Session Sixty-One - November 8, 2008

[Matt]

Halane 20, 731

The party gathered for their last breakfast at Gray Hall. Again, they were forced to prepare their own meal, servants having not yet been hired. Cold bread and butter made up the majority of the fare.

“As you will recall, a messenger arrived yesterday,” Sir Baris said. “Quinn’s services will be at high noon, just south of the Peonian cemetery,” the knight said gravely. “Services to follow at the temple of Sarajin.”

“Potelc isn’t here this morning,” Imarë noted.

“Where is he?” Kaelyn asked Rolloch.

“I sent him back to Varayne, I thought we might need more swords,” the man at arms replied and then went back to eating his bread, cheese, and meat.
“Good initiative,” Ewen said, impressed.

The party discussed whether the barn door to Gray House was burned by magic or mundane means. Kaelyn suggested that the fact that, as Arnys mentioned, a man at the Tower Inn was sweating blood was circumstantial evidence of a fire-wielding Shek Pvar being present. Ewen mentioned that he learned from his reading of the stable boy that the barn door was blown in.

Discussion turned to the details of moving into Raven Hall. Kaelyn wanted the font moved to her bedroom. As for the possessions and furnishings from Gray House, most of these belonged to the landlord. The chess table and books, and of course Sir Baris’s full plate, would have to be moved. Ewen suggested building a partition on the fourth floor to separate the soldiers from the servants.

“We have no servants,” Imarë noted. “Again, I suggest that we consult Mrs. Baum on the selection of a new majordomo.”

Later that morning, Imarë headed over to Tharda House. “I would like to see Mrs. Baum, please?”

“Mrs. Baum?” the guard asked.

“Yes.”

“Come this way,” the man said.

Imarë was led to the kitchen, where she found the woman she sought. “Mrs. Baum, someone here to see you,” the guard said. The elf sat down, and a few seconds later a steaming cup of tea and raisin cake were placed in front of her. “We are having a slight problem you might be able to help us with.” Imarë paused and sipped her tea. “Lovely.” She put down the cup. “We need a new staff,” the elf said without preamble. “We need a new majordomo.”

“Oh! For a second I thought you meant one of those long wooden things, and I wondered why you came to me instead of a woodcrafter.” She chuckled. “I don’t mean to pry but … did your former staff displease you in some way?”

“They displeased somebody. We were having trouble with our current abode, and we are changing homes, and they will be unable to make the move.”

“Again, I don’t mean to pry, but did something happen to their legs?”

“We’re trying to keep it quiet ... but someone broke in and slaughtered our staff. We have a new home, though, and guards. Astarock’s old abode.”

“Oh, well, that will be a selling point. Here, have another cake.” Imarë ate the cake delicately while awaiting Mrs. Baum’s answer. “Well, I have someone in mind for a majordomo, one Walin of Vastair. His former employer was the Earl of Osel. Walin decided he didn’t want to work for the current earl. I wouldn’t mention to him that your previous staff is deceased. Although, he is bright, he might figure it out.”

Imarë was sent off with a basket full of seedcakes, and was instructed to eat them up to put some meat on her bones.

***

A short time before noon Sir Baris, dressed all in black, headed out of the city. He came to a small clearing just south of the sorry little Peonian cemetery, where a pyre had been set up. Horveal Endjan and many of his sons and womenfolk had already arrived. The pyre was built up about two feet off the ground, Quinn’s broken body, clad in viking attire, lay atop it. “Sir Baris, you have arrived,” Horveal greeted the knight.

“I have,” the knight said simply.

“Sir Baris, we have in mind a brief ceremony, and once the pyre is lit we will sing songs to the honor and glory of the Gray Slayer. Shortly thereafter, we will return to the temple and pray a lot more over some ale, and perhaps a haunch of boar. One of the lads will stay behind to see to the remains of the pyre.”

The funeral party gathered around the pyre, and everyone was handed a torch. Horveal chanted prayers to Sarajin for a a long time, until he eventually said that it was time and nodded to Sir Baris. The knight intoned his head and laid his torch on the pyre.

