Session One Hundred and Five - September 14, 2013

Wherein the ongoing story of the FtF campaign may be found ...

Session One Hundred and Five - September 14, 2013

Postby Matt » Thu Oct 24, 2013 5:36 pm

Larane 12, 732

“How could he lose a head! We gave him a nice box and everything!” Cekiya complained.

The party had gathered in Ewen’s room in the baronial council chambers to discuss at length Sir Baris’s discovery that that Maldan Harabor had lost possession of the head of Sedris Meleken.

The conversation meandered. At one point they wondered whether they should speak with Harabor before collecting the head at Erone Abbey. At another, an impatient Aeomund proposed riding to Minarsas and just start killing people, especially Vemion.

“Seconded!” Sir Baris replied excitedly. “Vemion delenda est!”

A sardonic look from Sir Ewen stalled this half serious talk.

“Seriously, though,” Aeomund said, “a head is worthless without a story; we need the testimony of the priest.”

“We should take the priest and Nell into ‘protective’ custody,” Baris said.

“We will have the testimony of the Pelnala Velira Siwen, that should be good enough,” Ewen decided.

Eventually it was decided that the party would journey to Erone Abbey to try and collect the embalmed dessicated head of Sedris Melekand.

Larane 13, 732

“So you depart?” the chamberlain asked Sir Ewen.

“For the time being. Thank you for your hospitality,” replied the knight.

“May I ask if you depart for the north or the south?”

“You may not,” answered Ewen. With that, the knight cantered off. “North and south indeed. The impudent ...” he muttered.

As the party made its way down the road a lone figure began following them. The figure was a young man-at-arms girded in quilted cloth armor carrying a round shield and a spear, a shortsword at his hip and a longbow at his shoulder.

“Are we mustering in new troops?” Ewen drolly inquired of Aeomund.

“It doesn’t look like an assassination attempt!” Aeomund joked.

“Look into it,” Ewen said.

As shit rolls downhill, Aeomund dispatched Sergeant Potelc to find out what the man was up to.

Potelc went over to the spearman, and Cekiya lurked nearby.

“You there!” Potelc yelled. “This is a private marching!”

“Hello, I hope you don’t mind if I join your little cabal,” the spearman said.

“We do mind!” Potelc yelled. “If you want to march with us, do it from a distance!”

With that Potelc returned to Sir Aeomund to report. “I told him to march from a distance!”

Cekiya kept an eye on the spearman. She sniffed. “Stay downwind.”


The journey to Erone Abbey took about two hours. Sirs Baris and Aeomund passed the time with planning for the upcoming tournament.

When the party arrived at Erone the unnamed spearman hung back a fair distance, but did not continue down the road.

Ewen dismounted before the gate of the abbey. A young woman came up to greet him. “I am Sir Ewen Ravinargh,” said Ewen as he handed the reins of his horse to Sir Baris with hardly a second thought. “I know we come unannounced, but I was hoping we could speak with the Pelnala.”

The woman curtsied. “You are welcome, Sir Ewen. We are grateful to you for helping us fix our roof. All here know your name.

“I hope the roof is serviceable.”

“It keeps the rain, the sleet, and the snow out: that is all we can expect of it.”

“You do good work,” Ewen said. “I understand the Baroness of Ternua receives treatment here.”

“Yes, we do not have a Lazer House per se, but she has her own small hut. If you came to see her, I am afraid you will be disappointed.”

“I came to see the Pelnala,” Ewen reminded the acolyte.

“I’m sure she is on the grounds somewhere. Perhaps we could give your retinue a light refreshment?”

Ewen nodded. “We would be grateful for your hospitality.”

Sotor looked about, taking in the sights. He lifted his gaze to the skies and looked upon the abbey. “Fascinating architectural style.”

Sirs Ewen and Aeomund along with Sotor followed the acolyte into the abbey. Potelc and the other men at arms were led by another acolyte to a refectory for refreshment.

Sir Baris saw to the warhorses before heading into the abbey. The knight wasn’t really paying attention to his duties, and Iblis expressed her displeasure at his ministrations by raising her tail and giving him a gift – right on his leggings.

Baris sighed. This had never been his favorite part of squiring. “I need to get a new squire,” he thought for the thousandth time.

Meanwhile Kaelyn and Cekiya stayed outside the abbey.

Cekiya walked up to the spearman who had been following the party. She pointed down the road. “I believe the road goes that way.”

“The road goes lots of places,” the spearman replied.

“Do you have business at the abbey?” the adder asked.

“Not here, but further up the road, yes. I see you are with a party, where are they headed?”

“Here, that’s why they went inside,” Cekiya said, as if speaking to a child.

“Oh, right,” the spearman said.

“Why don’t you continue on your business.”

“The roads are rather dangerous, and your company seems like a fair and trustworthy sort, and I thought I would follow along.”

“If your business is in Tashal, do you know where we’re going?” asked Cekiya.

“I don’t.”

“I think you’ve come to the end of the line if your business is in Tashal.”

“I’m just a poor yeoman, I have to take what I can get; I can’t hire guards.”

Cekiya sighed. “It appears you intend to shadow us everywhere we go.”

“If you don’t go to Tashal, I suppose I’ll be without my ‘escort.’”

“Consider yourself without an escort,” Kaelyn interjected. “We head south after this,” the mage said sharply.

“Be careful of what is in the shadows,” Cekiya said mysteriously. The adder suddenly had a near uncontrollable desire to flick the spearman’s ear, hard, but she mastered it.

***

“Sir Ewen, I wasn’t told you were here. Welcome to Erone,” the Pelnala said, smiling brightly. The older woman was dressed in simple beige robes and leaned on a cane as she walked. An acolyte walked next to her and every so often tried to take the Pelnala’s arm, but her ministrations were swatted aside. Ewen walked beside the woman, while Aeomund and Sotor stayed a few paces behind.

“We have only just arrived; we did not intend to impose upon your hospitality unduly,” the knight explained.

“Will you be staying the night?” the Pelnala inquired.

“I don’t know,” Ewen admitted. “I just wanted to have a word with you; I have a company of men with me, and I don’t want to be a burden.”

The woman pursed her lips in thought. “Well, the guest house isn’t occupied at present. It might be a little tight, but you are welcome to it.” She stopped and looked Ewen straight in the eye. “You said you wanted a word? It sounds serious.”

“It might be …” Ewen began.

“Run along girl,” said the Pelnala, and the acolyte scurried off to attend to suddenly pressing duties.

Ewen gallantly offered his arm to the old woman.

