Session One Hundred and Twenty-Five - January 30, 2016

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

Session One Hundred and Twenty-Five - January 30, 2016

Postby Matt » Fri Feb 12, 2016 9:47 pm

Azura 17, 732

“Have you examined your patient this morning? Tasted his urine? Do you have anything to report?” Ewen asked Sotor of Pelanby when the physician unexpectedly appeared downstairs at Raven Hall. Apparently he had spent the night tending to Prehil.

Sotor took a sip of water. “The noble Sir Prehil is awake, and seems to know who he is. I can tell you by the taste of his urine that he has been drugged.” He licked his lips. “But it is passing out of his system with some rapidity.”

Ewen grimaced. “Is he well enough to partake of breakfast down here?”

Sotor shook his head. “No, but I would feed him. If he isn’t back to his old self in twenty-four hours, he’ll be this way for the rest of his life.”

“We thank you for your ministrations.”

Sotor nodded in acknowledgment, and then pointed his finger at the ceiling, as something had just popped into his mind. “I must attend to an experiment. Please send word if you have further need of me.”

“Would you like some water to go?”

“Please, there is an acrid taste in my mouth.”

***

Chewing on some pork sausage stolen from Prehil’s plate, Sir Baris shouldered his way into Thilisa’s room, where the alderman was currently convalescing; the knight’s hands were busy holding a tray covered by a generous bounty of breakfast foods, and two ales.

Prehil lay prone on the bed, propped up on about fifteen pillows. He slowly opened one eye, to find Baris grinning in the doorway. “Baris, thank god it’s you!”

“Sir Prehil, you’re awake!” Baris strode over to the alderman, almost dropping the tray in his haste. He lunged toward the bedside table and set the food down. His hands thus free, he clapped Prehil on the shoulder, perhaps a bit too hard as the alderman winced.

“I have several questions,” Prehil asked. “First, where am I?”

“You are in Raven Hall,” Baris replied.

“Good. Where is my bedmate?”

Baris blinked, momentarily confused. “The one from Galopea’s Feast?”

“Yeah, her, I don’t know how we got here, but I wouldn’t have left her behind.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Prehil paused for a moment, and put his hand to his head. “It’s not really clear. I have the worst headache. We were in Galopea’s Feast,” and his voice trailed off as he rubbed a bump on his head. “And then, I’m embarrassed to say, I think I must have passed out.” Prehil sighed, and then half rose off the bed, before thinking better of it. “And then, there was this strange man; scared the hell out of me Baris!”

“Strange man?”

“Wait a minute, I know him. I know who he was!”

“Who was it?”

“He was that creepy physician who used to hang around here. It was indecent – he was feeling my feet! And then, he sat there, and he kept coming over with a flagon, holding, it, holding, you know. And finally I couldn’t hold it any longer. I grabbed the flagon and pissed in it! And then,” Prehil gagged a little, and then spat out, “he drank it!”

“That’s disgusting,” Baris agreed. “But I think it had a medicinal purpose. I’ll let Ewen go over all the details, but you needed a physician. There’s nothing to worry about, you’re fine now.

“All right. Is that ale on that tray? I have a headache.”

“That’s why there’s two. Well, one’s for me. And extra pork sausage.”

“Ale is all a body needs, you know. It’s liquid bread – any physician will tell you that.”

Baris chuckled. “It’s worked for us so far.”

Prehil propped himself up on five little pillows. “One other thing. I don’t seem to have any clothes.” He looked under the sheet. “Other than, well, these aren’t mine.” He looked Baris squarely in the eye. “Did that doxy roll me?” The alderman sighed in resignation. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Well, you know, actually, what happened was, you were kidnapped, I tried to save you, I fought a dude naked, it was awesome,” Baris ejaculated. “You should’ve seen it. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. I’ll let Ewen tell you all the details, though. But you’re safe now! Here, pork sausage?”

Prehil looked at his companion and blinked. “Baris, have you not been drinking?” By which, of course, the alderman meant he seemed sober, an unnatural state. Prehil stabbed a link with his fork. “Some pork sausage? Don’t mind if I do.” Prehil squinted as Baris got up and went to the door. “The light is killing me. Oh, and Baris?” Prehil said around a mouthful of sweet meat, “If you find that doxy, send her in here, my feet could use a massage. Among other things.”

Baris looked back at his friend and smiled. Prehil was going to be just fine. “I’ll send her up if I see her.”

***

“He doesn’t remember anything other than Sotor ministrating to him. Also, I told him he was kidnapped. Well, so much to do, off to the Elf & Dwarf, see you later!”

In a flash, Baris was out the door before Sir Ewen could react to this rapid delivery, tamp down his rage, and open his mouth to reply.

Well, Prehil would have to find out sooner or later, anyway. The exasperated knight went to find the responsible one, Sir Aeomund, and the pair went up to Thilisa’s room to see Prehil. Ewen realized that, despite the fact that his good friend was recovering after a serious injury that nearly upset his plans, he was feeling much calmer entering this room than the last time he had.

“Ewen, Aeomund?” the alderman called as those two entered.

“Sir Prehil, it is so good to see you restored,” Ewen said.

“Prehil, my good man!” Aeomund said.

Prehil sighed. “I was hoping you were the doxy, or the doxy and her friend.”

Ewen shook his head. “The doxy is long gone, I’m afraid.

“We’re just across the street!” Prehil exclaimed.

“Alas, it is two days later!” Aeomund said.

“It is the seventeenth of Azura, and the whole city thinks your wife killed you,” Ewen clarified.

Prehil paused and took the information in. “So you’re saying that people think I’m missing. And only you know where I am. People think my wife killed me.”

Ewen nodded.

Prehil grinned. “Has she been arrested yet?” He tried to sit up, but fell back onto the pillows. “This could work out! We have a quick trial, she’s hanged, and then I make a miraculous recovery!”

“You have to lay low for that to work, Prehil,” Ewen said slowly.

