Session Fifty-Two - December 8, 2007

[Matt]

Agrazhar 24, 731

The party gathered for their usual breakfast meeting. The servants served a lovely broiled eel freshly caught from the river.

Kaelyn is going to return to the College of Heralds.

“Let us address the scrolls,” Sir Ewen began. “Our understanding is that the scrolls have been passed to the High Priestess of the Haleans.” The knight took a bite from his eel, made a face, and continued. “However, she might just be the middle man, as it were - Neph might be the ultimate mover.”

“Is not Neph using the Haleans as a middle man a little obvious?” Kaelyn asked.

“He isn’t known for his subtlety,” Imarë pointed out.

“It is only obvious to us because we’ve dug into this matter,” Ewen said. “Neph is known as a pretty wily character.” The knight paused, looking warily at the piece of eel on his fork. “The worry is that the scrolls might already be in his hands. That might even have been the purpose of the party.”

The elf happily took another bite of eel, enjoying the strange taste. “If he’s looking for a clue, he might not want the scrolls in his actual possession,” she said.

“Should we keep our eye on the scrolls, or do we keep our eye on Neph?” Ewen asked the group.

“There is more than one of us,” Cekiya said suddenly. “And,” she paused. “We have urchins.”

“Point taken,” Ewen said.

“We only know where Neph is,” Kaelyn began. “I think we should both watch Neph and try to find the scrolls.”

“Speaking of the scrolls,” Imarë said, “Talm said that Kriste may have made copies of the scrolls.”

“What would she have done with the copies?” Cekiya asked.
“Maybe she left them with the innkeeper?” the elf answered.

“Does Neph know there’s a copy?” Cekiya wondered.

Kaelyn, her mind wandering to crime, said, “We should break into Neph’s house.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way to convince Neph to hire us to help him find the sword,” Ewen wondered allowed. “Who better than a Non-Kaldoran if you need help with this sort of thing?”

“But, returning to the matter of copies of the scrolls, if Neph is behind this, he will insist on getting the originals.” The knight gave up on the eel, and sipped his wine. That went down better. “He would not let Kriste make off with the originals, leaving him with mere copies. If he received copies, I suspect he will dispatch someone to hunt down Kriste. She may have only known about the Aramia - she may not have known about Neph. If I was Kriste and I had these original scrolls, I would make a copy- because you never know what you can re-sell that information for.”

“Kriste could be after the sword herself, and that’s why she wants the information,” Imarë said.

“Maybe she’s working closer with Neph than we suspected,” Kaelyn said.

“We could dispatch some people to Chybisa,” Ewen said.

“I could go,” Imarë said. “It’s easier to find one little girl on the road than some scrolls in a city. There are few places Kriste could hide from a tracker and a huntress.” Imarë said, flashing her teeth.

“Sir Baris, what say you to you and Imarë going after Kriste on the road?” Ewen asked. “The rest of us could stay here and keep tabs on Neph.”

Sir Baris looked up from his eel, which he had been staring sullenly at all morning, moving it around the plate with his fork. “Sounds fun.”

“In the alternative, we could all leave, and have Rahel keep tabs on Neph,” Ewen thought aloud. “You and Imarë go on ahead, the rest of us will catch up after the party tomorrow night.” Ewen took another swallow of wine, and grabbed a piece of bread. “I suppose I won’t have much need of a squire, so Arnys will remain behind to keep his own eye on things.”

“Could you use your Deryni skills to pick up Kriste’s psychic imprint?” Kaelyn asked Ewen, and took another bite of eel. A bit too spicy, but still good.

“I am not that skilled, and in any case I would need something of hers to catch the psychic scent, as it were, which I don’t.” The knight took a bite of bread, chewing it thoughtfully. “On an unrelated matter, have you given any thought to the King’s Levee and the King and his relationship to Thilisa?”

The conversation continued on in that manner for awhile, with not much being resolved.

Later that morning, Sir Ewen paid a visit to Rahel. He inquired about using a portal to catch up with Kriste in Burzyn, but unfortunately no such portal existed. Rahel said that if Kriste was indeed after the sword, it would be helpful to know what was said in the scrolls. Then Ewen could follow the same clues.

