Session Sixty-Six - May 30, 2009

[Matt]

Savor 5, 731

Around the second hour after the noon candle mark, Cekiya is on her way home to Raven Hall, her prize of a colored strip of cloth held close to her. She spots Sir Ewen also on his way home and quickly closes the distance between them. She happily informs him of her secret. They continue to Raven Hall, where Ewen asks the other members of the party if they would like to accompany him to the clothier. Imarë and Filen wish to join him, while others indicate no interest.

Upon entering the same clothier that Cekiya had no success at earlier they find the proprietor, one Haber of Sarlis, doing the final fitting on a gentleman. The man is outfitted most garishly in a yellow doublet with green hose. The doublet is trimmed in green with a matching short cape, which appears to be reversible. The men are fussing over the fit of the hose. After giving his name to a journeyman, Ewen waits another 20 or so minutes for Haber to finish. The man leaves, apparently happy with apparel, matching yellow gloves and hat in hand.

Haber walks over to Ewen and asks how he may be of service. Ewen informs of a rather rush job that needs to be done tonight for Lady Cheselyne Hosath’s party. Haber eyes Ewen with a practiced look and mentions that the knight does not seem to have changed much; perhaps a little lax with the exercise, but nothing that will strain the measurements currently on file.

“I will require the usual; doublet, hose, cape, hat and of course gloves,” Ewen replies and holds the piece of fabric Cekiya gained in the palm of his hand so that only Haber can see, “What do you have in this color?”

“Where did you come by this?”

“Someone I once did a good turn for suggested that I might look good in it.”

“I cannot help you.” Haber replies, eyes darting to see if anyone might be watching.

Ewen innocently replies that he knows its short notice and he will be willing to pay for the rush job. Haber informs the knight that he does not have that color in stock. Ewen attempts to truth read the clothier but can’t tell if the man is lying or not.

“I could make it worthwhile if you are able to find a supplier on such short notice.”

“What do you have in mind for ‘worthwhile’?”

“Would something along the lines of five gold coins be sufficient?”

“Khuzan?”

“Of course.”

“I do like even numbers,” Haber replies after a moment’s thought.

“That is an odd request,” Ewen says trying to pass a mental thought to Haber that five is sufficient.

“Even numbers in the excess if five are so much nicer,” Haber says, not affected by Ewen’s mental prowess.

“Hat and gloves included?” Ewen asks as he hands Haber six coins.

“Gloves will not be in this color, but yes. I’ll see what I can do. Come back in three hours.”

Ewen agrees and the three of them leave the shop. Filen is of the mind that Ewen overpaid by quite a bit.

Upon arriving back at the Hall they find the air remarkably cold and the servants lighting fires around the home. Upstairs they find Baris struggling to find his breath from laughing hard and Kaelyn alternating between curses and despair holding the broken pieces of a small bowl. When an answer is finally given for the state of the house, they find that Kaelyn wished to try out her new spell of ‘Ice Blade’ and Baris had agreed to spar with her. But, as par for the course, when Kaelyn tried to form the spell, something went wrong and the air turned cold and her focus, a small bowl, shattered. Ewen merely shakes his head and continues through the house to find Sir Grogan to inform him of this morning’s events. Sir Grogan swears his fealty to Ewen. Ewen in turn tells the good knight that he sees no reason that the promise of Lady Thilisa for the future of Sir Grogan’s sons can’t be upheld. Sir Grogan smiles and thanks Ewen and then takes his leave. The rest of the afternoon passes in relative quiet.

At the appointed hour, Ewen, Imarë and Filen once again make their way to Haber’s shop. Haber ushers them into the back room where a screen is set up for Ewen to change. Haber shows the trio the finished product. The doublet is made in strips of alternatively weave and when Ewen picks it up it looks like water. The arms are in one piece trimmed with black silk. The gloves are of black leather and the hose is made of black silk. The hat and cape mimics the rippling effect of the arms. Ewen and Imarë both realize that this ‘job’ was not done in three hours, and most likely was modified from another client’s order to fit Ewen.

“The color’s name is Ebon Kald. Step behind the screen and we will do the final fitting.” Haber tells Ewen.

A few tweaks and a half an hour later the fitting is finished and Haber is boxing up the finished product. As they go to leave Haber says, “One more thing. I didn’t make this suit.” Ewen smiles and says ‘of course not.’