“I could stay here for a couple weeks. That’s okay, right? I’ll chip in for the pork sausage. Not Baris’s ale, I don’t have that kind of money. Oh, I could go to my funeral! I could borrow Baris’s boar helmet! Everyone will think I’m him!”

Ewen gritted his teeth at the mention of the helmet, and changed the subject. “What the town doesn’t seem to be aware of was that you were in fact abducted by Sir Chadrin Benere.”

“I expect this from Baris, but not you, Ewen.”

“I wasn’t there, but the entire common room at Galopea’s Feast witnessed the thing. They all think your wife was behind it.”

“She still could be!” Prehil looked imploringly at Ewen. “Is there any chance she could be?”

“I’m not a litigant, just a simple knight. I think your ale must’ve been spiked, otherwise they couldn’t have pulled it off.”

“That creepy guy did it!”

“That was just the physician.” Ewen had no doubt what ‘creepy guy’ Prehil was referring to.

“Also, your father’s on his way to the city,” Aeomund interjected.

“He’s days away!” Prehil said, and then looked up in thought. “Oh, wait, it’s the seventeenth – he could be here tomorrow!”

“What would your father think if your wife had had you murdered?” Ewen asked.

“Well, he wouldn’t be happy. He would have to take steps, probably.”

The side of Ewen’s mouth crept up. “I’m going back to your original idea.”

“I didn’t think you were going to go that way.” Prehil, still abed, looked around as best he could without toppling off of the precariously piled pillows. “Is there any more ale? Baris only brought two pints.”

“I will have the servants bring up some more ale.”

Aeomund spoke up. “I’ll get some of the pear brandy I bought, it’ll do the trick.”

Prehil cast his eyes down and smiled shyly to himself. “Kidnapped at Galopea’s Feast, from the arms of a working girl. My father’s going to have a word or two to say about all that. This will probably be one of those times when he doesn’t raise his voice.” He looked back at Ewen. “Everybody knows?”

“They all saw it, but they didn’t know who was behind it.”

“So when Baris said he fought the kidnappers au naturale, he really did?”

Ewen really did smile this time. “The whole city is talking about the Naked Knight.”

“Oh dear.”

“He came crashing down into the common room wearing all he brought in to the world.”

Prehil shifted on the pillows. “Who is this Chadrin Benere?”

“He works for Maldan Harabor.”

Prehil grimaced. “I should’ve known.”

“Sir Scina has also been kidnapped,” Aeomund said with distaste, whether for the crime or the victim it was unclear.

Ewen nodded. “He’s got him holed up back at Heru.”

“What is Balim doing about that?” Prehil wondered.

“He’s put out feelers, wants to see if I can help.”

“Ewen, you’re the man of the hour!”

“Well, I did rescue you.”

“I will have to find a way to thank for that.”

Ewen stood and went to the window. “I was wondering if you thought it would be wise to keep you out of sight for awhile, to keep the enemy off-balance. We could keep you from your father, even.”

“No, let’s not keep it from him, I have to face the music.” Prehil laid back. “I will tell you the truth. I would like to just lie here the rest of the day. I have some lumps on my head here. I don’t know how I got them.”

Ewen coughed. “Harabor’s men must have roughed you up a bit.” Or Cekiya dragged him down the stairs, legs first. One of those.

Suddenly Prehil half sat up, sending pillows flying in every direction. “Do you know where my sword is?” He looked around. “It would be really embarrassing to explain to my father that I lost my sword.”

“I’ll have the servants bring your belongings in. I believe your sword is among them.”

“A fine man you are, Ewen.”

“Other than some better pillows, is there anything else I can send up for you?”

“Just make sure that one of the pillows is red and the other is blonde.”

***

“I am Goreg, squire of Sir Ewen Ravinargh, with a message for Lady Donesyn.” The squire found himself standing outside Balim house, delivering a note written by Kaelyn informing the Lady that Ewen wished to meet the Earl regarding the rescue of Sir Scina. He had already delivered one note, that one to Firith house, letting the Baron know Ewen would like to with him at a convenient time.

Two men-at-arms guarded the entrance to the estate. The taller of the two took a step toward Goreg and extended his hand. “We’ll take it.”

Goreg took a half step back and lowered the note he had presented. “I was instructed to give it directly to Lady Donesyn.”

The shorter guard chuckled, but said nothing. “I’m sure you were,” the taller guard said.

“Could I speak with the chamberlain?”

“Well, that depends. There is no real chamberlain per se. The Lady Donesyn likes to keep it close to the chest, if you know what I mean.”

Goreg nodded. “So does my master. That’s why I need to see Lady Donesyn.”

“Well that’s the problem, isn’t it. What we have here a multi-jurisdictional conflict.”

Goreg tried another tack. “Is Lady Donesyn at home?”

The taller guard looked at his mute companion for a moment. “I don’t believe that is a state secret. Yes, the Lady Donesyn is in residence.”

“I don’t want to take up any of her time,” Goreg said, hoping that would assuage the guard’s concerns.

The guard smiled. “I will deliver it then!” The squire walked into that one.

“What is your name?”

“Najen,” the tall guard answered.

“I suppose, then, Najen, here is the message.” That handed over, the squire tried to save some of his dignity. “Go at once and deliver it.”

Najen half smiled, showing a crooked tooth. “Very well squire, will you wait?”

“Yes.”

“Keep an eye on him, you don’t know what he might do,” Najen whispered to his companion as he slipped through the wicket gate in the large banded door.

A few minutes of awkward silence passed. The mute guard kept his eyes on the street, and Goreg suddenly remembered he needed to tighten the straps of his boots, and ensure his dagger was clean.

“Well squire it’s like this,” Najen said when he returned. “She says she’ll see you.”

Goreg straightened his shoulders and suppressed a smug smile, though his eyes narrowed a tad in victory. “I am at her command.”

A few minutes later Goreg stood in the great hall of Balim House. It was an elegantly appointed room, and he did his best not to gawk. A beautiful chandelier, currently unlit, hung from a vaulted ceiling. A balcony, supported by intricately carved columns, encircled the room, and two statues guarded the northern corners. The squire noted an unusual amount of troops on the balcony, and avoided their gaze by examining a tapestry depicting one of the Earl’s ancestors with a king. Goreg thought it might be the first King Haldan.