Thereafter, the others gathered placed their torches over the small form. Apparently a great deal of pitch had been used, for quite a blaze quickly sprung up. As the body was consumed, songs to the glory of Sarajin were sung. The knight sang decently, and he was grateful that his voice did not break. “It is time to return to the temple and honor a fallen warrior,” Horveal said after a short time. He clapped one of his sons on the back. “Be guarded in your vigil.” The priest led the procession back to the temple of Sarajin, where they found a sumptuous feast had been prepared.

***

Meanwhile, Sir Ewen was supervising the move from Gray House to Astarock’s former home. The horses were moved from the stable at Gray House to the Ostler’s Common, and Ewen gave special instructions for the care of Iblis.

At some point during the day a blond-gray older mustachioed well dressed man wearing a cape and a matching cap presented himself at the newly christened Raven Hall. “I am Walin of Vastair.” The new majordomo had arrived.

“Come in. I am Sir Ewen of Ravinargh.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir Ewen. Your reputation precedes you.”

‘Which one,’ the knight idly wondered to himself. “I would offer you some amenities, but my inability to do so is why I need your services.”

“It is difficult to start running a house if you don’t know what to do,” the majordomo agreed. “I knew the former majordomo here.” He paused. “I would bring my wife with me; she would be chief cook and housekeeper while I would be steward. If we can come to an arrangement, of course. I would have to hire the rest of the staff- one must work with people who can keep a household running efficiently.”

“You will find me to be a man of business, and I won’t have time to attend to household decisions,” Sir Ewen Ravinargh, First Knight of Kaldor and Lord of Varayne said importantly.

“I would be honored to think that we think the same way.”

“I believe we will be able to work together quite amicably.”

“Could you tell me something of the household budget?” the majordomo asked. “Will you be entertaining, how well do you want the cellar stocked, and other things of that nature?” The knight explained the needs of Gray House and that additional entertaining expenses would be required. He tried to truth-read his new majordomo, but was unsuccessful. “I would expect that a budget of three pounds a month would be appropriate,” the majordomo said after ruminating on the matter.

Sir Ewen began showing Walin the house. Walin mentioned that he was distantly related to a manorial family in Vemion. Ewen mentioned their plans for the place, including the new bunk beds Imarë bought for the soldiers who would be arriving shortly, and Kaelyn’s wish to move the font. Walin stated he would arrange for the font to be moved.

“So, when can you begin?” Ewen asked.

“If it would be acceptable, I would move in tonight and begin hiring the staff tomorrow. It would be useful to have the first month’s budget in advance.” After digging in his money bag, Ewen counted out 720d. The sack was still heavy with coin.

Later that day, the rest of the party, sans Baris, and Walin and his wife Bernethe of Vastair, along with one other servant, moved into Raven Hall.

***

Late in the evening, when Sir Baris was ready to leave, he was presented with a pottery urn filled with Quinn’s ashes. Unsurprisingly, the knight was incredibly drunk, having been consuming ale with Vikings for the previous eight hours. The knight also suspected that the mead had been fermented slightly too long, and had quite a more alcoholic content than the swill he was used to in the local taverns. He stumbled out of the Temple of Sarajin and as he passed a side street, four men wearing cloaks and armed with falchions emerged from the alley. “I think he’s drunk!” one of them said.

“I am drunk!” the knight replied happily.

“You’ll have to come with us, and before you do anything stupid …”

“I’ll leave that to you!” Sir Baris yelled drunkenly.

“You might want to look behind you,” one of the men said coldly, indicating a spot over the drunk man’s shoulder.

Sir Baris looked up at the stars, and then behind himself. He saw three more men with drawn falchions. “Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The easy way involves you dropping your sword and axes.” Realizing he was about to be captured and not having fond memories of his previous confinement, plus, as aforementioned, being incredibly drunk, Sir Baris decided to do things the hard way. Thinking fast, or at least as fast as he could in his current state, the knight threw the urn at the man flabbing about unmanly surrender. That man dodged, but his compatriot was not as lucky, and the urn hit him on the right knee before shattering upon the flagstones. In mid flight the cap of the urn flew off, and a gray cloud of the last earthly remains of Quinn hung over the small battlefield.

