Dalton allowed himself a good chuckle at Ianna's "advice". "That might do us some good if I truly knew what to call The Revelation, dear priestess. It is as much art as it is mechanism, as mundane as it is magic. I suppose we should look about for a mute singer or acrobatic cripple!" He shook his head. "It is certain you have a connection to the divine though. Not that I had any doubt before, but those restricted musings offered by those greater beings often seem to leave more questions than there were before - and somehow less answers."
”I’d prefer to return this to the city, quietly,” Rilka says. ”Obviously we need to hide it for a few days. Though we could turn it over to Tosscobble if he took an oath as a paladin not to reveal it until after Villachi has been dealt with...” Rilka shakes her head. ”That won’t do after all. He won’t be living for much longer.”
Rilka drums her fingers on the tabletop. ”Alziver might take it in the future too. We can’t do much to prevent that except warn the council and maybe suggest a few countermeasures.”
"I could say something mysterious, but I believe it is a weakness in that kind of magic and not in the gods that causes the confusion. What I don't understand is why the divination is about who can use it and who we should give it to in a moral sense. Perhaps, I was unclear on my intent when I prayed."
Ianna prays on the topic further in hopes that the goddess will illuminate the moral path.
"If we don't have someone or somewhere trustworthy, we could always leave it in Ninnec's possession. I doubt anyone would expect it in that bit of the world."
”I remember a relative telling me trying to understand divination is like a person trying to hear another speaking underwater,” Rilka remarks. ”I don’t know if I’d go that far, but any further guidance would be helpful.”
She laughs at Dalton’s comment about Ninnec. ”Yeah, that’d be surprising all right. I just don’t think this is really ours to give away. Sure, we stole it, but that’s part of the time loop. Hmmm, Dalton do illusions work on a dreaming person? Could an illusion be made into a dream? Hmmm, no never mind. My ideas are getting overly complicated.”
Rilka nods and smiles at Ianna again. ”We have a few days before we need to decide anything. Pray some more. If need be, we can smuggle it into Villachi’s lair and find it after he’s gone.
"Oh, I'm not suggesting we give it away, Miss Featherfeet. I just want no possibility of the item slipping into the hands of someone else and causing an issue with our time-tied selves. None of us were in touch with Ninnec during that time, and he was most certainly not in touch with anything going on around here."
I'm hungry. Dalton yawned. "Your ideas are good. They just require finesse I lack, so I worry about being able to execute them at your level of expertise. I really do make a bad spy. The Aestherics haven't seemed to take that bit of advice from me though!"
The next morning, the others find Ianna sitting next to the Revelation.
"Last night, I had a dream that a divine messenger came to me. Alziver may be our best option. His more . . . genteel rule of the underworld may prevent a more virulent outbreak of villainy after we leave. I believe we should trust in the guidance of Heaven, though I will press Alziver on what he shall do to prevent a second Villichi."
"Then let us see him with haste. Or, if it perhaps would be too dangerous for a group of us to go with heightened security after that theft, perhaps I could enhance one of you to fly with the item to him. Walking back without it should be no problem."
"Alziver is hiding in the mountains. We should meet no guards there. I believe that we should all go; in case he proves treacherous."
"Than it's decided, we're off to see the displaced bandit king", Bjorkus says as he prepares to depart.
Toramin nods his agreement, "If my sister thinks it wise, I will bow to her wisdom and the wisdom of the divine messenger."
The party makes their way into the mountains, now more familiar with the path. They briefly run into a pair of hill giants which give Dalton a heart attack with a thrown boulder, but Bjorkus quickly gives them a reason to run off.
The tree is reached and the same monkey is there, albeit napping until the party noisily ascends to the plateau. With the same thuds of crossbow bolts, the party goes into Alzivers hideout.
The colorfully dressed crime lord stands ceremoniously with arms wide and a lavish grin. "Ah, you have returned so soon! I hope with good news, and more importantly The Revelation, and most importantly some fresh food." The monkey gives a screech and seems to be looking at the hands of the party.
When they arrive at Alziver's cave, Ianna begins to speak.
"We have acquired the Revelation. Unfortunately, for you, I have foreseen a path to Villichi's defeat that does not require your aid. Some of my associates questioned the wisdom of keeping bargains where there is disproportionate benefit to one side and no benefit to the other."
She pauses briefly to make Alziver sweat a bit before she continues, "I, on the other hand, believe that bargains should be kept. One's credibility in business depends upon a certain form of stability. Besides, I have debts and deals beyond the circle of this world. Perhaps, in fulfilling our bargain, I can satisfy another. I propose one additional condition above and beyond our original agreement. If we give you the Revelation, I want your oath that on this day in the coming year and the years to come that you and your successors will donate a fraction of the profits of your business to the worship of one of the Empyreal Lords or to one of the goodly gods for the relief and succor of Grastle Hallow. Let us say 5%? That would not cut into your profit margins too much. Besides, this may be an investment in your future. Should Grastle Hallow become a center for mystery cults and the worship of blessed gods, then men and women like Villichi would find it far more difficult to operate."