“You are the squire to Sir Ewen?”

Goreg spun around and bowed to the Lady Donesyn. “Madam.”

The corners of the Lady’s mouth perked up and her eyes flashed in amusement. “You may return this to him,” she said, handing Goreg a note.

On behalf of my brother, I invite you to dine with us at seven o’clock this evening.
Donesyn Dariune.

***

Ever since Ewen had let slip that Meden Curo (or his doppelganger, or someone who was controlling his mind; Baris’s head was still spinning from the discussion at breakfast that morning) had mentioned that his man Dregald had gone to Orbaal to find Kryste, Baris’s blood had been rising. Seeing Prehil awake and alive had distracted him for a time, but in the back of his mind he was screaming in rage.

Baris went to the Elf & Dwarf and consumed a few more ales, hoping to cool his bloodlust. The knight looked down at the nearly empty mug, and the ale turned red, and in his mind’s eye he saw the blood surrounding young Quinn as he looked up pleadingly with glassy, lifeless eyes, a pristine sword clutched in his little hand. The knight’s vision blurred and the mug cracked in his fist. He glared at Barton and muttered something about, “It’s my gods-damn bar, I’ll do as I will with the flaming mugs!” He stormed up the stairs.

The knight prowled his bedchamber like a tiger. Twice he had grabbed his harness and cloak, intent on galloping all the way to Orbaal, finding that fiery haired bitch, and chopping her head off with his axe. Her head would roll on the ground, and he would spit in her eyes as the life faded from them. His bedpost gained a couple of nicks from the axe, Baris lost in a sanguinous daydream.

But no, he could not go, he had responsibilities here. Land, a lord. Things had been so much easier when he had been a knight bachelor. So much had changed. It was hard to believe it had been less than a year since Quinn’s funeral. It had been at the temple of Sarajin, because those bastard Laranian lickspittles refused to let the boy be buried in their precious graveyard. Baris remembered carrying the remains of his squire afterwards, and Quinn’s ashes in the air as he fought the skank’s henchmen.

Somewhere downstairs Barton jumped as a roar came from above. Perhaps he would close up until later, he thought. Just as the barkeep was at the door with the key, the knight rushed down the stairs and out the door, grinning and repeating, “I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” over and over.

By the time he was back at Raven Hall, Baris’s rage had simmered, now fueling a nervous energy. He asked one of the servants where the adder was, and was informed she was in the master’s solar. The knight took the stairs two at a time and burst into the room.

“Good morning Cekiya! Hey, I was wondering, do you know any good assassins? I need someone killed. You remember Quinn right? Well, she killed him. Kryste. She needs killing. And I know where she is. Or was. In Orbaal. And I’d go up and chop her up myself, but I’m needed here. So I thought I could hire somebody, and I thought you would know someone.”

Cekiya slowly looked up from the dagger edge she was examining and stared at the knight for a moment. This was quite unexpected, but that was the nature of Baris. “How much money have you got? Do you really want this done?”

“I really do want it done,” Baris answered, a little exasperated. “And I have some money, how much does it usually cost?”

Cekiya sheathed her dagger. “Does Ewen know about your intentions?”

“This isn’t something he needs to know. I’ve got land now, I can make decisions on my own.”

Cekiya shrugged. “I know some assassins,” she said, as if they were speaking of grocers.

Baris gulped, suddenly coming back to himself, and realized this was not a daydream. “Could you, arrange a meeting for me?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Where is she?”

“The last I heard she was somewhere in Orbaal. I figure this will need some investigation. But I imagine that is something you are trained on.”

Cekiya nodded. “I will see who I can conjure up.”

Baris smiled, and half extended his hand, before thinking better of it. “Thank you so much, Cekiya. I really appreciate the help.”

***

“If someone asks for you, I will let you know immediately, but for now, please let me do my job and keep your business running! My lord.” Baris had been sitting at the Elf & Dwarf all night. He was starting to scare off some of the newer customers, who weren’t used to sharing a common room with an unpredictable knight. Barton bowed his head in apology and dashed back to the bar.

Baris nodded absentmindedly. Earlier that evening Cekiya had let him know she had arranged a meeting for him at the Elf & Dwarf. He had been waiting most of the night, but he had seen neither hide nor hare of this mystery assassin. He sipped his ale, and looked over his shoulder. Perhaps he had overstepped his bounds with the woman. Perhaps the assassins were coming to put an end to him.

The pretty Amelia came over for the third time that night. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some food, Sir Baris?”

Baris smiled wanly at her and shook his head. His stomach was tied too tightly to think of food. “No, thank you. In fact, I think I’ll hit the hay, I must have missed the as – ah, my friend.” The knight made his way upstairs, the ale on an empty stomach giving him a fuzzy head. Thus it took a second for him to process the scene that he found in his room.

“Come in Sir Baris. Close the door,” said the still form sitting on the knight’s bed.

Baris suppressed a shudder as he stepped inside his room, and closed the door behind him. He swallowed a belch, covering it by taking a quick sip of his ale. He stared at the hooded form on his bed for a few moments, waiting for the shadow to speak. Finally, he broke the uncomfortable silence. “Did Cekiya send you? I mean, The Adder. I should probably use a pseudo-name.”

The being remained silent.

Baris put down his ale and folded his hands in front of him, shifting his feet nervously.

“You had a request?”

“Yes, yes. I need someone kil – ended.”

“Killed. You can say the world. If you do not say what you mean, you will not mean what you say.”

“Are you a philosopher, as well? I knew one once.”

The shadow said nothing, and the seconds ticked on.

“Yes, I need someone killed. Someone who, if not directly, arranged for the death of someone close to me. They fled the city, and I only recently learned where they might be. The person I speak of is a woman, named Kryste.”

“Where is this Kryste?”

“Orbaal, last I heard. Which is why I can’t do this myself.”