As the time of Lady Cheselyne’s party approaches Filen fusses over the appearance of the men-at-arms who will accompany the party, as the rest of the party is already dressed appropriately. Imarë in her trademark green with matching emeralds, Kaelyn in blue, Baris in best and Ewen in his newly purchased Ebon Kald ensemble. They walk across the street to the Lady’s home. It is a two story walled compound made of stone. The men-at-arms take their place with others of their ilk by some trees in the courtyard. There is a set of stone steps to the front door. As the party enters the hall they see that the hall is roughly 30 feet long and 25 feet wide. There is a fireplace at each end and in the lower right hand corner there is a raised platform slightly behind the high table where the performers will set up. They are greeted at the door of Lady Cheselyne the younger playing hostess for her mother, who, they are informed, is just putting the finishing touches on her wardrobe. The party gazes around the room and see a few people they recognize; Lady Bresyn Risai, the Dariune brothers and Lady Peresta. The party begins to mingle with the rest of the guests. Baris is careful to avoid Lady Peresta, who appears to be drinking heavily as she hunts fresh meat. She is talking to an older knight. Not long passes before a new guest is announced; Sir Harapa Indama and Lady Udine. He is gaily dressed in various shades of blue and two white feathers in his cap. Ewen recognizes him as one of the men he unhorsed at the tournament and is the eldest son and heir to the Baron of Getha. He is also the royal chamberlain. Immediately following them is the Baron of Stimos and Rahel.

Sir Harapa comes over to Ewen and Ewen bows accordingly.

“Well met Sir Ewen.”

“It is a pleasure Lord Harapa.”

“Please no ceremonies; Sir Harapa will do,” he says with a smile.

“How have you been Sir Harapa?” Ewen replies.

“Well, thank you. I hear you have been waxing since you unhorsed me. I was in court this morning.”

“Fortune’s wheel has been kind.”

“I haven’t heard of gambling that much productive land since the Chybisan Baron of Geda gambled his barony to that traveling viking.”

“I never heard that story, sounds most interesting,” Ewen replies seemingly genuinely interested.

“Heh, it’s a good one,” as he begins to tell the story, Ewen notices that he punctuates slightly by moving his head, causing the feathers in his hat to twitch. “About 20 years ago a viking was passing through the land performing great feats of strength. The then Baron, was old and a fool, bet his barony the viking couldn’t lift his warhorse. Of course, he was astonished when the viking did just that…the horse too no doubt. Personally I think the viking called down divine favor. Anyway they went to Burzyn to go before King Verlid, who thought the old Baron was a fool to wager his barony, so he confirmed it. The viking is still the baron down there.”

Ewen laughs, “Well, I have learned my lesson in high stakes gambling. I have forsworn gambling for the rest of the year.”

“No more betting on injustice,” Harapa asks slyly.

“To put a point on it, that wasn’t exactly the nature of the bet. My Lord seems to have had a different definition of the stakes than I did,” Ewen remarks carefully. Lord Harapa laughs and claps Ewen on the back. At this point more people are announced. A lady Derwen Verdreth, a plain average looking middle aged women. Following her is Aethal Atan. An older stout man wearing a yellow and green outfit, familiar to Imarë and Ewen. He pauses at the stair and waves to those assembled and says ‘Good evening all.’ He swoops by a servant passing around goblets of wine and proceeds to kiss Lady Cheselyne the younger. “What did I miss niece?” She is saved by replying by the announcement of Sir Prehil Firith and a pause before Satris Meralen. A quick glance by a member of the party reveals that Satris has dust upon his boots.

The older knight with whom Lady Peresta had been speaking comes over to Baris. “I understand you are Sir Baris. I am Houla of Artona.” Baris responds that is his pleasure to meet him.

“I am to ask you for a few tips. I am just fulfilling a promise I made,” Houla says, making a face before continuing, “I remember you from the tournament.”

“I don’t recall meeting you.” Baris says truthfully.

“I am a Knight of the Lady of the Paladins and had other duties there.”

“Oh, which chapter house?”

“Whyce. I am the Reblena of that order.”

“I imagine that gives you a few responsibilities,” Baris says with a slight grin.

“One or two. I was attending to a few more official duties this year at Olokand than I would of liked.”

“Next year, then.”