“I take your arm with much gratitude, Sir Ewen.”

“I just arrived from Ternua, Pelnala,” said the knight. “And I understand one of Ternua’s more exalted inhabitants is one of your patients.”

The woman nodded. “The Lady Besnia. Her condition hasn’t improved, but it hasn’t worsened either.” She sighed sadly. “Her illness hangs heavily on her.” She looked at the younger man. “Surely that was not what you came to speak of.”

Ewen nodded in acknowledgement. “The matter I came to speak of is of a somewhat awkward nature, and originates in Ternua as well. You may have heard that the Verdreths have fallen from the King’s grace, and are detained.”

“I had heard that there was trouble,” the Pelnala said, waving her free hand, and the cane in it, about, causing Aeomund and Sotor to take evasive action. “But I take no notice of such affairs.”

“Of course. Temporal matters.”

“The Baron is a generous benefactor of this abbey, as you have been.” The Pelnala said and patted Ewen’s arm. “It is sad to see him on hard times.”

“I assume you have met the priest in Ternua, Rhis of Hew,” Ewen said. “He has a commendable concern for the well-being of those of his flock. He impressed that upon me in our very first conversation.” The knight left out the part about arresting the foolish priest.

“I am pleased to hear that.”

“I had to cross-examine him about a rather odd story I heard,” Ewen said. “He was most helpful, but what I learned led me here. It involves a rather horrible package that fell into his hands, about a year ago. Do you know of which I speak?” The knight focused his mind and called upon his Deryni abilities. He looked into the eyes of the Pelnala, and heard the tone and cadence of her voice with hyper-clarity.

“I am sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the Pelnala said, and thanks to his abilities the knight knew she was lying through her teeth – those that were left, anyway.

Ewen frowned. “I see. So Rhis of Hew did not vouchsafe to you any information about a strange parcel he came to possess?”

“Not that I can recall,” the Pelnala said. “He does visit here from time to time, and he always refers those he cannot care for here. Perhaps you mean a patient.”

“Possibly,” the knight said. He started to mind-read the Pelnala.

Ewen probed about in the Pelnala’s mind, all the while continuing their conversation. Rhis of Hew had indeed come to her about a year ago, and he vouchsafed a pot to her. In his mind’s eye Ewen saw a pot tied with twine to keep the lid on. Rhis untied the knot and lifted the lid, revealing a head the Pelnala recognized. She did not tell Rhis this, however. Digging further in the memory, Ewen heard Rhis tell the Pelnala of Maldan Harabor. Finally, she dismissed him, with the admonition that the tell no one about what he had brought her.

Later the Pelnala re-embalmed the head and personally took it to Tashal. In Tashal she gave it to the Sulaplyn at the Peonian temple, and told her the whole story. The Sulaplyn did not think that the Peonians should be involved in such matters, and voiced her displeasure, but she took the head nonetheless. Ewen could not tell whether the Sulaplyn realized the head belonged to a man who had once stayed at the temple in Tashal. Following a tendril of memory, he came across one pertaining to himself:

On the 20th of Halane 731, on the Lesser Sapelah following the Greater Sapelah, in the Temple of Peoni in Tashal, the sermon addressed the virtues of Belsirasin, servant of Peoni.

“Lies!” thundered the Sulaplyn, Brygyne of Kynge, who presided over the service in the great Hall of Ritual at the center of the temple. “Lies!” she repeated. “Virtue is beset by lies, and it is through falsehood that virtue – coiled so tightly with the mortal soul at birth – is slowly stripped away. At first, as the the coil remains strong and interwoven with the soul, with great resistance. Yet, with every lie – committed or omitted – the coil loosens, and in some, ultimately unravels. Lies must be challenged!” The Sulaplyn paused, and surveyed her assembled flock. Mostly, they were the urban poor, the forgotten, some few of them from outside the city walls who had made the journey for this, one of their few days of rest from unending toil. But a few were better dressed: the handful of burghers and gentlefolk who attended from time to time. It was for these that this Lesser Sapelah sermon was intended. The Sulaplyn continued, becoming more subtle in her discourse, and while not shrinking from her call to challenge, suggesting that there were many more ways to challenge untruth than the direct confrontation. That, she said, was better left to their sisters and brothers in Larani. For pious Peonians, the true challenge was conversion, “to coil them ‪anew‬ in virtue.”‬

After the final blessing and recessional, as the congregants shuffled towards the vestibule, Sir Rohn Sarlis took Filen Oppias by the arm. “The Sulaplyn was uncharacteristically loud today. Come, they’re waiting for us.” They walked through the temple, discussing recent events in the city of interest. Skirting the refectory, they passed by the ‪archives‬ of the Irreproachable Order, and entered a semi-circular chamber. Only the leftmost window cast shadows about the room; the dying remnants of the setting sun. A small table stood in the middle of the chamber, and at its head sat the Sulapyn, with Marnyle of Ludos, the Pelnala, and Velira Siwen, Pelnala of Erone seated to one side. On the other side of the table was Janor of Torelin, old and frail, one of the two deputy pelnalas of the temple. Sir Rohn and Filen bowed to the Sulaplyn, each kissing her ring in turn. She gestured for them to be seated near the foot of the table.‬

“Bow your heads,” said the Sulaplyn, raising her hands. “Peoni, everliving daughter of virtue and maker of balms, bless all who gather here to work your will. Watch over us in the time of trial.”

“Amen,” echoed in the small chamber.

“Sir Rohn,” said the Sulaplyn, “perhaps you should begin.”

“I would be pleased to do so, your Reverence,” replied Sir Rohn politely. He removed a small scroll from his tunic and unrolled it. He did not consult it as he began.

“Last spring a knight came new to this kingdom. He may have come before, but it was then he first came to notice. He is Sir Ewen Ravinargh of the Kingdom of Tharda. He was accompanied by another knight of that realm, Sir Baris Tyrestal. He also has a retinue whose members are not wholly known, but seems to include …” Rohn paused for a moment, “an elf.”

Janor snorted, though it came out more as a wheeze.

“Indeed,” continued Rohn, “it was on account of this ‘elf’ that Sir Ewen came to notice. The Lady Cheselyne Hosath invited him to one of her affairs, and decided the poor girl was touched in the head. I believe she recommended her to your tender ministration Abbess. Regardless of the truth, this girl became a fixture at noble gatherings last season.”

“The gentry do so like their little jests Sir Rohn. Another form of falsehood,” said the Sulapyn gently. “The girl needed compassion, not derision.”

