After the shouting died down some, I sat back in the little room, exhausted. I truly don’t like being someone else’s messenger, and I think Mahar specifically gave me that information so I would be the one to take all the heat for it. Eventually they did calm down though, which made conversation somewhat easier to accomplish.
Mahar was less than popular with them still, but they grudgingly admitted that it was better their friend was offered some measure of quarter rather than just be killed outright. They ended up writing a note to their friend, and forwarding it on to the Shadowspire. The gist I got from it was that they were happy he was still alive, saddened that they hadn’t heard from him, and hoped they’d see him again when he got done and freed of his obligation.
Once heads had cooled considerably, I left them and headed to my room. Settling in that night I had time to consider all the things that had gone on around me. I opened my window to watch the swallows and bats compete for insects against the darkening sky. Its deep blue began to show stars while I watched. After the darkness settled completely I closed the sash and the drapes. Digging through my satchel, I dragged out the Ephemerals and the two books I’d recovered from Sheng’s gear but had never had time to indulge myself with. They were books on aspects of arcana dealing with fire – a subject I’ve often found interesting, but have not examined closely myself, because of my alliances with the Winter Fey.
I worked through the better part of a bottle of wine as well as a tray of cheeses brought to me by one of the serving staff while reading the books. They were really quite fascinating, and considering some of their styles of spellcasting were very similar to my own, it didn’t seem out of line that I might be able to learn a thing or two.
Besides, there’s something satisfying about setting your enemy on fire that I just like the thought of. I was just closing the book when I thought of what I’d heard on the street.
They’d brought their curse with them. The woman had obviously harbored an anger for the refugees from Tarsis. Could one of the refugees we’d rescued have been a ghoul? I couldn’t imagine it to be so, as ghouls have a distinct appearance and smell, though I suppose one might have trailed their caravan on the way up. However it got here, a ghoul infection in Al’Veydra would be bad news for everyone. I thought it over for a while, and noted to meet up with J’Tiel the next day.
I settled to sleep to the sound of crickets.
In my dream, I was in a glorious mansion of red and black marble, tapestries of fantastic detail adorning the walls. I think you handled that well, Voedle was there to greet me when I shut my eyes. He was standing at the top of a finely-wrought staircase, holding a clear glass of red wine.
“Yes? What are you referring to?” I looked at myself – I was dressed in my adventuring gear, but my hands were completely clean and well-manicured. My clothes were in perfect shape. I’m sure somewhere a mystic would read some bogus significance into this.
I just enjoy the sensation of being clean.
The conversation with Mahar, Voedle had a thoughtful tone. He’s ambitious, and already got himself in hot water by taking a side among the Legions. You might have piqued his curiosity. He strolled down the stairs, swirling the glass before him. He looked as he did in life, dressed in the finery of a noble house, a rich brocade vest with a knee-length fur kilt. A silk shirt open to the chest showed a medallion of some ancient design. Voedle’s skin was a light yellow, and his eyes violet, with blue-rimmed ovoid pupils like a goat’s. That was how one could tell Shadrim apart from infernals – Shadrim don’t have visible pupils, our eyes are the same color throughout.
Some necromancer somewhere is probably capturing Shadrim just to take their eyes and dissect them, in order to find out why and how that is.
“Or his greed,” I suggested. He joined me, and we walked casually down the hall.
Is there such a strong difference when it comes to us? Voedle enjoyed the humor of the moment.
“So he really is an Infernal then?” We turned into a library parlor, and I poured myself a strong blue distillate into a crystal tumbler from the sideboard.
Yes, though not of a specific type I’ve been familiar with. Then again, your kind rarely follow a typical path to ascendance. He started working his way along the stacks. You have interesting taste in books, for one who fell into the arcane through a bargain.
“I did not enter the Cairn Jale as a warlock,” I looked around at the books as well, somewhat humbled by my own imagination. “I was a historian and a story-teller, a Commander in rank before I left.”
Yes, I followed your career from a distance, through Balenor. He pulled down a volume and cracked it open. Why do you keep these?
“I don’t choose to, they stay of their own accord.” He was reading a history of the campaign against the minotaur nation of Gaeth’s Mountain, one of the earliest true victories of Bael Turath, ages before the Blood Compact.
Mahar must have given you this. He looked up at me.
“He did,” I nodded. Steering the topic back to my old commanding officer, I added: “I could really use some allies here, let’s hope it worked.”
Well, allies are one thing, he’s another. He closed the book with a snap and shelved it.
“What do you mean?” I turned a padded leather chair around and sat in it, facing him.
He sat across from me. He’s a mercenary. Paid for hire. His loyalty only extends so far as his pocket.
“Do you really think so little of him?”
I never knew him well, until he turned against Balenor. Perhaps my opinion is tainted by this.
“What do you know of that? And how well do you know Balenor?” I finished off the liquor in my glass and debated returning to the sideboard for another. While I have a magnificent capacity for forging dreams and nightmares, the only place I was likely to hire a butler for this mansion was one from which I didn’t need help in my own mind. The residents of Taer Lian Doresh might enjoy their job a little too much.
But then, that might not be a bad idea.
What I know of that rebellion is not for me to tell, and very well. He brought me into the Legion, you know.
“I think he mentioned that once, a great many years ago.” I stood to refill my glass, after all. I pointed at his, the question on my face. He nodded and held it out for me to take.
So, you have your whiskey. Will you return early to see the Smith?
“Not yet, no. Were I a craftsman, I would be upset with an impatient customer. The less upset I make him, the less chance of…well, of him killing me.” I refilled his glass, and frowned. There was water here, but no ice. But that, now, was not a problem for me. One of the benefits of having secret channels into Levistus and Fey Winter means that ice is never far. I reached my hand through a small rip in space and retrieved a handful of the glowing crystalline shards there. Changing drinks, I poured a clear vodka over the violet crystals.