Ianna (Ziza) smiles demurely and pulls out fruit for the monkey.
Alziver looks cautious and skeptical, and amusingly so does the monkey. After a half a minute of consideration, the monkey begins fidgeting then leaps forward to grab the fruit, nibbling it at Ianna's feet.
Alziver nods slowly. "Well, I won't complain about being spared the efforts of outing Villichi. As for the donations...I find that reasonable. After all, strong churches create strong communities. It's good for all. I would request being able to spread out the payments to make our involvement subtler. I have a number of interests that wouldn't be thrilled with the idea." He floats the idea as the monkey returns, drawing a knife from his coat pocket and slicing off a piece of fruit for himself. "To keep the annual ceremony idea intact, on this day we will take 5% of our profits from the last year and set it aside. Then one a month we will launder 1/12 of the money through frequent donars, so no eyebrows are raised. Agreeable?"
"I find that agreeable. I would suggest that you spread out the different recipients of the tithe over the years so that no one mystery cult or church become dominate in the area. Diversity and plurality encourage the growth and prosperity of all."
Alziver gladly agrees to the further terms, and Ianna beseeches her goddess for third party assistance. After a moment a rigid golden gate appears, and a whirring noise proceeds a creature floats through it. The creature whirs in the air, then floats to Ianna and speaks in a quiet but oddly resonating voice that each person understands in their native tongue. "I am sent on behalf of Gekrash, Kolyarut of the thousand words. Speak your agreement, and he will ensure it lasts as long as the mortals exist to keep it."
Rilka weighs the loss of the Revelation to the public with the apparently divine guidance of Ianna’s dream. Sighing heavily she gives a nod to her companions. ”Let’s entrust it to Alziver.”
Later in Alziver’s hideout as the negotiations continue, Rilka says, ”I realize as a gnome you have a different expected lifespan compared to other races. Would you return Revelation to Grastle Hollow in the event of your death?”
"I plan on returning it as soon as Villichi is gone. Normally I have easy access to it at the museum, and indeed it's very function is dependent upon its interactions with people. But somehow Villichi learned of it's function and has prevented me from reaching it. With him gone I will ensure it goes back to a well-guarded secret. And who would suspect my greatest tool of power is on display in a museum?" He frowns. "I still wonder how Villichi learned of it."
Gekrash is a Kolyarut, an inevitable. A type of lawful neutral outsider (right up Kols alley), and this particular kind is all about enforcing deals.
Having been trained in fiscal matters by her great aunt Ordalla, a high priestess of the Debt Minder, Ianna takes 100 gold pieces from the small coffer that Panrik had bestowed upon them.
This is city business, and it is correct that the city itself have a financial stake in the matter.
The arbiter watches the deal sealed, then takes the paper and shoves it wholesale into its winding body, feeding it in like some nibbling machine. After some mechanical phenomena there are three copies of it, one for each of the participants and one for the inevitables. "The deal is done. Gekrash watches and waits, blind and all seeing as he is."
Ianna examines the copy and finds it unnarurally durable, Dalton leaning over and identifying a number of wards and abjurations that protect it from aging and any sort of reasonable mundane damage, although high powered destructive magic or immense conditions like a volcano could destroy it.
"That's quite a piece of parchment; you won't be seeing it torn any time soon."
"It is done."
Ianna pulls out the Revelation from where it has been kept and hands it to Alziver. "As my troth does pledge, I render unto you the Revelation," she says with a warm smile.
"It is likely that Villichi, or as he has been known elsewhere, Calios, was told by his benefactor about the Revelation. That, or there must be a record of its nature in an old book. He is quite fond of those, I hear. He will be overthrown on . Sveng will also die. It will be a busy day. Be prepared. Is there anything else you would care to discuss?"
Ianna sets some fruit and cheeses out for the gnome and his monkey before she rises to leave.
If Alziver is bothered by the outsider and the contract, the only way it shows is in his quiet curiosity. However as the Revelation is brought out he frowns. "Is this a joke?" But upon further inspection he sighs. "Could you return it to its normal size?"
At the word of Sveng's death he chockes on the piece of fruit. "What? Sveng? Why? And how do you know that? Villichi is the problem, not Sveng. There's no need to kill him."
"If we return it to its normal size can you move it? Otherwise, it should return to its original size in bit more than a week, giving you time to place it somewhere more to your liking. We will not be the ones killing Sveng. Despite his master, we bear him no ill will. As for how we know? That is worth a great deal. What bargain would you strike? What do you have left to offer us? But it is as certain as anything since the human god died."
Ianna is reveling in playing the merchant priestess, Ziza, but the greater part of her is eager to go back to being Ianna, first daughter of one of the Central Families.
Alziver smiles. "If you show it what you want you can get it to shrink. A week? That's manageable." As Ianna talks more about Sveng his smile falls. "That certain?..Well. I suppose one less cult leader is nothing to cry over." He absentmindedly nibbles his fruit.