“Naturally, this would be of no interest were it not for the current state of other affairs. With the war in the north, and the missing Fur Road caravan, two Thardan knights ought to be watched, if nothing else.”

“Have they been?” asked Pelnala Marnyle.

“Not specifically. They were seen entering Tharda House on more than one occasion. That they met with Lord Stimos is beyond question.”

“Do you know that for certain? Perhaps they only made an attempt to see him,” challenged Marnyle.

“No, they met with him, probably more than once. The King issued an invitation to Lord Stimos to participate in the tourney in Olokand this year. He also issued one to Sir Ilken Zuvonx, as he does every year. Those invitations were accepted by Sir Ewen and Sir Baris.”

“As champions?”

“No, in their own right apparently. As you no doubt know, Sir Baris finished in the sixteen and Sir Ewen won the joust.”

“Urgh. Killing some fine knights in the process,” growled Janor.

“A regrettable part of tournaments.”

“A good reason to abolish them,” snapped the Sulaplyn.

Rohn inclined his head before continuing. “It is not my place to say, your Reverence. But after the tournament, they met with the Rekela Ilor Hadan, and he invited them to abide with them at Abriel Abbey for a time. As you know, the Rekela did not hold much of his theology in common with his fellow bishops. There were rumors of dark arts – perhaps Morgathianism, perhaps Agrikanism – but something evil nonetheless. What actually transpired at Abriel, I do not know, but the result was a synod of the Laranian bishops here in Tashal and Ilor Hadan removed from his office. Sir Ewen’s role, whatever it was, resulted in the Serekela Edine Kynn granting him the manor of Varayne.”

“A fine estate,” said Pelnala Velira.

“Indeed, far finer than many a knight bachelor dreams who dreams of trimming his banner. It may be that the Archbishop was flush with the moment – he had just reined in heresy among his flock, or Sir Ewen played a greater role than we know. However, to be brief, in less than a year, he has gone from an obscure foreign knight bachelor to the first knight in Kaldor to the holder of a great manor. One, I might add, only an hour’s hard ride from this very room.”

“Why Varayne?” asked Velira.

“I’m not sure. It was one of two manors held of Caleme by a bailiff. The other, Brythe, is nearly half again as large. Of course, the manorhouse at Varayne is one of the most impressive fortifications of its kind in the kingdom. I believe it was once a chapter house of the Lady of Paladins.”

“Yet we know his companion, Sir Baris,” said Janor. “A fine knight, full of virtue. It was he who helped us – with his own hands – after the disappearance of Digger, poor lad. He even acted in our morality play not so long ago, though I can’t say his talents lie in that direction. Surely, if a man is known by the company he keeps, this speaks well of Sir Ewen that such a knight is his boon companion.”

“I have met Sir Baris, and he seems all you say,” replied Rohn. “But Sir Ewen may be another matter. The man is an enigma. After the tournament, it was the responsibility of the College of Heralds to research and enroll all those knights of the sixteen who had not been previously included. Sir Baris proved no trouble – he was actually born in Melderyn of knightly parents and went to Tharda as a young lad. This is not uncommon of Thardan knights his age – many are scions of Melderyni houses. Sir Ewen presented another problem. He had no ancestry at all. Indeed, when I queried him on the subject – on more than one occasion I might add – I found him oddly evasive. He even became indignant once or twice, claiming that I was impugning his parents, though I never could determine just exactly who they were.”

“I sent a herald to Coranan to the Palace of Gules. There, we confirmed that Sir Ewen’s grant of arms is legitimate, knighthood having been conferred on him by King Arren II himself. But of his ancestry, they would not speak, referring our herald to Auram Graver, Baron of Quste. Lord Graver for his part, was also somewhat evasive. He implied, without actually saying, that Sir Ewen’s mother descended from one of the old kingdoms – Ravin or some such – and that his father was the late Earl of Tormau. So far as we know, Lord Tormau – who died in rebellion three years ago – never had any children of his wife. This would mean that Sir Ewen is illegitimate, not that this matters in itself. However, I cannot say that I actually know any of this with certainty, as it is all most irregular.”

“Thank you, Sir Rohn,” said the Sulapyn. “Brethren, all of this I knew, having spoken of these matters with Sir Rohn at length after Pelnala Velira informed me that Sir Ewen had enabled her to pay the last of her debts. I thought myself that such a generous knight could be a shining example. But the more I learned, the more I became concerned. Two things Sir Rohn has left out of his account. One, Sir Ewen also appears to be a troubador of some skill. I was present as he performed a ditty at the King’s Levee not very long ago which was nothing short of a love song which I believe he composed to court the Lady Thilisa Meleken. The King was plainly agitated by the song – I shall not further scurrilous gossip here – and the Queen delighted. How impudent to tweak a king’s nose in his own hall! It seemed to me that such a man is capable of much apart from generosity. Now it seems he has been pursuing Lady Thilisa – with some apparent success. He has been invited by her to the wedding of the Lady Camissa Caldeth in Minarsas in the spring.”

“What is any of this to us?” asked Marnyle.

The Sulaplyn placed both her hands on the table. Her episcopal ring flashed on her right hand, its modest green garnet her only adornment. “If he marries Thilisa, he shall become Earl of Vemion when her father dies. Lord Caldeth is a great friend to us. I should not like to see ill befall him.”

“As you suggesting …” gasped Marnyle, her hand flying to her bosom.

“No, of course not. Of course not,” the Sulaplyn repeated, almost to herself. “But this knight, this enigma has come far quickly, and I worry that he will go further. It is not our place to meddle in affairs of state or of the nobility, but there is something sinister about this foreign knight who is wheedling into the very highest halls of this kingdom. He seems a friend of Peoni, but I cannot help but think it all a charade. Lies.”

There was silence around the table. Finally, the Sulaplyn looked towards the foot of the table. “That’s where you come in Master Oppias.”

All eyes turned to Filen. “Your Reverence,” he said, “I am at your service.”

The Sulaplyn nodded. “Thank you, Master Oppias. Sir Rohn, we shall leave this matter in your capable hands.”

With that, the Sulaplyn rose, and so did all the others. She left the chamber followed by the Peonians.

Later, Pelnala Siwen learned of the conclusion to the meeting:

“Come,” said Sir Rohn, “Let us repair to the Red Fox and discuss this matter further over a couple of pints.”

The two heralds left the temple and crossed Kald Square. Entering the Red Fox, Sir Rohn greeted Melin of Soral, the proprietor, who offered them two pints of ale. Sir Rohn pointed to the corner table, and he and Filen sat down. Waiting for the ale, Sir Rohn took a deep draft, and then grinned.