“Get him boys!” the leader said and charged in, whacking the knight in the upper chest with the flat of his falchion, the knight hardly seemed to notice. Another of the cloaked men slashed at the knight, but he stepped back with speed unexpected in so drunk a man. However his opponent’s swing still managed to connect with the unfortunate foot of Sir Baris. The third man, clearly a coward, or at least a eunuch, whacked the knight in the groin. Baris yelped in pain and fell to the ground. The men from behind him moved in, and he was surrounded. He tried to draw his axe, but one of the men stepped on the head of the weapon, and the fight was over.

Sir Baris was rudely pulled to his feet, and his weapons were taken. The knight struggled futilely against his captors. He was hustled back in the direction of the temple of Sarajin, but was soon dragged into an alley. Eventually, he was brought to a building somewhere near the Coin and Broom where, after being relieved of the rest of his possessions he was tied up and tossed into an upstairs room roughly five by ten feet square. The soft clink of a heavy lock falling into place followed the knight into a dreamless sleep.

***

Some time later, Baris heard a key in the lock, and he was nearly blinded by a bright light. Blinking rapidly he made out a man equipped with a mail byrnie and falchion in the flickering torchlight. “He’s ok,” the armed man said, and stepped back from the door to make room for two more people. One was a short, brown haired woman that looked familiar and the other was an unfamiliar older man wearing a rich gown.

“Kryste,” Baris croaked.

“Yes, Sir Baris,” the woman said with an evil looking smile. “The last time I saw you, you were doing strange acrobatics with a horse. How do you feel, would you like a drink?” she smiled.

“Last time I saw you, you were skulking onto a battlefield, too late.”

“I was too late, but I was not skulking.”

“I’m not going to debate semantics.”

“Good, you aren’t in any position to argue. I have but one question for you ...”

“Sorry, I’m taken.”

“You took something from Bejist, a sword. Where is it?”

“Somewhere ... I’m not sure where.”

The taller man in the rich robes said, “I told you, he wouldn’t say anything.”

“Now now, we must go through the first steps ...” Kryste said.

“I honestly don’t know; I wasn’t told,” Sir Baris admitted.

“Now Baris, I can drop the Sir, can’t I? We don’t need to stand on ceremony.”

“There were some swords, which one did you want?”

“Oh, you know which one, it was worth many lives ... some of yours, in fact.”

“Yes, I’m going to have to kill you for that,” Baris said coldly.

“I might have to torture you, but for now I’ll let your pain talk to you ...”

“You might want to hurry,” Baris began, but Kryste kicked him in the groin, and made to leave. “Watch out for Dragald!” Baris yelled.

The woman stopped suddenly at the door and turned around slowly. “What do you know of Dragald?”

“Just that he’s going to kill you.”

“I always expected that, but how do you know him?”

“We’re buddies,” Baris replied.

“Well, I had little opinion of your friends before, and I have less know. Good night, Sir Baris.” She smiled again. “Think of the knives.”

Halane 21, 731

Potelc and ten men at arms arrived in the morning and joined Sir Ewen, Cekiya and Imarë for breakfast. They soldiers sat at the lower table, of course. The meal was fantastic. Ewen praised Walin, and thanked him for getting things up and running so soon. Kaelyn thought Sir Baris would enjoy the meal, and idly wondered where he was.

“No one came in after the men at arms,” Walin stated.

“I know it was quite a ceremony, but all night?” Sir Ewen said.

“Someone should go check on him at the temple, make sure he doesn’t have the gout again.” Cekiya suggested.

“Rolloch, send someone to drag his drunkship home,” Kaelyn ordered.

After breakfast Imarë took Bernethi aside and told her that she should prepare scones for several children because, “We have a hobby: we raise urchins.”

The woman smiled understandingly. “Oh, I see, you are just trying to hide the fact that you want to feed the poor and unfortunate.”