“I may not have that opportunity any more. I see I have something in common with your friend.”

“Really, what?”

“I won the tournament in 726. I know you made it to the final 16, that’s good,” Houla pauses, “Do you hunt?”

“I have been known to.”

“You must come out for a hunt. Bring the first knight.”

“It would be a pleasure. When is a good time for you?”

“I’ll send you an invitation. Where are you living?”

“Raven Hall,” Baris replies, then realizing the name is new, expands, “Across the street. Astarok’s old place.”

“I heard he died. Strange old place, you almost expect it to be haunted.”

The butler stands on the bottom stair and calls for the attention of the assembled. “Milords, Ladies and gentles all. Grant me your attention please. The Lady Cheselyne Hosath.”

The Lady Cheselyne sweeps grandly down the stairs looking like a rippling black waterfall. One by one the rest of the guests turn their attention from their host to look at Ewen. Halfway down the stairs the Lady C stops and realizes that Ewen has stolen her attention. The butler raps his staff sharply on the stairs and all eyes turn back and the audience begins to clap. With teeth set and the muscles in her jaw clearly defined, Lady Cheselyne steers a course straight for Ewen.

“How wonderful to see you again, Sir Ewen.”

“You look wonderful Lady Cheselyne.”

“Thank you. You must introduce me to your tailor,” she says as she sweeps away into the crowd. Aethal is still clapping as she moves close to him. “Cheselyne, you look ravishing!” He plants a loud kiss on her, which she appears to endure. With teeth still set, she tells him ‘Dear uncle, how nice of you to come.’ Kaelyn hears this remarks and notes that Aethal does not look old enough to be both the Ladies Cheselyne’s uncle. He looks to be about 40, whereas Lady Cheselyne the elder looks around 60. Kaelyn turns to a man standing next to her and asks about the familial relationship.

“He is the younger brother of the Lady Cheselyne’s mother,” he says. Kaelyn looks skeptical at this, so the man elaborates. “A few years back he appeared out of nowhere. He had been thought dead as he’d been gone for 37 years.”

“He was recognized?” Baris asks, overhearing the conversation.

“He didn’t look all that different. ‘Course other than Lythia, he’s never said where he’d been.”

“When did you say he returned?” Baris asks, still trying to figure this out.

“About 15 years ago, I guess.”

“Thank you, um, “ Kaelyn pauses waiting for the man to supply his name.

“Sir Gorbar Elorieth.”

“Thank you Sir Gorbar,” Kaelyn says, and moves to inform Ewen of this tidbit of information.

As Kaelyn moves away from Ewen, Prehil Firith comes up to him.

“Gods these things are torturous. Are you aware you are…” Prehil trails off, gesturing at Ewen’s ensemble.

“This old thing.” Ewen replies.

“You’re saying you just threw it on. By Agrik’s flaming balls, that’s incredible.”

“If she comes up to me with that look on her face again…”

“We all know the color of course, you’re in trouble by the way, but by unspoken agreement we let her ‘announce’ it.” Prehil says with a laugh.

“Well, I haven’t even been here a year.” Ewen says.

Prehil grins as he recognizes the phrase his King had used earlier that day, “I thought you were headed for the dungeon this morning.”

“I’ve been fortunate.”

“The enmity of the Lady Cheselyne and the King, moss has not been growing on front and center.”

“You haven’t been aggravating Harabor since the other evening have you?”

“Oh no. That was a very impressive performance this morning. It’s a problem. He’s the head of the family, many mouths to feed and I suspect that once father hears of this they’ll be out the door. But, father is always looking for a good sword. He’s of better blood than Harabor. Bastardy thins out the blood. I’m sure you understand.”

“It can happen,” Ewen replies drolly.

At that moment the Baron of Stimos comes up to the two knights and greets them. “Quite a scene this morning.”

“Prehil was just asking how many members of the royal family I intend to piss off this evening,” Ewen says, bringing Stimos into the conversation. The Baron laughs and claps Ewen on the back, “Funny, well I think you’ve recovered with the King.”

“One should hope. His Grace was generous with me.”

“I have another question for you. Who on Harn is your tailor?” Stimos asks with great mirth.

“Can you imagine the coincidence? He had this laying around,” Prehil replies.

“Did he really?”

Ewen smiles and says, “Don’t tell Lady C though.”