“Peonians. Too austere for my taste. No offense to your brother of course.”

Filen took a draft himself. “I regret that my family has but one son to give to Peoni. What is it her Reverence wishes?”

“Well, that’s not too hard. I confess, Filen, that it was my idea. When the Sulaplyn asked me about Sir Ewen, I was somewhat glib and told her of my own experiences. I suppose we should be grateful that it wasn’t the Serekela.” He moved in closer. “The Sulaplyn has asked that I place a herald in Sir Ewen’s household to keep an eye on his activities. I can’t say I like the idea, but I do have her agreement that she will pay for it. And I have my own reasons for wanting to look after the enigmatic Sir Ewen.”

“So you want me to be a nursemaid?” asked Filen with disdain.

“I know, my friend, I know. I wouldn’t like it myself. However, I can tell you than man is quite entertaining in his way. The assignment – if you’re willing to take it – may be very satisfying in that way. I’ve also managed to get a monthly stipend of 96d for you so long as you’re on the job. With the first three months paid in advance. Further, you report to me – not the Sulaplyn. In all respects save that, you shall be herald to the Lord of Varayne. How does that sound?”

Filen looked into his mug. “I shall give it a try,” he said at last. “For at least three months.”

“Very good,” said Sir Rohn. “I shall invite Sir Ewen to the College, and send for you when he is able to come. Meanwhile, here is your first retainer.” He withdrew a small purse and handed it to Filen. “Let us drink with the Sulaplyn’s money.”


While he was reading the mind of the Pelnala, Sir Ewen was very quiet, and seemed to be in a contemplative state. The Pelnala continued talking about the abbey and patients, and Ewen replied monosyllabically and sporadically, not at all keeping with the knight’s normal speech patterns. Aeomund looked on, and wondered whether some witchery was going on. Thoughts of exploding heads kept him silent. Sotor quietly filed the observation away.

Digging further, Ewen learned that the Ebasethe in Varayne, the King’s sister, had been recalled and posted to the temple in Tashal. The knight knew these events were connected, but the Pelnala apparently did not. And Ewen would know, as he was rooting about in her mind.

“This Rhis, is he dependable?” Ewen asked, coming back to himself. “Is he exact in how he describes things?” His tone implied he doubted the priest’s word.

“He is impulsive, he’s young, and sometimes he’s taken by flights of fancy,” the Pelnala confirmed. “But he has a lot of potential, and we have nothing but high expectations for him – he needs seasoning.”

Ewen nodded. “It did seem a passing strange story, and I’ve been around long enough to know you shouldn’t taken everything at face value.”

“Oh, of course,” the Pelnala agreed. “I am feeling suddenly fatigued.” She frowned. “It is so unusual for me to be tired at this time of day.”

“Perhaps my importuning with you has tired you. Allow me to apologize – may I escort you to someplace cool?”

The old woman patted the knight’s arm again. “Of course.”

Ewen escorted the woman through the temple to the small hut that was her home. He did not go inside, of course, that would be improper.

“Do feel free to stay the night in the guest house.”

“Thank you. I will take stock of my retinue and see what is best.”

***

“So, you’re heading south, are you? Am I really so much of a threat that you have to lie to me?” the spearman said.

“We have to go to Selepan,” Kaelyn said testily.

“Who says we’re lying; bite your tongue,” said Cekiya.

“The chamberlain told me you were headed to Tashal,” said the spearman.

“Why would he tell you that?” Cekiya wondered.

“He said there’s a bunch of knights and men at arms headed to Tashal, and I should follow them.” The spearman shrugged. “Like I said, maybe he was worried about the roads. He told me to deliver something to Tashal, perhaps he wanted me to be safe.”

“How do you know the chamberlain?” Kaelyn asked.

“I am acting as a messenger for him.”

“So the chamberlain entrusted a potentially valuable object to an unknown messenger, to deliver to Tashal?”

“That’s a good point. All I know is what he told me: follow you up the road to Tashal.”

“I think we should see this package you are delivering, since we are also being entrusted with it,” Cekiya interjected.

“Alright,” the spearman said. He shouldered his weapon, holding it in the crook of his elbow, and drew a small stoppered glazed clay jar from a bag on his shoulder. He held the jar out, but did not let go. “I’m not going to just give it to you …”

And just like that, the jar was in Cekiya’s hands. From the weight and feel of it, the woman thought there was a powder inside.

The spearman gaped. “Where were you supposed to take this?” Kaelyn asked while he picked his jaw up off the ground.

“Ternua house.”

“Did he give you any special instructions?” Cekiya asked.

“He just said deliver it to Ternua house in Tashal, and follow your company,” the spearman said.

Kaelyn sighed. “What is your name child?”

“I am Kalas of Delsin.” The young man went on to explain that he had most recently been at Jedes Keep, but the constable there didn’t have any work for him, so he was sent on to Ternua with a letter of introduction. In Ternua there was also no work, but he was given this mission.

“So, actually, I’m looking for work,” Kalas said sheepishly.

“May I see your letter of introduction?” Kaelyn asked, and Kalas began digging in his satchel..

While he was focused on that task, Cekiya carefully opened the jar and peered inside, sniffing briefly. She sneezed – it was pepper.

“Hey, I was hired to deliver that jar, give it back!” Kalas complained.

“Here, you can deliver your pepper,” Cekiya said as she handed the jar to the poor boy.

Kalas capped the jar and stuck it back in his pouch.

“We are supposed to be headed south,” Kaelyn said, “but perhaps we could spare one or two of the men at arms; perhaps they would be inclined to walk with you.”

***

Later that day the party was gathered outside the abbey preparing to march back to Tashal.

“Wait, why is this guy still here?” said Baris as he noticed Kalas. “I thought you guys were going to get rid of him.”

“He apparently has a very valuable pot,” Cekiya said matter of factly. “It made me sneeze. He wants to go home.”

“Does it have a head in it?” asked Baris.

Cekiya shook her head. “Too small.”

“Maybe he was a dumb guy.”

“He is delivering a very valuable spice,” Kaelyn said.

“How does this concern us?” were Aeomund’s words, but his meaning was: not at all.

“That’s the chamberlain’s fault.” Kaelyn sighed. “He assumed we were heading back home, and this young yeoman …”

“I have pepper, apparently,” Kalas interjected. “I have been asked to deliver it to Ternua house by the chamberlain. I am also looking for work.”

