted for Vulk, Mariala and Devrik, and the trident and shock-net, as well as armour, for Erol. Drake received a scroll of eel leather containing numerous tracts on the aquatic apothecary arts.

Azador then presented each of the companions with three mother-of-pearl vials, stoppered in white wax stamped with the trident sigil, containing the merfolk’s own version of the water-breathing potion.

“It lasts twice as long as the common version generally found amongst surface folk,” he said. “It is our offer to you all to visit us whenever you wish; you will always be welcome in the coral halls of Sha Hesima. You also have the Prince’s leave to travel where you will within his realm, as token of which he presents you with these.” He held out five oval plaques of gold coral, carved with the royal sigil of Hesima, each hung from a chain of braided gold.

Later, as the festivities began to wind down, Azador motioned Vulk to move aside with him, to a small pool somewhat removed from the others. When they were alone he pulled a small piece of eel skin parchment. On it was drawn a strange symbol, resembling a black three armed star, with the arms bent counterclockwise, over a similar shape in red at a different angle.

“We found this symbol etched and enameled into the metal of that accursed tiara the sea witch wore,” he explained,” as well as tattooed on the inner side of her left wrist, beneath one of her bracelets.

“None of our scribes or heralds recognizes it as belong to either the Tritani or the Arcutha… I was hoping that you, as a herald yourself, might know it from the surface world.”

“I’m sorry,” Vulk replied after examining the drawing carefully, “but it is completely unfamiliar to me as well. Both the tattoo and mark were in these two colors? Black and… what shade exactly would you call the other?”

“A deep crimson,” sighed the priest, obviously disappointed. “This copy is a very fair approximation. Both inks were such as are commonly used both below and above the waves.

“But I can’t help but feel this is significant,” he continued,” if only because it appeared twice in this affair. I think it should be brought to the Council’s attention.”

“I agree,” said Vulk. “May I keep this drawing?”

“Certainly, I have several others at home. I assume I can trust you to mention this in your report?”

With Vulk’s agreement the two returned to the festivities, and another round of speeches before the final sweets course of the feast. It was late afternoon before the party began wending its way back to the town.

While the group had been feasting, the crew of the Fortune’s Favor, under the watchful eye of her First Mate, had been busy loading up the cargo of undersea trade items the Tritani had brought with them. Captain Levtor was anxious to return to his ship and oversee the final stowing of goods and go over the manifest with the Port Master one last time. This trip promised to return a very nice profit, very nice indeed…

The ship sailed the next morning with the lesser tide, but contrary winds meant they didn’t reach Devok until late afternoon. Returning to their rooms at the Inn of the Cloven Shield, Drake found a letter from his brother Alakor waiting for him. It had arrived the day after they had sailed for Port Kethim, and it’s urgent news from Nolkior had only become more urgent with the passing days.

Over dinner in Mariala’s room that night the Drake read the deciphered letter aloud to his companions, including Raven and Black Hawk:

11 Agras 3018

Dear Draik,

I trust this missive finds you well, and finds you quickly. I would that your friend Mariala’s magical parchment was good for more than just a few words, but where magic falls short, we must rely on the Royal Post, eh?

I have recruited a solid group of men (and two women, a first for the Hand!) to fill out the Company. We are currently in Vinkara, in the employ of Lord Clarin, the Earl Kinen, for reasons that will soon become clear. This changes out plan to meet in Shalara on Midsummer’s Day, and I pray you are able to meet this new schedule.

As you may recall, the Earl has always been something of a recluse and homebody – tucked away here in the northeast, far from the intrigues of the heartland, our home shire always suited his quiet nature. For twenty years he has seldom travelled far from home, except for his annual inspection of his holdings in Kinenshire and his meeting with the King in Bürkon each autumn to pay his feudal dues.

But this month he announced, to the amazement of all (and the fear of a few, I think) that he intends to make a great Progress through the kingdom and attend the Royal Bellanin Tournament in Kolosür! He plans to hold a tournament in Vinkara at the end of the month, culminating on Maita Lai, to select three champions from his lands to represent him at the Royal Tournament. The excitement has everyone in an uproar, and every boy with a wooden sword is practicing night and day in the hopes of winning a place in the Earl’s entourage.