At least, in dreams, one could mix drinks without hazard. Returning to Voedle, I handed him his wine. “I am wondering what other payment he will be asking for when I return. It can’t be so simple as a barrel of whiskey.”
You don’t think he’s actually reasoning through all this, do you? He drank from the glass. Good wine, by the way.
I inclined my head in thanks for the recognition. “What do you mean?”
He looked into his glass, contemplating for a while. At this stage, he may very well be on automatic – he builds things on the forge because that’s what he’s always done. It might be best to leave him that way as much as you can. He is a weapons-master for a reason – he desires hurt upon those who enslaved him. He expresses that need through his craftsmanship – and there has never been a finer. For a being of such power to be enslaved is a terrible blow to one’s ego – and to be forgotten for a thousand years in his prison, well, one can nurse a terrible thirst for vengeance in that amount of time. He looked over at me.
I didn’t need an explanation of that. “I see. Something you’re not telling me, then?”
Just don’t get on his bad side. You may already be, just by being a member of your race.
“What about you? What of your bad side?”
Oh, I’ve got one, make no mistake. Fortunately you’re not on it. You know the vengeance I seek, and you’re a willing party to it. That, and you’re family, after all. He grinned at this. Who would have thought that we’d meet again in this way, hmm?
I concurred. “It is a strange world, yes.”
So if you’re not going to the Smith right away, where will you go?
With some circumspection, I said, “I think perhaps I’ll detour along my return.”
Voedle raised his eyebrows. That’s not a real answer, you know.
“I was thinking of perhaps paying a visit to the City of Brass.”
* * *
“Good morning, everyone.” I said as I strolled into the small dining room set aside for us. “Did you sleep well?”
Nemmy grunted, Horace was semi-conscious in his chair. Both had obviously stayed up drinking. Lotonna had an enormous ham steaming in front of him – probably one of the two Duchan usually puts on a spit in the early morning – and was shredding it with his teeth. Kineta was eating quietly, but loked up at me with a smile as I came in.
Smile. That’s a good sign.
“Yes, I slept very well, thanks. This is a nice place.” She waved around at the walls.
“Not worth doing if it isn’t worth doing properly,” I responded. “Thanks.”
“Where will you go now?”
“I think back to the Overspill Market, and from there to the City. I’ve never been there, and I’d like to have a look around. Seems like a great opportunity, since I have a little time.” I sat down across from her. She was wearing the same robe today, but a different blouse beneath it. She remained enchanting just in her appearance to me.
“You seem to be on a schedule, waiting for something. That’s what I meant. What is it?”
A server came in with my breakfast. “I have commissioned a weapon to be built, I am waiting for it to be done. I also will need to connect up with my other friends when they return from their current objective. What about you?”
“We’re a bit aimless right now, had been thinking to go to Vor Kragal to see what we could dig up there, but really hadn’t come to any decisions.”
Hmm. “Why don’t you come with me? There’s fun of all sorts in the City of Brass, or at least so I’m told.”
“Me?” She looked at me demurely. “What about…?” She inclined her head to point in the general direction of the snoring Horace, feasting Lotonna, and groaning Nemmy.
“They’d be welcome too, of course – we could all go. I’ve never been there, and it would be fascinating to me.”
“I’ll ask – I want to say yes, but…”
“I know, loyalty to friends. I completely understand.” I dug into the omelet with a lot more enthusiasm than I expected – I was really hungry.
We ate in silence for a while. She finally set her fork down and looked across at me. “What about your friends?”
I chewed through a cheek-full of ham and washed it down with some full milk. “What about them?”
“Why aren’t you with them?”
“You know, I don’t really know the answer to that question. We finished our last job, and had to leave Banner for a while. We’d heard tell of a fellow who was aiming to get to this strange tomb up North. He was a rival of a colleague we knew, and it seemed…unwise…to let him accomplish his goal. But for some reason I had this urge to return to Vor Kragal, we’d just been there. I couldn’t let it lie. Almost like…” I drifted off, thinking about it.
“Like you were called there?” She suggested, fork back in her hand and twisting some spinach around.
“Something like that, yes. I don’t really belong there, it’s not like it was my home or anything, but something pulled me to it.”
“Interesting. Many of your people seem to feel that.” That was the first time she’d referred to my race. It didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, but it bothered me that it put an otherness between us. “But wouldn’t your friends go with you?”
“I was the reason we went the first time. And I’m not so sure I can call them friends, you know? They’re just people I travel with, I don’t get the feeling I’m really entirely wanted there.” I was a little surprised with myself even saying this, though I could certainly feel it was true. “It’s not as if we haven’t gone through our fair share of scrapes, I just don’t think they feel all that comfortable around me.”
She listened to all this silently. I could tell what she was thinking, I’m sure, though she was being very diplomatic to not say it.
“Anyway,” I switched the topic over. “I need to make a quick trip to the keep, then let’s get that wagon and go.”
She took a moment to let go of what she wanted to continue with and nodded. Looking over at the other two, she glanced back at me. “An hour? Does that work for you?”
“Sure,” I affirmed. “I’ll be back before then, and we can retrieve the wagon on the way to the distillery.”
It was again another beautiful day, which I enjoyed thoroughly on the way to the keep. I chewed on a big hunk of celery on the way over, and marveled at the smells in the air. There was going to be an excellent honey crop this year, from the look of it. I reminded myself to mention to Ysolde to buy up a lot of it for a big run of medovina and a batch of brandy.
I made my financial arrangements in the keep vault and spoke to J’Tiel about my ghoulish suspicions. He confirmed that his pack of Fellbane had drawn the scent too, and were working on it. His eyes lit up when I handed him my old ritual book, in which was inscribed Corpselight, but his optimistic expression dipped severely when I mentioned the Cavra ghouls, creations of Casavas, that looked and appeared natural for all intents and purposes. I was pretty sure Cavras were undead and would be picked up in the ritual spell, but one could never be too sure.
