Eagle Knight Business

Now, My Fellow Knights. What business have we?

In My travels I have run across various "evil" Pathfinders. I realize that one cannot be truly evil to be in the guild but there are many who are "neutral" in word only. In what way could we possibly bring these wayward souls back into the light?

Another issue; Tomb raiding. Desecration of tombs is sacrilege. However , when one is in the tomb of an evil cult or ancient worshipers of fiends what say we on the subject?

Other Business? Please bring it forward.

Sheliantha is a spectacularly tattooed young Varisian woman.

I may be but a new Lance-Corporal, and definitely not in the Golden Legion, but I try to work on the Cause. One thing I have noticed, is that many in ancient or even just old tombs have been imprisoned there, and probably unjustly, in the slavery that is undeath. Should not these people be freed to go on into the proper afterlife for them?

A half elf of obvious Vudrani heritage pipes up from a small group over in to one side of the room, flashing the newcomer a grin. His long blue parade coat is very well worn and sits draped over his shoulders, appearing to be casual but subtly showing off his Captain's epaulettes. A blue tricorn is pulled low over his forehead and his mouth is framed by an intricate goatee.

Sheliantha is a spectacularly tattooed young Varisian woman.

I may be but a new Lance-Corporal, and definitely not in the Golden Legion, but I try to work on the Cause. One thing I have noticed, is that many in ancient or even just old tombs have been imprisoned there, and probably unjustly, in the slavery that is undeath. Should not these people be freed to go on into the proper afterlife for them?

"You've got the right of it, gorgeous. The stinky ones have it bad, certainly, but the worst are the ones who don't even have a body left to them. Being anchored to this realm by nothing but your tortured soul...I've died, and let me tell you, it isn't pretty. I can't blame 'em for hating the living. So my associate Niratha here and I take special care to unfetter those ones when we see 'em. We owe it to them, don't we, pal?"

The hulking beast standing beside the half-elf lets out a chuckle as he adjusts the glimmering wings folded across his back. His humanoid avian form shares many similarities with the celestial Garudas, but each feather appears as if it had been forged from a different skymetal. He pulls his traditional Eagle Knight bastard sword a few inches out of its sheath. The smoky adamantine blade that's revealed seems to waver between the material and ethereal planes.

"It's a kindness. We hope they'd do the same for us, boss."

"So then," She struts over to the sideboard, and pours herself a glass, as a tiny faerie-like creature with wings croons a song. "Ending the indenture of those anchored to the site of their deaths is a good thing, and removing the Evil that may cause others to be bound as well? It seems that many a tomb is a place that needs to be investigated. Or is there another way?"

"Damn right it's a good thing. At least I hope it is, or I'm in for a world of hurt once death finally sticks to me. And not just ghosts either...shadows, wraiths, all of 'em. Especially the ones that'll turn you into one of 'em and drag you into their own special version of hell. As far as other ways to get rid of them, I saw a cleric cleanse a haunted shrine once with his holy power. I suppose that's probably an option for those with an overabundance of faith. For the rest of us though...if you hit them hard enough with the right sort of weapon, they'll go down just like anything else."

"Now, those tombs and catacombs always do end up housing some fascinating artifacts. All sorts of tunnels that lead down into the Darklands too, and THOSE denizens can be even worse than the Katapeshi when it comes to slaving. So how about you, Corporal? What brings you to the cause of freedom? You look about as native to Andoran as I am."

I'm not a native either, but it doesn't mean I can't do what should be done. I've just joined as well and hope to do my part in the fight against slavery(though this is all on the down-low).

"I'm not native to Andoran, though I had passed through with the Caravan in my younger days. However, I have seen the desperate plights of slaves bent to the wheel with lashes cracking on backs and overseers all but giggling in delight..." Sheliantha's brow smooths and her eyes soften a bit. "I'm sorry, forgive the tirade if you will. People deserve to live their own lives, and the Cause just called out to me. If my magicks can help make Golarion a better place, I am all for it."

She stops to sing a bar or two with the Lyrakien on the bar, harmonizing pleasingly. Then she turns back to the newcomer. "On the down-low? You have to keep secret that you desire freedom and betterment for your fellow sentients?"

"Doing your part is all we can ask of anyone, and I agree there'll always be a need to have skilled agents working in the shadows. Our enemies won't always be in the open after all. I prefer to attempt a peaceable solution myself before the swords come out, but tyrants and slavers can be awfully intractable sometimes. It's imperative that we be able to turn their inevitable dirty tricks around on them."