The reason’s for the Earl’s actions are a mystery, but of course that doesn’t stop the gossips from wagging their tongues (nor everyone else from having an opinion). His lordship has given several explanations that I’m aware of – he wishes to inspect his more distant holdings at Zebarin, Bürkon and especially Rägnol, which he visits seldom; to attend the Tournament with his champions, and meet in private audience with King Garinalt; to visit his daughter, Lady Thilisa, wife to the missing Earl of Yorma, in Urkonis; and to attend the Summer Fair in Shalara to negotiate some long term contracts for fleeces from his lands.

There are other, darker possible reasons, seldom more than whispered. Two years ago a Naventhülian assassin attempted to kill the Earl, and he’s been on guard ever since; it may be that he wishes to lure his unknown enemy out by leaving his secure base. If this is the case, he’s either a very brave man or a very desperate one!

But I think the most likely reason for this trip is his wife. Lady Lania suffered a terrible palsy several years ago, which left her crippled and speechless. Healers have tried to cure her malady, but the best have only managed to keep her alive. Rumor has it that the Maran hospital at Rivona, with it’s amazing mineral springs, has brought relief to similar sufferers, and it is on the planned itinerary.

But what has all of this to do with us, and our quest for justice against the cursed Danyes Bernan, you ask? The Earl is a man of sharp perceptions, an excellent judge of character, and he has long been suspicious of that false “nobleman.” Especially of his seemingly bottomless purse. The Earl has had agents monitoring Bernan since he was appointed Constable of Dür three years ago, but the man is simply too skilled at hiding his tracks.

But at last the Earl’s agents have uncovered proof that the Constable has been bleeding his fief, skimming tremendous amounts of money from his liege lord, the Earl of Buran. Earl Kinen plans to present the evidence to his fellow earl at Kolosür. While this may get the bastard removed from office, it may not be enough to get him hanged. I’ve shared my knowledge of Bernan’s trading in illicit drugs, but with that idiot Ardath mind-wiped after his trial, I have no eye-witness to back up my knowledge.

The Earl is willing to give me time to bring him proof, and has hired the Hand of Vengeance as extra security on his Progress – the captain of his personal security, the Wyvern Guard, is my old friend Kovar Delcanus… Ser Kovar now… and it was his speaking for me that tipped the scales. He believes that Bernan has learned of the Earl’s evidence, and will stop at nothing to prevent it from being delivered. With that threat on top of potential Naventhülian assassins and some shadowy, unknown enemy, he wants all the help he can get in protecting his lord.

I’ve told Kovar and the Earl about you and your friends, emphasizing your skill at uncovering plots and the machinations of the dark cults. I’m not sure the Earl quite believes me, but he’s willing to find places for you all in his entourage, if you can get here before Midsummer’s Day. He was intrigued by my tales of Vulk’s healing powers… although others have tried to cure Lady Lania he is always ready to seek some miracle. His status as a noble herald and cantor of Kasira doesn’t hurt. Lord Clarin was also interested in Mariala’s abilities, as he has been searching for months for someone capable of providing arcane protection for his wife on the journey. I hope Mariala will forgive my indiscretion, but I was really trying to sell you all as being indispensable to my efforts to put the final log on the Constable’s pyre. Although I thought it best not to mention Devrik’s more uncanny abilities – his fighting skill is credential enough, and I like to leave some surprises in reserve, as you know. Your own skills with herbs and gadgets falls into that category as well…

King Garinalt’s recent illness has been a boon to us (though I wish His Majesty full health and a long life, of course) as it has delayed both the Summer Fair and the Royal Bellanin Tournament by almost a month.

So, get here as fast as you can my brother. If this reaches you by the 19th, as the Royal Postmaster in Vinkara assures me it should, that leaves just enough time for you to get here by Maita Lai. If Kasira is with us, by the end of summer we shall see the Constable of Dür dancing from a Royal Gibbet! And our uncle next to him, if there’s any justice.

I remain, affectionately, your brother,

Alakor

P.S. – I am still going by my mercenary name of Colith One-eye, as I see no point in giving Bernan any kind of warning that I’m coming. So be sure to seek me under that name when you arrive in Vinkara. And take care as you pass by Dür; there is some chance of meeting those on the road who might recognize you, despite your own alias and more adult mein.