After visiting Rahel, Sir Ewen met with Stimos to speak about the possibility of he, Ewen, betraying Stimos. In his normally verbose manner, Stimos explained that he believed forcing Ewen to betray him was a ploy to make Ewen look bad. He did not think this was a way to cause discomfort for the Elendsas.

Ewen asked Stimos about the missing documents. Stimos had heard some talk about them, one of the clerks was implicated- he was in the stocks or somehow otherwise dealt with. However, the matter has not yet grown sufficiently important for the King to be aware of it. Ewen asked Stimos to discreetly pass anything he learns about the documents on to Gray House, and Stimos agreed.

Ewen informed Stimos that Thilisa had asked him to perform something. Stimos chuckled, then stopped. “That might not be so well received.” Your singing could be awkward, given the King’s relationship with the lady.

Ewen asked for advice on how to handle the Levee. “Sir Ewen, when the fall is all there is - fall well,” Stimos said. “Dignity, grace under fire, and if possible, one does not make merry or sport with a monarch, but if you can possibly carry it off when your time comes up to go to the throne, as to say something along the lines of ‘My Lady asked, how could I refuse?’ If not, well, then it has been my pleasure and honor to have known you.”

Imarë made her way over to the Seven Stars. She saw the enormous Dafydd of Ewen, and the crowd was made up of the same commoners Baris met. Imarë went up to the bar and asked for a drink. Dafydd looked down at the diminutive elf – “you couldn’t possibly be an Ivinian.”

“I don’t like them. I was up the country a little while ago myself.”

“Oh, you mean Shese.”

“My companions and I helped with the unpleasantness around there.”

“What’s so unpleasant about it? Ivinians got their clocks cleaned!”

“Not one left.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we left, there were no more.”

“You speak strangely, stranger!”

“When we left, there were no Ivinians left alive, and I had a hand in that.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I heard you were for Yarin independence.”

“I am! You say it that way one more time and I’ll kick you out! That’s how the Ivinians say it! What are you doing here?”

“I just want a drink.”

“Well, have your drink.”

One of the commoners behind Imarë spit his beer out. Imarë turned around, and to her shock, amazement and dismay, she found herself looking face to face with a dwarf! Not a midget, unfortunately, but a real dwarf! Clearly, the dwarf had recognized Imarë’s elven nature, and given the enmity between their two peoples, became agitated and spit his beer out. A waste of good beer.

“What are you doing this far south?” Imarë inquired of the dwarf.

The dwarf replied in his own language, which Imarë did not understand.

Both muttered curses to the other in dwarven and elven respectively.

“This used to be such a nice place,” the dwarf muttered to himself.

Clearly, the innkeeper realized he was being buttered up, and Imarë abandoned her conversation with him. Instead, she went to sit at a table.

The dwarf pulled the barkeep over. “ I don’t like the look of that one,” the dwarf said, motioning to the Imarë.

“Yeah, tried to butter me up some. There was another guy in here yesterday, claimed he was a knight, I have my doubts, tried the same thing. Not as much as a looker as her, though.”

“Kinda reedy, though.” The dwarf sat down with a good view of the shifty elf.

The level of tension in the common room rose, and without knowing why, other patrons have noticed it.

Two scholars in the bar started to fight, Dafydd said “Take it outside!”

The dwarf followed, to watch the fight. Sadly, it was not the fight of the century, the two fighters being quite unskilled. It was quite comical, actually.

Imarë went up to the bar, and asked Dafydd who the dwarf was.

“I don’t see a dwarf.”

“That short guy over there.”

“I don’t care if a guy is a dwarf or a midget, so long as he pays for his beer.”

The dwarf overheard this conversation, and thought “Grrr ... Little elf is trying to get me into trouble.”

“If you’re so interested, why don’t you go ask him yourself?” Dafydd said.

The dwarf watched the thing come over and begin speaking. Imarë went over to the dwarf. “I am Imarë Taersi of the Shava Forest. I was wondering who you were?”