“Oh, I think she noticed.” Prehil laughs, grabbing another goblet of wine from a passing servant.

“No, that it was in the closet,” Ewen says patiently.

“This just occurred to me. I bet this is Astarok’s revenge. Didn’t you move into his house? This has gotta be it. He was always threatening to change things into this year’s color. He wasn’t quite right - Sure he could do card tricks …” Prehil says taking a drink.

“You wouldn’t believe the strange peepholes around the house.” Ewen says.

“I don’t doubt it.”

Baris by this point had joined the trio of men and mentions that he thought Astarok was magic. Prehil scoffs and says “Hocus pocus; my feet are firmly on the ground.”

As Prehil expands on the ‘hocus pocus,’ Ewen takes a moment to glance around the room and notices that Rahel and the Lady Bresyn are speaking. Ewen attempts to eavesdrop using his Deryni abilities and hears something about needlework. As he withdraws his senses he sees Rahel glance toward him.

“Is this a private party or can anyone join?” a voice says bringing Ewen back to the men before him.

“No, no Kytem, by all means. Do you know everyone here?”

“No, with the exception of Lord Stimos,” the man identified by Prehil as Kytem says, “I recognize by reputation Sir Ewen and I guess that you are Sir Baris Tyrestal.

“Allow me then, may I present Kytem Curo.” Prehil says, identifying one of the Earl of Neph’s sons.

“Your august father invited me to dinner one night, I had the honor of seeing the renowned rose garden.”

“He mentioned you to me. I am glad to meet you in person.”

“Are you here for the winter?”

“I live here, like Prehil, representing my father’s interests and the King’s by serving as seneschal of chambers. You said you saw some of father’s roses?”

“Yes, he was kind to show me the roses here and spoke of the roses in Gardiren.”

“They are beautiful here, but they don’t grow as well here. Something in the soil.”

“Your father does enjoy his roses.”

“He normally does not winter here in Tashal.”

“I understand that most noblemen with responsibilities have to see to them in the winter.” Ewen replies.

“You say, Sir Kytem that your father was here a few weeks ago. Strange I didn’t see him at court” Stimos interjects.

“The King was not here so father didn’t go.” Kytem replies.

“Yes, of course,” Stimos replies neutrally.

“Do your duties allow you to see your home in Gardiren much?” Ewen asks.

“Rarely. It has been made somewhat easier now that my brother Herrick has joined the government as a herald. It is nice to have some family here.”

“You have a large family I understand.”

“My parents,” Kytem pauses, “have had eleven children live to adulthood. Quite an astonishing feat if you think of it. Of course the only that truly matters is inheritance. Unlike Prehil here, I am a third son.”

“It won’t be all that bad. You are the son of earl, I’m the son of a baron.”

“Your eldest brother is then residing in Gardiren then?”

“Yes, Meden serves as constable of Gardiren Castle and when father is away serves in loco commitatus.”

“Father seemed in good health last I saw him. All this talk of inheritance is hopefully premature.”

“Yes, ridiculously premature. It is far more dangerous to joust.” Kytem says.

“Oh that’s good,” Prehil laughs, “How many did you kill again Sir Ewen?” The Lady Cheselyne the younger overhears the loud question of Prehil and scowls.

“Prehil, are you going to compete again next year?” Ewen asks quickly to change the subject.

“I hope so, as long as I draw breath.” Prehil says. The conversation of the four men continues along the same line for a while, meanwhile Imarë has been mingling about the room. She notices that Rahel is now talking to Lady Derwen Verdreth and the Lady Bresyn Risai appears to have left the party. The Lady Peresta is still talking with the older knight, but he seems to have lost the interest he once had in the woman. The Dariunes look uncomfortable, the elf notes. As she scans the room she notices that Lady C is floating over towards her. The elf braces herself for the most interesting conversation.

“My Dear! How good of you to come” the hostess says airily greeting Imarë.

“Thank you for your invitation to Sir Ewen.”

“Oh, Ewen? Are you his date, my dear?”

“No not his date, his escort.”

“Escort?” The Lady Cheselyne grins.

“Well, not escort…more of a companion,” Imarë says trying to find the correct word in this language to convey that she is merely an arm ornament and friend of the first knight of Kaldor and nothing more.

“Did you say companion? Really, I had no idea you people did that.”

“We do lots of things.”