Later Cekiya and one of the newly arrived men at arms went to the Temple of Sarajin where they learned that while there had been a hell of a drinking ceremony the night before, Sir Baris left around ten o’clock. There was some concern that the drunk and rowdy knight would stay in one of his daughters bedchambers, and so Horveal did a bed check around eleven o’clock and did not find the knight. When Horveal mentioned Sir Baris discussing returning to “Gray Ravens house,” Cekiya wondered if, in his drunken state, the knight had gone back to Gray House. The big viking leaned conspiratorially towards Cekiya. “To be honest, a lot of us weren’t speaking very clearly last night,” he confided, still a bit woozy.

“Sounds like Baris was a bit confused, let’s check Gray House.” Of course, the knight was not in evidence, and after ascertaining this fact, Cekiya returned to Raven Hall.

***

While the party was eating a fantastic breakfast and enjoying all the comforts of a noble life, Sir Baris lay in his cell, still bound head and foot. The knight was not tortured, but neither was he fed. He was left completely alone. His muscles began to cramp painfully. The situation did not improve when he was forced to relieve himself, and the cell began to smell even worse. When he was sufficiently sobered up and felt he had the strength, the knight tried to break his bonds. Sir Baris manfully strained against his the ropes, and he felt a few of the strands break, but not enough. Fortunately, he began to feel pins and needles in his limbs; apparently the bonds had been loosened a bit to allow some blood to flow. The knight comforted himself with the thought that his friends were no doubt at that very moment coming to his aid.

***

Raven Hall was a hive of activity throughout the day as Walin hired more servants. The font was moved to Kaelyn’s room (and filled with water). The bunk beds arrived in pieces, and were cobbled together by a woodcrafter.

By the end of the day, Sir Baris still had not arrived. Kaelyn tried to attune to the font in the hopes of scrying for the knight, but was unsuccessful. She decided to not scry for him in the bowl. He was probably just with a woman, and she didn’t want to see that. Although surely the sight would not be as painful as some of her past experiences. Ewen decided to try and locate the knight with his mind, using the clairvoyance ability. He went to the globe and stared intently at the polished surface. He summoned in his mind Sir Baris’s person, his personality, the man that he knew. An image of appeared in his mind. Ewen saw the knight bound and propped up against a wall like a sack. He was dozing and Ewen heard a slight snoring and smelled the foulness of one who has soiled himself.

The knight found the rest of the party and informed them that “Sir Baris is trussed up somewhere, and he’s soiled himself.”

After a short discussion, it was decided that Cekiya would go investigate the Spurs. Leaving by the servant’s entrance, she stealthily crept into the night. Off to the right, near Galopea’s Feast, she saw a bouncer. On the left, she saw a beggar in an alley. Cekiya walked past the man. “Alms for the poor,” he said, holding out his hand. She looked at him. “Alms for the poor, young pretty girl.”

“You want to make some extra money, that will feed you for a month?”

The beggar’s face brightened. “I’m a poor cripple, lady.”

“In the legs?” Cekiya asked.

“I’m just a poor cripple, alms for the poor?”

“How’s your memory, cripple?”

“Not what it used to be, lass.”

“You’re useless ...” Cekiya said, and left.

She made her way to the Ternua gate and headed quietly into the Spurs. The raucous place quieted down. She took a seat, and her neighbors shifted as far away as was possible while still being polite. One of the serving maids brought her an ale, and moved away.

“Not so fast!” Cekiya said. “Is Halime around?”

“Yes!” the woman said, a little bit of fear in her voice.

“Let him know I want to meet in the alley.”

A short time later, Cekiya made her way to the alleyway, and saw some ruffians. “I’m here to see Halime.”

“I don’t think so,” one of the toughs said. “I don’t know anyone named Halime. Get lost honey.”

Quick as a panther, Cekiya spun around and kicked the poor young man in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. She drew her dagger. “Did I refresh your memory?”

“Uh, yeah, Halime’s in there,” the man croaked and pointed to a door.

Cekiya went where the man indicated and knocked on the door. The man who answered grunted when he saw the woman, and she was brought in.

“Long time no see!” Halime greeted.

“Miss me?”

“Not at all!”

“One of ours was taken last night, where is he?” When Halime didn’t respond, Cekiya continued. “Remember short, speaky girl, brunette? Poor Baris, very lost, even I can’t help him right now. I need to know what happened last night.”