The dwarf looked at the reedy, craven, oath-breaking, alliance-breaker. “Thanks for dooming my people.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“You could have been, you could have been. Never can tell with you people.”

The entire room has figured out that something was going on. The dwarf and the elf both had an audience, which included the barkeep.

The dwarf thought if he should point out that the elf was a spy.

“The fight was 3000 years ago, and I wasn’t there! It’s been three millennia - get over it!”

The dwarf remained silent. Imarë went back to her table, saying “A stubborn people,” to Dafydd, who said nothing.

“Something’s going on here, elves wandering about, asking questions.” The dwarf took out his book.

Kaelyn returned to College of Heralds. The origin of Clan Caldeth. During the baronial revolt, Minarsis Castle was seized by its captain of the guard, who murdered the earl and his two sons. These were the Hernels. The castle was retaken by Colm Caldeth, Baron of Zoben. He retook Minarsis and executed the rebels. This was in 602. Colm was named Earl of Vemion, because the previous owner of the title had been wiped out. Colm was known as the fourteenth Earl of Vemion. The fifteenth earl was Wilfrod, Colm’s son, who inherited in 630. A year later, in Tashal, a member of clan Dariune apparently insulted Wilfrod’s son, and a challenge was made. In the trial by combat, Wilfrod’s son was killed. Wilfrod died in 644, and his then 8 year old grandson Jarod became a ward of the crown until he inherited in 657. Jarod was obsessed with vengeance for his father, and it was only for the fact that he carried on a long unrequited love affair with Queen Chelebin that he forebore attacking the Dariunes and plunging Kaldor into civil war. He was not entirely without his revenge, however. In the first Royal Chelebin Tournament, he defeated the Earl of Balim’s heir in both the joust and the grand melee. Jarod was the first First Knight of Kaldor. He took part in the Salt War, and died of his wounds after the battle of the Ramala Gap in 674. He was mourned only by King Torastra. Jarod’s eldest son, Elfrod succeeded but died in the same month during the Treasure War, before the walls of Burzyn. His younger brother Keled, after a short wardship, inherited in 676. Keled died peacefully in 709, and his only son, Declaen, inherited, and he is the present Earl of Vemion. Urien Kaldeth was Declaen’s heir. Poor Urien was decapitated by a lance wielded by Sir Ewen during the last Royal Chelebin Tournament. Kaelyn pointed out that this fact was not mentioned in the history, and the scholar wrote a note in the margin. Declaen has two other children: Urien’s older sister Thilisa, and his younger sister Camissa, who is to be married in the spring.

Back at the Seven Stars, mid-afternoon. The dwarf and the elf are still staring at each other malevolently. People who were planning on leaving have ordered extra ales, which Dafydd happily provided. He also provided both the dwarf and the elf with free ales - they’re good for business! Some patrons have joined either table. Some have clearly joined the elf because of her superior looks relative to the bearded dwarf.

The dwarf sat there, simmering. “It’s challenging me! This is my place!”

Dafydd came over to the dwarf, whispering “How long do you think she can keep that up?”

“Sometimes the most cunning traitors are the most patient. Speaking of traitors, it was talking about vikings quite a lot, wasn’t it?”

“It was. Said it killed an Ivinian itself. That slip of a thing? Good for a tumble, but not battle. Not, like in my day ...” Dafydd launched into another one of his many stories. After a short time, the dwarf was on top of the table, thrusting his ale into the air at appropriately dramatic moments.

At the point Dafydd described how he single handedly destroyed the Ivinian war-boat and cut off their retreat, so they could be slaughtered by his compatriots, the dwarf spoke up.

“It’s a wonder you lost the war! No doubt it was treachery!” the dwarf said.

“Yes, it had to be treachery! We were a peaceful people - poets and lovers. And then the vikings came...”

“Traitors, turncoats ...” the dwarf said, looking pointedly at Imarë.

“Blowhards!” Imarë said.

The room was rapt with attention. More ales were ordered.