“I suppose you do. We’ve all wondered where elves come from, but to imagine in such a vulgar fashion is really quite extraordinary.”

“Well, it is all about genetics.”

“I mean fucking dear,” Cheselyne says leaning in.

“There really isn’t a whole lot of cross-species that we can mate with, very few elf/human combinations,” Imarë says trying to keep the conversation polite.

“Imagine from vulgar sweating to birth. Have you been back to your home recently,” Lady Cheselyne says, suddenly switching topics, “How are things?”

“I haven’t been back in a couple of years now.”

“I thought about making you the topic of the season once again. But being an elf was done last year, and repetitions are so boring. It’s a shame you didn’t lose your mind and think you were a dwarf this year.”

“We traveled with a dwarf for a little while this year, but he left.”

“An imaginary dwarf?” Cheselyne says with eyes alight.

“No, an actual Khuzan,” Imarë replies, seeing where this is going and not really caring.

“Wonderful!” Lady Cheselyne exclaims and turns to the crowd, “Everyone may I have your attention.” As the remaining guests turn to their hostess Imarë notices that Ewen looks chagrined. “I have to inform you of the most amazing thing, now dear,” she says turning to Imarë in the manner in which one addresses a simpleton, “Tell them about your former friend.”

“We met up with a Khuzan.”

“A Dwarf!” Cheselyne snickers.

“Odious little beast,” Imarë says continuing with the theme.

“He was odious, can you imagine? An elf, she’s still an elf you know, met up with a dwarf, an odious dwarf and they traveled…where?”

“South.”

“Chybisa, Melderyn, Hepekeria…?”

“Chybisa.”

“Oh Chybisa, not the Shava Forest?”

“No, we were looking at stonework not the woods.”

“Of course, I should of guessed, a dwarf would be interested in stonework.”

“He just wandered off one day,” Imarë says trying to end the conversation.

“Imaginary friends are apt to do that. I think that we should all have imaginary dwarf friends. Think of how good our stonework will be – next time imaginary dwarf friends for everyone,” Cheselyne grins brightly and turns to Imarë, “Thank you my dear.”

“Of course, my Lady,” Imarë replies graciously.

Ewen turns to the knight on his left and says, “I think my imaginary dwarf friend will be female, what do you think Prehil?”

“Let me know if the legend is true and your female friend has a beard,” Prehil laughs. “I hear once you go midget you never will ditch it.”

This last comment causes Baris to spit out his drink, and after regaining his breath, begins to hum a few bars of The Midget and the Elf.

Ewen takes a few steps away from the group as Rahel comes over to him. “You don’t seem to have any conquests tonight.”

“I shall go home alone, it seems,” Ewen says.

“No, not at all. Come by later. I’ll have Lord Stimos escort me home.” Rahel says stepping away from her brother.

As Ewen watches her leave he catches a bit of conversation that Aethal Atan is having across the room. “Say it isn’t so! He’s still up there.” Aethal is saying a little too loud, not really meaning to be overheard. Ewen tries to eavesdrop on the conversation across the room. The other man is speaking now, “Oh yes, he’s still up there almost every night.”

“What is he expecting to see?”

“Well, much the looking is at the moon. Perhaps he’s looking for a good pie recipe.”

Aethal laughs at this, “The man is a complete fool.”

“Aethal, you must come by for supper some evening, we have much to catch up on.”

“Lumede,” Aethal says, naming the other man, “I agree, I shall call upon you some night.”

“Did you see that one over there?” Lumede asks.

“Which one?”

“The wench in the blue dress.”

“Yes, saw her earlier. She is just a child.”

“True, but do you think she is?”

“Oh yes, no doubt she is.” Aethal says, and before Ewen can here the rest of the conversation the two men are having, seemly about Kaelyn, Prehil comes over and jostles Ewen breaking his concentration.

“What do you say we blow this hake bake and go find more amenable company?”

“I have a date actually,” Ewen says.

“You’ve been holding out on me! Is she here?”

Before Ewen can incriminate himself or dodge the question Baris pipes up that he would like to visit the courtesans and Prehil, sufficiently distracted, agrees. Lumede has left by this time, and Aethal has come over to where Baris and Ewen are standing with Prehil.

“Pardon my interruption, we are near neighbors I hear. You are Sir Ewen?” Aethal says to Baris.