“Where in Orbaal?”

“Unfortunately I don’t know that.”

The shadow spread its hands. “Then you are not ready.”

Baris paused in thought for a moment. “Maybe I’m jumping the barrel here a bit,” he said, half to himself. “How much information would you need? Would the city she was in suffice?”

“The settlement in which this person is located would be very helpful. Orbaal, even fractured as it is, is a very big place.”

“You raise a good point. Perhaps I am trying to hire the wrong person at this juncture. My desire for vengeance is clouding my judgment, and I’m too hasty. I thank you for coming here, but as you say, I don’t have enough information.” He would have to speak to Meden, Baris realized. Surely the Earl knew what town his man had been sent to.

“You may send word when you have a great deal more information. At which time we will reconsider.”

Baris turned to pick up his mug, and noticed a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked back to see a shadow slide out the window, barely stirring the curtain.

***

Meanwhile, a few streets over, Sirs Ewen and Aeomund, and the squire Goreg, were welcomed into the residence of Troda Dariune, the Earl of Balim. As they were escorted to the Earl’s private hall, they passed the Great Hall, and Aeomund noted, as Goreg had, the large number of troops stationed on the balcony. Having grown up in this very house, he knew this was unusual. Given the purpose of the coming meeting, the kidnapping of the Earl’s son, perhaps the addition of nearly sixty men-at-arms was not surprising.

The Earl’s Hall, while not quite as grand as the Great Hall, was still an impressive room. The vaulted ceiling was made of stone, as were three of the walls. A spiral staircase carved from burnished oak led up to the roof. Two tapestries hung from the north and south walls, one showing a scene of courtly love, the other showing Tashal from the far side of the Kald. The table was opulently prepared with succulent dishes on silver trenchers. Even here, four men-at-arms stood guard, standing at strict attention upon the arrival of the gentry.

“Gentleman, how nice of you to come,” Troda Dariune greeted as he strode into the room, accompanied by Sir Fago Rheeder.

Ewen inclined his head politely. “Thank you for having us, my lord.”

The Earl took his seat at the end of the table. “Gentleman, please be seated.”

As the guests took their seats, Fago Rheeder offered to pour the wine.

Troda took a sip of his wine, and put down the glass. “Shall we get down to business? We all know why we are here. My sister enjoys the cloak and dagger; one must indulge relatives from time to time. But it is hard for me to indulge regarding my own son, who I hope is not riding in the balance.”

Ewen steepled his hands before him. “My lord, we understand that your son is detained by the Earl of Osel.”

“That is what he maintains.”

At that moment, Sir Prehil’s cousin, Serli Ubael, entered the hall. The men stood in respect, and she took a seat next to Sir Aeomund.

“I have very good reason to believe he is not lying when he says he is holding Scina,” Troda said. “Osel claims to have taken him to Qualdris, but I believe he is holding him in Heru by his son Kornuska, with his army.”

Ewen nodded. “My liegeman Sir Baris Tyrestal, as well as my squire, witnessed the arrival of that army at Heru.” Ewen noted his squire with a nod.

“Goreg, is it?”

“Yes, my lord,” Goreg said.

“Do you remember how many men there were at Heru?”

Goreg paused for a moment. “Greater than a hundred.”

Troda’s eyes flicked to Serli, who nodded.

Sir Fago spoke up. “We hear there are several high ranking prisoners. Many men of the garrison have been forbidden the town, except for Sir Dunisel.”

“My lord, Sir Baris and I spoke with Sir Bereden, and we informed him of the army, and he did not seem concerned,” Goreg supplied.

“Why would he be? His liege was coming,” Troda said.

“My understanding, my lord, is that you would like me to undertake efforts to liberate your son from the situation he finds himself in,” Ewen said.

Troda raised his hand before him, palm outwards. “Let me be plain. I do not lack the resources to undertake such a task. But I am concerned that such resources I have might be compromised, might give the game away as my sister might say. This might result in harm coming to my son, which is by no means the desired outcome.”

Ewen nodded.

“I am unconcerned with harm coming to nearly anyone else,” Troda continued. “But for reasons of my own I wish no harm to come to Kornuska Harabor. Nothing debilitating, anyway.”

“That brings me to a question, my lord,” Ewen said. “How does the Crown see the actions of my Lord the Earl of Osel in taking up arms and engaging in abduction of the members of at least one noble house? In other words, what is Maldan Harabor’s status, at this time, my lord?”

The Earl of Balim reached for his glass, took a slip of wine, and placed it back on the table. He took a breath. “He is the Earl of Osel. That is his status at this time.”

Ewen sipped his own wine. “I see.”

“And, at present, if he has done, questionable, things, they are no more than a breach of the King’s peace.”

Aeomund spoke up. “My lord, what were the circumstances of Sir Scina’s capture?”

Troda gestured at Serli Ubael, who reported what had happened. She and Sir Scina had left Tashal and rendezvoused with retainers of his father. Afterward they were ambushed near the village of Suvist, off the Querina road, by forces they later learned belonged to the Earl of Osel. Sir Scina, not expecting trouble, had failed to post the necessary scouts. His men marched in a column, right into the middle of the ambush. Kornuska had stationed archers to the north and east, his infantry to the west, and his knights close by. As Scina and his men neared the village, a volley of arrows fell upon them to ill effect. Before anyone could react, two more volleys fell. To his credit, Scina ordered an about face, and as a result the fourth volley found mostly shields. Unfortunately this played straight into Kornuska’s hands, and as the archers retreated his infantry fell upon the rear of Scina’s formation. The fighting was fierce, and the unit lost all cohesion when Kornuska charged in with his knights. Scina fought bravely, and tried to rally his own knights to charge, but was cut off and captured.

“I took command and ordered a retreat,” Serli concluded. “Most of the men followed. Those that did not are dead or captured.”

“After that I ordered Lady Serli, whose heroism in the event is unchallenged, to bring my remaining men here to Tashal,” Troda said.

