Session Thirty-Seven - May 20, 2006

[Matt]

Kelen 21, 731 TR

Sir Ewen of Ravinargh joins the breakfast table at Gray House in Tashal looking grave and weary, eyeing the repast before him with scant enthusiasm while Bevan Palliser and Imarë Taërsi exchange significant looks, wondering what more, after yesterday’s revelations, could be signaled by the portentous silence. Momentarily they find that Sir Baris Tyrestal, also descending late from his quarters above-stairs, appears even worse than Ewen, wan and ill-disposed, and he sits down at the table only to cast a baleful eye upon his food, sourly ignoring the others. The meal proceeds in unaccustomed silence.

After the plates are removed and the servants discreetly withdraw, Sir Baris mutters something about too many rich parties and indicates his intention of repairing to his room for the remainder of the day. Sir Ewen holds up a hand, however, staying the knight from departing so soon, and waits patiently while the burly young man settles reluctantly back into his seat, truculent and affronted.

Sir Ewen clears his throat, considering them each in turn, and then commences. “I had not realized, yesterday, just how much would be instigated by our visit to the Temple of Peoni. Upon our return last night, you know I spoke at some length about my parentage, and about the events which took place during our time in Golotha.” The others around the table nod, composed and guarded. “Before we retired, Imarë offered a number of questions, as she is wont to do. And I think, on reflection, that I owe you answers to those.” Ewen brings his hands slowly together before him on the tabletop, fingertips touching, while his gaze meets each of them, his face an impassive mask.

“Imarë asks whether Stavron of Soursi exists … The brief answer to this is in the affirmative. I think the question, however, suggests that I may have found it … expedient … to create the impression of an external nemesis, as a means of shielding my own activities. And that is, in fact, exactly what I have done … for some time now. And yet Stavron lives, and is fully responsible for each of the deeds I have laid at his feet.” Ewen pauses, his blue eyes detached, cold and distant. “It was Ableron of Soursi, of course, who died almost six years ago, with the rest of those I have told you about.”

Pausing for a time in the growing, appalled silence, Ewen leans back slowly, eyes narrowing. When no reply comes in the comprehending awful stillness around the table, he nods slightly and continues, his voice measured and devoid of emotion.

“On the evening when I killed my Soursi cousins, whatever malign fate hung over the tower that night decreed that my half-brother Ableron, two years away at war, would return to the family hearth that very evening. Finding, I imagine, the servants terrified and the family members absent, Ableron rapidly pieced together their story and raced to the tower. In time only to hear his cousin Luveta fall to her death, I’m afraid, and to meet me, sword drawn, halfway up the tower steps. Ableron had grown skilled in those years of campaigning and battle, and he fought well, but I believe I was driven that night by something … ungovernable. When his foot slipped upon the blood-stained steps, I ran my brother through to the hilt with our grandfather’s broadsword. And knelt there on the stairway, without saying a word, and silently watched his eyes for what seemed an eternity, until he finally died.”

Bevan shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Ewen ran a hand absently through his black hair. “Later, after I dispensed with the household servants and hired some temporary help from a community some prudent distance from the family lands, I took stock of my options and sold the property with the intention of starting over in Coranan. The period of relative unrest following the war afforded me an ideal cover for the disappearance of the Soursi family, but I knew this could not last, and it was dangerous to remain in the vicinity. I decided that it would serve my purposes to adopt a new identity on moving to the city, and conceived the notion of a double-layered deception, wherein I could dispose of the first persona when convenient. The idea of later assuming the character of dead Ableron afforded me the convenience of an external nemesis which I could use to cover my own activities, and as you know I embellished the idea with the mascles, a clear calling card which I could use to signal that this particular enemy, and not myself, had committed some crime.”

Beven clears her throat gently in the silence, shifting again in her seat. “And so, Pelisa of Thoff...?” she inquires with ill-disguised distaste.

Ewen smiles grimly. “Ah yes, poor Pelisa. She was ever a hindrance to my career, and I’m afraid I used her as an opportunity to establish my Stavron story in your minds. For what it’s worth, I should say that the smothering of her was done quite efficiently, and what I did thereafter to her body was for the purpose of creating a certain impression of ... brutality ... in my audience. Unfortunately, my work on the guard downstairs was entirely un-choreographed, prompted by his regrettable awakening, and my dagger thrust through his eye socket was unrehearsed and certainly not in keeping with my plan. But there was no time to adjust things; I could only leave him slumped and ‘asleep’ before I continued upstairs.

“My intention, in those days, was to engineer my own rise through manipulation of the Palliser family, placing a certain credence, I suppose, in the venom our Soursi grandfather held for the family. I made my preparations well, learning what I could, and even before I met you, Bevan, I had, I must confess, inveigled myself into your father’s household by seducing his housekeeper and gaining access to the home during a time when your father and Ardeth were away on some business. It was then that I first met your daughter, and my half-sister, Trilime, and came away from the encounter strangely discomfited, filled with the eerie notion that here, for perhaps the first time in my life, was a person whom I was absolutely incapable of harming in any way. When I finally succeeded in meeting you, Bevan, through my story of the harper’s song, and learned of your activities on behalf of the Crown of Tharda, the opportunity seemed almost too good to be true. I used my tale to ensure that you would take me into your inner circle, as it were, and from there I began crafting a plan to propel my rise to power through your betrayal and destruction. Probably in the form of framing you for treason, and uncovering the said treason. All of which became unnecessary after Golotha, as I believe we discussed in detail last night.”

