Session Eighty-Six - November 19, 2011

[Matt]

Peonu 26, 731

The urchins, their tiny, besmudged faces upraised like baby birds craning for their mother, wish to know whether Kaelyn of Aletta will be going to the Blessed Realm any time soon.

“No,” she sighs, a lump catching in her throat, “I am afraid you are stuck with me for some time.”

They whisper amongst themselves, shuffling their filthy bare feet while they confer. “Ask her, ask her!” one piping voice squeaks. Another, bolder, speaks up. “When do we get to go to the Blessed Realm?”

Kaelyn’s eyes grow very wide, and she ponders this for a long moment. She takes a deep breath, wondering if Imarë had regularly carried on with them in this manner. “Well, it depends upon what arrangements have been made.” She swallows hard, but determines to forge ahead with the confabulation. “The urchin lady is preparing, and she will send for you when it is time.”

They murmur again, and most appear satisfied with this answer. Bernethe of Vastair, on the other hand, has been radiating irritation from the start, clearly considering the indulgence of these urchins to be a perfect waste of good food. Kaelyn’s answer, however, now appears to leave her nonplussed, and she casts an odd lingering glance at Sir Ewen’s young friend. One of the children sniffles and blows its nose upon a tattered sleeve.

“I have a mission for you today,” Kaelyn announces, ignoring the glowering cook.

“A mission, a mission!” they cry in unison.

“Who knows who Torres is?” Kaelyn surveys them sternly.

“I do!" "I do?”

“Good! Will you watch Torres for me?”

This confuses the children: you want us to stop watching Natto and start watching Torres? After another brief consultation, they decide that they can split their numbers and monitor both of these individuals, guaranteeing ample marzipan for all. Relieved, Kaelyn sends them on their way, while Bernethe resumes to her duties, shaking her head in disgust.

Kaelyn climbs the stairs to her bedroom on the third floor, and as she attains the second floor landing she observes Sir Rollard entering Sir Ewen’s study, leaving the door ajar as he does so. She hears a petulant edge to Sir Rollard’s response to Sir Ewen’s greeting, and finds herself lingering before she continues her climb.

“… trust you are well, Sir Rollard?” Sir Ewen is asking.

“Tahlable, tahlable.”

“And how is my lady this morning?”

“Ah. Somewhat less than tahlable.”

“She continues the same, I take it.”

“Ah am delighted to report that she is asleep at the moment, but Ah fee-uh the night was somewhat restless.”

“I am glad, then, to hear she is resting at last. Sir Rollard, what is your understanding of the current activities of Sir Lyndar Bastune?”

A slight pause.

“Ah am afraid, Suh Ewen, at this tahm Ah have no knowledge of the whereabouts of Suh Lyndah Bastune, or his activities for that mattah.”

“Very well, Sir Rollard. If you were to hear anything, I would be obliged if you were to let me know .”

“Ah will do so.”

“Have a good morning, Sir Rollard.”

Kaelyn hurries up the stairs as Sir Rollard emerges from Sir Ewen’s study and descends to the main hall. A few moments later Kaelyn herself goes down and steps out into Chidena Street. She finds the morning air comfortably warm as she wends her way through the fog shrouded city, intent on her errands. She drops in on Wybert, inviting him to dinner at Raven Hall this evening. She then heads over to Eastside toward the domicile where Filen of Oppias lodges with Marhet of Lak. As she walks, she glances behind herself a few times, struck by the sudden, eerie notion that she might be followed.

After rapping upon the door for some time, a timorous voice quavers from within, “Who’s there?” Kaelyn identifies herself, and the bar is slowly removed and a frail, timid woman peeps out. Kaelyn asks if Filen is within.

“He’s not here!” She shrinks back. “He’s been taken with my master this morning by the sheriff’s guard!”

Kaelyn queries the poor distraught woman and learns that four sheriff’s guards collected her master, Marhet, as well as Filen, around daybreak, but the woman is unable to identify who the leader of the cadre might have been. After ascertaining as much as she can from this poor witness, Kaelyn instructs the servant to bar the door and tells her she will send someone around to look in on her soon.