“Baris, the big knight, kind of oafish? The one who is confused, sometimes thinks he a ratcatcher?”

“Sometimes an actress.”

“Sometimes, honey, I have a hard time figuring out which of you is the craziest. I think it’s your boss.”

“I need Halime now.”

“I’m Halime.”

“I know,” Cekiya said.

“Tell me what you know - wait, tell me what I need to know.”

“Squire’s dead, funeral, Sarajin temple, left around ten last night, Gray Raven.”

“What’s this Gray Raven? A new tavern? I’ll have to shake them down.”

“He’s tied up, and smelly right now. Needs help, what do your men know?”

“I’ll look into it, that’s the best I can promise. From what I understand, he went to the Gray Raven?”

“No, Raven Hall. He’s confused, I’m fine.” Cekiya smiled.

“I’m thinking no one ordinary could have taken him alive, because lets face it, he’s one of you nutso types too and would rather die than be taken alive. Speaking of that, I hear you have a boyfriend.”

“What about it?” she said calmly.

“For awhile there, he was buying stuff that he doesn’t normally buy, and now he’s not,” Halime stated.

“What was he buying?” Cekiya asked.

“Tea.”

“Do you know anyone else buying tea these days that doesn’t normally buy tea?”

“All I know is that he was buying tea before, and now he’s not. We keep track of these things.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“It didn’t seem relevant, but now I think it may be related to you.”

“Speak further.”

“The tea in question is only purchased by the nobility. I can give you his tea source.” Cekiya waited. “Guy named Delance,” Halime said. “He’s an apothecary, just outside the walls. Good guy, he has connections to most of the temples, physicians, the guild of arcane lore. From time to time he has been known to deal in herbs that are not welcome, and for that reason he pays us a certain percentage and we look the other way.”

“Hm, gotta go pay a visit.”

“Be nice to him,” Halime said. “People would miss him if he were gone. Especially me, he provides a nice income. And don’t tell him I sent you.”

“Do I look like a snitch?”

“Are we done?”

“No, you need to tell me about Baris.”

“You haven’t given me enough information here. Baris could be anywhere.”

“You don’t know what’s going on in your city?”

“I know everything that happens in my city, except this.”

Cekiya threw a dagger on the table in front of him. “I think we’re done here,” Halime said.
“Escalus told me not to break you.”

“I’ll ask around. Get back to you.”

Halane 22, 731

The party, sans Baris who was fermenting in a cell, sat down for breakfast. The meal was even better than it had been the day before. Walin told Ewen he might need some extra funds to prepare the home for the social season; it had been completely empty before. He thought that two pounds might do it, and Ewen paid the man.

Cekiya informed the party what she had learned the night before. “It’s possible that Kryste got tea from this apothecary,” Imarë suggested. “She fancies herself a noble, and she might still be doing so.” There was a loud knock on the door. It was a herald, dressed in the kings’ livery. “My apologies for disturbing your breakfast. His lordship the Earl of Balim requests your attendance upon him at the castle after the midday bell.”

“I will attend his lordship, as you say.”

“I will deliver your message. Good day, Sir Ewen.”

“Good day,” Ewen replied.

Ewen indicated that after breakfast he would like to meet with Imarë, Cekiya, and Kaelyn in the study.

Later on in the study, Ewen mentioned the meeting with the Earl, and the group talked strategy for a time. Eventually it was decided that the wisest course was for Ewen to go talk to Balim and find out what he wanted. They decided that they would tell the Earl that the party had been pursuing stolen papers that they understood a young woman had copied and left the country to the south. Unfortunately, the papers had not been recovered. The tale had the benefit of being mostly the truth.

“What do you want the rest of us to do?” Kaelyn asked the knight. Ewen sent Imarë and Kaelyn to the apothecary, pursuing Imarë’s theory that Kryste might still be seeking tea. Hopefully wherever that tea was sent would be where Baris was imprisoned. Cekiya was sent to the Seven Stars to talk to her boyfriend, the cook.