More than four hours went by. Suddenly, something cracked! The dwarf jumped down off the table, ran over to Imarë, and tried to jump up onto the elf’s bench! Unfortunately for his pride, he failed, landing on his dwarven posterior. Quickly, he stood back up, stock straight, before he climbed onto the bench.

Imarë laughed out loud, almost spilling her drink. It was an airy, elven laugh.

The dwarf grew angered at the things cackling. “Traitor! Coward!” The dwarf screamed into the elf’s face.

“If I should live another two centuries I’ll never see something so funny!”

“Spy! Instigator!” the dwarf yelled, thrusting his tankard at the elf.

“I think we’ve had enough fun and games for one day!” Dafydd said at last.
The common roomed “Aww”ed.

“You, what was your name?”

“Imarë.”

“I’m afraid you’ve had enough.”

“Very well, tell him to get over the battle of sorrows, please?”

The patrons at the dwarf’s table cheered, and looked like they were going to put him up on their shoulders. Seeing the look on his face, they settled for distant adulation.

As the elf exited, the dwarf began to follow the elf on its way back to Gray House. The dwarf watched the thing go on inside the house. He planted himself across the street, placed his axe head down on the road, placed his hands across the haft, and stared with evil and malevolent intent at the place the elf had disappeared.

An hour passed. Kaelyn innocently came strolling home, unaware of the danger just across the street of her peaceful home. As she walked towards home, she mentally organized the information she had learned for her report to Sir Ewen, and walked blithely by the dwarf.

Sir Baris reported he had been packing all day. And Imarë was going to be carrying the bulk of the goods. Kaelyn reported what she had learned.

“Everyone be careful, there’s a dwarf in town.”

“Did you learn anything from that lying innkeeper?” asked Sir Baris.

The party, being smarter than the average person, knew that the elder races were in fact real, but little else.

When it got dark, the dwarf realized he had missed lunch and stomped off.

Agrazhar 25, 731

The King’s Levee was at 9 o’clock in the morning. Sirs Ewen and Baris went over to the castle. Surprisingly, they were not required to surrender their weapons, this being a select group. Sir Baris carried Ewen’s lute in a bag.

Sir Baris and Ewen were lined up at the bottom of the stairs in order of precedence, Ewen first and line and Sir Baris not far behind, given his place in the final sixteen. Shortly thereafter, the lesser nobles were escorted to the throne room.

Fine tapestries were hanging on the walls. The throne room had four columns, and between the columns, arrayed in order of presence were various great nobles. Baris and Ewen recognized Balim, the Earl of Neph, the Archbishop, and Bishop Dariune. Several heirs apparent, including Prehil Firith, and the Baron of Stimos, were also present. There were two thrones, one large and one small. Guards lined the walls.

Later, the chamberlain cried out, “Milords and ladies! His Grace, the King!” Trumpets fanfared. Pages opened the doors, and the King and Queen entered and sat on the thrones.

The chamberlain called Prince Brandis, and after a few short words were exchanged, he stood beside the throne.

Next, Balim was called, and after he spoke he returned to his place. After that, Neph was called, spoke, and returned to his place.

The chamberlain next called Thilisa.

Thilisa came before the King, curtsied, but not as long as Rahel had. Some words were spoken, and the King looked over her shoulder in the general direction of Ewen.

The chamberlain called “Sir Ewen, First Knight of Kaldor.”

Baris tossed Ewen the lute, and Ewen went before the King.

“I understand that the Countess Thilisa has asked you to prepare a song in our honor? Or was it your honor, my Lady.”
The Queen had a look on her face like she was sucking sour lemons. Ewen noted that she was quite striking, much more beautiful than Thilisa.

“If it please Your Grace,” said Ewen.

“I’m sure it does, Sir Ewen. Please, play for us.”

Ewen sang breathlessly, while his playing was alright.

The Queen’s reaction to the song was incredible - her sour look became a thin smile, and then a grin, which became broader until she was leaning back on her throne, looking at Ewen and smiling.

The King said, “Quite nice Sir Ewen, but my hair is blonde, not brown. I understand sometimes you have others perform.”

“I am incapable of disobliging a lady, and thus we have today’s performance,” replied the knight gallantly.