“Do you know how to take care of horses?” Aeomund asked, remembering Baris’s earlier inept ministrations.

“Yes.”

Aeomund turned to Baris. “This guy is gong to squire for you temporarily. I saw what you did to Sir Ewen’s horse, and it was an abomination.”

Ewen looked sharply at Sir Baris.

“I believe it was just incompetent grooming,” Aeomund clarified.

Baris looked sheepish. “It’s been a long time since I was a squire.”

Ewen patted Iblis on the neck. Her tail twitched, and she snorted in the general direction of Sir Baris.

“What’s my pay?” Kalas asked.

“Tuppence a day, plus room and board,” Baris said.

***

The party and their entourage rode up the Genin Trail towards Tashal.

After half an hour Cekiya became aware of another presence at just the moment Kittiara broke the treeline and came trotting up alongside Sir Aeomund.

“Remember, Rollloch said that woman is off-limits,” Sergeant Potelc told a man-at-arms who had been about to greet the huntress. The man sighed sadly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Aeomund Sir,” said Kittiara.

“Yes?” that knight asked.

“Bad men nearby.”

“Excellent.” Aeomund cracked his knuckles. “Are they arrayed for an ambush, or are they en route?”

“For ambush.” The huntswoman looked at the men at arms with the party. “They will not take this column on.”

“How many are there?” Cekiya asked.

“The small one asks good question,” Kittiara said. “I counted eleven. There may be more.”

“On the King’s highway ...” Ewen said, making the case for a fight.

“On horse?” Cekiya wondered.

“No horses,” Kittiara replied.

“Shall we take them?” Baris asked. “It is our knightly duty.”

Ewen nodded. “Let’s mete out some justice!”

***

The knights and men-at-arms quickly checked their weapons, and ensured they were not damaged and would not snag when pulled from their scabbards. They made sure their armor was cinched tight and had not loosened in key areas during the march. The knights checked that the saddles and horseshoes of their beasts were secure. Kalas checked his spear and strung his bow.

Cekiya was always ready to fight to the death, and wondered what was taking the others so long.

Kaelyn mentally prepared herself for battle, reviewing the spells that would be most useful and bringing them to the forefront of her mind. “Sir Ewen, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay back.”

“How are you with your pokey stick?” Cekiya asked Kalas.

“I am efficient.”

“Where exactly are these foes?” Baris asked Kittiara as he checked his throwing axes, ensuring the leather around the handles would not come undone and that they were properly set in the wooden handles.

“They are one thousand paces up the road, on the right, around the bend.”

“How are they armed?”

“Many of them have bows, and all of them have clubs or short swords,” replied the huntswoman.

“Sir Aeomund, Sir Baris. We will bring send the men-at-arms ahead at doublestep, while we knights will flank the foe, cutting off their retreat. Meanwhile our archers, Kalas and Kittiara will enfilade to fire upon them at an angle. Thus they will have a clear flanking shot at the enemy with little risk of them shooting us.” At this last he looked sharply at Sir Baris for a moment.

It was times like this that Baris missed Imarë. At the very least he wouldn’t have been the only one to have shot a fellow party member.

The Thardans marched down the road, with Kittiara and Kalas moving to their rear and to the right.

“Who are you?” Kittiara asked Kalas.

“I am Kalas of Delsin. Who are you?”

“That’s not important,” Kittiara said. “I will tell you when to shoot.”

“Are you in charge?”

“Of you I am.”

“Okay,” Kalas acquiesed.

“We will get along well.”

***

“I don’t think Aeomund is still with us!” Baris yelled to Sir Ewen over the sounds of their hoofbeats.

The knights had galloped through the wood, in order to cut off the retreat of the bandits. Baris thought he had seen Aeomund fall from his horse, but he couldn’t be sure. He dodged a tree branch and continued after Ewen. Aeomund would turn up.

“He’ll find his way!” Ewen yelled back, echoing Baris’s thoughts.

Meanwhile, the Thardans advanced upon the bandits, who were hidden in the trees. Suddenly the twang of a dozen bowstrings being loosed could be heard over the thud of their marching boots. A volley of arrows took flight, but most missed the Thardans or struck shields. One man took an arrow to his shoulder, but it did not penetrate his armor.

“The Thardan Lads!” Ewen’s men cried as they charged, shields before them, swords at the ready. The bandits broke in all directions.

Two unfortunate souls came upon Sir Aeomund, who was just getting to his feet. He cursed Baris, as it was no doubt that knight’s inferior handling of the horses that had led to him falling on his ass. “Varayne!” Aeomund yelled, and with one swipe of his sword he decapitated the bandit nearest him. As the head fell to the grass, blinking, Aeomund’s backswing went over the head of the second bandit, who had tripped at an opportune time or he could have suffered a similar fate. The lucky man got up and ran for the hills.

Aeomund attempted to get up on his horse to pursue, but the animal shied at the smell of blood, throwing him. This earned the horse an iron slap to the flank.

Meanwhile, three bandits found themselves in front two knights mounted atop charging destriers. They threw down their weapons and cried for mercy, but there was none to be found that day. Sir Ewen rode them down, splitting one bandit’s skull as he went by with a mighty blow. Right behind him, Sir Baris swiped at another bandit, taking that unfortunate’s arm at the shoulder. Blood spurted everywhere, but by then Baris had ridden past. The bandit fell to the ground screaming in agony and writhing in pain.

“You shouldn’t have shot at my men,” Ewen spat, belatedly answering the call for mercy.

The two knights turned about as the third bandit cursed viciously and ran for the woods. Something about Ewen’s mother.

Ewen called upon his Deryni abilities and attempted to mind-blast the cursing bandit, but in his haste and in the confusion of the battle he did not control the power properly and something went wrong. The knight dropped his sword and grabbed at his head in pain.

***

“Halt, who goes there!” a guard said in the direction of the shadow who was Cekiya.

The bandits had fled into the forest almost immediately after the initial assault, and Ewen had ordered no pursuit. The bandits had been dispersed, and there was no use chasing them onto unfamiliar ground when the enemy had every advantage.

The party had continued on to Tashal, arriving after dark and found the Ternua Gate closed for the night.

The closed gate was why Cekiya had climbed the city wall and was making her way to the other side when a guard with exceptional hearing heard the little adder. She briefly considered ending his life, but rejected the thought. Ewen would surely disapprove. He was so finicky about such things.

Instead Cekiya scurried down the interior edge of the wall with nary a sound.

The guard shook his head and walked off, sure he had heard nothing of import.

The stillness of the night was interrupted by Cekiya’s knocking upon the gatehouse door.