Ewen lifted his glass in the direction of Lady Serli. “The lady has a keen eye for military detail, and I am sure she acquitted herself well.”

The lady blushed a little. “My father’s library was never as extensive as I would have liked, but it had enough.”

Aeomund spoke up. “My lord, if it is not inappropriate, may I inquire after the safety of your grandson?”

Troda shook his head. “It is not inappropriate Sir Aeomund. My grandson is very safe.”

“Sir Ewen, you said earlier, giving voice to my own thoughts, that Harabor was kidnapping scions of major houses,” Troda said. “Did you refer to Sir Prehil?”

“Yes.”

Goreg was silent, but, he thought the situation was crazy. Here he was, sitting in the hall of the Earl of Balim, discussing the kidnapping of the heirs to noble houses, and a plan for their rescue. The Earl cared for the health of no one but his son, and wished only something less than debilitating upon Kornuska Harabor. Was this really how the world was run, with such matters as the fate of kingdoms and dynasties discussed over dinner?

“As far as anyone has heard, Prehil is dead. I do not believe, as many do, that his wife is responsible,” Troda said.

Ewen shook his head. “I believe Maldan Harabor’s actions go beyond an offense to your house. I think Maldan, having captured one scion, captured another.”

Balim disagreed. “I believe his abduction of Scina was opportunistic. Lady Serli believes the ambush was planned. I believe he set a trap for my forces, but I don’t believe the intent was to capture Scina. That was just what happened. But, as you say, having bagged one scion of a noble house, why not more? Prehil does not care for his personal security. I have sent word to Harapa Indama and others that they should be on their guard. This explains the unusual number of armed men in Tashal.”

“A prudent precaution, my lord,” Ewen said. “The line of logic that the two of us are agreeing upon suggests at this point that Maldan Harabor has rung a bell that he will be unable to un-ring.”

“He has rung a bell that can only redound at a succession council.” Troda gestured with his fork. “And there, I have said those words aloud.”

Ewen caught his breath. “Indeed.”

“I don’t believe that there will be such a council. But Harabor does.”

“I am heartened to hear it, my lord. We are all concerned for the King’s health.”

Troda, Earl of Balim, stood and raised his glass. “Long may he reign.”

Those assembled toasted to the king’s health.

“Sir Ewen, I have tasked you with recovering my son. Have you formed a plan?”

“My lord, as you recall, I was able to get past enemy lines, and into Olokand Castle, while it was besieged by the viking horde, and assisted in the defense of that keep. And I made it out, again, through enemy lines. If I could do that, I can get into Heru.”

“Yes, you most valiantly entered the castle, assisted in its defense, and got out. The skalds will sing of it for some time. But you were told the location of the tunnel, and the forces in the castle were friendly. I know of no tunnel into the bedrock of Heru, and the forces there will not be friendly.”

Ewen smiled. “My lord, sometimes, the tunnel can be a person.”

“My lord,” Aeomund said, “there are certain individuals at Heru keep that are displeased with the Earl of Osel, and I believe they would help facilitate the release of Scina.”

“Very well. You have two days, two and a half at the outside. I need Scina, here, in Balim house, in two, or less days.”

“I will do it, yes,” Ewen said. Aeomund nodded his assent.

Troda took a breath. “We come to the moment of truth, don’t we.”

Ewen swallowed a particularly delectable cut of boar and washed it down with a sip of wine. “Might I depend upon your lordship for support on another matter?”

“That would very much depend on the matter.”

“The matter is Ternua.”

“Yes, you have the last legal title to that stronghold, don’t you,” Troda mused.

“I believe he has the only legal title to the stronghold,” Aeomund stated.

“That could be changed,” Troda said.

“My lord is aware that the keep itself is presently held by my lady wife and a retinue of my men?” Ewen asked.

“I had heard something to that effect.”

“I believe, my lord, that a council of the tenants-in-chief to the king is about the be called.”

Troda pursed his lips slightly. “How would you know that?”

Ewen smiled. “Meden Curo told me.”

“Of course he did. Perhaps I should let Harabor kidnap him. But I am only jesting.” Troda waved his hand. “Proceed.”

“It is my intention, my lord, to take it upon myself to attend that meeting, as present holder of Ternua.”

“If you do not have a proper writ of summons, you will be ejected. However, if you are issued a writ of summons, you may sit by right. You are, after all, a tenant-in-chief of the King, but not by Ternua.”

“I am, my lord.”

Troda paused in thought, and chewed his own slice of boar. “This is a very big thing you are asking, Sir Ewen, I trust you are aware of the legal ramifications; if you are not, I will not enlighten you. Let me make a counter-proposal. If you bring Scina alive and unharmed in two days, I will see that a writ of summons is issued in your name, but you shall vote as I tell you, at least for this council. That is how deals are made, Sir Ewen.” He sipped his wine, and gestured at the spread before them. “Well, I suggest you eat quickly. You have a rescue to effect.”

***

Azura 18, 732

The rising sun revealed a party on horseback riding through the mist. Sir Ewen and his retinue had departed for Heru just before dawn. They had been slightly delayed on account of the fact that Baris had come out wearing his boar helmet. Ewen had scolded him, and taught the knight the meaning of the word “incognito.” Baris, dejected, left the helmet back at the Elf & Dwarf.

They arrived at Heru around six o’clock, almost without incident. Baris had nearly fallen from his horse after he struck a branch concealed by fog, but he managed to save some of his dignity.

The village was quiet, the only sound the whickering of the horses. The common was empty. “I see no army encamped,” Ewen glared at Baris.

“What if they are all in the castle?” Baris said. “They could be camped in the courtyard.”

“Goreg, go to the tavern with the sign of the Red Horse and find out whether Baris is right,” Ewen ordered.

Goreg divested himself of obvious weapons and made his way to the town square. There he saw a gallows, a well, and through the mist he made out a sign of a red horse, swinging in the light wind.

“Good morning, have you come for the breakfast special?” a serving woman asked when the squire made his way inside.

“Excuse me, goodwife,” Goreg began, but the woman interrupted him.