Returning to the foggy street, Kaelyn concentrates and extends the fog, genuinely spooked now. She hurriedly makes her way south through the streets until she reached Hag Hall.

“Alms for a beggar?” Kaelyn sweeps past the watchful beggar.

Kaelyn knocks and a man at arms answers, recognizing her. She asks to see Sir Harth, and he instructs her to wait in the kitchen. While there, Kaelyn informs Eleere that Filen’s housekeeper is in a severe state of distress, and Eleere agrees to send someone over to calm her down and get more information about what happened.

“Poor Unide. And all alone?”

“Appears so," Kaelyn agrees. “She’s barred the door.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

After a time, a gruff Sir Harth appears. “You wanted to see me?” he says with some evident surprise. “What is this about?”

“Marhet and Filen have been arrested by the sheriff’s men this morning. I believe it has to do with Sir Alfred’s prejudice against Marhet and Sir Ewen, believing them to be Morgathians.”

Sir Harth chuckles, but then frowns. “Marhet of Lak is many things, but he is no Morgathian.”

“We know that, but religious fervor follows no logic," Kaelyn pontificates. "I just wanted to make sure that someone could check in on the housekeeper, but also to make you aware of the situation, since it concerns Sir Ewen.”

Sir Harth nods curtly. “Hmm. I thank you for the information, and will consider a … response further.”

Kaelyn makes a small curtsey, and then departs as abruptly as she had arrived. She returns to Raven Hall and briefs Sir Ewen on this latest news.

Later in the afternoon Wybert shows up for dinner, looking intimidated. Kaelyn greets him and offers him a drink, introductions are made, and conversation ensues. Sir Ewen remains uncharacteristically silent, allowing Kaelyn to lead the discussion regarding the Ogre investigation while Sir Ewen truth-reads Wybert. At one point Kaelyn steals a glance up at the east wall of the hall, knowing Cekiya is up there observing the proceedings from the spyhole in Sir Ewen’s study. Sir Ewen has encouraged Sir Rollard and the men at arms to take the night off.

Kaelyn steers the discussion to the investigation, while Wybert cautions that he is no longer involved in an official manner. Kaelyn fills Wybert in on what she learned from the mendicant at the Peonian temple, and then mentions that Sir Ewen has met with Sir Gorvan. Wybert seems unfazed by this, asserting that Sir Gorvan is a good man, and when asked about Sir Gorvan’s theory that the killer might be someone close to investigation, he acknowledges that this very idea was why he himself was suspected at one point.

“Ultimately, though, it was Sir Gorvan who exonerated me,” Wybert emphasizes.

Kaelyn asks what logic led Wybert to come under their suspicion, and Wybert laughs and shakes his head dubiously. “I could never quite understand the logic behind it. Near as I can tell, they felt that I was investigating an errant path and, because of that, they concluded that I must be guilty. As if I were trying to throw the investigation onto the wrong track.” He shrugs. “At least, that is the closest I can get to the ‘logic’ of their thinking.”

Sir Ewen, speaking for the first time since introductions had been made, asks if this represents the time prior to the Morgathians being ruled out by Sir Gorvan.

“It would have been just before that. I think this was part of the process that led him to discard that theory. And I think it was the same process that made Sir Alfred embrace it more strenuously. Luckily, Sir Gorvan is sufficiently well placed that Sir Alfred can not move against me. But being arrested certainly ended my participation in the investigation.”

Kaelyn begins to comment on this when a heavy hammering is heard against the door, followed by a bellowing voice. “Open in the name of the King!”

Sir Ewen nods to Walain of Vastair to open the door. Sir Alfred Doulzarn and six mailed knights materialize, armed with halberds, and plow into the hall, roughly brushing Walin aside. Sir Alfred booms, “Sir Ewen Ravinargh. Kaelyn of Aletta. And, as long as you’re here, Wybert of Graon. You are under arrest. I order you to come with me to the castle, in the name of the king.”