Raylos tips his hat to the girl. "Now, I can't speak for your magic, miss, but your music's making this a better place already." He nods to the Lyrakien. "And likewise to you, milady. I don't believe we've been introduced. Raylos Chattra, ladies, at your most humble service."

The tiny woman rises to her feet on the bar, wings fluttering softly.

"Oh, I'm Cuorecielo, and Sheliantha is my new friend!" She giggles a little. "She likes to sing, but not as much as I do, since -I- like to sing all the time. Sometimes, though, other things get in the way." She sings softly again, a song in a language from very far off.

"Well, Raylos," And she does a formal court'sey, forehead almost touching the bar, and spreading her diaphanous skirt widely. "I'm glad you think it makes the place better. I know Shel knows some songs, but I know a lot, and she's really good at faking it. Anything you'd like to hear?"

Sheliantha, in the meantime, suppresses a smirk, and sips at her drink. "A song at a safe hearth can't hurt, and can lift many spirits. I hope you others don't mind?" She looks to Sir Roland, Nirvatha, and Jorvick. "I know this is supposed to be a serious discussion, but dear Sir Roland, this might help in the first item that troubles you."

"I'd listen to plenty more."

"Sure, just try to avoid the Chelish operas, hey?" Raylos shoots Sheliantha a wink and turns to Cuorocielo. "And I know Niratha here'd love to have someone around here to talk to about Elysium. He does yammer on about it-"
His eidolon interjects, "Although it'd be nice if you'd bother learning us the language, Raylos"
"-but I'm sure we could find a few things to talk about too, miss. We could start with all those tattoos. But time enough for that later; we do have business to discuss here."

"I've certainly run with some bad seeds during my time with the Society. The worst have mostly been from Cheliax, but not all of 'em. A lot of them seem to have forgotten the Cooperate part of our oath, but it's something we can't forget with them. You've got to be better than them. I don't mean be a good two shoes, either. Be faster, be stronger, be smarter. And be flexible. Our freedom gives us the opportunities we need to do that."

With a loud clanging sound, a red-haired young woman with a rough patch over her left eye, clad in faded livery and battered spiked half-plate, sits at the bar and regards the others. " 'Tis an old story," she says, her voice rough with the rustic charm of Fusil. "As a Paladin of Iomedae -and- a servant of the People's Revolt, I've found myself locking horns with other Pathfinders on a number of occasions." She sighs. "You know there's something wrong when the rest of your party wants to roll unconscious pirates into the sea and you're -defending- the Iomedae-forsaken freebooters. Or when one of them tries negotiating with a -Bugbear-." She pauses, then bows. "But I cry pardon for interrupting such distinguished servants of Freedom - and especially such sweet singing. I am but a lowly newcomer to the Society."

"I like the cut of your jib Sichelgaita. I've been around the Society for a while now, but am new to this specific calling. As you can tell by my Taldan accent I'm not from Andoran, but that has never changed my stance on cooperation and ending slavery." Jorvick takes a sip of his wine and continues, "It has always upset me the dishonor people show to others just because they are your enemy. I mean, I take precautions against them being dishonorable, but always have shown them respect."

A goblet of wine in her hand, Sichelgaita raises it in salute and inclines her head. "Well met, sir," she says. "The cause of freedom unites those of many nations and races. And interestingly enough, I found myself in your homeland's capital recently." For a moment, she stares into the depths of her wine, lost in memory. "A fair city, to be sure...but I came closer to meeting the tall man with the scythe than I ever had before." She visibly shakes herself, and continues. "Your attitude to enemies seems much like my own. Of course, to slay in the heat of battle is one thing...but to slay an enemy when they are helpless? It..." she grasps for words, one guantleted hand making vague motions in the air, "it feels like the kind of thing our -enemies- do, not us. How can we set examples to follow, when we are no better than the evil we fight?"

"Welcome to the party, Red. I figure it depends on the enemy, what you do with them. Common pirates, bandits? Sure, give 'em a lecture, make sure they're not gonna be a continuing threat, maybe even see if they're interested in some work helping the cause. Undead and monsters, like clerics of Asmodeus, right? That's a whole different story. They're not likely to come around to our way of thinking. Better to remove that threat, unless you've got a really good reason not to."