Bevan held her head in her hands, as if she surmised what was coming.

Ewen leans forward, hands clasped before him on the table. “As I think you can readily conclude, then, my gambit in Sir Auram’s chamber was, in fact, far more daring than I quite conveyed yesterday evening. Being responsible for the slaughter of the entire Soursi family, Pelisa of Thoff and the guard, as well as Sir Felkar, and having to some degree instigated a tremendous amount of carnage in Golotha, I had quite a bit at stake when I concluded, as we rode the riverboat from Golotha to Coranan, that I was likely to be read by the Inquisitor General of Tharda. But I now had the truth of my paternity to counter all of that with, and I conceived a plan to leverage Sir Auram Graver into actually corroborating my story about the existence of Stavron, and absolving me of all my crimes in so doing, by making myself convenient in the antechamber while Bevan was read, and then dropping my shields when Sir Auram, unsuspecting, read me in turn. What else, after all, could he do, faced with a previously unknown son of Arren I, and sudden knowledge that this man had been acknowledged privately by Lord Morgan himself, that his training had been initiated at His Grace’s instance, and that Lord Morgan had himself tacitly abetted his crimes knowing full well their magnitude? I sprung my trap on Sir Auram in his own chambers, and I believe a received a glimpse of Lord Graver’s wrath which you, Bevan, have not had the privilege of experiencing.”

The group around the table falls silent for a time, the only sounds audible in the house being the muted bustle of the servants in distant rooms. After some reflection, Bevan and Imarë broach the topic of Rahel of Aerth, and Ewen frowns for a moment at this, considering them thoughtfully. He quietly acknowledges his understanding that the others have suspected for some time that she, as well, is a child of Arren of Melderyn, and he confirms, with simplicity, that this is so. Sir Ewen speaks with firm emphasis of the Lady’s honor, however, and of her father’s need that her identity remain secure for the foreseeable future, and indicates that Rahel’s nature should be considered as confidential as his own. Taking this in, and perhaps reflecting upon Ewen’s account of his murderous, incestuous preoccupation with his cousin Luveta earlier in his life, the three consider the implications of Ewen’s affair with Rahel in a new, uneasy light, wondering what obscure forces drive their opaque companion. The conversation reviving again after another awkward lull, the party discuss Sir Ewen’s disclosures with studied pragmatism, as if forcibly shunting aside for the time being any misgivings about their associate. Eventually, then, they turn their attention to the meeting which Sir Ewen has suggested they arrange with Para Harkthorn, and the pace of the discussion becomes more brisk and businesslike.

Sir Ewen confesses that his recent nocturnal perambulations in Tashal have included a visit to the Red Fox Inn to consult with Rhonna of Fahl, and a second meeting at Galopea’s Feast with both Rhonna and Para. [GM: See Appendix.] At the latter establishment he met Halime of Falesh, the guildmaster of the Lia-Kavair in Tashal and a man of broad influence throughout the kingdom. Sir Ewen explains that this occurred prior to the visit Sir Baris and he made to The Spurs, where Halime was inexplicably friendly and signaled to the clientele there that the two knights were ‘off-limits’ to predatory guild activities. Sir Ewen’s introduction of Sir Baris as his particular friend has, he explains, placed Sir Baris in the status of being untouchable by the guild, and Ewen indicates his intention of placing Bevan and Imarë under his protection as well when the opportunity presents.

With the agreement of those at the table, Sir Ewen dispatches a message to Para at Galopea’s Feast, indicating his intention to visit the establishment with three friends later this evening. Sir Baris is released to the dim comforts of his room upstairs to recuperate, while the remainder of the day is consumed in a discussion of strategy for securing the Earl of Osel in a safe place and maneuvering their own candidate for the earldom into position. Sir Maldan Harabor, disappointed bastard of King Miginath, Sheriff of Meselyne, and Earl Sedris Meleken’s apparent adversary, is suggested as an ideal candidate, with the plan being to exert sway over the new earl by virtue of his being made aware that the Thardans have possession of the injured peer and the ability to produce him before the King at will. The party agrees that the particulars of the plan will be worked out later in the evening at Galopea’s Feast.

Thus, Bevan, Imarë, Dascomb and Sir Ewen proceed to the decadent establishment in question at dusk, with the knight leading the way south down Chidena Street and into an alleyway on the left to the door he had used on his previous visit. A well-appointed guard with a short sword questions them but recognizes Sir Ewen’s name, indicating that the foursome is expected. They take seats in a richly appointed common room, admiring the heavy oaken tables rubbed to the bright luster of beeswax, beautifully embroidered tapestries, four stone pillars, and three large fireplaces dominating one wall. Rare beeswax candles glimmer upon each of the tables. Well-dressed customers sip from pewter tankards chased with gold or silver, while attractive but discreetly-attired serving maids move efficiently through the sedate ambiance of the room. Soon an older man, fit and composed, approaches the group and introduces himself as Mak of Ashel, and they learn that he is the elder brother of Sepian, proprietor of the Tower Inn. After some brief niceties from the group regarding their contentment with the services offered by Sepian, Mak turns to Imarë, remarking upon her new-found fame in the city, and assures the elf that she will not suffer the “nonsense” in his establishment which she has endured elsewhere. As he leads the group upstairs to an opulently appointed room directly above the common room, he takes care to point out to Imarë the Sindarin chandeliers adorning his establishment, and the four companions silently take in three large polished oaken tables, covered with linen and lace and set with silver goblets and table settings. Three enormous fireplaces mirror the arrangement in the room below, rich wall tapestries and intricately woven rugs lie beneath the tables, and four more impressive stone pillars divide the room and support the ceiling. Beyond the first fireplace they see the hide of a striped, horse-like beast with which they are unfamiliar hanging from the wall.