“Oh, I’m no one’s wife, unless you are looking for a wife.”

“Maybe later,” Goreg deflected, and got straight to the point. “Isn’t there supposed to be an armed force here? I heard they were camped out on the east common.”

“Are you a spy?” the serving woman asked breathlessly.

The squire shook his head. “No, I was hoping to join them.”

The woman smiled. “Oh. Well, there are a lot of soldier boys around lately. They are all up at the keep.”

***

“State your business,” said the older of the two guards at the main gate to Caer Heru.

“I wish to see Sir Pawade,” Kaelyn stated. She and Cekiya were trying to get inside the keep. Once inside, the plan was to use her magic to make Scina look like Sir Bereden, and simply walk out.

“Why?” the guard asked.

“I have a matter for his attention,” the mage said.

“It’s not the day for court.”

“It’s not court that I’m after,” Kaelyn said, looking down and smiling shyly.

The other man chuckled lewdly. “You know how he is.”

“I do, but I don’t have to support him in it.”

“Can you just tell him that Kaelyn is at the Hog’s Head, if he wants to,” and she let her voice trail off.

“No,” the older man said.

“Please?”

The guard shook his head.

Kaelyn fiddled with her purse. “What would it take to get the message to him?”

The guard’s eyes flashed, and he showed some rotten teeth. “What do you have to trade?”

“You lost so much gambling,” the younger guard said to the older.

This earned a glare. “Shut the fuck up.”

The mage held up six pence.

“What is your name?”

“Kaelyn,” she answered, and handed over the coins.

“Kaelyn is at the Hog’s Head. I’ll mention it if I see him.”

“Thank you,” the woman said. She gave the other guard a wink and went back into town.

***

“Oh Dunny, Dunny, do me!”

The flickering candle light revealed a thin blonde woman moaning under Sir Dunisel. Soon it was over and the man rolled onto his back, staring at a shabby wooden ceiling.

The blonde got up and wrapped a blanket around her nakedness. “Can I get you something Dunny?”

“Yeah, I need a drink.”

“I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later the blonde returned. “Carotta wants to know if you’re staying the night?”

“Tell her I will,” Dunisel said.

“Okay, I’ll tell her that and then I’ll come back.”


Ewen opened his eyes. “Dunisel is at the Three Sisters, and he’s going to stay the night.”

Sirs Ewen, Baris, and Aeomund, along with Kaelyn and Cekiya, had been waiting at the Hog’s Head for most of the day. Unfortunately, Pawade never showed. They were rather uncomfortably crammed into a room that Ewen had rented for the day, not expecting to wait so long. Eventually, Ewen had tried to clairvoy the man, but could not find him in the ether. His search for Dunisel was more successful, perhaps too successful.

Cooped up all day with nothing to do, Ewen and company had come up with a new plan.

“Perfect,” Aeomund said. “We don’t even need to involve him. Kaelyn can make someone look like him, and we’ll walk right into the keep. As Fago said, he has freedom of the town.”

“But he might know where Scina is,” Ewen said.

Baris shook his head. “The third floor can’t be that big.”

“Cekiya, what was the third floor of the keep like?” Ewen asked.

“There is the balcony to the great hall, there are some soldiers, and Sir Bereden’s quarters,” Cekiya said.

Kaelyn turned the page of her spellbook. “He’s probably in Bereden’s room.”

“Very well,” Ewen said. “One of us will go in disguised as Dunisel, accompanied by Cekiya and Kaelyn. They grab Scina, and get out.”

Kaelyn looked at her companions. “Who is the closest to Dunisel in terms of body, because I can only change the face.”

Aeomund shrugged. “That’s me. I guess I’m going.”

“Okay, Sir Aeomund, what I’m going to do is change your appearance to that of Sir Dunisel. Don’t worry, it won’t be permanent. However, I cannot change your voice, so do your best to disguise it.”

Aeomund nodded, and took a breath. Ever since he had fallen in with this group, things had gotten weirder and weirder. First the exploding heads, and now he was going to be ensorceled. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for luck.

Elsewhere, Larani considered Aeomund’s prayer, and found it offensive.

“Are you ready?” Kaelyn asked.

Aeomund steeled himself. He was going to rescue a man he hated because he had promised a man he esteemed the safe return of his son. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Kaelyn nodded. She began to draw power into her aura. She felt the magic suffuse her being, warming her spirit. The mage began to shape the power, imagining each thrum of energy as a different strand, which she wove into the form she wished. She could feel the power in her hands, and she was ready. She looked at Aeomund, and imagined the face of Sir Dunisel. She covered his face with both hands, and moved them down slowly, as if playing peek-a-boo. As her hands slid down his face, the knight’s appearance changed. His beard withdrew, and was replaced by a mustache. His eyes changed color, and his cheekbones seemed to shift. Before them was the visage of Dunisel.

Success! Kaelyn slowly allowed the energy to flow out of her hands and back into the world, but what was this? There was a knot of energy she had forgotten to unravel, and as she lowered her hands it pulled tight. But there was nothing that could be done for it now, they still had a mission to complete. The mage made herself smile. “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine.” Aeomund looked into a small mirror. “Wow, you did a great job.”

***

“Sir Dunisel. I thought you weren’t coming back this evening.”

Aeomund wore Dunisel’s face, and was alternately leaning against Cekiya or Kaelyn for support. “I changed my mind!” he slurred in Dunisel’s accent.

The guard shrugged and yelled over his shoulder, “Open the gate for Sir Dunisel!”

That was easy, Aeomund thought. This magic was great!

As the trio made their way into the keep, Aeomund noted that all of the men on guard appeared to be wearing Harabor’s colors. “Sir Dunisel, back early!” They nudged each other and laughed. One tried to pinch Kaelyn’s posterior.

“Hey, hands off the goods!” Aeomund snapped. “This isn’t for sharing!”

The three entered the bailey, which had been converted into a barracks. “Hey Dunisel, those are some pretty ones!”