Sheliantha straightens and nods in agreement. "Early on, when I was on missions with other newcomers to the Society, I had to explain that some of their actions were out-and-out murder. This does move into touchy areas such as leaving live enemies to the party's rear, which can be a very dangerous mistake. So, situations have to be handled intelligently and well."

She sips at her wineglass and stares off. "I'm no paladin," This comes with a nod to Sichelgaita. "So I cannot tell immediately if foes are irredemeable, but I like to think that I can find out by their actions. If I can, I give the benefit of the doubt." Then she looks down, into her swirling beverage. "But I fear that I might put others at risk. A delicate situation, indeed."

"I do hope you're relieving any live ones of their weapons if you're leaving them behind you. Having some rope on hand to keep them occupied until you've secured the area doesn't hurt either. Or if they're the slaving type and you need 'em for later, sticking them in their own shackles until you can properly deal with them. It's got a ring of poetic justice to it."

Raylos leans forward and pours himself a double of Oldlaw.

"Don't get too conflicted over redeeming mooks who've attacked you though, sweetheart. Save 'em when you can, but if they've made that choice to try to hurt you, well, you've got an obligation to protect that pretty self of yours. There are much tougher choices out there that you're likely to run into. What do you do when the bad guys are sending their slaves to attack you?" He quirks an eyebrow as he asks the question, fielding it to all those present.

" 'Red'." Sichelgaita considers that for a while. "Fair enough," she says after a while. "It beats being called 'Seashell' by people who can't pronounce my name properly." She looks into her goblet. "You ask a hard question, with no real right answer. I suppose...the best of a string of bad options is to carry a nonlethal weapon, like a sap, and if you're given no option but to defend yourself from attacks by slaves, then use -that- alone. At least, that's what I -think- I'd do...though even then, I'd only use it when necessary and I'd make every effort to close with their 'master'. Being a paladin helps here, of course, since any nonlethal injury done to the poor souls can be healed and they can be freed, once the 'master' is dead or captured." Sighing, she takes a mouthful of wine. "And, of course, talking about such things here in comfort is easy, putting them into practice, with party members relying on you..." She manages a smile then. "It's good to know I'm not the only one to worry about such things. And if I've discovered anything from this conversation, it's that - whatever my own shortcomings - those who share the fight for Freedom are men and women of honour and spirit." With that, she turns to the tiny form of Cuorocielo. "It's an honour indeed to share a faction and a conversation with a divine being - I adhere to a rigid code, but a childhood living at the edge of the Verduran Forest taught me respect and admiration for the more free-spirited servants of good."

Knight Captain Samuel Revell enters the discussion.

"Hail and well met. My home country of Galt suffers under the tide of it's own making and one day I will return to find what I have known long gone.. swept away in a sea of new ideals and new problems.

'You bring up several good points Sir Roland. I too have dilemmas. Recently in a Pathfinder operation I was forced to accept the brand.. the mark of Lissala, a deity of obedience and yoke. While this may seem incredulous to others of our view, it was necessary to get the job done. Would I do it again? Every day'

'I dread the day in the future when my eagerness betrays me and I accept a gift not knowing it is indeed a curse. I sense it will be Lissala's hand in my death

"Divine being?" The tiny form of Cuorecielo seems startled a moment, but then her smile grows wide. "Oh! You mean me!" And she giggles into her hand. "I never thought of it that way, what with all the big folk around, but yeah, we are on the Material Prime here. I guess I am an Outsider. Well, yeah, everybody be excellent to each other, and all that."

Her wings flutter as she moves down the bar, closer to the Champion of Iomedae, and she reaches out a hand. "You don't look like a seashell, and your hair is really red. I'm glad you like being called that." Then, with a sudden drop, she seats herself and crosses her legs. "I don't think I could even lift a sap, even if I knew who that was. But for fighting people who need to not be hurt, can't beat some magick spells. Just put them to sleep, or in a trance with pretty colors. Then they are good as new!" The finality of that statement assured, the miniature Azata hums a song quietly to herself.

Sheliantha follows her companion down the bar a little, too, and hands her wineglass over for a refill. "Cuorecielo has my tactics spot on. Magicks are what work for me." She smiles kindly, and then looks to the newcomer.

"Sir Revell, well met. I'm Sheliantha, and this is Raylos from the East, and Sichelgaita, (not Seashell) who is local. Sir Roland has been quiet for a while now. But, your trouble? Lissala was silent in my homeland, I'd never heard of her in my life until recently. Would not a sponsor who has the power from the gods not be able to aid you with curses and things?" The tattooed beauty accepts the now-refilled glass, and sips delicately at it.