When I returned, Duchan had already fitted the wagon up to a small horse, and my bag was stowed in it. I thanked him and paid him for the horse and gear. Kineta emerged a few minutes later, leading the others. Lotonna bodily lifted Nemmy into the wagon before throwing his own bag into it. He was outfitted with a full set of scale armor, each scale holding interesting runic patterns on them, and across his back was an axe whose head was as broad as my torso.
Memo to me, no pissing off the beefsteak.
Horace was also geared up, though he was carrying his sword rather than wearing it, and Nemmy had a couple of small knives and (very) short swords arranged on him. He promptly leaned against a pack and went to sleep in the wagon. Lotonna went for the reigns, but the horse shied away from him with a frightened whinnie.
“Let me, you’re scaring the beast, you ugly bastard,” Horace mumbled.
Lotonna laughed quietly. “Alright, pretty-boy, let’s remember that next time you try to talk up a hobgoblin.”
“Was drunk, and she had huuuge ti…”
“That’s enough of that, I think, boys,” Kineta stopped them midsentence. “Time to go.”
Horace lowered his hands from the cupping gesture he’d been making and squinted. “Yep, okay, time to go.”
We walked on towards the distillery. As we did, I managed to pull up next to Horace. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “I once tried to score with one of the medusae.” He looked a little startled at that.
I thumbed my hand over my shoulder, back towards the inn. “That’s her head on the mantle, back in there.”
“I hope that that wasn’t exactly how you planned it turning out.”
* * *
We emerged in a section of the market I didn’t recognize, the horse a little startled at the transition. The six variously-sized barrels in the back of the wagon strapped down in case of bumps (I’d given the smallest to Horace as a gift, and taken four more to sell in the City if I could).
The square in which we’d emerged had no less than ten circles inscribed on it, with a single enormous circle surrounding them all. Its designs were sunk deep in a plate of black stone I did not recognize, using copper or bronze poured into the carved-out sigils. I had no idea why they didn’t use brass, it’s not as if there wasn’t enough of it here. From the look of it, the outer circle caught the end of the portal tendril, and directed it to an unoccupied circle within itself. I was fascinated with the design, I hadn’t realized such modification could be done.
Kineta saw me looking around. “Yeah, neat, isn’t it? There are three more of these, on each of the other cardinal points of the city – this is the Westerly.”
I grinned, not exactly sure what to say.
The City lived up to its name – the walls of every building were a bright, shining brass (I have no idea the cost of the enchantments required to keep all that from tarnish). Enormous structures, hundreds of feet tall, were covered with glass or crystal, and the place gleamed in the thrown light of fires whose source I couldn’t see. The sky was black, I suppose this was night-time, and a strange soft rain was falling (at least this was of water).
Atop the taller buildings, lights blinked, alternately red, blue, and white, and all around us the brass and crystal walls were carved and painted in vast murals and frescoes, bass reliefs and carved patterns. This city was remarkably alive, even the hot breezes felt living.
“Some parts of the city, you won’t be able to take her,” Nemmy pointed to the horse. “And the wagon will burn. We’ll keep you clear of those.”
“He means he’ll keep him clear of those,” Kineta amended him. “Last time we ventured into the city, the rodent set his own toe hair on fire before telling us he had no protection from the flames.”
“I wish you’d stop calling me that,” Nemmy pouted.
Kineta just grinned over at me.
“Come on, the market’s this way,” Horace led us all down a street to the side away from where we entered. We walked among the circles, and as we did one on the far side manifested a gate, through which emerged one of the dunkel centaurs, a drider, and her retinue.
Most curious.
“Be on your toes here. There are laws, but they don’t favor us. You’re allowed to defend yourself and your property, but ‘defense’ is a loose term here. And do NOT agree to anything without being sure you know the terms. Accept no gifts or favors, and offer none.” Lotonna recited this as if he were reading off a card. His voice echoed dully back from the walls of the city around us.
We marched up to a small booth, barely two yards on a side, which had a window in it. Inside, a slender woman whose hair was literally on fire sat and looked with boredom at our little band. It took me a moment before I came to the realization that she must have been of the Genasi race, elemental-kin.
Horace stepped up first.
“State your name, place of origin and purpose of stay please.” The tired creature said.
“Horace, umm…do you mean where I just was, or where I was born?”
“Birthplace, sir,” she replied.
“Logan’s Haven, then. Visiting, I’m a tourist.”
“Five yits of silver, please.”
He handed her three silver coins, I didn’t see what make they were. She placed them on a scale beside her and counterweighted them. The tray on which the coins rested turned light orange, and descended, indicating his payment was more than the weight of her measures. She drew off one of the coins and gauged it, before placing it on a block and pulling down a large steel pincer blade. The coin was snipped at about two-thirds of its diameter cleanly.
She placed the larger piece back on the tray, which then balanced perfectly. She offered him back the smaller piece.
“Keep it, enjoy,” he said. She grinned back at him, pleased with his gesture.
Nemmy mumbled from behind me: “His chat-up reflex is going to get his dingaling incinerated here, if he’s not careful.” I chuckled, and Lotonna laughed out loud while cracking his hand against the side of the wagon. Of course, this startled the horse again, and he settled back immediately.
Kineta gave them both a cold stare.
My turn came up, and I led the wagon forward.
“Name, place of origin, purpose of your visit, please,” she had gone back to boredom again.
“Azrael, umm, the city of Ichaer, and both business and visiting.”
“What goods are you carrying, sir?”
“Two barrels and two tuns of whiskey. One barrel is personal, and one cask belongs to Horace, there.” I waved back at the wagon. “Also one horse-drawn wagon.”
She looked at a chart on her wall, cross referencing something. “Does the halfwise belong to you?”