The Queen said: “Yes, you wouldn’t want to do that.”

The King nodded, and Ewen was dismissed.

All the other knights were called, but Ewen was pointedly not. At one point, the Baron of Stimos caught Ewen’s eye, and winked.

Baris was called, the king congratulated him on his performance in the tournament. Baris began to reply a thank you, but was dismissed before he could finish. The King appeared to be in a foul mood. As Baris backed away, the Queen smiled, and the knight inclined his head gracefully in her direction.

The entire Levee took around three hours.

That same morning, the dwarf cast three runesstones to guide his path. Gebo (Partnership), Raido (Journey), Sowelu (Wholeness). He interpreted this to mean that he had to partner with someone, go on a journey, and become whole with them. Undoubtedly, to the dwarf’s horror, the runes seemed to be telling him to join with the thing! The elf!

The dwarf consulted his friend, Gevel, another dwarf with whom he lodged, who shared his horror, but agreed with the interpretation of the runes. Although he suggested that perhaps the runes referred to one of the companions of the creature.

“Hm. The thing may have a partnership with others, hopefully not others of its kind.”

Gevel had heard a preposterous rumor, which he had discounted, that in the last social season, all of the nobility were atwitter at the notion that an ‘elf’ was among them. No social gathering was complete without the elf. Now, however, he thought that perhaps the rumor should not be discounted. The other part of the rumor was that the elf was the mistress of the First Knight of Kaldor!

“Ugh!” the dwarf said. “That is foulness of the worst sort!”

Gevel, said, “What I’ve heard must be true! She’s his mistress!”

“Disgusting,” the dwarf said.

“He’s on the rise, however,” Gevel said. “But you know what they say about those climbing the mountain - eventually they must fall.”

“Someone needs to save this man from the treachery of the elf ...” the dwarf said.

“That could be what the wholeness meant ...” Gevel wondered aloud.

“How should I partner with them?” the dwarf asked.

“There is a journey involved, a journeyman could always use a stout person with a good axe.”

“I shall offer myself as a retainer.”

“No, that could make the human’s head swell. Perhaps you could give him something that he lacks...”

“Ha! A level head,” the dwarf said.”

“Yes, but humans do not understand gold and gems for the art that they are - they only see them as a means to power. They are intoxicated by power. That is why the worst of the elves calls himself ‘King of Harn,’ as if we never existed. Find out the reason for this journey, and then you will know what you have to do.”

“I will consult Dafydd.”

The dwarf went off to the bar. Over some ale, the dwarf commiserated over the stranger who was causing all that trouble.

“Not so much trouble - I made twice as much as usual yesterday!” Dafydd said.

“It seemed to me the creature was trying to get something out of you with flattery.”

“Oh, come on, I see what you’re doing. She has nothing to do with Orbaal, does she?”

“No, no she doesn’t. I think she has a more local purpose. Something’s going on.”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure that guy who claimed to be a knight was with her. He was asking about a woman who stayed here. A patriot, a true Jarin patriot.”

“This was a short woman, right?”

“Yes, well, except compared to you. Kriste was her name. She and I talked a little bit, and if anything, she burns for the cause more than I do. I wanted her, but she wouldn’t have it.”

“You probably would have broken her.” The dwarf laughed.

“She said she was for Jarin independence, he was from Tharda, she’s probably from Tharda, too! They are conquering Orbaal, they aren’t for Jarin independence! Kriste had apparently gotten some documents, pointing to some treasure!”

“What else would humans want, but treasure.”

“Uhm, I’m human.”

“My apologies.”

“Kriste’s left, but I don’t think they know she left.”

“Has her room been taken yet?”

“Nope.”

“Were I to hide treasure, or the means to locate it, I’d bury it someplace; keep it hidden. Could I look at her quarters?”

“Be my guest!”

The dwarf took his leave, and went to the woman’s former quarters. Behind the table, just hidden between the table leg and the wall, the dwarf found a crumpled up piece of paper. There was some Harnic writing on it, and a large ink blot - too large to scrape off and try again.