Sir Baris erupts from his seat and begins to expostulate, but is cut off by a peremptory Sir Alfred. “Sir Baris, I will arrest you too, if I need to. You are already suspect!” Sir Baris nods and subsides back into his chair.

Sir Ewen, in turn, rises from his seat, an expression of haughty contempt upon his face, and drawls, “I will go with you with pleasure, Sir Alfred.”

“Let there be no trouble, Sir Ewen. I would ask that you leave your weapons here.”

Sir Ewen, never breaking eye contact with Sir Alfred, takes his sword and places it rather smartly down upon the dining table, and then walks over to the sheriff’s knights. Kaelyn, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, gets up from the table and stands by his side. Wybert, the weary expression on his face of a man who has been through this whole routine before, arises as well.

Out on a deserted, crepuscular Chidena Street, Sir Alfred arranges his prisoners in the middle of a procession in single file – Sir Ewen first, Kaelyn behind, and Wybert to her rear – with guards flanking them on either side. As they march past the alleyway, two more guards who had been stationed at Raven Hall’s kitchen door fall in behind. Sir Ewen, Kaelyn and Wybert are thus marched off toward the castle. They proceed off, up to Haldan Square, where Alfred turns around and briefly dresses his column, thence up along the side of the Laranian Temple walls to Mangai Square. Cekiya slips along undetected. Sir Baris and Tora, meanwhile, have headed to Sir Prehil’s house.

Tora and Sir Baris arrive at Firith House, approach the door and knock. After an interminable amount of time, they recognize the face of the servant, without placing her name, who comes to the door. They ask to see Sir Prehil.

"Sir … Baris. I am afraid Sir Prehil has retired for the night."

An incredulous Sir Baris looks up at the sky, still aglow with the remnants of sunset. "He has?"

"Tell him it is Sir Baris, with an urgent matter. It's an emergency."

The serving girl quails. “Sir Prehil does not like to be disturbed when he has … retired for the night. It would be my place in the household.”

Sir Baris insists that the girl go upstairs, promising that he will ensure that nothing bad happens, and they stand inside the doorway and listen as there is a knocking from above.

After a time a female figure descends, dressed in a gown and concealed by a hood. She speaks in a rush. “I am Lady Shyna Firith! You are?”

“Sir Baris Tyrestal.”

“Oh, yes, Sir Baris! Prehil is ill; he can’t come down!”

“It is the direst emergency,” Tora insists.

“I am sure, but there must be someone else who can help!”

“Um, thank you. Tell him, when you can, that his good friend Sir Ewen has been arrested by Sir Alfred.”

“I will be sure to tell him. Now, good night!” The woman hustles back upstairs as Sir Baris and Tora retreat, perplexed.

Approaching Mangai Square, ahead of Cekiya, someone else is following the procession of prisoners, a cloaked figure moving with, by Cekiya's standards, little stealth. Not many souls are about on the street but those who are hurry quickly away. As they enter Mangai Square, and pass the well, ahead stand screens for some of the market stalls, a line of men at arms emerges along the top of Mangai Square and across the entrance to Medrik Way, blocking the latter as an escape route. A strong voice demands, “Stand and deliver your prisoners.”

Sir Alfred halts and retorts, “Stand aside in the name of your King!”

“Piss on your king,” Sir Ewen recognizes the voice of Sir Harth Hurlis.

As Sir Harth and his men step forward, Sir Alfred and the four front halberdiers advance and form a line to meet Sir Harth and his men. Of the four guards behind, one grabs Kaelyn by her left arm while another seizes Sir Ewen’s right arm. Sir Harth’s men clash with the polearm-wielding knights, and one of Sir Harth’s men goes down. Two of the Thardan men, as well as Sir Harth, get under the halberds and press the knights close.