“No, he’s not mine,” I replied. Hadn’t been asked that in a while.
“Five silver yits for your personal entry, five for your wagon, two each for the barrels, and one each for the tuns…sixteen total, please.”
I handed her nine silver coins of about the same size as those Horace had given. “If there’s any extra, keep it please.”
She grinned again, and did her measurements. I didn’t bother to look at whether she had a thumb on the scales or not. She passed me in a moment later. The others followed through quickly, Nemmy casting an angry glance over his shoulder as he walked by.
We walked down a street of red cobbles, smoothly carved and tightly spaced. Alternating white stones in among them made an interesting pattern. Around us moved a few other people, mostly efreeti – their skin and clothing gave them away when one couldn’t see the faces. None looked closely at us, I suppose we didn’t look all that remarkable here.
Before long, I began to notice an increase in the number of people and their variety while we walked, which indicated to me that we were certainly getting lose to the market. Sure enough, the buildings opened wide to an enormous stone-garden, filled with wind-carved stones of orange and tan, and populated with a vast number of stalls and booths. I climbed halfway up a large lamp-post where we entered to get a true feeling for how big the place was, and was rewarded with a view that seemed to extend for miles.
“Does it ever end?” I asked them.
“It does, but it’s a good three miles down that way. Even then, we have to have the Overspill, which continues for about two miles in the canyon of Vanots Kabre.”
I slid down again. “How did Vanots ever win such rights? And why is it so small? With access to a market like that, I would imagine it would grow bigger than Banner.”
Kineta answered without looking at me, she was drinking in the scenery too. “Don’t really know, but I think the people of Vanots Kabre were offered payment and accepted. And that town may yet grow, you never can tell. The rest of our world is still rough enough to be considered unexplored.”
“Very nice. How about we grab some food?” Nemmy said, impatiently.
“You just ate!” Lotonna exclaimed. “I swear, halfwise, you eat more than I do.”
We hunted down a roasting stall, and Nemmy got his food, while I looked about for a beverage vendor. I had tapped a smaller keg as a sampler, and after visiting three places, had managed to sell off all the extra I’d brought along. I had a gulp to celebrate, and the others joined me in toasting the success. All three of the shop-owners had requested details of how to find my distillery, which told me I perhaps should be investing in a portal circle back in Al’Veydra.
Once things settled down, that is.
While we were wandering about, we passed by a booth of wood and stone, actually more of a small house. Out front a countertop was arranged with a few small daggers and a helm, and behind the counter, sipping at a cup of something hot, was a dunkel who looked remarkably familiar. He had his left nostril just slightly larger than the right, and his ears curved up and back slightly instead of straight up. He was watching the crowd casually, lost in thought, until his eyes settled on me.
He swallowed and eyed me cautiously. “May I be of assistance?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have several brothers in the business of magical enchantments? Huelvar, Quelvar, and Delvar?”
His eyes brightened. “Indeed I do, and you’re quite well-traveled if you’ve met them each well enough to see the family resemblance.” He inclined his head to me. “I am Trelvar, sir…?”
Not much point in disguising the name, I thought. “Azrael, of Al’Veydra. Pleased to meet you.”
“Were you looking to do some business today, sir?”
I thought it over. “I hadn’t really, but now that you mention it, I suppose I do have a few things that I’ve little use for, but which you might value for trade.” I dug through my haversack for a moment, and retrieved the gear I had taken from the bodies of Kurrian’s companions. Stephan’s bow in particular, Ugor’s sword, and the one blade I’d relieved Kurrian of. I also drew out Morgan’s crossbow and bolts, but turned with it to the others first.
“Any of you have interest in this before I offer it up?” I hefted the small stock.
Nemmy looked among the others, then quickly stepped up. “Me! Yes, I do.” I handed it down to him, and he shouldered it a couple times. “Yes, please, can we talk about this when you’re done there?”
“Sure, no problem. You,” I looked to Kineta, “might prefer this.” I handed her Sheng’s wand. She took it slowly, not sure how to respond. “I only have two hands, and it might prove useful. Take it.” She grinned and started examining the thin spire of metal.
I also laid out some minor miscellany that I’d identified as enchanted from among Kurrian’s people. Trelvar pushed the weapons to one side, and fingered through the various bits and pieces I’d set down. “Individually, not worth very much, but you’ve accumulated quite a little stock here,” he muttered. “I might have something, please wait here.”
He then went inside his tiny hamlet, and out of my sight. While we waited, I spied a stall down the way a bit selling leather goods, which I made a note to myself to visit.
In a few moments he returned, carrying a small silk pouch. Opening the drawstrings, he retrieved a rough-looking stone. It was the color of charcoal, and about as big around as the base of my thumb. As I was holding it, it felt as though it was wanting to move of its own accord.
“A lodestone,” Trelgar explained. “If you focus your will on a specific plane to which you desire to travel, it determines for you the direction you need to travel, and roughly how far to go.” I took this in while hefting the thing.
“It is also suitable for beating kobolds and goblins, sir,” he eyed me with a slight smile as he said this last. I grinned back, and nodded, then pushed the small pile of goods back to him. I looked back over my shoulder, and thought of the forests around Al’Veydra, and the meadowed fields around Ichaer. The stone pulled towards the far side of the market, and somehow I felt it was indicating where I knew the Overspill Market to lie.
I turned back to the weapons before me. I tapped Horace, who was looking at a bakery shop the way we came, and motioned to Lotonna. As both approached, I showed them the weapons arrayed out on the surface before me.
“Either of you got a use for any of those?” I waved with my hand at them.
Lotonna shook his head. “I am grateful for the offer, but I have my axe, and have no use for a bow.”
Horace looked uncomfortable.
“There’s no obligation here,” I said.
“I know, I just…I don’t like taking things from people. Not without a fair trade. You might not feel an obligation, but I do.” He fidgeted a bit.