***

Baris remained tied up at an undisclosed location. The key turned in the door, and an older man with a limp came in. Baris sensed another man outside the door. The limping man grabbed the knight by the chin and poured liquid down his throat, some small beer. When he finished, he said. “You know, you shouldn’t be stupid. Tell them what they want to know. What difference will it make?” He slapped Baris on the cheek. “You hear me?” He limped to the door. “I think this one’s gonna die ...” the key turned. The knight lay there, feeling incredible pain in his limbs and began worrying about atrophy. He tried to distract himself with thoughts of making faces with Kryste’s severed head.

***

Imarë and Kaelyn made their way to the village of Artoen where they were directed to the apothecary shop of Derence. They knocked on the door and were called in. A young woman, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, sat behind a desk. Numerous shelves were filled with bottles, packets and packages. “Just a moment.” She turned towards a curtained off area. “Master!”

A large gray haired man in his fifties or sixties came out. “Nothing like two lovely ladies crossing the threshold of my establishment! I am Derence, Derence of Nerele. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Kaelyn replied.

“Let me guess, you’re looking for a love potion.”

“Do we look like we need it?” Kaelyn asked, smiling. “Actually, we came looking for tea.”

“Ah, that is easy enough, I have a lovely herbal blend.”

“We were looking for a particular type...”

“Actually,” the man interrupted. “I only have one blend. When you have the best, you need nothing else.”

“A thought strikes me. It’s a rather silly question I have,” Kaelyn began. “You were recommended by a friend of ours who left

town awhile ago, and she loved your tea.”

“Obviously a woman of exceptional taste.”

“Well, we recently moved, and I am not sure if she knows where to find us.”

“Well, if you tell me who you are, and where you used to live, and where you currently live, I will pass that information on.”

Kaelyn told the man her name, that she previously lived in Gray House, that she currently lived in Raven Hall, and that it was the previous abode of Astarock.

“Oh, was a he a colleague of yours?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a colleague, but I had the privilege of delivering goods to Astarock, I would be happy to fulfill the same function for you.”

“Anyway, the woman I’m looking for is named Kryste? She is this tall, she used to have the cook come get it for her?”

“Oh, Beren. Beren isn’t what you would call a steady customer. This Kryste you mention I don’t know.” Derence went over and grabbed a large jar of tea. “My tea is very popular. The temple of Ilvir has recently become a customer. How much would you like?”

“Well, you know, I would like to try it first.”

“Well, then, perhaps you should start with, oh, a quarter pound? That will make you twenty to thirty cups, and you should be able to tell from that.”

“Alright.”

“That will be three pence.”

***

A short time before the midday bell Sir Ewen, Rolloch and a couple men at arms made their way to the castle. “Sir Ewen, your name is on the list,” a guard said. “However, you will forgive me sir, your guards may not attend you.” Ewen nodded to Rolloch and the others to wait, and was escorted into the castle. He was led up some stairs, and eventually arrived at a small chamber. The guard knocked on the door, and after there was no response opened it. The room was empty, and Ewen and the guard stepped in. “If you will wait here, I will inform his lordship the Earl that you have arrived.” Twenty minutes later, the door opened and Balim walked in, alone. Ewen bowed.

“Sir Ewen, you look well,” Balim greeted.

“My lord, I thank you,” Sir Ewen said politely. “Welcome back to Tashal, my lord.”

“I thank you. It has been a ... busy return.”

“I am sure the affairs of state are numerous for your lordship.”

“I returned to Tashal as you so perspicaciously noted due to an unanticipated event. You are aware of course that my cousin is the Lord Chancellor.”

“Yes my lord,” Ewen replied.

“He is not present in the city. Amazingly,” Balim said pompously, “those of us who hold high royal office have other duties to attend to. In his absence a suit has come to my attention. A most inconvenient suit, Sir Ewen.”

“Yes my lord.”

“It occurred to me that who here in the city could be counted upon to deal with the matter discreetly, and without attracting undue attention from certain parties. And then I thought of you. I’ll confess, Sir Ewen, I had quite completely forgotten about you. You have been quiet over the summer, Larani knows what you were up to.”