Turning into a private chamber off this main dining room, they find another table surrounded by nine chairs, set lavishly for five persons. Mak indicates that Dascomb may choose to dispose himself downstairs to dine, or wait outside the private room, whatever his pleasure, and the gruff soldier predictably opts to stand guard outside the door while his lady dines within. Mak apprises his three guests of entertainments available to them after dinner on the third floor, courtesy of his establishment tonight, naming different “feasts” to tantalize the various senses, from drugs and stimulating substances in one room to erotic pleasures available in another. He also adds that a dogfight between two mastiffs will be featured in the cellar as well, should their desires point in that direction instead. He notes that their dedicated servant for the evening will be arriving soon, and discreetly withdraws.

A young woman named Tirsa enters shortly, bringing a fine white wine, a Melderyni shenap, with crystal goblets and a small tray of fruits and cheeses. This repast contents the group until Para Harkthorn and Rhonna of Fahl enter, at which point a large man at arms takes up post next to Dascomb outside the room. The group catches a glimpse of the two fighting men eying each other professionally just as the door clicks shut. Para glides over to the head of the table and the others select seats at the remaining place settings, Sir Ewen briefly naming his two companions while Para acknowledges having met Bevan and Imarë previously in Orbaal some time ago. Both minions of Lord Morgan are dressed in leather and silk, and Para wears an emerald on a silver chain about her shapely neck.

Para Harkthorn observes archly that she is frankly surprised at Sir Ewen bringing his two companions to Galopea’s Feast this evening, and wonders what the occasion might entail. The knight nods and quietly states that he has recently taken the two into his confidence regarding his identity, which prompts an acerbic response from the lady, who imperiously remarks that she hopes that such a decision was amply justified. Ewen smiles, meeting her gaze calmly, and states with simplicity that they have located the Earl of Osel, that Sir Ewen had of necessity “read” the earl to confirm this, and that his companions had thus become aware of his nature. Para throws her head back and laughs mirthlessly at this, mockingly incredulous that the group could have located the long-missing earl without setting foot outside the city, and finds Ewen’s revelation that the Earl had been at the temple of Peoni for some two years a piece of intelligence perversely delightful to her. She quickly becomes ruthlessly business-like, however, quickly grasping the direction of the party’s proposed plot and indicating that she indeed thinks that she can secure a very safe place to keep the Earl until he is required.

They go on to discuss the plan to target Sir Maldan Harabor for the vacant earldom, and Para suggests the need for an unimpeachable outside source to employ in convincing the King of Kaldor that Sedris Meleken is in fact dead. Incredibly, she indicates that she believes that the Shorkyni Duke of Alagon, grandfather to King Arren II, might be just the man they need, and outlines a plan to forge a letter from the duke to King Haldan III purporting to have identified the poor Earl of Osel as having been discovered, lamentably dead within the borders of his dukedom. The forged letter would allow sufficient time for arrangements to be made within the Duke’s court to confirm this bit of contrived news should further inquiries be made. The letter would be delivered during the tournament in Olokand, and the Baron of Stimos could be recruited to ensure that the proper words are whispered in the King’s ear to guarantee that Sir Maldan Harabor be appointed to the earldom. Para suspects that King Haldan’s desire to alienate the sheriff from his northern affinity via a southern earldom might just do the trick. Meanwhile the group would be charged with the task of apprising Sir Maldan Harabor of his impending elevation, ensure that the sheriff catch a glimpse of the captive earl, and lead him to understand that allies of the party will have the former earl quite secure in a location unknown even to the conspirators negotiating with Harabor.

Agreeing upon this plan to ensnare a new earl of Kaldor in their trap, the group members allow themselves to be distracted for a time by the sumptuous and seemingly-endless courses of the feast brought before them: pheasant, smoked eels, peacock, a fine roasted meat, lampreys, shellfish, cheeses, and finally dessert. While dining, they hatch a plan to use Elsa to manipulate the blackmailed novice of the Temple of Peoni to extricate Osel from the temple grounds on the pretext of the brothel needing a workman, and using the novice’s unwillingness to have the priests of Peoni learn of his ilicit concupiscence to ensure that he never reveals the reason for the disappearance of Digger. Para indicates that the Earl should be brought to the brothel in a few days time and left with Elsa, and that her people will take things from there. The group will be able to access Osel when they need him, but their own ignorance of the exact location of the injured earl will serve to protect the integrity of the operation. Para goes on to suggest, with reptilian creepiness, that she may take the opportunity to “alter” the injured earl, and the party studiously avoid inquiring about her meaning in this. Pleased enough at the elegance of a plan which promises to be virtually untraceable back to the party, the decision is made to set the scheme into action in the coming days.

The discussion then turns briefly to Halime of Falesh, who evidently is the owner of Galopea’s Feast, and Sir Ewen asks Para about a remark the guild master had made on their first acquaintance regarding some scheme he understands himself to be in with Para and Rhonna. Para explains that Halime is hedging his bets, having been told that he will be protected should the activities of the Lia-Kavair be exposed or compromised in Kaldor, but that if he fails to cooperate with Para and her group then Escalus will ensure that he endures a slow and inexorable removal of his extremities, beginning with his genitalia, until there is nothing left save his head. Halime, evidently, is taking this threat very seriously.