“Who goes there?” came a gruff voice from inside.

“It’s the flower girl” Cekiya said brightly. “My master, he needs entrance into the city.”

The gatehouse door opened and an older man who appeared to be the sergeant of the guard given his clothing and bearing was there.

“It’s after hours, he’ll have to wait,” the sergeant said.

“Wait? But he’s the First Knight of Kaldor!” Cekiya exclaimed.

“The First Knight of Kaldor, Sir Ewen Ravinargh?” the sergeant asked.

“Yes,” Cekiya confirmed.

“OPEN THE GATES!”

The gates opened and the party entered the city.

“Sir Ewen, it is an honor. Normally we close the gates at sundown, but for the First Knight of Kaldor...”

“I appreciate the duty you’re doing for the city,” Ewen said. “What is your name?”

“Karsin of Teryne,” the sergeant said quickly, although with a bit of surprise in his voice, as if he was astonished a man of Ewen’s august station would have an interest in him.

“I’ll put in a good word about you.”

“I appreciate it!” Sergeant Karsin exclaimed. “By the by, if you find yourself in this way again, there is a knock you can give so that the gate guard will let you in.” Upon the gate the sergeant demonstrated a simple but distinctive series of knocks.”

Most of the party returned to Raven Hall, while Sir Baris and Kalas, whom Baris had employed, made their way to the Elf and Dwarf. Baris tried to put him up in a free room, but Barton, who actually ran the inn, put his foot down and bedded Kalas down in the basement with the other servants.

Undeterred, Baris paid Kalas for his first day, and a little extra for the battle. Late in the evening the two shared a drink and commiserated about the fight. As the two drank a few more mugs, Baris told the young man some war stories before they retreated to their respective rooms.

Larane 14, 732

In the morning Kalas staggered upstairs to the kitchen to find an attractive young girl with wet mousy brown hair putting a tray of scones in the oven. The smell of flour and spices was in the air.

“Who are you?” Kalas asked the petite baker.

“Who are you? I am Amelia, who are you.”

“I am Kalas, I work for Sir Baris.”

Amelia handed him Kalas a scone and a small beer.

“Do you know where Ternua house is?” Kalas asked.

“I don’t know,” Amelia admitted. “Master Barton might.” At that moment, Barton walked out of his room. “Master Barton, do you know where Ternua house is?”

***

A short while later, after selling a few items he had taken off of dead soldiers, Kalas found himself before Ternua house. He recognized the coat of arms in bas relief on the door and knew he was in the right place. He pulled the bell and waited.

A few moments later a peephole opened on the door and an eyeball peered through. “Yes?” said the owner of the eyeball, apparently a male by the sound of the voice.

“Delivery?” said Kalas.

“Delivery, what do you mean delivery?”

Kalas held up the jar. “From the chamberlain at Ternua.”

“Who is that?”

“Parren Pulgarty,”said Kalas.

The door opened to reveal a middle aged servant with a bushy mustache. The doorman took the jar and made to close the door.

“Anything else?” Kalas said hopefully.

The doorman gave Kalas a penny, mostly to get rid of the yeoman. He was successful, as Kalas went off.

***

Sir Aeomund sat at a desk in one of the upper floor rooms of Raven Hall, quill in hand and a blank sheet of vellum before him. Beside him was a small leatherbound book, full of star charts. These were his mother’s, and the knight wished to create an illuminated copy of them. There was also a stack of papers with his own scribblings upon them, mostly notes on Harnic fortifications.

“Oh, Sir Aeomund, I didn’t expect to find you here,” said Kaelyn as she entered the room. “Excuse me, I was just looking for some spare ink.”

“No mind, my muse has yet to find me this morn. Perhaps she is still asleep,” said the knight. “What are you writing?”

“A letter for Sir Ewen to Harabor. You, he, and that annoying lout will probably meet with him at Galopea’s Feast tonight at eight o’clock, should he accept the invitation. So don’t start drinking too early: you need your wits about you to keep an eye on Baris before he puts both feet in his mouth and we end up having to flee the city – or the country!”

Aeomund barked a laugh. “I’ll do my best. A letter to Harabor, you say? You might throw in a double entendre about a trollop in Ternua and a head. That’ll rile him.”

Later in the day some mail arrived at Raven Hall. Sotor received a letter about a patient, who had fully recovered, but could not pay because she was indigent. There was a also a short reply from Harabor.

I’ll meet with you.
O

***

“Oh, mistress Kaelyn of Aletta,” said Sir Rohn as Kaelyn entered his office.

Kaelyn had gone to Marhet to ask about Filen. From him she learned that Filen was going to Getha on a trip organized by one of the Baron’s sons. The mage now found herself in Sir Rohn’s office.

“Sir Rohn,” said Kaelyn.

“How are you?”

“I am good. I come here to ask you about Filen of Oppias.”

“He has departed on a naturalist expedition. He is a naturalist, you see, and he also hopes it will help him recover from his calamitous injury.”

“Yes, that was an unfortunate event,” said Kaelyn.

“How is Sir Ewen?”

“He is well.”

Rohn smiled, showing his teeth. “I am delighted to hear it, I look forward to learning, something, about him.”

“Since Filen has vacated the town and his position as Herald of Varayne, will you be replacing him?” Kaelyn asked.

“I hadn’t planned to. It was my understanding his services were no longer required. I that not what Sir Ewen told him?”

“No, he didn’t know where Filen went, which is why I came to you.”

“Oh, that’s what he told me,” Rohn said.

Kaelyn shrugged, nonplussed.

“Perhaps I should talk to Sir Ewen about his needs for a herald,” Rohn mused.

***

“More brandy, milord?” a serving girl asked Sir Ewen.

Evening found the three knights, Sirs Ewen, Baris and Aeomund, in a private room in Galapea’s Feast. Cekiya, Kalas and some men-at-arms were downstairs.

“Yes, and leave the bottle,” said Ewen. He recognized the serving girl was Rhonna of Fahl.

Baris and Aeomund sat across from Ewen. Baris quaffed a mug of ale, while Aeomund enjoyed a bottle of brandy.

A bellowing came from outside the door. Ewen rose to his feet. The lock jiggled.

“This fucking thing is locked!” yelled a booming voice. “No, no, I’ve got it!” The door slammed open, apparently to a kick, and there stood Maldan Harabor in all his supposed glory. His beard was a bit scraggly. “No, get away from me,” he said as he entered the room. “Well, Ewen,” Harabor looked at Baris, and then at Aeomund, “your sidekick, and I don’t know who that is. Feeling a little concerned in my presence, Sir Ewen?”