Inside the castle they found more soldiers bivouacked in the great hall. Some diced at the far end of the table, others were repairing their gear.

“Brought us some presents, did ya?” asked a red haired man who was currently replacing a strap on his armor.

“These are not for sharing!” Aeomund slurred.

“Can you tell us where to pour him into?” Kaelyn asked the man.

“Yes, that’s a great question!” exclaimed Aeomund.

Red licked his lips and leered. “We can tell you if you stay here.”

The mage shook her head and suppressed a shudder. “He may have enough for a second act. I’ll stay with the one who paid me, first.”

Red grinned. “You see the second, opening, go through there, first door on the left.”

“Duly noted!” Aeomund said, and promptly turned around and went up the stairs.

“He’s going the wrong way!” one of the other men complained.

“MIND YOUR BUSINESS!”

Laughter chased the trio out. “Dunisel thinks he’s still in charge!”

On the third floor they found more guards on the balcony. Some men were sitting at a small table drinking. From his gestures, one was telling a story of battle. Other men sharpened their weapons. Two men came up to Aeomund and the ladies. One was bearded and the other clean shaven and wore a cloak, apparently a captain. As they were wearing armor, Aeomund surmised they were on duty.

“Sir Dunisel, what is your business here?” the captain asked.

Aeomund slowly turned to Kaelyn and belched. “What was your name?”

The mage pinched her nose. “Kaelyn.”

Aeomund turned back to the guard. “She’s here to see the constable!”

“Why are you here?”

Aeomund looked at him. “This is where he is!”

The captain shook his head. “Dunisel we’ve been through this. This used to be his room, but this is Sir Kornuska’s room now. You are on the second floor.” He turned to the bearded man beside him. “This guy can drink.”

Aeomund lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “Is he in there?”

“Yes.”

Aeomund turned to Kaelyn and smiled lopsidedly. “You wanna meet the first knight of the tournament?”

“I’m sorry, Sir Kornuska left explicit instructions not to be disturbed.” The captain looked at Kaelyn and Cekiya. “He doesn’t have time for doxies.”

“Is the dude with the jacked up face in there? Is that Dariune guy in there?”

“Why would he be?” The captain looked more closely into Aeomund’s eyes. “How much have you had to drink?”

“I gotta show them something!” Aeomund exclaimed.

“You can’t show them the prisoners!”

“Why not?”

“Sir Dunisel, I’m going to have to ask you to go back to the second floor, where you belong.” The captain motioned for some of the other guards to join him, and they moved up to Aeomund and company.

“I’m going, I’m going!” Aeomund said before he could be manhandled, and stumbled off with Kaelyn and Cekiya on his arms.

“The bird must have seen Scina while he was in audience with Kornuska,” Kaelyn whispered as they made their way down the stairs.

Downstairs the three wandered around a bit until they found another guarded door. Perhaps this was where the prisoner was.

Aeomund swaggered up to the guards, who were quite young and must have either drawn the short straw, or been bullied into taking the duty of their elders. “Open the door!”

“Gods, every time,” said the guard on the left, who couldn’t be much older than fifteen; his beard was little more than a rumor. “Sir Dunisel, you know we can’t do that.”

“Perks of office!” Aeomund yelled. OPEN THE DOOR!”

The man waved Aeomund away. “Go sleep it off. Take your doxies …”

“Why can’t you open the door,” Aeomund interrupted.

“Because, Sir Dunisel, these aren’t your quarters. I believe you are more familiar with feudal society, being the son of a manorial lord.”

“Exactly right, so open the godsdamn door!”

The guard shook his head and crossed his arms. “I have my orders.” His voice cracked.

Aeomund whispered to the ladies on his arms, but loud enough for the guards to hear, “I guess we can’t go in.”

At this point, Sir Dunisel was becoming a problem, and the captain from the third floor arrived. He did not look happy. Neither did the men with him. The boy guarding the door sighed in relief.

“Where is the constable!” Aeomund yelled.

“Come with us, Sir Dunisel.” They led Aeomund and the ladies down the hallway to a barred door. “Sir Bereden, Sir Dunisel is here.”

The door opened, and a tired looking Sir Bereden stood there with a cup of wine in his hand. “Sir Dunisel, are you drunk again?”

Aeomund tried to stand up straight, but stumbled. “Maybe.”

Bereden looked at Kaelyn, and then the gathered men. “I know her.” He nodded at Aeomund and the ladies. “You can come in.”

“Sir!” The captain returned to his duties.

Inside the three found a small room with three stone walls and one wooden one. A small spread was sitting half eaten on a table by the door. Once the door was closed, Aeomund dropped his accent and the drunk act. “Sir Bereden, mistress Kaelyn of Aletta here has a proposition for you.”

Bereden blinked. “I know Kaelyn of Aletta.”

The mage looked Bereden in the eye. “And you know who I work for.”

Bereden turned to Aeomund. “Dunisel, what is going on here?”

“That isn’t Dunisel,” Kaelyn said.

Bereden looked confused. “It looks like Dunisel.”

Kaelyn gestured at her companion’s face. “We had Sir Aeomund’s appearance changed to look like Dunisel to get us into the keep.”

Bereden shook his head. “Amazing.”

“The effect will wear off in twenty-four hours, or not at all,” the mage explained.

“Wait, what?” Aeomund said.

“Where is Ewen?” Bereden asked, getting back to the point at hand.

Kaelyn answered. “At the Hog’s Head.”

Bereden smiled. “It’s all about plausible deniability with him. Well, you tell me.” He turned to Cekiya. “What about this one? Aren’t you the one who was creeping about the castle last time you were here?”

The adder shrugged. “I was bored.”

“We would like to effect the freedom of Scina Dariune,” Aeomund said.

Bereden shook his head. “I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”

“Is this a proposition you are willing to assist us in?”

“That rather depends.” Bereden spread his hands. “I am not quite the head man around here anymore.”

Cekiya’s face lit up in a smile. “We can make you head man.”

“Not as long as the Harabors are in charge,” Bereden said.

Cekiya shrugged. “If that’s what it takes, that’s what we will do”.