The party also learn from Para that Prince Brandis is to be knighted at the tournament, and that all of the extant earls of the kingdom will be present. The Earl of Vemion’s retinue is evidently already on its progress to Tashal, collecting the Earl’s daughter the Countess of Osel along the way. The Earl of Balim is even now in town, the Earl of Neph is expected soon, and several barons will be attending the festivities as well. As for their plot, the Lady Thilisa may prove a complication according to Para, as the lady aspires to be queen and will be reluctant to see the King wave his royal scepter in the matter of the earldom until she has her own orb in hand. But the unimpeachable quality of the Duke of Alagon’s claim of Osel’s death, with a tale of the regrettable delay instigated by the need of the authorities in Alagon to determine exactly where this obscure kingdom of Kaldor is located, should overwhelm any efforts Thilisa might exert to stay the inevitable need of the King to acknowledge Osel as vacant. Given all of this, however, Para suggests that it would behoove the group to ensure that Thilisa under no circumstances sleep with the King during the tournament, which should minimize her ability to influence the King when the surprising news of the Earl’s discovered corpse is delivered.

At the close of the long dinner, Imarë revives her suggestion that blocks be placed upon the minds of those who now know Sir Ewen’s identity, and Para agrees to perform this service, while warning that such a task is challenging for even a skilled Deryni, and that a more powerful Deryni than herself would likely be able to break the block. It is also decided that Lord Roulon should not be in the know concerning either the plot or Sir Ewen’s identity. Para volunteers that she harbors a fondness for Golotha, mentioning that she in fact heard one of Ewen’s performances at one point, and the suggestion appears to be that Para Harkthorn may shortly be relocating her attentions to that city, while Rahel of Aerth is expected to arrive in Kaldor soon with the intention, to Sir Ewen’s satisfaction, of attending the tournament. Para and Rhonna take their leave after imparting the agreed-upon block in the minds of Bevan and Imarë, agreeing to afford Sir Baris a similar service at the earliest opportunity, and Imarë convinces the party to attend the dogfight downstairs, where the unusual elf wins 18d in wagering upon one of the mastiffs.

Kelen 22-24, 731 TR

Over the next few days, the plan to extract Osel from the Temple of Peoni is put into motion, with Elsa succeeding in manipulating the novice as agreed. They subsequently learn that someone quickly grabbed the poor man at the brothel, and that the novice departed ashen-faced. Word later comes to Gray House that “we have the egg.” Meanwhile, the party members busy themselves with public activities affording them ironclad alibis should the Peonians consider them as possibly having some role in the disappearance of Digger. Elsa indicates her intention to take this opportunity to relocate her venue as previously suggested, and the group understands that she will check in with them when opportunity allows.

On the evening of the 24th, Imarë receives an invitation, addressed absurdly to “Imarë Elf,” from the Serolan of the Temple of Larani, asking Imarë to accompany him to Olokand as his special guest and to give away the grand prize of the tournament to the winning knight. The request is accompanied by a beautiful white silk dress trimmed in red. Imarë dispatches notification of her being highly conscious of the honor, and pledging her commitment to the role proffered.

Kelen 25, 731 TR

With the Earl of Osel presumably safely on ice somewhere in the kingdom, a second meeting with Para Harkthorn at Galopea’s Feast involves a detailed discussion of the strategy of Lord Morgan in the north. Instigated and led by Lodros, the Jarin underground succeeded in overthrowing the Ivinians around Lorkin in eastern Orbaal, geographically isolated from the bulk of Orbaal to the west, but the intention was never for the Jarin to retain the keeps which Bevan and Imarë helped storm. The Ivinians slaughtered to the man, Lord Morgan subsequently withdrew his troops, leaving the Jarin in possession of the region, while an Arrenic sleeper agent in Harbaal succeeded in convincing King Lerden to opportunistically seize this lightly defended stretch of Harnic coast. Unbeknownst to the party, as well as to most of the rest of the island, the King of Harbaal gathered his forces in 730, sailed his longships across the Sea of Ivae, and successfully took Lorkin Castle earlier this season. King Lerden will be encouraged to march south next year, giving Noron a wide berth and falling upon the rich lands of northern Kaldor. While the initial plan might be for the marauders from Harbaal to raid the wealthy Kaldoric countryside and then return home across the sea, they may be persuaded to stay longer, inflicting maximum damage upon the surprised defenders. In any event, a complacent Kaldor will be unable to withstand the onslaught, and the Baron of Stimos will meanwhile be actively plying King Haldan III with offers of assistance from Thardic legions. This should set the stage for the Thardic legions to emerge from the west to ‘assist’ the beleaguered Kaldorans, effecting the conquest of a Kaldor already weakened by the incursion from Harbaal. The foreign northern invaders, their supply lines to the sea stretched beyond practicability, will then certainly content themselves with plunder and take to their longships rather than tangle with the trained legions of Tharda.

Sir Ewen asks where the kingdom Melderyn will stand in all of this, and Para pauses, suggesting that they are likely uncertain regarding the activities of their cadet branch, having never before had to deal with one of their own acting in such a fashion. Para asserts that King Darebor will never raise a hand against Arren II, nor will his nephew against him. She adds that Arren II was promised the Kingdom of Melderyn in a prophesy by his Aunt Gladryne some years ago, suggesting that perhaps Arren II will accede to the throne of Melderyn upon his uncle Darebor’s death without strife.