Raylos nods at Revell's remarks and absentmindedly scratches at his left bicep with a look of mild discomfort at the mention of a brand. "I've got some bad feelings about those brands, brother. The brands, and worse."

"I'm rather fond of my Black Tentacles spell for keeping my foes occupied, but I'd like to find a way to tone down the...lethality of it, in light of the current discussion and a recent mission that ended with some strife. Such a spell might be ideal for the purposes we've been discussing."

"Oh, and I was born and raised in Absalom, Shel. Does Shel work? My father's Vudran, but I've never actually made it out that way. I mean to do so someday, though. Should be fun, and possibly even profitable if I can expand my business ventures. Connect with my roots, and expand my routes. Ha!"

I agree with Raylos. I know of many Pathfinders that picked up those brands. Some were in the line of duty-playing their part, and others voluntarily sought out a Priest of Lissala and payed those evil cultists gold to get that brand. I can see no good that can come of that evil brand.

"Of course Shel works." She inclines her head and nods warmly. "We're Pathfinders, and Andoran supporters to boot. No need for me to say: 'Greetings Stranger, from a stranger.' as my people are wont to do." She leans in to croon to Cuorecielo, but then turns back.

"How about Web? I know it needs anchors, but many times trees or walls will serve. It can tie people up pretty well, and none of the unwanted crushing from Tentacles. Put the web in the way if you don't want them seeing you, or behind them to prevent escape."

"So Shel's good, but not Seashell. Got it. Let's not be strangers here though, eh?"

"Web? I uh...yeah, that one never exactly came to me. I can coax a lot out of the planes and their deniz....delightful occupants," nodding to the Lyrakien and Niratha, who rolls his eyes, "but I've never conjured webs. I can see the use though, certainly. I'm not sure I'd call the crushing from the tentacles unwanted, per se. It's all situational."

Feather token whips are useful, non-damaging items. A little luck never hurts.

Feather token boats tend to make better walls than boats. I've purchased a few of these, but I have yet to use one as a boat.

Sichelgaita removes one of her heavy spiked gauntlets, then extends her right hand to gently shake that of Cuorecielo, taking great care. "Yes, my hair -is- extremely red. Though it's not the first thing people notice about me, usually." Automatically, her left had briefly taps the patch over what used to be her left eye, before she takes her goblet and raises it to the others. "And we're absolutely not strangers - even after a short conversation, I feel like I've known you all for quite a while. Besides, while I can be a -bit- on the stiff side - Paladin thing - it's not a permanent thing. After all, as the song says, 'In taberna quando sumus, non curamus quid sit humus'" [When we're in the tavern, we don't care how we'll go to dust]. Taking a sip, she turns to Samuel Revell. "Such as you describe...it's a hard thing to think about. I...don't think I could, personally. Not because I think myself better - most assuredly not, in fact I think you braver by far than I am - I just... I'm not good at deception, even for a greater good. Of course, I don't think -any- evil doers would be stupid enough to think a Paladin in half-plate with Iomedae's sign on her shield planned to join them." She smiles then. "But - in my limited opinion - what matters isn't brands in the skin, but what's in your heart. A true, valiant man or woman could have tattoos and brands and sigils of every evil deity from Lissala to the Chelish patron itself...but as long as the heart is pure, Iomedae or whatever other good deity you follow will know you for Their own." Taking off her other gauntlet, she gestures. "Refills for everyone?"

'I am not normally a religous man, Sichelgaita. But to survive the slums of Galt you have to be. Perhaps not in some pompous cleric who believes that his God can heal everything, but in something that will let you survive on the cold nights as rats gnaw at your toes.'

'My issue being is that I am always thinking. It is perhaps the price I pay for using a Musket. I am always sizing up opponents, thinking of the best spot for a shot, what the weather might do to that shot. Still in all things I am always thinking ahead'

' I have rarely traveled with holy men. A coincidence of fate perhaps? Who knows. I have a problem though. I do not know what lies in my heart. The more I kill, the less I know'

Samuel looks depressed.