Kaelyn drops like dead weight to the ground, covering her head with her arms, and in so doing manages to free herself from the unsuspecting guard’s grasp. Another guard with Wybert cries out “Betrayed!” Kaelyn turns her head in time to spy another ten men at arms coming out of Cheslo Lane, who quickly close on the rear guard of knights. As she turns back, she catches sight of Sir Ewen lunging against his captor’s grasp, gaze intent upon Sir Alfred. Through a forest of mailed legs, Kaelyn catches a brief glimpse of Sir Alfred, stumbling in the fray by the stalls, jerking spasmodically, dark blood spouting from nose and mouth in the dim light, before he collapses forward.

Cekiya sights the ten men at arms ahead closing on the halberdier rear guards, and draws alongside the cloaked figure approaching that line. As she passes the cloaked figure she asks, “Daffodil?”

“Piss off, lady, I’m not here for flowers!” One of Dickon’s men. She smiles.

Kaelyn, still prone, clutches her necklace and conjures an orb of water which emerges from her hand and envelops the halberdier who had laid hands on her, clinging to him like filmy coat, preventing him from breathing.

The remaining three sheriff’s knights surrender, and Sir Harth orders them to remove their helmets, “What did you see here tonight?"

“Nothing.”

“Spineless lickspittle!”

Sir Harth says. "Kill them."

An accounting shows two of Dickon’s men are dead. Sir Ewen thanks Harth for his efforts and agrees with his plan for disposing of the bodies and taking Wybert into custody. Sir Baris and Tora, having spotted the conflict from Ternua Road, arrive only at the close of action. Cekiya sulks, dejected at having missed a kill herself. Tora is troubled by the account she pieces together but attributes it all to politics. Sir Harth advises Sir Ewen not to go anywhere unescorted.

Tora and Sir Baris, attempting to undo their activities, return to Sir Prehil’s house. The same terrified servant answers the door.

"You're back!” she squeaks.

They explain that their previous visit had been a misunderstanding, and that Sir Ewen had been at Galopea's Feast all along. She closes the door on them.

Sir Ewen and Kaelyn actually do go to Galopea’s Feast, as usual skipping the first floor and are ushered to the second floor hall with the striped horse pelt. Aethel Atan is present, motions Kaelyn to sit down next to him, and Sir Ewen across. Aethel objects to members of Sir Ewen's household failing to use the traditional doors of the structure, and Sir Ewen agrees to impress the need to use doors upon their minds.

“I implore you to take those words, ‘impress upon your mind’, quite literally.”

He rebuffs Kaelyn's attempt to engage him regarding the Ogre investigation, but does mentions that he had thought of her after his niece had mentioned that Sir Alfred Doulzarn was at his wit's end in the matter.

Sir Baris and Tora arrive at this point, Sir Ewen bids him over and says “we have not yet et.”

“Perhaps Sir Baris is still looking for the cream," Aethel offers facetiously, but this train of thought is derailed by the advent of an agitated Sir Prehil in the chamber.

Sir Prehil, pale and shaken, breaks in. “Ewen! By Morgath’s putrid pizzle! I’ve been humbugged!” Everybody stares, but Sir Prehil goes on, oblivious. “You know, did I not tell you, my wife, she has this lady in waiting," he drops his voice, "she’s got a form…" he gestures a curvaceous silhouette. "Well, I’ve not been able to close the deal, you know, and then this afternoon she said yes, you know, a wink and a nod and a nudge and, and, we went to her room, the curtains were drawn, it was dark, and I went to bed. With her, you know. And then there was knocking at the door. And then there was more knocking, and I got up, and, and ... It was my wife!” His voice breaks. “Ewen! I slept with my wife!”

Sir Ewen looks suitably aghast. Kaelyn laughs, while Tora the merciless does not. "I'm going to get you through this, Prehil", Sir Ewen intones. Prehil, still in a state of shock, blinks in incomprehension. Sir Ewen alludes to the possibility that an heir might be in the offing, but this seems to panic Sir Prehil further. Sir Ewen changes tack, and suggests kindly, "Well, on the other hand, you might be incapable of it."

His face clears momentarily. “Do you think so?”