“This?” I pointed to Ugor’s sword. “Let me see yours, please,” I asked. He unsheathed his blade and handed it over, hilt-first. I looked the two over. While I could see that Horace’s weapon was nice, and I liked its balance, I could tell that the blade that I was offering was of a material wholly stronger and sharper. Ugor’s was of adamantine metal, and would carve steel given the right pressure.
“Make you a deal, Horace,” I considered for a moment. “You trade me this blade of mine in exchange for yours, and for consideration against the first thing we find together that you and I both have a desire for. Here, test them against one another.” I offered both hilts to him.
He hefted them each in turn, gave a few practice thrusts. “It is nice, that’s for sure.”
“That’s my offer, do you consider it fair?”
“Oh yes, certainly. Yes, I’ll take it.” He transferred both weapons to his left hand, spat in his right, and offered it for a shake. Although I’m not a big fan of a wet palm, I spat in my own right hand and shook his. Then wiped mine off with a grin. He added his old sword to the table, and I turned back to Trelgar.
“So, the bow and the sword, what do you think?”
He looked the two over for a few moments. “The…estate from which the lodestone was acquired did have some other items that I also took up, which I thought you might find of interest.” He pulled out another silken pouch and opened it to reveal a small brass sphere, with a slight line bisecting it. He twisted the two halves of the sphere, and opened it smoothly to reveal a series of lenses and what looked to be tuning controls.
“Should the location revealed by the lodestone prove…inconvenient,” he said, “This device can open a temporary portal to bring you into the plane you desire, and will bring you into the place where your own current location corresponds in it. It may also help you orient yourself in the new place once you have arrived.”
He looked at the two items before him, closing the sphere and setting it on its bag before me. He slid the bow towards him. “For this, I think?”
I thought it over, and nodded. That would be quite handy, indeed.
“And now, your friend’s sword,” he said contemplatively. “I haven’t anything of the same caliber, but perhaps what I lack in direct power I can make up for in specific usefulness.”
He drew from his pouch a pair of thin leather gloves, which had small hardened patches across the back and open pores on the insides, to enable easy skin contact with what the wearer was holding. “To someone of your profession, these are quite…hmm…handy. No pun intended, of course.”
“What are they?” I had never seen something like these before.
“Put them on, you’ll understand.” He offered them to me.
Hesitantly I took them from him, and slipped them on. For starters, they fit perfectly. As I flexed my hands, I could feel a sensation of tingling entering my hands where they came into contact with my skin.
Ah, those are for you alright, Voedle’s voice echoed in my ears. We used to call them Yuvan’s Gloves, he was the first pactbinder known to have come up with the idea. They enable you to tie your spiritual curse to an element, so instead of simply ripping a piece of something’s soul free, you can freeze it, burn it away, or dissolve it as if with acid. The effect can be quite dramatic, and actually becomes visible to the naked eye. Quite good if you’re fighting something that is particularly vulnerable to one of those.
I tested my grip with them on, using Horace’s sword as a reference. Solid, and in fact, somewhat better than bare-handed.
“They look rather good, as well,” Trelgar said.
I thought it over for a moment, though my mind was already made up. “Okay, it’s a deal.” He scooped up the sword and stashed it below his counter.
“I’m reminded, Trelgar – are these of any interest to you?” I pulled out the pouch of gems I’d recovered from the back of the bulette in Vor Kragal. “They have some residual enchantment, although aside from their gemstone value I don’t know quite what to do with them.”
He took one and turned it over between his fingers. “Yes, I would consider them in trade, though I’ve nothing left to show you – I can only retrieve so many items for a single customer.”
I didn’t really understand, but accepted his refusal politely. “Fair enough, I’ll set them aside and next time I visit we can discuss them as well.”
He nodded agreement. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, sir.”
I bowed slightly. “And you. My regards to your brothers, and thanks for your assistance here.”
I almost turned away, then looked up. Eyeing the cup he had, I asked “Trelgar, do you drink?”
He appeared thoughtful for a moment. “I have been known to tip a glass from time to time.”
“Have you an empty jug?”
His right eyebrow went up. Silently he held up one thin finger for me to wait. After a moment of looking, he produced a small clay jug. I walked back to the wagon, and topped the container off with Winter’s Fall. I corked his container up and returned it to him. “Thanks again for your help, and I hope you enjoy it.”
He opened the cork and sniffed carefully. “I suppose it would be unwise to partake of this before dealing with customers?”
Horace laid a finger on the side of his nose and nodded. “Hoboy, yes, that’s the case there.”
Trelgar smiled thinly and stowed he jug out of sight. “My thanks, and may your new acquisitions serve you well.”
We moved on. Horace made it to the bakery, and I got to the leatherworker’s place. I was just trying on a new overcoat when he came up, stuffing a large chunk of brown bread into his face. Kineta and the others were off somewhere while I led my wagon around.
“Very you, Shadrim,” he said approvingly of the thick black leather draped over my shoulders.
“Thanks. Going for the evil overlord look, it works?”
“Oh yeah. How much are they asking for that?” He checked the weight of it. “Heavy. What is that?”
“Bebilith hide,” I passed on. I turned to the vendor. “How much?”
“Sixty kerrits.” He replied. I think that came out to about three hundred gold crowns, and I practically gagged on my tongue.
I took the cloak off and laid it back on his shelf. “Two things – first one is that I need a money-changer. Second is that I’m coming back here, and we’ll start talking at twenty kerrits and see where we go from there.”
He looked a bit upset at that, as he took up the cloak and returned it to its hanger, but I could tell he was feigning his upset.
We walked on a ways, and eventually I found my money-changer. We found Lotonna and Nemmy throwing handaxes in a target contest a little while later. It was a little hard to believe, but the halfwise not only could throw an axe well, but he was getting better travel out of it than the minotaur was. He sank a second bullseye right next to his first as we approached.