Pouring a large tumbler of industrial-strength spirits, Sichelgaita slides it across the bar to Samuel Revell. "You, sir, need a drink," she says solemnly. "And while we're on that subject, anything for anyone else? Something to refresh a parched throat after truly wonderful singing, perhaps?" this last with a nod to Sheliantha and Cuorecielo.
Turning her attention back to Samuel, she speaks more seriously. "I'm a Paladin, so I serve the rule of Law and the forces of Good. At the same time, I'm no starry-eyed maiden to believe that Holy men or Law-Keepers are infallible. The last holy man I travelled with was a complete fanatic." She pauses, then continues. "So I wouldn't worry about not travelling with holy men. As for thinking too much - if we're to truly serve good, we need to think, else we'd just be narrow-minded zealots. And the very fact that you think on such things means that you're a lot less lost than you might feel right now."

"I'll have some more of the wine, please." Sheliantha extends her glass. "But I fear stronger spirits are not to my liking. Perhaps I am but a slip of a girl, after all." She chuckles softly, but the tiny, winged girl Cuorecielo extends her thimble-glass.

"I like the strong stuff!" The Lyrakien pipes up. "I don't have to worry about accidentally blasting a building down. And, I can always go sleep if I can't fly straight." Her giggle is high in pitch, but full of mirth.

"Here Sheliantha, you can have some from my bottle." Jorvick pores the wine into Sheliantha extended glass. "It is a fine vintage from the Taldan coast from before it got flooded out; not that Sauerton Red that they make here. Not trying to be offensive, but my palate is just too delicate for such harsh 'wines'."

"If you think that's 'harsh' wine, Taldan, try drinking Andoren Retsina," Sichelgaita chuckles. "Typically drunk from a leather wine-skin, coated in pitch." For a moment, her eye mists over. "My father was a poor horse-tamer back in Fusil, so that was the only 'wine' served at our table. Discovering that not *all* wine tasted of tar was quite the experience. I probably wouldn't ever have made that discovery if..." she pauses, lost in thought, before blinking rapidly and liberating a bottle of expensive-looking cognac from beneath the bar. "Your tall friend has been taken care of, but I think this should suit you nicely," she says, carefully filling Cuorecielo's tiny glass. "Also, I can't believe *anyone* is so unobservant as to think either of you are 'slips of girls'."

'My Apologies Sichelgaita. I did not mean to deprive you of any respite'

Samuel looks tense

'Do you have any tales to tell of your travels through Varisia? My mind has been there of late and I would like to hear news of its surrounds'

Sheliantha smiles her thanks to Jorvick for the refill, a radiant thing, and nods to Sichelgaita. "But, I am a slip of a girl. So the Lamplighters would say."

Then she turns to Samuel. "I am from Varisia, but not the conglomerations of people that are the Cities there. I recently went to Magnimar, and had to do what was essentially a scavenger hunt for the mayor's? I think it was the Mayor's assistant. Cities are cities in my opinion. Absalom seems an archetype for many of them, though individual ones do have their charm, much like people..."

Cuorecielo makes a pleased court'sey at the cognac, and seats herself on the bar again to bring her intense senses to bear on the rich, amber liquid. She inhales deeply before sipping delicately, and then sighs happily with a wave at Sichelgaita.

Returning the Lyrakien's wave, Sichelgaita takes some of the cognac herself with a sigh just as contented as that of Cuorecielo. "And your opinion on cities?" she asks the tiny lady. "Mine is still...mixed. I can't breathe deeply in any city, from Absalom to Magnimar - fresh air spoiled me as a child." She sips again. "Though most have pleasant sights...when I see them. When I went to Magnimar, I sent more time *under* it than in it. Bloody Goblins..."

With a lingering sniff, Cuorecielo the Lyrakien lowers her tiny glass. "My opinion? On cities? Oh, well, I haven't been here long, but cities are where the people are, right? Like in here? So, it's where we can find good and beautiful, and also bad and ugly. I hope to spend some time finding more good and beautiful with Sheliantha. She says I can help take down bad guys too! I'm going to get a wand to use, to zap demons and stuff but good!"

The tiny figure hops to her full foot of height on the bar, and mimes zapping a wand around the room. "Pew! Pew! Pew, pew, pew!"

Sichelgaita refills the tiny glass delicately. "Easy there, fierce one," she says with a small smile, before holding the bottle up. "Anyone else?" she asks, before returning to the conversation.
"Everywhere can have good and beautiful, that's what my mother used to say. She said that everyone and every place in the world had the potential for good in them, they just sometimes needed...to have light brought to them. Sometimes the light needed to be brought by bravery, by warriors or heroes, or other times it could be brought by beauty, like the song of a Lyrakien - she was, well still *is* judging by her letters, a follower of Desna." The smile that follows is somewhat wistful. "Now that I've actually heard a Lyrakien sing, I'll have to write to her, tell her how right she was."