The document read:

Your Grace, I regret to inform you that I have been unable to locate the blade or any substantial valuables from Balesir’s treasury. [inkspot] that the sword never reached Burzyn. We have discovered [inkspot] bandit Merren had in his possession this signet ring, [inkspot] u. Our inquest has determined that Mar[inkspot] Invarnay [inkspot] tinue this search. [inkspot]nt, iune. (signature).

The dwarf pocketed the document, apparently an early attempt to copy one of the stolen documents. There was no date on the letter. Clearly, all of the parties involved were looking for treasure! This is about treasure, and the dwarf decided he definitely needs to be on it. The runes were now clear - he had to join a partnership to go on a journey to get the whole treasure - for himself.

The dwarf decided, much as he liked Dafydd (for a human), he would not share this revelation with him. He went downstairs. “I have no idea what they’re after, but I’m on their trail. I may go on a trip, but if I do leave town, I’ll make your place my first stop on my way back. In fact, let me get a parting glass.”

“It’s on the house. Kriste is a patriot, but in this I think she serves another master. Whatever she is up to, however, I think it is ultimately for the freedom of Jarin, but I think she has had to get in bed with some bad fellows. These people may have another agenda, and though your back is close to the ground, you should watch it.”

After his drink, the dwarf went off on his short little legs.

Later, he went to Gray House. As he turned the corner, he saw the two knights returning to their home. The one who claimed to be a knight, Sir Baris, was one of them. The two were certainly dressed the part, and both wore swords.

Ewen turned to Baris, I believe that Imarë was on to something.” He turned to the dwarf. “I am Sir Ewen of Ravinargh, this is my friend Sir Baris Tyrestal.”

“I am Havard of clan Terrika,” the dwarf replied. (pronounced Tear-eh-ka)

“Do you have business with me?” asked Sir Ewen, realizing the short fellow was a Khuzan!

The dwarf planted his feet and put his hands on his hips.

“You’re quite short!” Sir Baris stated matter of factly. Ewen gave him a look.

“My friend and I were about to enter our house, Gray House. Would you care to join us?”

The dwarf leaned forward the pair conspiratorially, saying “The business I have for you is not meant for public ears.”

Ewen leaned downward, “Would you care to step into Gray House?”

The dwarf nodded, saying “Indeed, indeed.”

Inside was the thing, the elf. “Can I have an ale?” the dwarf asked.

Sir Baris noted the incredibly fine axe strapped upon Havard’s back, and he eyed it jealously.

Sir Ewen made introductions.

“We’ve met,” Imarë said.

“So Havard, why were you following us? Do you have business with me?” Ewen said.

“I know you are hunting treasure, and I want part of it! I have something that may be of interest to you, with which I can buy my entrance,” the dwarf said with Khuzan cunning.

Ewen truth-read the dwarf, and realized Havard was telling the truth. Ewen looked bemused. “Treasure hunting, you say? Did you tell him we were treasure hunting?” he said, looking at Imarë.

“We never said anything to each other,” Imarë said. “I introduced myself, and he just glared at me!”

The dwarf glared at the elf.

He then thrust a stumpy finger into the air, and with his other hand held out the parchment he had discovered. He did not give it up, however. Kaelyn read the letter aloud.

“Where the hell did you find that?” Kaelyn asked.

Sir Ewen seemed impressed. “An extraordinary document Havard, where did you find that?”

The dwarf planted his fist on his hip. “First, I want oath that I am part of this treasure hunting expedition. As you can see, I am a Khuzan of extreme skill,” Imarë snorted - “with metals and jewels.”

“What do you want?”

“I want a modest but fair share of the treasure.” Ewen did not detect any lies in this statement.

“You understand, Havard, that Imarë Taersi is a trusted member of this group.” Ewen said.

The dwarf grumbled. “Yes, well, I will be working in very close, scrutinous association with her.” ‘I’ll be waiting with lifted axe, prepared for when she betrays you!’ he thought.

“You must give your word that you will not betray the cause, or the people, or what you will learn while with this group. You must give your oath that you will not betray what you learn.”