“Actually I am Sir Baris,” Baris replies.
“Oh yes, you two are inseparable and both knights,” Aethal says with a half laugh and wave of his hand. “Is it true that you have moved into Astarok’s place? Sorry to see the old curmudgeon go.”

“I didn’t know the man, but he seemed decent.”

“Not really. I don’t know if there was a decent bone in his body.”

“As I said, I didn’t know him well.”

“Mean, cantankerous, ornery old man. I loved him like a brother,” Aethal says not very sincerely.

“It is not my place to speak of him, being dead and all,” Baris says.

“Of course he’s dead, what’s so different from being dead and being alive?”

“That is usually the boundary,” Baris says, looking for an out of the conversation. Aethal appears to have different ideas, as he takes Baris by the shoulder and begins a circuit around the room.

“You have a keen mind for a knight; to come right to the point.”

“At the university isn’t it considered intelligent to decipher from the living and the dead,” Baris says sardonically.

“You’ve been to the university!”

“I don’t think that’s what I said.”

Aethal is not listening as he begins to speak of University life and how beautiful Berema is as a city. Baris, trying to be polite mentions it’s lovely but not as nice as Tashal.

“Nice? Who cares? You’ve been to Berema,” Aethal Atan says in reply before waxing on of the splendor of the city. “Have you been privileged to go see the chapter house of order of the Black Pearl?”

“No, I have not had that honor.”

“Well, if you went to the university,” Aethal pauses, “What was your field of study?”

“Anatomy and philosophy” Baris says.

“Interesting combination; more in philosophy?”

“No, more towards anatomy.”

“Interesting. Well then, let’s talk about the line between life and death.” Aethal continues to speak philosophy with Baris, sometimes bordering on the metaphysics of life, death, the body and the soul. Baris looks around the room and finally Ewen comes over to where Aethal is parading around with Baris.

“I hope I am not interrupting?” Ewen asks.

“Oh not at all, you must be Sir Baris,” Aethal says to Ewen before turning to Baris, “Oh no, I did it again. You are Sir Baris.”

“I am Sir Ewen of Ravinargh.”

“I have been having the most delightful conversation with Sir Baris here; it is wonderful to meet someone of august intellectual prowess”

“Sir Ewen has more martial prowess,” Baris says deflecting the attention.

“Of course, he won the tournament and you didn’t” Aethal says.

“I am but a mere knight in Baris’ presence,” Ewen says with not a little mirth.

“Oh, Sir Ewen, really,” Aethal chuckles.

“We were having quite a conversation, Ewen. Aethal posed the question; At the point of death, which takes precedence? Anatomy or philosophy?”

“Oh yes, Sir Ewen, I value your opinion.”

“I would find embalming to take precedence over either,” Ewen replies drolly.

Aethal gives a laugh, “Well, that is true. The dead do stink up the joint.”

“It might have something to do with the humors being out of balance,” Baris quips.

“Well, Ewen and Baris this has been a fascinating conversation.”

“You have given me a lot to think about,” Baris says, looking for a goblet or glass of anything.

“You know, we are only two doors apart. You must join me for dinner. I insist on it. Tomorrow night?” Aethal says, not giving the knights room to maneuver nor leaving any doubt of his family ties to the Lady Cheselyne.

“Might we bring a young scholar of our acquaintance with us?” Ewen asks.

“The wench in the blue dress?” Aethal asks, causing Baris to do his second spit take of the evening.

“Yes,” Ewen replies.

“By all means, bring her along. I have a book that you might enjoy Ewen.” Aethal says.

“The book should be for Baris. It is most difficult to get one away from him, what a mind,” Ewen replies, beginning to have a little fun at his fellow knight’s expense. But, before Aethal can respond Lady Cheselyne comes gliding over.

“Now are you boring these poor knights, uncle?”

“No, can you imagine this; Sir Baris is a philosopher and Sir Ewen appreciates a fine intellect.”

“Uncle, don’t you think you’re reading a bit too much into the situation,” Lady C says with a grin.

“No, no,” Aethal protests, “Sir Baris has agreed to come to dinner and we will talk philosophy all the night long and Ewen will make observations.”

“Well, let it be then,” Lady Cheselyne says as she smiles serenely at Ewen and glides away.