As it sank in with a ring of metal, the little man raised his hands and started hopping a dance around. “Take that, t-bone!”
Lotonna stomped once, and I swear I felt the ground shake a little even from where we stood. I looked in surprise over at Horace, who was grinning like an all-souls pumpkin. “They do this all the time, man.”
Nemmy backed up and gestured with his hands as if to say “It’s all yours.”
Lotonna threw his first, which spun a bit too quickly, and ended up sinking in the bottom of the target, well outside of the high-scoring zone. He chuffed loudly and strong enough to ruffle the halfwise’s hair.
His second shot went wide by about six inches. At this point the game was over, and Nemmy pumped his fists at his sides.
Lotonna looked down at the halfwise, his massive fist clenching and loosening on the haft of his remaining axe. I swear, I was about to intervene, it really looked like he was going to bury that axe in the little guy’s head.
Without even looking, Lotonna flicked his axe with a powerful sideswipe, sending it sailing across the contest area like a boomerang. It sank in the target so hard that the thing was knocked against its backstop and rolled a full revolution into the corner of the throwing area.
His shot had sliced both handles off of Nemmy’s bullseyes, clean as a razor.
“Hoooo, time for Nemmy to buy the big steak a drink.” Horace walked up to the two as Lotonna was dropping a gold coin into Nemmy’s outstretched palm. I leaned against the wagon, wondering at what was being said, but happy it wasn’t me that had pissed off the giant.
They walked back to me a few moments later.
“Where are you guys going to be?” I asked.
Nemmy looked up and down the lane, then pointed. “There – that looks like drinks.” Where he pointed, a series of tables with various people sitting at them and chatting.
“Okay, take the wagon, will you? I’m going back to that leather shop.” Horace nodded and took the reins. “See you in a second.”
I hurried back to the leather booth, slowing down as I approached so as not to appear too eager. The shopkeep saw me coming, and pulled down the cloak.
We haggled for a little while, and eventually we landed on fifty kerrits – definitely more than I had wanted to pay, but hell, it was a nice cloak. He bundled it up in dry paper and twine for me.
I was walking back with my purchase when I realized Kineta was walking beside me.
“What’d you get?” She was looking at the brown bundle I carried under my arm.
“New cloak. Last winter convinced me it’d be a good idea.”
She nodded. “I imagine Taer Dian Loresh gets chilly.”
I was a little surprised that she knew that, but I suppose legend gets around in arcane circles. “You find anything good?” I asked.
“Yeah, new bracelet,” she stretched out her arm to show me. A fine gold braid with three sapphires gleamed in the sun.
“That is nice! Where’d you find it?”
She pointed behind us. “There’s a jeweler back there. I saw it last time we were here, a week or so ago. Decided I might as well. Besides, I got paid recently.” She grinned.
“Yeah, that helps, doesn’t it?”
We chatted a bit more on the way back to the others, nothing of consequence, but it felt good to have no concerns beyond the moment.
Drinks were waiting for us when we found them – I settled in and took a really long pull on the beer before me. It was remarkably good, in fact, though whether due to any inherent quality or just my being completely parched in this heat I couldn’t tell.
“The only man I know who buys a new cloak in a city that never grows cool,” Nemmy said, grinning.
“Hey, where else will I find this kind of good deal?”
Lotonna pointed at the package. “May I?”
I spread my hands before me and pushed it over. He unfolded the package and drew out the cloak. The leather glistened as if wet, and an iridescent sheen shifted over its surface. “Very nice,” he offered.
“Thanks, I rather like it too.”
Horace looked back to me from the cloak. “What’d you get him down to?”
“Only fifty, he really wouldn’t budge below that. Still, I’d never be able to get that at home.” I held the leather in one hand, testing the surface. “I’m thinking that a stormwalker enchantment will settle into this material rather nicely.”
“You need one done?” Kineta asked.
“I have such a cloak already, but if you are able to move it, I’d be grateful.”
She nodded. “Long as you have the components.” I produced a bag right off and dropped it on the table in front of her.
“Gee, it’s as if he expected you to say that,” Horace chuckled. She drew up the bag and looked inside. “Okay, first chance we get. Which reminds me, here we are. Who’s got a plan?”
I looked around casually. “Well, I didn’t give anyone any indication where we were going aside from the four of you, and I’ve had one ‘chance’ meeting already, so I doubt you’re about to kill me.”
“Night’s young,” Nemmy said after wiping foam off his lips.
“Thanks for that, whiskers.”
“Hey!”
Kineta held up a hand. “All right, enough. You said you had a month before you were due back, so that means three more weeks carting this thing,” she motioned at the wagon, “around. Not the most convenient solution.”
“Yeah, in hindsight I should have stopped in there last, but I couldn’t guarantee Al’Veydra wouldn’t be watched by then.”
“What do those barrels weigh?” She looked at them calmly.
“The big one is about four hundred pounds. The smallers are about fifty or seventy-five each. I see where you’re going, and they’d fit by weight, but the bag’s mouth is too small.” I patted the haversack inside my jerkin.
She pursed her lips – which was really cute – and then looked at me. “You owe me for this,” she said, and walked over to the wagon. She set something in it, and started doing something I couldn’t see.
“Owe you for what?” I started to stand, but Lotonna’s hand restrained me.
“Wait for it, Shadrim,” he said. I think he was grinning, but I haven’t seen enough minotaur faces to read them well yet. “It’s her way.”
I sat back down and motioned to the bartender for another round for the table. “So, she’s leaving us time to talk plans and get some idea of what we do next,” Nemmy said. “If we don’t think of something before she gets back, she’ll be steamed.”
I finished my beer while thinking it over. “Well, I wouldn’t mind taking a trip just about anywhere, but that barrel is a bit of a tie-down, as she said. Just not the Feywild. Time runs funny in there, and I don’t want to be late.”