Cekiya gave the dwarf a look, as if to say ‘You’ll be answering to me!’
“With the caveat that whatever your business is, there is no detriment to the Khuzan people, I will abide by your conditions, and you will have my oath!” Havard said.

“I can give you my solemn word that I am aware of no way that our activities could harm your people. I respect your people. Havard of Clan Terrika, I welcome you to our group.”

The dwarf lifted his tankard in Ewen’s direction, and finally let Kaelyn have the crumpled paper.

The group began discussing the revelations that came from the letter the dwarf found.

Kaelyn informed that party that: The inkwell was clearly overturned, indicating haste while copying. That indicated that perhaps she copied the documents more than once. Because paper, or parchment is very expensive, normally in the case of spilled ink, the vellum would be scraped and writing would begin again. The writer of the document educated, and the document was written in a strong, firm hand. And clearly, she was not attempting a forgery, she was merely attempting to copy the words-the information. A fifth to a quarter of the document was obscured by the spill. Because she lost some of the information, she discarded the document.

“Are we leaving today?” asked Kaelyn.

“Yes. This girl already has a big lead on us.” Ewen replied.

Ewen asked Imarë to pen him a short note to Thilisa to let her know that business called him from town.

Since Baris had spent most of the previous day packing (that is, ordering the servants what to pack), and Havard was already packed, the party was quickly ready to depart.

Torak, cook and majordomo “Sir Ewen, if I may, if you are planning on starting south at this late hour, perhaps you might consider staying at Erone abbey? It’s a Peonian abbey on the Genin Trail. I’m sure they would be happy to put you up for the evening.”

Kaelyn remembered passing through Erone abbey, and she was impressed with the place.

Ewen commended the suggestion, and informed the party that that would be the plan. The party shortly departed Tashal.

Once at the abbey, Sir Ewen asked for hospitality.

Imarë asked the miller who greeted them “Have you seen a short woman with brown hair? She’s about five feet tall? She would have passed within the last few days.”

“She didn’t exactly pass by - more like she tried to avoid it. If she’s a friend of yours, she looks to be in trouble to me.”

“Did she try to come through the town?”

“Yes, but she didn’t stay.”

“When?”

“A couple of days ago.”

“Did she have any retainers or men at arms with her?” asked Havard.

“Yes.”

“That will make it easier to track her,” Ewen pointed out.

“Horses?” asked Imarë.

“They were afoot, lady.”

The party went to the home that was set aside for them. A priestess came up.

“We are travellers, and had hoped to prevail upon the kindness of the Abbess, if that was not too much trouble.” Said Ewen.

“It will not be trouble at all.”

“I would also be grateful if the Abbess would have time to speak with me?”

“She has retired to her prayers. Perhaps I could direct you to our guest house?”

Quinn saw to the tethering of the horses, and the party entered the guest house. There was only one bed. Kaelyn called it, but had to defer to Sirs Baris and Ewen, who took the bed. Chivalry only applies to ladies of rank, apparently.

Agrazhar 26, 731

In the morning, the priestess cam to wake them, asking if they had slept well.

“We did,” replied Sir Ewen.

Kaelyn thought ‘well at least you slept in a bed.’

“The Abbess would be pleased to receive you, Sir Ewen, is it?”

“Yes. I will not take up much of her time.”

The party went to the hut of the Abbess. The buildings of the abbey were of a unique design. They were constructed of wood, but were round in order to save on lumber.

The priestess knocked, and the party heard: “Enter!” The priestess curtsied. “Sir Ewen.”

“You must be the knight who arrived last night.”

Sir Ewen entered with a polite bow. “My name is Sir Ewen of Ravinargh, I want to thank you for your hospitality.

“I have heard of you, Sir Ewen.”

“You are kind to say so, your Ladyship.”

“There you go again, you would think I am in Tashal!”

“I do not understand.”

“Though you are a Laranian, we all have our role to play in the concordat.”

“I find you speak wisely, your Ladyship.”

“There you go again! I am but a humble priestess - not a lady of a manor. It is not my place to rule, that is your place. I look after the humble sheep of your flock, and you are the shepherd.”