Ewen bowed. “Not in the least, my lord. Come and partake.”

“What is that, is that eel?”

Ewen sat. “Fresh caught today.”

Harabor sniffed the eel. “Fresh caught cut in the sewers?” He shoved the plate at the nearest serving girl. “You, take this away!”

The poor serving girl grabbed the plate before it hit the ground. “Yes my lord.”

“And you – Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out!”

“I thought you would send the brandy away, as well!” said Ewen.

“No!” Harabor strode down the table, grabbed Ewen’s glass from the table and took a sip. “This is an adequate vintage.” He took another sip, took the pitcher in his other hand and retreated to the opposite side of the table to sit, with his feet up.

Ewen contained his anger, calming his mind with the techniques he had learned to control his Deryni abilities. “I want to talk about a package I gave to you.”

“Oh, this is so boring,” Harabor exclaimed, and took a large sip of brandy.

“You lost it,” Ewen said matter of factly.

Harabor sat up. “I didn’t lose it, I burned it!”

No, you lost it,” repeated Ewen.

“Do you need money? Run your manors into ground? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“A trollop in Ternua took the head and switched it with a chicken,” said Ewen.

“No doubt, that’s what you burned,” said Baris.

“Who are you?” Harabor asked Aeomund.

“I am Sir Aeomund Legith.”

“And you,” Harabor said to Baris, “who are you again?”

Baris bristled, and a retort started in his mind, but he stifled it. “Sir Baris,” he grated.

Harabor turned back to Ewen. “Are you to tell me you have the head.”

“No, I don’t have the head, but I think I know where it is.”

“Oh, where have I heard this before? I don’t have the body, but I know where it is,” said Harabor testily.

“Yes, and when I said that before I was precisely correct, you will recall,” said Ewen. “My lord I have not led you astray on any point in our association.”

“Ah, but I know where the head is.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t burned?” Ewen asked.

“No, it was: I burned it myself.”

“In that case I suppose you have nothing to worry about.”

“No I don’t,” said Harabor. “I’m not going to be blackmailed by you again.”

“It was embalmed,” Ewen said, and began to truth read the Earl. “So you say burned the head. And you are sure it was the head?”

“Of course. I burned the head in a potter’s kiln. Do you have any idea how hot those get?”

“Did you think to look inside the casket before you burned it?” asked Ewen.

“You must think me some kind of ghoul,” said Harabor.

“Very well, Maldan Harabor,” Ewen began.

“You will grant me my rank!”

“Of course, my lord. There are different ways a person with my information can use it. If you are not interested, I am sure there are others.”

“I’m sure there are. This time you’re bluffing.”

Ewen stood up. “Enjoy your brandy my lord.”

Harabor turned the glass upside down and poured the brandy onto the floor. “My soldiers have tasted better horse piss!” He burst to his feet, knocking his chair down with a clatter, and stormed out, nearly knocking over the returning serving girl.

Aeomund looked to Sir Ewen, who shook his head.

Larane 15, 732

In the morning Sirs Ewen, Baris, and Aeomund, along with Kaelyn and Kalas as Baris’s retainer stood before the Temple of Peoni and presented themselves.

Baris, having a history with the temple, did the talking. “Sir Ewen is seeking an audience with the Sulaplyn,” he told the Ebasethe who came to greet the party.

“Oh, Sir Baris,” said the Ebasethe, delighted. “Do you know that we have a new performance coming up just this week! We have been looking for a new Grunhilda.”

Sir Ewen leaned in. “Sir Baris often speaks about how gratified he was to make that contribution to the church.”

“Oh, we have never had such passionate reactions from the audience as when Sir B was on stage.”

“He has often said how he fondly remembers the night he donned the straw wig,” Ewen continued.

The Ebasethe clapped his hands together. “Oh, and the melons!” He frowned. “Though there was a bit of unfortunate slippage.”

Ewen coughed. “That happens with melons sometimes.”

“Are you available for the performance?” the Ebasethe asked hopefully.

Baris, who had been trying to keep his temper began to stutter a strongly worded denial when Kaelyn interrupted him. “Of course he’ll come! He would love to!”

Baris looked daggers at the mage, gritting his teeth. “I’ll see if I can work it into my schedule.”

“Baris, you are too good. Did you say you wanted to meet with the archbishop?”

“I did,” Baris agreed.

“Wait in the antechamber, and I’ll tell her that you are here.”

Baris sighed. “Thank you Ebasethe.”

An acolyte took the party through the temple to a refectory furnished with a table with a few simple wooden chairs arrayed around it. Some dried fruit had been laid out. As they took their seats another acolyte came through and curtsied for the lords. Her face flashed with recognition as her eyes set upon Sir Baris. “Are you Karla?”

Baris blinked and tried to think rapidly, but he’d had too much ale so, and began stuttering again.

“Yes, this is Karla!” said Kaelyn, all smiles.

Baris shot her a dirty look.

“With any luck you can expect a repeat performance later this week!” said the mage.

Baris stuttered.

Aeomund, warming to to subject, said, “If you say one more thing about my horse in the battle, I will tell everyone in the Elf & Dwarf about Karla.”

Baris, wide eyed, nodded, looking sheepish.

“It was a riding horse, and not trained for battle!” Aeomund argued.

“Yes, yes it was,” Baris agreed.

At that moment a male Esolani came in. “My lords. I am to bring you to the Sulaplyn.” The party followed the man to an apse in the northwest corner of the temple. The Sulaplyn, a woman, awaited them there in a seat. Behind her was a small prayer niche in the wall. A Peonian reverential symbol of a flower sat in it.

Sir Ewen bowed deeply. “Your reverence, thank you for seeing us, I am Sir Ewen Ravinargh.”

The Sulaplyn inclined her head. “Sir Ewen, I’ve been expecting you.”

Ewen smiled. “I am relieved to hear it your reverence. May I take the liberty of introducing my companions, Sir Aeomund Legith,” Aeomund bowed, “and I believe the temple is familiar with Sir Baris Tyrestal,” who also bowed respectfully. “And this is Kaelyn of Aletta.” The mage curtsied.

“Sir Aeomund,” said the Sulaplyn.

“Your Reverence.”

“I believe I know your parents.”

“As well you should, they have been in residence in Tashal for some time.”

The Sulaplyn smiled. “They are fine people.”

“Thank you. They are getting on in years, but thank you,” Aeomund replied.