–A

There was silence around the room after Drake finished reading, as the companions contemplated what Alakor was asking.

“I’m afraid there’s no way we can make his timetable,” Mariala finally spoke. “The trip to Sha Hesima delayed us too much… if only we’d sailed a day later!”

Drake dropped the letter on the table and shook his head.

“No, it’s possible, damn it! If the Fortune’s Favor could sail on the early tide tomorrow, it’s three days to Shalara, and another five overland to Vinkara, if we ride hard. We could just make it!”

“But the ship can’t be ready, Drake,” replied Vulk gently. “I’m sorry, but they’re still unloading our cargo, and it will take at least another day to finish that and then resupply her for a voyage of any length. Even then, she’s not well equipped to carry not only us but also our horses and gear…”

“I’ll be damned if I’ll risk Immelen breaking a leg, or being swept overboard, or whatever other stupid thing that can happen to a horse at sea,” grated Devrik, slamming down his mug of cider. Raven patted his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. He grunted and then nodded.

“But there may be another way,” he went on. “I’ve been studying with Master Vetaris a bit, and it was with his help that I learned how to use the Nitaran Vortex on Chalkman’s Hill to get to Port Kethim.

“I’m still far from casually opening portals, but perhaps with Master Vetaris’ help, we could use the Vortex to travel to Vinkara, or near it…”

“Actually,” Vulk chimed in, “I was studying Vortex control myself, at the Temple, before our little sea holiday, and I was granted permission to learn the proper rituals the day that we sailed. I haven’t had time to do so yet, but with luck and the proper prayers I could have the goddess’s grace in time to take us to Nolkior before the deadline.”

This set off a babble of excited planning and list-making… Mariala and Devrik agreed to seek out Master Vetaris first thing in the morning and request his help, while Vulk got up to leave for the Temple, to begin his preparations for the meditations, prayers and study that would be required for him to learn the Ritual of the Portals.

But all their plans were cut short by a knock at the door. Mariala opened it to find a young man in the livery of the Earl of Devok smiling at her.

“Good evening milady,” he said, stepping briskly past her into the room and surveying those within. “Ah, good, you’re all here. I bring greetings from my noble master Lord Toralt Hanorn, the Earl of Devok, to Vulk Elida, Cantor of Kasira, and to his friends, Scholar Mariala Teryne of Nolkior, Master Drake Bartoff of Nolkior, and Master Devrik Askalan of the Kildoran Republic…” he paused for just a second before concluding with, “and the rest.”

“His Grace requests and requires the presence of Cantor Elida in the Great Hall of Kar Devok at the third turn of the Serpent Watch on Garta 24 Agras in the 3018th year since the Demon’s Fist, along with such of his companions as may wish to join him, to receive from His Grace a gift that His Grace is most desirous to bestow.”

Vulk was speechless at this, but Drake was not.

“That’s tomorrow morning,” he said. “We don’t have time for –”

Mariala clamped a hand over his mouth, while Vulk gathered his wits and bowed his head to the page in acknowledgement of his master.

“Please convey my gratitude to His Grace for his kind invitation,” he said, “and assure him that we will be there at the appointed hour. May we bring these other friends of ours, or…”

“Certainly,” the page replied sunnily. “You may bring as many people as you wish. Just be sure everyone’s dressed properly for such a solemn occasion.”

“But what exactly–”

“I’m sorry, I was instructed to say no more. You’ll just have to wait.”

With that the page turned and slipped as quickly out the door as he had come in, leaving the room bemused and curious.

“Well, I think we need to continue our plans for departing,” Drake said, freeing himself from Mariala’s grip. “Whatever the Earl wants to dump on you, Vulk, can’t take too much time… and maybe the rest of us can slip away afterwards, if–”

“Yes,” Vulk said absently, his mind obviously deeply engaged in trying to unravel what sort of gift the Earl might want to give him so publicly. “Yes, I think we should continue to prepare… but this is going to delay my ritual studies…”

While the group began to break up, heading to their own rooms and bed, Raven pulled her brother aside and spoke to him in a low voice, while he nodded and smiled. While Devrik and his sister stepped across the hall to their own rooms, Black Hawk headed down the stairs, apparently to his own room. But instead he continued down to the common room, then slipped quietly out the door and into the night…

The friends made their way, limping and shaken, from the cave complex, supporting the still-dazed Raven. Devrik was silently furious that Kirdik Hanol had escaped him… he understood the nature of Nitaran Vortices, of course, but it just seemed so damn… unfair!