Returning to Gray House, the group remains silent the entire way, reflecting upon the information they have just learned, and upon their own role in future days as the dark forces of destiny gather about them…

Appendix

At the Red Fox late Kelen 13:

That evening, after the party had returned from dinner at the Iron Bell, each prepared to retire for the evening. As Sir Ewen took a final aperitif, the serving maid said to him that a gentleman in the corner would be happy to buy his drink. Tipping the goblet to him, Sir Ewen downs it, and then asks his business.

The man is swathed in a dark cloak, but mail gleams from the open front. He bows low. “Sir Ewen,” he says, “I would ask that you accompany me to meet with a lady this evening.”

Ewen will return the bow and smile. “I do so enjoy an evening assignation. Very well.” He inclines his head slightly. “But you have me at a disadvantage, sir?”

“I am Dickon of Parketh, Sir Ewen, and Rhonna of Fahl has asked me to escort you to her. I pledge, lord, that you shall arrive safely, and return the same. My life is that pledge.” He bows.

“I’m pleased to hear it. Well, lead on then, Dickon of Parketh, we mustn’t keep the lady waiting. She appears to have a full ledger this night.”

“Yes Sir Ewen, the lady makes the most of her time. This way, please.”

Dickon leads Ewen out of the Tower and down Formela Way towards Kald Square. The lateness of the hour means there are very few people out on the streets, and no one marks their passing. Dickon stops at a building next to the pillory - the sign of the Red Fox - and knocks at the door three times, and then three times more. The door opens onto the kitchen of the inn and the innkeeper waits until they’ve entered and then rebars the door. No words are spoken. A spiral staircase in the far corner leads to the second story, and Dickon, leads Ewen up, and then out into a large, private room. Crossing the room, the two go down a short corridor with three doors on the right and two on the left. Dickon knocks on the second of the lefthand doors, and Rhonna of Fahl opens it.

“Come in, Sir Ewen. We have much to discuss.”

Dickon discreetly withdraws.

Ewen nods in greeting and enters the room. Surveying the room with a brief glance about, he turns his attention to Rhonna with a look of quiet expectation.

The room itself is very well appointed. A large, four poster bed stands in the center, with a small table and chair to the right. In the far corner of the room is a table and chairs, and on the table is a bottle and two glass goblets. Everything is solid and of fine quality, the equal of the best Ewen has seen in any inn.

Rhonna is dressed as she was before, and there is no change in her demeanor from when Ewen saw her last, just about two hours ago. Now face-to-face alone with what Imarë calls a “Morganette,” he marvels at his father’s style. Blonde of hair, gray of eye, and stunning of face, she still seems every bit as dangerous as he would expect. She moves across the room with a dancer’s grace, and seems to float into one of the chairs by the table. With a gesture, she indicates that Ewen should join her, and pours two glasses of wine, one of which she hands to Ewen.

“I wanted an understanding between us. And there is the Lady Rahel. In time, I shall send Dickon to you to bring you to another location, but for now, this will be the place we meet. Should you enter during the day, be assured that the innkeeper will not recognize you and you should not recognize him.”

“I know your paternity and you know I am his servant. In this city, at this time, I am his eyes and ears, and my primary responsibility is to defend his interests, and, by extension, Tharda’s. Your primary responsibility is to advance Tharda’s interests, in short, you’re the attacker. Active and passive if you prefer.” She paused and then went on. “I am in a position to help you, passively, not actively. I would know of your plans – which I know are not necessarily those of your comrades – and ways in which I might aid them without compromising my primary concern.”

Ewen settles back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, considering the lady. “My plans you shall indeed know, as I develop them in detail. And I thank you for your pledge of help. But I think only a fool would claim to advance a plan scant days into a foreign land, with little more than the words of scholars at his disposal, however well-appointed a certain lady’s library in Golotha might be.”

Pausing to sip the wine, he continues. “Having said as much, I see two broad arenas where a concerted undermining of stability in Kaldor would surely reap benefits. Politics, and trade. I’ll put the latter aside for the moment. The former, to state the obvious, is clearly a liability for this kingdom, with an untidy succession but eight years past. I should think any number of clan Elendsa’s members undoubtedly feel thwarted even yet in their hopes, however their public loyalty to the crown of Haldan III might be expressed.” Ewen smiles coolly. “I believe you mentioned a certain lady earlier this evening, in fact. I perhaps could take an educated guess at that one; the most recent information at my disposal involved tattle about a marriage to the Dariune scion, which I’m afraid must be very old gossip indeed. And the ambition of overlooked royal bastards can be quite keen as well, or so I’ve been told.” Ewen glances about the room with narrowed eyes, then returns his gaze to Rhonna. “While my lady’s library was quite instructive regarding the Elendsas of Miginath’s day, I clearly require greater knowledge of matters as they stand here through the past decade. What, for instance, is the composition of Haldan’s court and household, and what do we know of alliances and enmities within the court at this time? What are the relations among the peers of the realm, and the status of each in relation to the crown? Where does the balance of power stand between the crown and the nobles after the succession, and who is doing the most pushing in this regard? What can you tell me about any progress in corrupting officials, courtiers, or lords, to Tharda’s interests, and who indeed should I leave alone in the interest of not upsetting any current work in this area, or jeopardizing their status? I need to learn everything I can about every earl and baron, and significant knight and squire, in the kingdom: who are their allies and enemies, what are their ambitions, what do the gossips say about them, where are their mistresses and bastards? And what can be said about Troda Dariune, whose reputation and blood line is so intriguing, and web of power renown? I could waste an incredible amount of time amassing this information on my own, obviously, and without assistance the scope of the study would be needlessly broad, I should think. In this you can be of instrumental assistance to me, certainly.”