Lotonna nodded. “I too would like to avoid that place. It appeals to my…wilder side, but right now that part of me needs no coddling.”
“You know what would be really nice?” Horace asked of no one in particular.
We all looked at him.
“Fishing.”
Nemmy looked at him quizzically. “Fishing?”
“Yes, fishing. A nice relaxing time by a lake or a river, cool nights, warm days, swim when we want, catch fish all day. This last few months has been a lot of excitement, I’d like to just relax for a bit. Besides, we’d be sure to get back in time for your thing, and having a wagon wouldn’t be a burden.”
Lotonna gazed at him dully. “You know how to fish?”
Horace nodded. “Yeah, my grand-dad taught me.”
“And you want to spend three weeks fishing?”
“Wouldn’t it be great?”
“I hope you don’t mind my pointing this out, but that sword is going to be hard to fish with,” Nemmy said.
“We could make poles, that’s easy. And we’re here, we’re in the market – someone has to have fishhooks. And string.”
“This doesn’t sound like such a good idea. You guys get tired of me after only a few days when we stop at inns. Three weeks of fishing, I think you might start using me as bait.” Nemmy was somewhat circumspect as he said this.
“Yeah, guess I should amend my statement – not so hot on fishing.” It isn’t that I didn’t like fishing, but three weeks of it seemed, well it seemed a bit much.
“Well, then,” Horace slumped a bit, rebuked.
“Horace, that sounds like a good time, but three weeks of it, yeah, I’d probably want to cook and eat Nemmy.” I looked over at the halfwise. “No offense, there.”
He leaned in fast. “No, that’s okay, I’d want to cook and eat me too. I’m great, after all, and you guys would want to possess my power sooner or later.”
Lotonna chuffed loudly, in what I was beginning to take for a laugh, but he might have just been choking on a fly. His tail whipped up behind him, smacking Nemmy on the back of the head.
The halfwise covered his head. “What? Just saying what you all are afraid to, that’s all.”
A moment later, a hand reached into my jerkin and yanked out my haversack. “Give me that for a moment,” Kineta said from behind my ear.
I turned around to see what she was doing. “Hey, where’d the barrel go??” I stood up fast. She was stuffing a small keg that I didn’t recognize into the sack. “What are you doing?”
She got the keg in, and cinched the bag shut. “There,” she said with an air of finality.
“There, what? What was in that?” I stepped over and accepted the bag back from her.
“Whiskey. I shrank it.” She tapped the wand against the book laying open in the wagon before closing it and putting it away in her robes.
“Shrank it? Doesn’t that enchantment expire? As in, well before three weeks is up?”
“Yes, this should run out in about a day.” She smiled.
“Then what happens when it goes back to full size?” I looked at the bag in dismay.
“We’ll know in twenty-four hours, won’t we?” Her grin grew wider. “Look, the one thing keeping you from putting it in there was its size. When it comes time to take it out, I shrink it again. You can get an edge of it up and out the opening of the bag, so I can touch it for the spell. It’ll shrink, and you can take it out again. Meanwhile, this way, you can ditch the wagon.”
Now it was my turn to grin. “Three weeks, that’s a while.”
“I suppose you’ll have to keep me around for a bit, then, won’t you?”
* * *
We found a few rooms a little ways off the market, ones which had a wonderful view of the city. I could see the Burning Quarter from my balcony, and now and then could actually feel the hot breeze coming from it. I stood there, a glass of some bluish wine in my hand. Kineta was sleepingin the room behind me, I could hear her snoring. The others had warned me about that, which she had feigned offense at before storming halfway off and turning to wait for me.
In two weeks, we’d done a fair bit, even surprising me. We’d ventured off into the Elemental Chaos, seeing the raw elements of creation working themselves up. I had to wonder where this place drew its sources from. All of us, arcanists and divine alike, we draw some element of power from a source – whether it be a being, or the natural flow of energy through the World, we all source our power from somewhere. Even the strange psychics draw theirs from a connection to the mysterious Far Realm, turning that power against itself.
Before Sybarron had shown me the loopholes in my own infernal curse that enabled me to siphon power from the Hells, my source – pacted and agreed – had been the Feywild. Originally with a Queen of Winter, and later exchanged with Shan Doresh, the Lord of Nightmare. None of us, though, are anything other than channels, mill-wheels on rivers of power. Gods and Demons alike, all simply exist as animals do, feeding off the same trough of power. From where did it all come?
Here, massive regurgitations of even new matter were created in seconds. What was this power source, where did it originate? Of course, I recognized this logic would only lead me to wondering where that power originated, and so on, but it was a curiosity that ate me up.
In those two weeks, Voedle and I had continued to come to terms with his shared presence within me. We had come to something of an agreement, he was welcome to use my senses outside of…well, intimate moments; and I promised to hear him out when he wanted to talk about something. We hadn’t met in the mansion setting again since the one dream, but the locations we had seen were all just as intricate. I was becoming quite good at crafting dreamscapes. For some reason I didn’t feel it wise to share with him where I developed those skills.
One conversation sticks out in my mind, about a week prior. We were camped in the midst of a strange wilderness, where we’d seen a Fire Archon forge and had been investigating how we might benefit from such knowledge.
In my dream, we were on a great mountain cliff-side, sheer and steep, overlooking great vistas of forest, river, and lake. The sky was bright blue with only a few white fluffy clouds passing overhead. He’d told me a bit of his own history, about how, a thousand years before I was even born, he’d been a merchant. A citizen of Bael Turath, well before the Blood Compact, and a rather successful one. Unlike the usual story, he hadn’t fallen on hard times, he’d simply grown bored. One day he just picked up, took a large sum of his fortune in portable form, and wandered off. Within a few years he’d become acquainted with Balenor, and the two had forged a strong friendship, before he discovered Balenor’s true nature.