Soon after that remark, the party breaks up and the quartet returns to Raven Hall. Ewen merely stays long enough to change into clothing a bit more comfortable, if not a bit less conspicuous before leaving for Hag Hall. As Ewen enters the alley he sees the same beggar as usual. The request of ‘alms’ is answered with a penny being dropped into the bowl. The tapping sound begins as Ewen finishes his walk. Sir Harth meets Ewen at the door.

“Good evening, Sir Ewen.”

“Hello, Sir Harth.”

“You are expected upstairs.”

“Thank you. I think I can find the way.”

“Before you go up, allow me to say something to you. I had not viewed you in the best light. But I have heard, and not from our mistress, what happened at the castle this morning. I think that it might be possible that I misjudged you.”

Ewen gives Harth an amused smile, “Sir Harth, I had suspected that all along. Your devotion to Rahel has always impressed me and has been the most important element in my consideration of you.”

“I thank you, but let me finish. I understand that you influenced a King against his will. I doubted you, but you are indeed your father’s son, my Lord. Pass Sir Ewen,” Harth says with a bow.

“Have a good evening Sir Harth.”

As Ewen enters the study he finds it empty with the door to the bedroom open. Rahel is reclining in bed with a gossamer gown. Ewen pauses at the door, “My dear.
”
“My brother, come and touch the life of our son,” she says and Ewen crosses the room to sit at her side as she continues to speak, “It has been a very interesting evening. While it may not be my last, I will not be attending many more of these events. I do not like the Lady Cheselyne.”

Ewen smiles, “What did you think of the spoiled surprise?” referring to his costume.

“It was wonderful.”

“What do you know of her uncle, Aethal Atan?”

“Doesn’t seem old enough, but a quick truth read reveals it is true.”

“He was gone for 37 years,” Ewen supplies.

“Yes, and that was 15 years ago. He doesn’t look 50, he looks younger and yet he has been reported to missing 37 years and that was 15 years ago and that is more than 50. I don’t think he is the fool he pretends to be,” Rahel says. Ewen informs her that he is to have dinner with the mysterious uncle tomorrow.

“Be careful my love. Just like Cheselyne pretends to be and Prehil is not that fool he pretends to be. The culture here in Kaldor is not prevalent in the west. We certainly know how to disassemble, but not play the fool. In these months here, I have noticed many sly operators who play that fool and many fools who think they are sly operators. I do not like it and so my brother we must change it,” Rahel pauses, “I spoke to Lady Bresyn and I suppose you did as well.”

“Who does she answer to?” Ewen asks, trying to recall speaking to the lady this evening.

“The White Hand. Do you know it? It is an order of the guild of arcane lore; fancy themselves the keepers of truth. They once tried to rein in our father. At first he humored them and reminded them they have no jurisdiction over Deryni. They persisted…then perished. I don’t know how many were killed, but they eventually gave up.”

“Did they rein in King Darebor?”

“No, but neither do they answer to him. They think they are independent and above royal control. Lady Bresyn is one of their agents and a traitor to our race. She thinks the Deryni should answer to them. She knows of me tonight. If I had a notion I might not have gone. It is not good she knows,” Rahel looks at Ewen and sees a question on his face, “It is like Imarë; she knows her kind when she sees them.

“She is dangerous brother. She is Melderyn’s spy.”

“Perhaps we should emulate our father and kill her.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that. I believe she’ll just inform Melderyn- of what- may or may not come to pass. I don’t believe she’ll inform the court here. I do not believe that if Melderyn knows of you here it is a danger, but if she informs Haldan, then yes, I agree we must take the steps our father would. I don’t know how powerful she is, but between the two of us we could take her down.”

“If she talks it may be too late, and then she is simply gone, a little suspicious.”

“True, her disappearance may be more problematic. If we could get her recalled or have her say she is going home, if that’s possible I would want to take her for an extensive conversation.”

Ewen nods and mentions the little conversation he had with Sir Harth this evening.

“Oh Harth, he’s been a busy boy. Good man Harth, set at my side since I was a little girl. I believe he has cultivated a friend in the castle, good thing really. He’s far too serious and needs a release now and then. He never believed you were a son, but he does now.”

“Does he know of our son?”

“Yes I told him. Now shut up!”

Much later Baris returns home from his visit to the courtesans with Prehil Firith and Ewen also returns home in the wee morning hours of Savor 6.