Cris, Marik and the horses were where they had left them, and the party wasted no time in saddling up. It was late afternoon, and would be dark before they could make Elidar Manor, but no one was inclined to camp in the wilderness with a psychotic Korönian cantor on the loose, and possibly more Gülvini running wild.

Raven insisted she was strong enough to ride upright behind Devrik, rather than across his lap, as he’d been prepared to do. “We’ll make better time, love,” she pointed out. “And after the last several days, I really want a nice pile of furs and a day of sleep – soon!”

The ride was uneventful, thankfully, though everyone kept a wary eye out for the Gülvini who had fled after their failed ambush at the cave mouth. It was two hours after sunset when the exhausted companions arrived at the gates of Vulk’s ancestral estate and called for entrance. His aunt and uncle, as always, were warm and welcoming hosts, and the extended family listened with amazement as the group related the events of the last several days over a very welcome hot meal.

Raven got a down bed, rather than a pile of furs, but did indeed sleep most of the next day away, Devrik seldom far from her side. When she finally woke, ravenous once again, Devrik fed her and finally had the full story of her imprisonment from her.

“Those foul beastmen took care not to harm me, despite the injuries I managed to cause them before they could bind me,” she said between bites of stew and warm bread. “It was obvious they wanted to hurt me, but their fear of… something… was greater than their lust.

“I guess it must have been that mad cantor, of course… he also took care not to cause me any physical injury, though he seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting my mind. He kept telling me how he would bend you to “our” will or see you die a horrible death – which he described in great detail.” She shuddered at this memory, but waved off his comforting hand.

“He also told me how I’d be kept alive only until my son was born, and how “they” would raise him to be a mighty warrior of flame and death for the Chained God.

“He kept referring to others, as though he was just acting on orders, but other times it seemed as if it was all personal, between the two of you… he told me how you continually rejected his offers of training and your “calling,” and how this time, he wouldn’t have to take no for an answer – if he couldn’t have you, he’d have your son.

“He seemed very sure that our son would have your way with fire…”

Devrik grimaced at this, and shook his head. “I pray to the Immortals that he doesn’t… it’s brought me little enough joy in this life, and a great deal of pain.

“But true or not, Kirdik Hanol will never lay a hand on him, nor his mysterious masters. I swear I will keep both him and you safe, no matter what it takes!”

Raven smiled and pulled him close for a long, deep kiss…

After a second night at Elidar Manor the group set off early the next morning, arriving back in Devok Town a few hours later. They settled in once again at the Sign of the Cloven Shield, and Mariala and Devrik took Raven, over her half-hearted objections, to see Korus Jerathin, the best physician in the town.

He gave her a clean bill of health, recommending a few more days of rest before resuming “your usual daily routine.” Mariala also asked Master Vetaris to come by the inn, ostensibly to meet Raven, but actually to check for any arcane residue of her recent imprisonment. He too gave the Rethmani woman a clean bill of health, much to Mariala’s relief.

The second day after their return to town the companions received an invitation from Helain Alvar, the Mercantyler’s Guildmistress for Devok, to join her for lunch at the Guild Hall. Assuming this was reciprocation for the Double Full Moons party Mariala had held two months ago, they gladly accepted.

But in fact the Guildmistress had business on her mind.

“Twice each year we send two ships to Oessa Island,” she explained once the pleasantries had been observed and the food was served. “That is the surface portion of the Tritani Princedom of Hesima, that lays but 12 leagues south of us.

“The Tritani are an insular people, but we have long enjoyed trading privileges with them, on this strict timetable – once in the spring and once in the fall our ships dock in Port Kethim, and the merfolk arrive to trade the fruits of the sea for the artifice of the land.

“This has gone on for over fifty years, without fail… until this spring. Our ships have returned without the usual cargoes, and with no explanation from Sha Hesima. The communication stone used by our Port Master to speak with the sea folk remains dark.