Trying to suppress a grin, Sir Ewen shrugs. “Well, the thought has only occasionally crossed my mind, but you never know…”

Sir Prehil is induced to drown his sorrows in pint after pint of stout liquor.

Peonu 27, 732

The urchins report that Nanno, who lives with Casca, stayed home all last night. Torres frequents the Coin and Broom and, the urchins convey amidst giggles, engages in mushy stuff, with a girl this time. Does he have mushy stuff with ... not a girl, Kaelyn asks? The answers seems to be in the affirmative, and Kaelyn warns them to stay away from him, and enjoins them to tell her if he ever tries to hurt any them. The children seem savvy to this and perhaps over confidant that they can prevent themselves from being victimized. "Accidents happen..." she cautions

“I think Torres had an accident with Nanno once,” one of the older children quip, which leaves Kaelyn pondering the remark after they depart.

Midday, Sir Ewen, Sir Baris and Tora go to practicing at the butts as invited by Sir Gorvan. They go by Habor of Sarlis’ shop on the way, and he seems pleased, exclaiming that he was going to deliver it today, and Sir Ewen says that’s okay I’ll wear it out of the shop.

They are expected by Sir Gorvan, and join him and a number of his men at arms in practice. Sir Gorvan asks when Sir Ewen saw Sir Alfred last and he dissimulates, and the knight goes on to explain that Sir Alfred has gone unaccounted for. They discuss the arrest of Marhet of Lak and Filen, and Sir Gorvan adds that Holik of Asaner a guilded apothecary was also arrested by Sir Alfred. He agrees to have the former two released on Sir Ewen's vouching for them.

Kaelyn visits her Odivshe friend Garth, bringing the incomplete translation of the scroll she found at Bejist. She brings the neutral spells on separate sheets to trade him spell for spell if he is willing. Garth is sanguine about this, he can correct errors if she likes, and trades three lower level spells for the Gray Eye: False Soul, Store, and Talen’s Eye.

After dinner at Raven Hall, Sir Ewen meets with each of the household servants in turn and erases their memories of Sir Alfred arresting Sir Ewen. He then decamps for Rahel's, taking the route via Ternua Gate and Ibithune Way to Hag Hall. As he enters the great hall on the second floor, he encounters the red-haired Elena of Lerik leaning against one of the pillars, as if she were lying in wait for him. Sir Ewen greets her and she saunters over to him, sarcastically complaining that business has been slow but she expects to be reassigned soon, and then adds with a caustic laugh that she had been tasked with the tedious assignment of cutting the throat of Sir Ewen's "nemesis". She laughs cruelly.

Sir Ewen appraises her coldly. "Well, that can't have been too challenging. Are you sure you haven’t been demoted?"

Her cold gray eyes widen a trifle. She runs her hand along Sir Ewen’s cheek, her smile arrested in frozen hauteur. "Have a good evening," she purrs before striding away.

Rahel is at her desk, writing something with the pen Ewen found in Khuzan tomb.

“Ah brother, give me a moment.” She continues to scribble, then finally puts the pen down and arises, favoring her back for a brief moment. Grace undiminished, she sweeps across the room and into Ewen’s arms, “I’m so glad you weren’t arrested,” she says with a wicked gleam in her eye.

Sir Ewen learns that the eleven bodies from the night before have been taken to Orin to be cremated, with the embalmer being well paid to hold his silence. They discuss Dickon’s loss of two men, making his company under strength by Thardan standards, and debate the wisdom of local recruitment as a replacement strategy. Rahel banishes Sir Ewen’s fatigue, then loops her hands around his neck and slips into his lap. “Fatigue banished, brother; let us wile away the night.”

Later, as they converse, the topic of Wybert is broached.

“Wybert!” Rahel groans, “what a boring man! We drew straws to determine which of us had to deal with him. Thank goodness Sir Harth came up short. Let us just say, Wybert might remember who his mother is, but he certainly doesn’t remember what happened last night, other than that he went home.”

“Oh, and by the way” she adds, “he had told the truth to Kaelyn. Sir Gorvan was one of his pupils.”