“They will be gathered onto their reward, in due time, but not too soon I hope,” said the Sulaplyn. “Your mother is a scholar of great renown, and your father has served Larani well.” She turned to Sir Baris. “Sir Baris, I understand you have agreed to reprise your role as Karla. You have caused much excitement, you have been missed from the stage.”

“Yes, everyone seems to be so excited about me reprising my role,” Baris said, looking at Kaelyn and plotting his revenge.

The Sulaplyn turned to the mage. “Kaelyn of Aletta, “I don’t know you, are you from Kaldor? Your speech says otherwise.”

“I am from Thay,” said Kaelyn.

“Are you fey?” inquired the Sulaplyn.

No.”

“Good, that only leads to confusion.”

“I seek only knowledge.”

“Sir Ewen, you didn’t come to introduce me to your companions.”

“Your Reverence, I come with a matter that darkens my heart,” said Ewen.

“A matter that darkens your heart; this intrigues mine.”

Ewen took a breath and steadied his mind. He attempted to truthread the Sulaplyn, but either he was too tired or her mind was too strong, and he failed to make the necessary eldritch connection. “I was recently in Ternua on business of the King; I bear his warrant.”

“I heard something to that effect,” said the Sulaplyn.

“In conducting my business there I came upon a most disturbing tale of an object that came to Ternua in possession of a rather exalted traveler.”

The Sulaplyn was silent.

Ewen continued. “I understand that traveler was the Earl of Osel, Maldan Harabor.”

“I understand he bears that title.”

“The object that he bore, and I am almost shocked to say, the fact of the matter your Reverence, was evidently a human head.” Ewen, looking for it, noticed that the expression on the Sulaplyn’s face changed every so slightly but quickly returned to the mask of the prelate.

The knight took a deep breath. “It is my understanding your Reverence,, and you’ll pardon me if I say so, that this artifact came into the possession of the church.”

“Artifact, Sir Ewen, is a very vague term,” said the Sulaplyn.

“Severed head, then, your Reverence.”

The Sulaplyn placed her hands in her lap and bowed her head. After a few moments she looked up. “The severing of heads is a very disagreeable topic.”

“I agree your Reverence, and the thing itself seems to be an abomination, if I may venture such an opinion. I hasten to say that my understanding of the circumstances casts your church in the best of lights in this scenario.”

The Sulaplyn’s countenance visibly narrowed. She stood, turned away from the party and towards the prayer niche. She faced the flower for a long time before finally straightening and turning back to the party. “Pray, continue.”

“I am sure you are aware your Reverence that there is talk that the Earl of Osel may be expanding his holdings with the barony of Ternua by the King’s gift,” said Ewen.

“Yes I have heard such talk.”

“And while I realize your Reverence that it is perhaps above my station to have an opinion on this, it concerns me, nay, it burdens me, to think that a man who would possess such an item, in fact I can conceive of it no other way than to fear that he may, well, that there may be some dark religion involved in this, that a man such as that, a man who may have such associations, would prosper. Your Reverence, I don’t know whether I am expressing this well, or not, I am a knight, this not the sort of business I am used to.”

The Sulaplyn held up her right hand, the green garnet ring of her office flashing in the light. Kaelyn thought that it should be an emerald, but as the Sulaplyn was a Peonian, it was a garnet. “You are a most unlikely ally – what am I to make of you?” the Sulaplyn wondered.

Ewen smiled drolly. “I am aware that I have presented that conundrum to many since my arrival in Kaldor.”

“For without acknowledging the words you have spoken, I will say that I have thought these same things.” Ewen looked relieved. The Sulaplyn looked upon Aeomund. “You, Sir Aeomund, you are a member of the Order of the Lady of Paladins?”

“I am,” said Aeomund.

“Where do you stand on such deeds,” asked the Sulaplyn.

Aeomund spoke without hesitation. “If by the authority of this office you would name a member of one of those dark religions, I would draw my sword and hunt them throughout the city, by your authority alone.”

“I believe that such a crime has taken place, though I do not know if one of the dark churches is involved. Though, indirectly, it bears the marks of their handiwork.”

“It would be most unfortunate if the barony of Ternua would go to a man who would dabble in such circles, however slightly,” said Aeomund.

The Sulaplyn cocked her head and looked to the corner. “You are a true member of the Order of the Lady of Paladins, Sir Aeomund, you do not dissemble.” She turned back to Ewen. “Sir Ewen, on the other hand, does, but that perhaps is the hazard of being a lord. This is why we who worship the goddess of the fields and fertility prefer the simple folk – they do not dissemble, they do not have the time to. For them it is the day to day struggle to survive. Oh, if I were but still an Ebasethe cultivating a simple flock. But to be a Sulaplyn is to be involved in great affairs, how it wearies me. You ask what I would say of one who killed – I would say a head for a head.”

At this last Baris looked up in surprise. ‘Oh shit,’ he thought. ‘Did she just tell Aeomund on my authority go kill an Earl?’

“You mention Ternua,” said the Sulaplyn. “I heard Ternua was to be granted, and I could stay silent no longer.”

“Am I to understand your Reverence that you have taken this to the King,” asked Ewen.

“You are to so understand, though, why I tell this to you, you of all people, I do not know. But I have come to reevaluate you in these past months. I hope that my trust will not be betrayed.”

Sir Ewen nodded. “Perhaps one day we will be allies indeed, your Reverence. I for one hope it so.”

“So do I,” said the Sulaplyn.

“Might I be so bold as to ask your Reverence when you went before the King with this information.”

“Two weeks ago?” said the Sulaplyn. “It was shortly after I heard that Ternua would be granted.

“And what has become of the artifact?” asked Ewen. “Is it in the King’s possession?”

“I am uncomfortable speaking of such things, Sir Ewen, but it is a fair question. I could not bring such a tale to a monarch without being able to prove it, and so I gave it to the King’s Grace. And of course it is amazing to say that when I beheld the artifact, I could not believe that here he had been all these years. It was astonishing that in the mask of eternity all was revealed, that the living flesh hid. And yet, the King was not deceived for a moment, but knew him upon the very first glance. Our guilt and our shame is unimaginable.”

Of course Ewen could not acknowledge that he perfectly understood what the Sulaplyn had just said pretended to take it a different way. “I would request your guidance.”

The Sulaplyn pulled herself together and gathering her robes stood. She held out her ring.

Sir Ewen stepped forward and bowed over the ring, kissing it.

Aeomund, followed by Baris and then Kaelyn did the same.

Finally, the Sulaplyn said, “I believe you know what to do.”
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