Cuorecielo turns and blinks as she looks at the one-eyed paladin, and then dimples her cheeks with a smile, before dropping into a court-sey.

Sorry, my last post didn't get made in my name.

Sichelgaita bows in return, pleased to see the Lyrakien's cheer. "And what do you think of...all this?" she asks, curiosity getting the better of her. "To us poor mortals, the Cause is the most important thing there is - the struggle for freedom and democracy. But to one such as you...it must all look very strange."

{OOC - I figured that the two names belonged to the same person :-) }

Cuorecielo plops down on the bar again, and picks up her drink. "The Cause... well, it's not important back home... where I come from. Since everyone is free to do as they want, we don't have to worry about it. I got to spend my time singing and playing and making sure things were cheerful and pleasant and pretty. Here, well, here is like a mixture of home and the Bad Places. So, we just have to try to make it better and prettier." She shrugs her diminutive shoulders. "Lots of work to do, it seems." Then, she drinks deep of the cognac, and coughs and sputters a little with a glare at the thimble-glass.

"Desna? The Butterfly God?"

" I met a .. cleric of that one a while back. Crazed one too almost more cultist than Cleric. Considering I can count of one hand the amount of missions I have been on with a Cleric it somewhat shades my view of them"

"Are any of you with any particular Eagle knight command?"

"Careful there," Sichelgaita says, a look of concern on her face. "Though judging by the label, this should be a lot smoother." She glares fiercely at the bottle of cognac, then speaks on. "But you're right - there's a lot of work to do, if we're ever to make our world as beautiful as your home. Still, as aims go, it's a worthy one."
She turns to Samuel Revell. "A crazed cleric of Desna? Interesting combination... That said, I haven't personally taken part in her worship since I was a girl - Iomedae holds my sword and my fealty. And as for myseekf, poor newcomers that I am...I'm not officially affiliated, but I've done the bidding of the Eagle Knights and Andoran since I first became a Paladin."

"Like most people in Galt, I follow... somewhat poorly the teachings of Milani. She probably is not well known around the place but where you find revolution you will find Milani. Ive yet to find anyone devout enough to earn her graces but I am sure out there there must be at least one or two."

" I assumed we were all Eagle knights in here, my apologies. You must find it difficult serving two masters, Iomedae and the Society .. not to mention Andoran.

Sheliantha looks to Samuel, turning her head slightly with a question. "I'm not all that familiar with the structure of the Knights. I just made Lance-Corporal, and I think that was mostly honorary. I don't have a unit, or anything, if that's what you mean. I expect that I wouldn't be put in the Golden Legion, as I would... not fit in real well. I'm expecting to be used as more of associate, or auxiliary, asset."

"Samuel," Jorvick says quietly, "sometimes that question can be seen as improper given the possible answer if you catch my drift." Jorvick then gives Samuel a wink and takes another sip of his wine. "Also, to answer your other question to I find it somewhat difficult serving three masters myself, but I get by."

Sichelgaita takes a deep breath. "I serve Iomedae because She is Justice Incarmate," she says, softly but with a touch of steel - not harsh or angry, simply firm and decisive. "I serve Andoran because it's the land of my birth, and what better way to serve a goddess of Justice than by fighting to defend the one country where true Justice for rich and poor alike is upheld?" She takes a sip of her drink, and continues. "And I serve the Pathfinder Society because it gives me scope to spread both Justice and the ideology of the People's Revolt and Common Rule. The three are not mutually exclusive." She raises her glass towards Jorvick. "So far, at least."

Cuorecielo picks up her thimble-glass and walks on the bar to stand by Sichelgaita while looking to Jorvick. The question is written all over her face as she turns from one to the other asking, "Masters?"

Sichelgaita smiles down at the Lyrakien - the tiny creature, one gets the impression, has cheered her more in this one conversation than has been the case for a number of years. "Those in authority over us, friend," she says. "Our gods in the heavenly world, our nations in the material world, the Venture-Captains of the Society... Anyone who gives us orders with a reasonable expectation that they'll be carried out. Or a certainty, in the case of Iomedae."