“Your lordship’s recollection of me does me honor.”

“Hm. Yes, of course it does,” Balim remarked, as if that were obvious. “Upon my return to Tashal I was accosted by a knight, a man I had also completely forgotten about, much more so than I had forgotten about you. A Sir Baran Meleken. I suspect that name means something to you?”

“My memory places it with the Earl of Osel, my lord.”

“Your memory is as I expected it to be. You will recall you became the champion of Kaldor, and at the same time the King, goddess bless him, declared the earldom of Osel vacant, and without heirs, and bestowed it upon Malden Harabor.”

“I am loosely acquainted with him,” Ewen replied. “His lordship does not care for me, as I recall.”

“This Sir Baran Meleken has presented himself here in Tashal and declared himself the rightful heir of Osel. I have examined his pedigree, and found it truly derived. I believe you are acquainted with Sir Rohn?” Ewen indicated he was. “I have consulted with the heralds, and I believe Sir Baran is a cousin twice removed or something of that nature. The reality is that he is the male heir of the earldom. He has a good claim.”

“Without being presumptuous, my lord, might I ask would not the King’s bestowal of the earldom on the man of his choice override the claim?” Ewen inquired.

“You put your finger on the crux of the issue. Indeed, our lord the King has all the right: he is the font of all honor. However, this calls into question the lands of every nobleman in the kingdom: they might believe that their lands might be bestowed upon anyone.”

“My lord, it is a fait accompli, is it not?”

“Yes, but the courts may decide otherwise. And the King will be in the unhappy position of reversing his former decision or the court’s decision. Either way, someone will be unhappy. I have a commission for you. I believe that you being granted the manor of Varayne, and after the bizarre events and behavior that took place at Abriel in the spring, that you, as they say it, owe me one.”

“If I can say so without offense, I wonder if you would have done me the honor of making our position clear the last time we met,” Ewen stated.

“I was keeping my whetstone dry until such time as I needed to hone a blade. I have it on good authority that Lord Osel is returning to Tashal. I believe that you are acquainted. I would like you to determine his stance in this matter. Now, I am not a fool and neither are you, so I will not dissemble. Of course, Malden will not stand for being stripped of his earldom. The King will return in the twentyday, and I will need to give him my recommendation. I require an additional piece of information: what will Harabor do if the King rules in favor of Sir Baran?”

“My lord, I find myself intrigued to find the answer to that question myself. I think the Earl of Osel will not find it too strange if I call upon him.”

“Yes, especially since you are now his next door neighbor. I will send a messenger when Lord Osel enters the city.”

“My lord, if I may ask a question, without casting judgment on the character of my lord the Earl of Osel, this Sir Baran Meleken, it would be awkward if something were to happen to him?”

“Accidents, Sir Ewen, have been known to happen. It could indeed be awkward. However, what I am not certain of is whether an accident happening to Meleken would be awkward or not.”

“Such an accident could be convenient.”

“To the Earl of Osel, perhaps. I find myself needing to impart certain other information to you. Meleken has other family members, including a son and brother. The family members are guests of the Baron of Kobe. I believe you are acquainted with Lord Firith?”

“Yes, I got to know his son quite well at the tournament.”

“If something were to happen to Sir Baran, or even to his brother, that would not end their claim. With the Baron of Kobe their host, they are out of reach. Sir Baran has played his hand quite well to this point.”

“I see he has. And now, my lord, I believe I have the information I need to pay a visit upon the Earl of Osel.”

“One more thing. I do not know where Sir Baran and his brother are lodging in the city. They have not chosen the usual, which is to say they have not chosen to lodge here in the castle.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Sir Ewen?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“It goes without saying that your assistance in this matter is most appreciated.”

“I thank your lordship for the boons you have given me in the past.”
“And in the future. You have my leave to go, Sir Ewen. I look forward to hearing from you.”

“Thank you, I shall await word from you.”

“And I you.”

***

Meanwhile, Imarë and Kaelyn returned to Raven Hall and told Cekiya what they had learned. Cekiya then went off to see her boyfriend, stopping in the market to pick up some daffodils. When she walked into the Seven Stars she saw Dafydd standing behind the bar. “I picked up some daffodils!” she said happily. “Dafydd, daffodils! It seems fitting!”