“You four have gained quite a reputation for dramatic problem solving recently, and I am prepared to commission you and your ship to sail to Port Kethim and seek out the trouble that threatens to cost my Guild so much money. If you discover the why of it all, you will receive a just payment,” and she named a pleasant sum.

“But if you manage to resolve the problem, whatever it may be, and start trade flowing again, then your compensation will be far more… significant. Say, trading rights as one of the two ships that sail to Oessa for the Spring Sea Fair?”

After further discussion of details and logistics, the friends agreed to think on the matter, speak to their captain, and give Mistress Alvar an answer by morning. Returning to the inn they were surprised to see Ser Owain, sitting at a table by himself in the common room. He rose to greet them.

“I trust your meeting with the Guildmistress went well,” he said, smiling. “Indeed, I hope you plan to take up her generous offer.”

At their surprised looks he just nodded, and motioned towards the hallway that lead to the stairs. “I think it’s time I took you all more fully into my confidence… you’ve proven yourselves both competent and discreet. And now I have need of both those qualities, more than ever.

“But this is not a story for the common room of an inn. May we retire to your rooms upstairs? I think you’ll find what I have to say most illuminating.”

As they took the stairs to the third floor, Mariala, knowing the state of Vulk and Drake’s room, and that Raven was no doubt at rest in Devrik’s, suggested her room for their meeting. She was startled, therefore, when she unlocked the door to find Magister Vetaris seated in one of her armchairs next to the fireplace.

“I apologise for thsi ill-mannered intrusion, my dear,” he said as she stared at him in surprise, “and hope you’ll forgive me. But it is best Ser Owain and I not be seen together in public, for reasons which we will soon make clear to you all.”

Ser Owain took the other armchair, while the companions settled themselves in various spots around the room. Once the door was again shut, he began without preamble.

“I’m sure that you have all heard rumours and stories of the fabled Star Council,” he said. “ The group of powerful men and women who are said to secretly pull the strings behind the scenes of the world?”

They nodded, and Drake laughed, saying “A common enough story on the tongues of men who like to blame the world for their own shortcomings – it’s not my fault my busines failed, the Star Council wished it so!”

“Indeed,” agreed Ser Owain with a dry smile. “And amongst the better educated it is smiled upon as a myth, a fable – at most an allegory to explain the vagracies of Fate.

“And yet the very best informed people know that it is no fable. There is a Star Council, and while it does not “run” the world by any stretch, it is concerned that order… or perhaps stability is the better word… be maintained in the West.

“To that end, the Council maintains associates in various positions of influence, both amongst the powerful and the not-so-powerful, from the courts of kings to the Beggar’s Guild. In turn these associates maintain agents to gather the most detailed intelligence possible, and occasionally to act in support of the goals of the Council.

“Most agents of the Star Council are unaware of the Council’s existence, of course, or their own conncection to it – this is the position you have occupied since I first met most of you several months ago and allowed you to leave Eldora Abbey with your heads full of secret knowledge.”

Vulk, Drake and Mariala suddenly looked illuminated, putting the pieces together concerning the secret negotiations Ser Owain had been carrying out with a restive Darikazi faction… apparently at the behest of this fabled Star Council.

“But some agents work better with a fuller knoweldge of what they do and why,” continued the bobleman, “and the Council has given me permission to bring you up to this level of knowledge, and offer you the choice of acting now as agents with full knowledge of for whom we work.”

“Are you a member of the Council,” asked Vulk. “You and the Magister?”

“No, we are not ourselves members of the Council – both Magister Vetaris and I are associate members. We report directly to the Council, and receive instructions and requests from them, which we then attempt to carry out via our separate networks of agents.

“It is a bit unusual to have an overlap in agents, as we have with you, but in a way that’s been lucky… the Council was swayed by the testimony of us both as to your competence and trustworthiness, which is why we are having this conversation now, unusually early in your “careers.”

“But not altogether unheard of,” interjected Magister Vetaris.

Ser Owain nodded in agreement, then turned his piercing gaze on each of the four friends in turn, and after a moment each nodded their acceptance of their new position as official agents of the Star Council.

“I assume we remain free to decline any… assignments, if we have any doubts or conflicts,” Vulk asked, before giving his assent, last of all.