“Sir Ewen, it is clear you are no one’s fool. Politics is a very fine place to begin, and for this evening, at least, let us concentrate on the most important players, for the darkness grows short.” She rises and takes up pen, ink, and paper from the desk and then returns. She opens the top of the brass inkpot, dips the pen in, and begins to write on the paper.

“The major players have not much changed since the day of King Miginath. There was some talk of a contested succession when he died – it is well known that Sir Maldan Harabor is his natural son.” She pauses ever so slightly. “But in the end, Haldan III secured the support of the Earl of Balim and he succeeded without opposition. While Sir Maldan no doubt harbors some ambition to be king, the presence of two legitimate sons of Haldan III makes this unlikely. These are the Princes Brandis and Torasa. Of the marriage you mention: it did not take place. Dariune kept Lady Cheselyne at arm’s length until he made his decision. His son Scina was then betrothed to Haldan’s daughter Erlene, a marriage which took place three years ago on her 18th birthday. That marriage has already proved fruitful with the birth last year of young Troda, who is now heir to the Earldom of Balim but also has a good claim to the throne. Prince Brandis will turn 19 this year, but many consider him a fool. the younger Torasa is not yet 17, but seems able enough. This kingdom is at peace, pleased with Haldan’s firm and fair rule. He is unlikely to be challenged, though heir Prince Brandis is another story.” She draws most of this as a family tree with a few notes.

“Lady Cheselyne Hosath, nee Elendsa, had hopes of the crown, legitimately derived as she is from King Torastra, but there has only been one queen of the House of Elendsa, and as you know she assumed the throne with the consent of her son. Still, Lady Cheselyne has a daughter of the same name, and another named Merela. Both made good marriages, the first to Urien Caldeth, heir to the Earldom of Vemion and the second to Conwan Elorieth, son of the Baron of Nubeth. However, Cheselyne’s ambitions for herself and her daughters remains undiminished, and she is one I would have you meet soon.”

“Of the Earls, Balim is a close friend and confidant of the King. You mentioned his bloodline, a reference no doubt to the Dariune in the Parkhurst family line. Suffice to say, that the Earl of Balim is not a Deryni, Queen Weannere came from a different branch of the family which has greater ties to Melderyn. Vemion is a power in the eastern part of the kingdom, and a man to be reckoned with. Much of the surplus wool comes from his lands, and a great wool fair is held there every Kelen. Neph is a epicure, known for his table and his intrigue. It is said, however, he is ill. Of Osel – that’s a tricky situation. He’s been missing for some ten years, and the King has allowed the Countess to manage the estates. However, some voices are quietly suggesting that the earldom cannot remain in limbo, and as there are no children, the Countess has no right to the fief. So far, Haldan has ignored this, but he can’t forever. It would help if someone knew what happened definitively to the Earl. The lands there are rich in cattle and horses. While not an earl, Maldan Harabor still acts as constable of Olokand, and this gives him the power of one.”

“Of the Barons, there are several to keep an eye on. The Baron of Kobe is an ambitious man who would like to move up the feudal hierarchy. It is said he thinks the title “Earl of Chybisa” would fit him well. The Baron of Kolorn’s wife spends most of her time in Tashal, and is often the target of gossips over her flagrant infidelity. There was a new Baron of Nubeth last year, named Arwyn Elorieth. The sister of the Baron of Ternua is the Royal Master of Esoterica – Sir Theron’s counterpart here. She is a Lyhavi shenava.”

“It would also be wise to keep the church of Larani in mind. The Serekela Edine Kynn controls many estates and a large military force. He is close friends with the Earl of Balim, and highly regarded by the King.”

“Kaldor is not governed like Tharda. The Royal bureaucracy is smaller, less efficient, and more open to factions. A function of the long stability of the kingdom perhaps. In any event, there is a balance between Crown and aristocracy here and the nobles are significantly more powerful here than in Tharda, even outside their own lands. Haldan III has the capacity to be a more dynamic king, but he has realized that to be so would be to stir up trouble for no reason. Thus Kaldor goes on like a placid goose.” She puts the pen down.

“One other thing. You must all acquire proper clothing. Kaldoric society, especially in Tashal, is somewhat less confident of itself than in Melderyn or Tharda. The slightest faux pas can make the poor unfortunate an object of ridicule for years. Also, make sure you get the proper color. The King sponsors a contest each year for the best dye color, and this year’s color is a deep red called Tonan Red after the winner. Do not allow yourself to get Minarsas Green, last year’s color. A little thing, but important.”

Ewen will chuckle at this last. “Hazardous terrain indeed; perhaps we need retain a local with impecable sartorial credentials.” Putting down his glass, he considers Rhonna’s genealogy for a moment, frowning thoughtfully.

“An excellent summary - I thank you for it. I shall need some time to consider it in detail, of course. The situation with the Earl of Osel is particularly striking, though. Ten years missing – an extraordinary thing. I think it should be very helpful indeed to learn of his fate, as you suggest. If the answer to the mystery can be gained discretely, I should very much like to hold that particular card in my hand. And my little group does seem to have some talent for solving mysteries; some of them, anyway.”

Ewen leans back in his chair. “I shall very much look forward to a meeting with the Lady Cheselyne, and shall follow your guidance as to how we are to be presented to the lady. In the meantime, you should know that we plan to attend the tourney in Olokand, and make what debut we can there.”