I never knew his nature until years after we’d met. He would often give me and my companions odd jobs, much as you yourself first began your adventuring career.
“Well, that was a little different, I enlisted in the military when I left home. He recruited me to the Cairn Jale.” I tossed a small stone over the side, watching it sail out into the air before falling into the distance below.
Ah, true, yes, I’d forgotten that. A Warsinger, he told me later he’d admired your work. He sat as well, enjoying the sun. In this form he looked like a normal human – he’d never been Shadrim, his time was before the Blood Compact. I could tell he was not human, but I don’t think I can describe how I knew this. It just was, as the stone below me was stone.
“When you found out, what did you do?”
Well, I was faced with a bit of a dilemma. He’d always been a friend, and never wronged me on a deal, even if he was a hard negotiator. In the end, I guess it’s obvious that I decided to follow him, join his Legion. He looked at his hands, the fingernails grey and cracked. He was not happy about that, oh nosiree. Actually tried to dissuade me from joining.
“Why not?”
I don’t think he wanted to see the impact the change would have on me. I think he knew that in the end it might make me different – perhaps he truly felt our friendship and didn’t want to risk it.
“But you went ahead with it anyway?”
I did. Fortunately, it seems his fear wasn’t to bear fruit, and we remained friends. Even now, distant as we are, I still think we’re good comrades. I was successful, and worked my way up the ranks to become a member of his personal guard. I traveled for a century with him before the compact with Ille Macreane.
“So it was my family that brought you two to a separation?” I watched an eagle flying high up, circling on the thermals.
Yes, but not the way you would think. Your family compacted with Balenor for power, and I was part of that – I was to become your family’s weapons-master, teaching its children the art of war and making choices on how the family would defend itself. Balenor gave me over to you freely. We knew we’d still be in range to catch up from time to time.
“Our success in war is greatly due to your teaching, though, so I have to thank you. You did us a great service.” As I said this I wondered how a dream could have such convincing physics.
It was – and remains – my pleasure. It wasn’t just duty to the compact I made, in the end. I fell in love with your many-greats grandmother, you know. She was a striking woman, an accomplished wizardess. She took me as her consort after her husband fell in battle. Three sons and two daughters she bore me.
“So our lines were tied even before the Blood Compact?”
Even so.
“What was it that resulted in your imprisonment, Voedle? How did that come to pass?” I looked over at him.
His face drew a grim set. I was sent to carry an offer to the Barikdrals in Vor Kragal some six or eight years before the city was destroyed. Though Ille Macreane and Barikdral had never been enemies, we’d also never been close, and your father wished to create an alliance. You were off on a campaign in the South, I think.
He rubbed a stone against the rock on which he sat. It made a quiet scraping sound, and left a white trail behind it. He offered my services for twenty-five years to train a cadre of warmasters for Barikdral’s own future, in exchange for arcane knowledge and service. I believe the suggestion was that your younger sister, Acia, was to be wed to a Barikdral heir as well.
So I went as emissary to Ille Macreane, to broker this alliance. The Charspire had not yet been sealed, though it was known that Barikdral had turned its eye from Nessus as a source of power and instead favored the Abyss. I was accepted by Jorhara, the house matron, and she held audience to hear me out.
We hammered out an agreement over the course of three days. The alliance was to be cemented six months following. I remember bowing in farewell, her undead servitor offering her voice to me and wishing me well. She stood and touched my shoulder to have me rise up, and straightened as if electrified.
In only moments, she’d snapped to her guards, and I was wrestled to the ground by four of my kind. They bound me in bronze, and carried me encased in a coffin of granite to the Pool. I screamed and hammered at my imprisonment, but it was to no avail.
They destroyed me there. As he said this, the stone he was scraping along the ground shattered in his hand.
He brought his hand to his mouth, blood of molten bronze leaking from the palm of his hand. He glanced over at me. I never did find out why she had me cast into the pit. Whatever her reasons, Jorhara never shared them with me. Perhaps one day I’ll bleed it out of her.
“We’ll do so, perhaps someday.”
I am too enraged, I feel the need for calm. I nodded, and stood, brushing my hands off on my trousers. We parted that night calmly, but I could feel his anger with the memory even after I woke.
I hadn’t seen him for days to follow, I guess he’d hidden away and either slept or simply watched through my eyes and listened through my ears.
We had returned to the City of Brass a few days later, taking a longer path than we’d expected, as our original route had become a lava field. I was the only one who could pass it safely, so our detour took us along a pass through a set of mountain foothills nearby.
Now, a week to go before I was to return to Rithzalgor, I wondered how I would deal with the great devil. What would he want in exchange? It could not be as simple as the exchange of a barrel of whiskey, I thought.
I turned on the balcony to face back into the room, and found Kineta standing in the doorway, looking at me.
“You’re awake,” I said, and regretted leaving myself open immediately.
“Astute, as usual, Shadrim,” she grinned at the opportunity for a gentle dig. She walked out and wrapped her arms around my neck. “What are you doing out here?”
“Appreciating the view of the city, and thinking the time is approaching where I need to return for my commission.” My hands went to her waist.
“You never told me where you need to go, where are we headed for this pickup? Is it in Banner?” She looked out over my shoulder at the City.
“Hmm, no, a bit closer than that.”
“Don’t hedge, where is it?”
“You sure you want to know?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to share, but I supposed that if she was determined to know, it was better to give her the knowledge now when she could still bow out.
“I’m a grownup, Azrael Ille Macreane. I can handle myself.” She was frowning, not liking where this was going, I think.
“Yes, I have noticed that, especially when I twist my tail just that right way…” I grinned back at her, enjoying getting a jibe in.
“Hmph. Don’t dodge, either. Where are we going?”
“Alright. Vor Kragal. I have an appointment with the Master Smith of the Hellforge there.”
She had little to say in response to that.