“You remain free agents,” Vetaris agreed. “It is mainly intelligence gayhering we usually seek; and if you ever have qualms about anything we ask of you, please feel free to talk to either of us.”

The two older men then rose, and Ser Owain held out his hand toward Vulk and Drake. When they extended their own hands, he dropped a ring into each. Magister Vetaris did the same with Mariala and Devrik. Each ring was unique, but contained within was a hidden sigil of the Star Council.

“Use these to establsih your identity with other agents of the Council, should you need to,” Ser Owain said, demonstrating the cunning release that revealed the sigil in his own ring.

“The Council are even more concerned than Guildmistress Alvar over the failure of the Tritani to appear for the annual spring trading fair. They have expressed that concern to both Vetaris and myself, quite forcefully… but not very specifically.”

Ser Owain sounded slightly annoyed at not being fully informed by the Council, although Vetaris just looked rather bland.

“We wish you to undertake the mission offered by the Guild, but we also want you to find a particular person in Sha Hesima, and identify yourselves to him as agents of the Council, and express their… concern. You are then at his disposal – if he indicates that all is well, continue on as you see fit to resolve the Guild’s problem.

“But if he indicates that all is not well, then help him in any way possible… I’m sorry we can’t be more specific, but presumably you’ll be told more should the need arise in Sha Hesima.”

“I’ve not seen the Council so… agitated” says Magister Vetaris. “ Not since then-Crown Prince Gil-Garon and Lord Kavyn exposed and dismantled the plot to free the Chained God almost twenty years ago…”

“The person you are to find is the High Priest of Kanius, Azador Silverfin,” continued Ser Owain. “He is of middle years, with a silvery white tail and silver hair. He will also wear a disticnctive manta shaped medallion around his neck, and a tourqouise bracelet on his right wrist.”

Magister Vetaris then reached into a satchel next to his chair hands, pulling out a collection of white wide-bottomed clay jars, each sealed with blue-green wax and stamped with a trident sigil. He handed two jars to each of the companions.

“These are Yorinth’s Elixer – it will allow you to breathe underwater. But it is a tricky potion, my young friends, and also the last that we have available locally… take care with it!”

“How do we use this elixer,” asked Drake. “I’m not familiar with it…”

“Should your investigation take you beneath the waves,” Vetarir replied, “as I expect it will, give yourselves several minutes to prepare. You must mix several drops of your own blood into the elixer – as quickly as possible. Once the seal is broken the syrup loses potency quickly – within an hour it would be usless.

“When you add your blood the potion will quickly begin to fizz and expand as it reaches full potency – within three or four minutes usually. When the fizzing begins to subside, down the concoction – quickly is my advice, as it’s taste is rather unpleasant.

“Within approximately five minutes you’ll begin to find it difficult to breathe, and you should immediately enter the water. This transition is where it gets tricky… your bodies will instinctively resist trying to breathe in water, but you must be strong, and force yourselves to the effort! If you don’t, you will suffocate in the air…

“ The effects of a single dose will last for 10-14 hours if you stay above 150 feet or so – as long as you can still distinguish some colors in natural light, you’re at a safe depth. Below that depth, you’ll lose about an hour of effectiveness per 50 feet, and in no case go below 300 feet! As Sha Hesima is at a depth of 80 to 120 feet, this shouldn’t be an issue, but be aware!

“When you begin to feel a tightness in your chest and have trouble breathing, the elixer is fading – you’ll have about a turn of the glass, not more than two, to reach air. If you need the second dose you must either surface or find an air pocket within Sha Hesima – opening the jar underwater makes it impossible to activate properly!

“And that reminds me… when ascending, you must do so slowly… no faster than about 10 feet per minute. Faster than that and you risk painful cramps and possible death!”

After a few more minutes of discussion and instruction Ser Owain and Magister Vetaris rose to take their leave. After they had gone, the companions fell into a contemplative silence as they pondered all that they had just learned. At last Vulk stirred and stood up.

“I suppose I should go and see what Captain Levtor has to say about a change in his sailing plans… I don’t imagine he’ll be thrilled.”

Drake left to make various arrangements of his own, and Devrik returned to his own room and Raven, leaving Mariala alone to stare pensively at her ring and contemplate the uses of a water elemental under the sea…