“Yes, I will see to that in the next few days – be ready.”

“One final question for now. Who has suceeded Haldan as Sheriff of Semethshire?”

“One Sir Rafe Delwarne. He had been Haldan’s deputy and was appointed after the succession. He’s in Tashal quite frequently to report to the King.”

With that, the evening concludes, and when Ewen emerges from the chamber, Dickon is waiting patiently in the open hall. He escorts Ewen back to the Tower, and respectfully bids him good night.

At Galopea’s Feast late Kelen 14:

As the party (save Sir Baris) returns to Gray House from Lady Cheselyne’s, Ewen notices a man in the shadows nearby. It is Dickon of Parketh, and he gestures imperceptibly. The rest do not notice.

The party enters the house and turns in for the night. Ewen awaits his first opportunity upon the retirement of the others for the night, and steals out of the house, seeking Parketh in the shadows.

Emerging into night’s shadow, Ewen waits as Dickon of Parketh comes forward with a slight bow. “Good evening, Sir Ewen. The Lady Para Harkthorn has sent me to you. She very much desires to speak further this evening.” He leads the way up Ternua Road, through Haldan Square, and south down Chidena Street. Ewen is about to say something as they approach Lady Cheselyne’s, but before they get there, Dickon turns left into a small alley. Wending their way around, they come to a large, squarish building on a corner, passing the first door and going around to a second.

The room inside is large and opulent. “This is Galopea’s Feast,” Dickon says. “Many of the wealthiest folk in Tashal can be found here. Mak of Ashel – he is Sepian’s brother – runs it looking to recreate a little of Corsilea in Tashal.” The room has three fireplaces, all going, rich tapesties and heavy oak tables and chairs that gleam in the firelight as if waxed. There are only a few patrons here, but they are all well-dressed. Dickon turns to the left and goes up a staircase to the second floor. There, Ewen is amazed to see a long hall, with three more oaken tables, arranged end to end like a state banquet hall. Two scintillating chandeliers hang from the ceiling and Ewen wonders if the glass is not Sindarin. On the walls are rich tapesties and hides, including one of a striped beast that Ewen does not recognize. A heavy rug woven with brilliant colors and intricate designs covers most of the floor. As they pass by the tables, Ewen touches and is not surprised to see the tablecloths are made of the finest linen and lace. One the west wall are three more fireplaces (in the same locations as below) and three doors. Dickon goes to the middle one and knocks before opening the door and then standing clear so that Ewen may enter. “I shall stand guard here, Sir Ewen,” he says respectfully.

Ewen enters. There is another fine oak table with chairs around it and a lovely tapestry on the far wall. Para Harkthorn and Rhonna of Fahl are seated at the far end of the table. A man stands to one side, a small swarthy fellow with a mean eye. He is lightly bearded and wears clean but plain clothing – good for the working day. “Sir Ewen,” purrs Para. “Good of you to come. Please, sit. We have brandy for you, and talk. But first, I wanted you to meet – and him to meet you – Halime of Falesh. Halime, this is Sir Ewen of Ravinargh, and our friend.” She lays just the slightest emphasis on the last word.

Halime turns to Ewen, but when he speaks, it’s still to Para. His voice is loud, vulgar, and nasal. “He’s off limits, is that it?”

“More than that. So is anyone he places under his protection. I think you will be getting to know each other. Sir Ewen, Halime is the innkeeper of the Spurs, near the Ternua Gate. More importantly, he is the guildmaster of the Lia-Kavair in Tashal. Though, I think it would be fair to say that he has dealings all over the kingdom.” Halime grunts.

Ewen gives Halime a brief nod. “I am pleased to meet you.” He steps forward to one of the chairs, allowing his hand to come to rest upon the chair’s back. “And indeed I have some companions to whom I would extend protection, as the lady suggests.” Ewen takes a seat, crossing one leg over the other, considering the man. “There may be some ... other business, too, in the very near future, which would be of value to me. And to you as well, of course.”

Halime grunts, and looks back at Para. “Alright, if you say this man is one of you then he is.” He turns back to Ewen, “Any ‘business’ better be part o’ this scheme and not anything else? Hear?”

“He hears,” said Para. “And you will treat him – at least outside the public eye – with the same respect you would treat us, for he is one of us. Sir Ewen, do you have anything else for Halime now?”

“Nothing. I look forward to our next conversation.”

Para gestures towards Halime. “You may go. We shall speak again in the next few days.” Halime looks unhappy, but he complies, leaving the room.

“He is important,”Para says to Ewen, “but he is a difficult fool. I have no doubt it will be necessary to eliminate him one of these days. I have no idea how such as he has managed to control the Lia-Kavair here as long as he has.” She rises. There is a feline grace to her, and for a moment, Ewen is reminded of Rahel, but then he realizes that beautiful though this woman is, lithe though she may be, she is not the same. She is a mere facsimile. Ewen wonders if she knows.

Para reaches out towards the bottle which stands by Ewen and it floats across the table to her. She picks it up and pours into her glass. Drinking it down, she looks at Rhonna who nods. “Sir Ewen,” Para says, “it is time to unlock your potential. Though Rahel taught you what she could, she lacked ... she lacked the resources we have here. We would give you more. Do you consent?”

Ewen considers the two ladies thoughtfully, his eyes absent of rancor. “Of course. I have many wasted years to make up for.” The hint of a grim smile touches his lips as he raises his own brandy glass. “I am ready.”