“If you say so, little lady,” the big man said.

“Did you ever get those flower girls?”

“I looked into it. Not much as call for it as you would like. I don’t know how you make a living. I could put you to better use. Using a different flower. A rose ...””

“Is Beran in?”

“Yes, he’s here.”

Beran walked in. “Cekiya, I didn’t expect to see you so soon!”

“I brought flowers. Beran, I need to speak to you, privately.”

“I really enjoyed going to the play with you yesterday. Can we do it again?”

“Someday, soon, I’m busy.”

“It’s autumn, aren’t all the flowers dead?” Beran asked.

“Haven’t you ever heard of dry bouquet?” Cekiya replied. “You know about other things. This is just between you and me, and I hope our date didn’t mean nothing.”

“No, it meant everything!” Beran said breathlessly.

“If you don’t keep this quiet, there won’t be more dates,” Cekiya warned.

“Oh, no, I would like more dates!” Beran said quickly. “And maybe touching won’t be so bad next time?” he said hopefully with a longing, desperate look in his eye.

“You used to get tea?”

“You need tea, I know who has the best tea!”

Cekiya deftly turned the conversation towards Kryste. “Did she and Dafydd used to have private conversations?”

“It wasn’t really a conversation ... There was this other guy – kinda arrogant.”

“Who was he?” Cekiya asked. “Was he a knight? A ratcatcher?”

“I’m not sure. I think he might have been a ratcatcher.”

“Who was the girl?” Cekiya asked.

“I know that!” Beran said happily. “Her name was Kryste.”

“Did you ever see this knight guy before or after her?”

“No, can’t say that I did.”

“What type of weapon did he have?”

“A thin sword.”

“Did he speak to Dafydd?”

“Yes,” Beran replied.
“She really liked this tea?”

“Yes. Have you tried it?”

“Did you introduce her to this tea?”

“I think Dafydd did. Would you like to try some?”

“Sure,” Cekiya said. “Brew me some.”

Baren went back into the kitchen and brewed some tea. A delicious aroma wafted from within the kitchen. It was the first time Cekiya ever smelled something from that kitchen that did not make her nose wrinkle. The tea itself was delicious.

“Do you have any way that I could find her?” Cekiya asked, referring to Kryste.

“I haven’t seen her for weeks, or him for that matter,” Beran replied.

“I need to find them now,” Cekiya said forcefully.

“If I could help you, I would ...”

“I think they hurt one of my friends, that’s why I’m so upset. Is there someone you can inquire with without being obvious?”

“I don’t think so,” Beran admitted. “But if I learn anything, anything at all, I will send news to Gray House.”

“I don’t live there anymore. I live in Raven Hall.”

“Where?”

“Astarock’s.”

“Who?”

“It’s two houses up from the tower on Chidena street.”

“Oh, I know who you mean! The house of the crazy old kook!”

“He’s dead,” Cekiya said. “Natural causes,” she felt compelled to add.

***

The key turned in the lock. “Yeah, what do you want?” Baris said, some of his fire back, if not his strength.

As before, Kryste and the man in the robe entered. “Ah, Baris, you are looking awful, and smelling worse, I might add.”

“Kryste, you have me at a loss, I have no witty return,” Baris replied truthfully.

“That is a step in the right direction. Tell me, where is the sword? I know it is not in Varayne, I know it is not in your former house, and it is not in your current abode, which you have not seen, by my calculation.”

“You seem to know quite a bit of useless information.”

“Not useless, any information about the whereabouts of the sword is useful. I now know where it’s not, Sir Baris.”

“There are many places it is not. But honestly, Ewen wisely didn’t tell me where it was for just this reason.”

“Sir Baris, soon I am going to have to start removing body parts. Soon ...” She left.

‘Surely my friends, my comrades in arms, whom I have fought and bled beside, are surely hunting for me night and day, and will be here soon ...’ Baris thought to himself.

***

Late that evening, Walin gave Ewen a note. “This was found outside the door.”