“I have never thought about that, your Ladyship.”

“It is not for you to worry about such things.”

Not knowing what else to say, Sir Ewen came to the point. “I am pursuing a felon.”

“Such is your responsibility, Sir Ewen.”

“I had hoped that if any members of your community has observed something, you might pass it on to me to aid me in bringing her to justice.”

“I will assist you up to my power. Who was this?”

Ewen described Kriste. “It appears that the miller in your community took notice.”

“Yes, I was informed. A woman, matching that description, did indeed pass through this abbey ... hmm ... three days ago? yes, three days ago, I believe.”

“Three days. And the size of her retinue?”

“I did not see them, but I understand she was accompanied by men of disreputable appearance. Brigands perhaps! May the goddess forgive them for their folly. They did not apply to us for shelter, but they did as to water their horses.”

“Ah - so they were mounted.”

“That was my understanding.”

“Did you understand the number of brigands to be two or twenty?”

“Twenty! Oh, no, there were only three or four of them.”

“All mounted?”

“I only know they asked to water their horses. I don’t know why- they could have watered their horses at the stream. I naturally have no problem with anyone wanting to water their horses - they are Peoni’s creatures, too.”

“I assume many people would have taken notice as to which road they parted upon.”

“It was my understanding they continued south.”

“Unless you should think I should take time to question someone in your community, perhaps I should make haste to pursue them?”

“Perhaps you should, but I have a question for you Sir Ewen. Your reputation has somewhat preceded you. I understand that you are a man of extraordinary generosity.”

“People are kind to say so.”

The Abbess smiled, and smoothed her habit. “May I take you on a tour of my abbey?”

“Your Ladyship is too kind.”

“You do me too much honor - I am but a humble priestess.”

“If I were on any other business than pursuing a felon, I would be more than happy.”

“I understand. I am very much in favor of enforcing the King’s writ. The King and I meet from time to time. Although we are not far from Tashal here, it seems we are far, far from the cares of the capital.”

“Given my haste, I wonder if I might prevail upon you first to promise that I will take up your offer of a tour on my return. But second, if I could entrust you with some alms to disperse to members of your flock who are in need this time of year.”

“Sir Ewen, you are as generous as I’ve heard! There are many in need throughout the year. If I could just show you the spring, the hospital, the graveyard which is too full of those we could have saved if only others had just parted with just a bit more of their material wealth ...”

“Abbess, I need no tour of your hospital. Tell me what it is in need of.”

“But Sir Ewen, if only you could see it, you would understand.”

Ewen realized he could not get past the enormous woman. She went out the door, and pointed to the south. “Just last winter, a terrible windstorm - it must have been sent by Agrik - struck this abbey. It tore off the roof and, and, oh ... many of the patients perished. It was hard to bear, Sir Ewen ... sometimes the ways of the goddess are inscrutable. A usurer in Qualdris, one Tomas of Cook, he provided us with funds to replace the roof. As you can see, we did. He was fair ... he only charged us five percent interest on £40! We were able to make a payment of £12 on the interest.”

“Isn’t that a bit expensive?”

“It was recommended. I’m just an abbess, not a mason. If only you could see the hospital ...”

Ewen began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

“The Earl of Vemion was here with his Countess ... he, a good man, pledged he would pay for half of the roof debt, if we could secure the other half. I know you are not as great a man of the Earl of Vemion, so you could not pay half. But perhaps you could pay just a quarter, half of half ...”

“My Lady, as you can understand, I don’t carry such money on my person.” Ewen pulled out a gold crown, “This is all I can give now, but I must continue on my mission ...”

“Oh, Sir Ewen, this is a wonderful down payment on £5!”

Ewen, finally out of the grasp of the unprepossessing but clearly wily Abbess, returned to the party and explained his delay.

Cekiya said “Oh, I’m not surprised. This is the most important Peonian abbey in Kaldor.”

Imarë checked the road, and saw many horsetracks, too many to tell if the party they were tracking was mounted.

“Okay, let’s get on the road.”