“Very good. Come here and sit.” She indicates the chair she has just vacated at the head of the table. “There is some danger to what we are about to do – it is only rarely attempted. I am going to give you the last two basic talents: warding and a spell to banish fatigue fully formed. Once you have these, you may develop them further on your own. Rahel might have tried this, but as it requires an extremely deep and extremely focused rapport, there is danger if something goes wrong. Rhonna will enter the rapport as well, but at a less intense level so that she may monitor us both. If need be, she will take control and bring us both out of it. You will probably feel some discomfort – this is normal in this type of working. It will most likely manifest itself as a buzzing sound in the center of your head. I shall begin, and then Rhonna shall join. Relax, and take three, slow, deep breaths. Try to center yourself.”

As Ewen does so, she places her hands on either side of his head, gently, but firmly holding him in place. He sees, no senses Rhonna placing her hand at the base of Para’s neck. “You may feel an urge to raise your shields, Ewen,” Para says. “Whatever you do – you must keep them down.” He nods ever so slightly. Para was inside now, and there was an overwhelming impulse to block her out, to put up his shields. This was intimate but not in an erotic manner – more like rape. Now he could sense Rhonna in the link as if she were hovering somewhere high above. Her presence was oddly comforting.

Ewen sensed Para everywhere – it was as if she and he occupied all his cells jointly – this discomfiting realization was accompanied by an intense buzzing that got louder and louder. Ewen thought he might have opened his mouth to scream, but he couldn’t be sure. He no longer felt in control of his own body – and with horror he realized he wasn’t. Then came a sensation that he could only describe as “digging.” It made him shudder and squirm, but now he knew this was only his mind’s involuntary reaction and the need to label the sensations with tangible names. Small wonder Rahel had not attempted this – he was still aware of Rhonna somewhere above (his mind), and he knew without her there he would have panicked and done something foolish – something likely to psychically injure both him and Para. This was powerful magic indeed.

The sensation of digging continued, almost to the point of pain, and then Ewen felt as if something were being implanted in the hole. That was quicker at least and he heard Para’s voice – did she sound tired? – say one finished, one more. And sure enough, he felt a new digging sensation in a slightly different place. He was becoming used to it, however, and the urge to fight it didn’t well up again. And to his relief, neither did the pain. It was quickly over, and he felt Para withdrawing from his being, as if she were shedding his skin like a serpent. His mind’s eye twinkled – she was very much like a serpent, and no doubt deadlier.

And then she was gone, slumping into the chair next to him. Ewen found he ached in all his joints and felt like he had just run all the way to Tharda. Para looked terrible. Her golden hair was matted with sweat which streamed from her in rivulets. She was breathing heavily, mouth open, sucking great gulps of air into her lungs and exhaling loudly. Her eyes were wide, and her skin had gone an unpleasent ashen color. Ewen realized he was in similar straits. Rhonna was standing behind Para, hands on both her shoulders, eyes closed. After a few minutes, Para’s breathing became more regular and Rhonna moved to Ewen, placing her hands on his shoulders. At once, he felt some of the strain ease, and he too felt he could get enough air into his lungs. “One of the new abilities you have – we can banish our own fatigue, for a time at least, and even help others. Best to sit though for now.”

They rested, Rhonna too now, for Ewen realized she was tired as well, now even more so for having taken their fatigue on herself. Eventually, she poured more brandy into the three goblets – by hand this time. The liquor proved a fine restorative. “You also have gained the ability to ward a place against interference – both magical and physical. You’ll see I have also implanted a greater understanding of all your abilities - and those you have yet to learn - which will aid you greatly in your practice. Though you will still benefit from instruction, you will no longer need it to improve. Para reaches wearily into a pocket he hadn’t noticed in her tunic, and pulls out a small, rectangular leather box. She places it on the table and passes it towards Ewen. “Open it,” she ordered.

Inside he sees eight ivory cubes, four white and four black. He realizes he does know what they are – wards major matrix cubes.

“Lord Morgan asked me to give them to you. Care for them well.” She stops and takes another sip of the brandy. “Sleep, Rhonna, I must sleep,” she pleads, her had reaching up to Rhonna’s cheek.

“Dickon will see you home, Sir Ewen,” Says Rhonna, getting up and going to Para. “How do you feel? Can you stand?”

Ewen pulls himself to his feet, one hand upon the table to steady himself. He secures the small leather box upon his person, gazing down on the two exhausted women.

“Tonight, I know, was done at Lord Morgan’s bidding, and yet ... I am sensible of the great pains you have taken on my behalf. I shall remember it well.” He nods to each in turn. “Lady Para, Lady Rhonna, I bid you both a good night.”

“Good night, Sir Ewen,” both ladies echo in unison.

Ewen turns and strides carefully to the door, feeling the strain in every fiber of his being. Opening the door, he steps through and gently pulls it to behind him. He looks wearily at Dickon of Parketh who nods.

“Come Sir Ewen. They said you might be fatigued.” He leads Ewen out of the pleasure house and towards Gray House. Shortly before they arrive Dickon pauses. “They have not told me everything Sir Ewen, and I am not the smartest of men. But I know how they see you, and they do not do that except for very special people.” Dickon makes a slight bow. “If you are who I think you are, my Lord, you have but to command, and I shall carry it out.”

Another pause, each man looking the other in the eye, man to man.

“Goodnight, Sir Ewen.”

Ewen nods thoughtfully, weighing the man with his gaze. “Well said ... Good night, Dickon.” Turning, he lets himself into Gray House.