Aeomund gestured at the door, indicating all the men in the castle. “Sir Bereden, clearly your rights and privileges have been trampled upon by the Harabors.”

“That’s just the thing, they haven’t been,” Bereden replied. “Maldan Harabor holds this castle. I am just his constable.”

“But he does not hold Sir Scina Dariune by right of office or title,” Aeomund said.

“No, he does not,” Bereden agreed.

“Those who want him freed …” Aeomund began.

“His father no doubt,” the constable said.

“… Would help those who assisted in his liberation,” Aeomund continued. “The balance of power in Kaldor is changing, and Sir Ewen Ravinargh has done an excellent job of making himself the fulcrum of change.”

Sir Bereden smiled. “Sir Duniselmund, I would try a different approach. If you are here to effect a change in the captivity of Sir Scina Dariune from the Harabors to that of your master, you might as well just leave, or try to kill me.”

“We are not exchanging a captor for a captor. We are here at the request of Scina’s father the Earl of Balim.”

“There is very little I can do. I am not even in command of my own garrison. They are confined to one barracks. They no longer patrol, they no longer walk the walls, they are confined, well, across the hall.”

“Where is Sir Scina?” Aeomund asked.

“In the room behind me.”

Cekiya kicked the wood lightly. “Let’s go through the wall!”

“What is the use?” Bereden said. “Just because you look like Sir Duniselmund doesn’t mean everyone else will believe you.”

“Leave that to us,” Aeomund said. “If we do this, would you want to come with us? The hole is going to make it obvious you were involved.”

“Just answer me one question. Where is Dunisel?”

“Drunk and passed out at a brothel.”

“The Three Sisters?”

Aeomund nodded.

“I don’t want to involve my men. If I leave, my men may fight for Harabor or someone else later.”

Aeomund raised his fist. “We can give you a knock on the head.”

Bereden nodded. “I think that may be best. You must get to the real Dunisel. You must tell him what happened. He will be our conduit.” The constable touched the wall. “Outside Scina’s room are two guards. All you have to do is get rid of those two, quietly. Past them is the northeast tower. Its leads to the rampart by the gatehouse. Jump the rampart and you will be out.”

Aeomund nodded. “Ok, let’s make that hole.”

Bereden smiled and knelt. “Already taken care of.” He took out his dagger and loosened a panel in the wall. “Sir Scina!”

***

“Just this little girl is going to take out those guards? I don’t think so. I’ll send my knights.” Scina said. His voice was weak from his throat wound.

Scina and his men had been quite surprised when a man who appeared to be Sir Dunisel and two women crawled through the hole to Bereden’s room. They had been even more surprised when Dunisel had announced he was there to rescue them! But they could not believe that Cekiya was going to take care of the guards outside the door.

“This is what she does,” Kaelyn said.

“I know this is weird, Sir Scina, but she can do this,” Aeomund said.

Scina shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

One of Scina’s knights spoke up. “My lord, let me!”

As the argument continued, Cekiya disappeared. She went back through Bereden’s room and out the door. “Honey, why are you still dressed? Don’t go with those knights, go with the best!” She ignored the catcalls and rushed around the corner. There she found the guards Bereden had mentioned, blocking the way to the tower.

“I’m here to get some special ale!” the girl said.

One of the guards blinked. “Special ale?”

“It’s in the tower, I thought.”

The man thought for a moment, and apparently decided he didn’t care enough, and waved Cekiya by. As she passed between the men, daggers appeared in both her hands and there was a flash of movement. A cut appeared on each man and within seconds, eyes goggling, they collapsed.

A few seconds later the door to Scina’s room burst open and he and his knights rushed into the hallway, weapons at the ready.

They found Cekiya standing atop two bodies; the poison she had used was quite potent. The adder sheathed her tiny blades and looked back at the knights. “It’s this way.”

***

“I’m looking for Dunisel,” Ewen said. The knight was in the common room of the Three Sisters, a place he had previously only seen in his mind’s eye.

“Right this way milord,” the man said, and grabbed a lantern.

Once they were upstairs, ten more pence joined the coins already in the man’s hand. The first payment had been for information, this one was for silence. “I wasn’t here,” Ewen took the lantern. “Wait in the hall.”

Ewen found Dunisel in a squalid room that smelled of piss and vomit. The knight was lying on his stomach, his face buried in his own drool. Dunisel rolled over and squinted at the light coming from the lantern. “I know you, Ewen isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s been a strange night. Go back to the castle right now, secretly. People are going to ask you some confusing questions. Say nothing until you speak to Sir Bereden.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because I’m your only friend here. The situation is complicated. Play your cards right, and you may be in a position to take advantage of it someday.”

Something about Ewen’s voice bespoke command. Dunisel sat up and looked Ewen in the eye. “I will talk to Bereden and see what he says.”

“I was never here, and I never said this.” And then Ewen was gone.

***

It was nearly four in the morning when Ewen’s party, along with Scina and his men, prepared to depart Heru. As they checked the gear on their horses, Scina looked closely at Aeomund. “Dunisel, what are you up to?’

“It is I, Sir Aeomund,” said the man who worse Dunisel’s face.

Scina gritted his teeth. “No, that can’t be right.”

Goreg trotted over to the knights. “Let’s go, if we leave now, we can get back to the city by dawn!”

Scina looked at Aeomund. “Who is this man!”

“A squire,” the other knight answered.

“Squires should not interrupt knights. Just tell me, if you really are Aeomund.” Scina touched his throat. “How did this happen?”

“We last met on the field of battle. My lance caused that wound.”

Scina’s eyes went wide and his face lost a little color. “This is sorcery.”

Aeomund straightened his shoulders. “I promised your father I would get you home.”

“Very well, I will ride with you.”

***

The party entered Raven Hall in the wee hours of the morning, having delivered Scina to Balim House and promising to return later to further discuss the matter.

Aeomund stopped as he was going up the stairs and looked at Kaelyn. “So, when does this spell wear off again?”
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Matt
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