Ianna gives Alziver a small bow. "I won't lie. I am eager to see the back of this place, but I hope you will think fondly of me when your organization funds blessed cults in my honor."
Her normal smile widens into a grin as she puts down one more piece of cheese and heads for the entrance of the cave.
As they make their way down the mountain, Toramin rumbles, "We made promises to Sveng concerning Lola. All our promises must be kept. Let's collect the girl and take her to Andril. Then perhaps we can while the remainder of the time until the loop closes in Dağın Kalp or on Bjorkus' boat. We know that the Aestherics and Alia will arrive at the Soul Forge soon after Maliose. If he was destroyed or fled, then they should be able to collect him. Then we need to report back to the Aestherics base. I submit that we explain our survival with 'burst of primal magic.' It's true, and reveals nothing that they don't need to know. No offense, Rilka."
"I'd prefer the place least likely for word to get out of our presence. Both the ship and your manor have those who would see us, yet the information will disperse in different ways to different crowds." Dalton mulled the choices over a moment. "Bjorkus, where might your crew be headed?"
"We've been in Grastle Hollow for a long time, the Storm could be anywhere. It'll just depend on what the shipping lanes are up to", Bjorkus answers. "I can try to contact them. If they're nearby I'll have 'em come and get us but we should have a Plan B just in case. Could we take the dwarven engine somewhere new? Someplace where nobody would recognize us and we could wait out the time loop?"
As Alziver explains his intentions on returning the Revelation to the museum, Rilka smiles in satisfaction. ”Ah, I misunderstood some of your plans. I’m glad the city will have it displayed soon.”
”No offense taken Toramin,” Rilka says. ”I think we should wait for Sveng’s death before getting Lola. Give him some time to prepare her and enjoy life as much as he can.”
The party has only one task left before waiting out the rest of the time loop; getting Sveng's grandaughter Lola safetly to Andril. Once the party contacts Sveng he makes the arrangements, taking care of the tough part of the situation.
Lola is a young girl, probably just hitting double digits, with long dark brown hair and eyes that are uncannily like Sveng's. She looks scared but is putting on a brave face as Sveng hands her off to the party. He gives her a kiss on the forehead, and for the first time ever they see Sveng give a small smile. "Be well, my dove."
The party spends the next few weeks laying low, attracting as little attention as possible. Toramin, Ianna, and Dalton have no problem with the downtime. Dalton is quickly absorbed into his books and tomes, while Toramin and Ianna find a number of projects and reading to keep themselves occupied. Rilka gets pretty bored but jumps around with the others to keep from walking a rut into the ground, but for Bjorkus these weeks are rough. Holed up in a room for weeks? That's no way to live for him.
But the time passes uneventfully, Dalton peering outside to note the location of the sun and giving it about another hour before deciding the party is definitely clear of the time loop.
Rilka contacts Drosil, who spares little time in coming to meet with the party. As the quiet fetchling slips in the door he peers around at the party with a faint sense of relief. "So you survived. Good. We didn't know what that explosion was."
"The Forge is locked down, it's not allowing anybody inside. We're not sure what happened."
"Regardless, clearly Villichi's rule is over. Alziver's men have been surprisingly quick in taking back control of the underground. You've done more than your-" Drosil breaks into a coughing fit as his voice cracks, doubling over and covering his mouth. After a moment he forces down a swig from his waterskin, seething as he continues. "Let me know when you want to return."
"Maliose appeared before you could arrive to reclaim Calios. He tried to destroy us. There was a burst of primal magic, and Dalton got us to safety. We have no idea what occurred afterwards in the Forge. We are ready to return."
Toramin provides a short narration in his characteristic monotone.
"And quickly, if you could. I've had my fill of the place for years to come."
Renliat raises a brow at primal magic, then gives a nod to Dalton that seems to indicate "good job". He nods at returning, reaching up to touch his earring. He speaks in an even rougher whisper than before. "Ready." There's a brief delay, than a thin human appears from thin air. He looks at the gathered crowd and frowns. "Gonna be two trips, I'll send Haliys back." Between the man and an elven woman, the party is returned to the outskirts of the capital of Andril, where they make their way back into the Aestheric base on foot...
In an aside to Dalton as they walk, "Recently we have heard that the gods no longer choose to walk the world. That's not entirely true. Fosco's goddess is younger than my grandmother. Gods rarely walk the world, but it does happen. Most of those who do more actively intervene are demigods. I have read of one who is very interested in temporal matters, Shyka, the Many. He or she is numbered amongst the Eldest which are fey of such exceeding power that they can grant spells to those who please them. Shyka has power over entropy, reincarnation, and time. She or he is a patron of chronomancers and has clashed with Aeons in the past. Perhaps, he or she might be a useful avenue for your research."
Listening intently as Ianna conveyed matters relevant to their situation, Dalton took his time in responding.
"Perhaps she could. My worry is less with usefulness now and more with stability. Perhaps it's me settling into my age." Dalton rubbed his cheek. "In our encounter, I had no control I could conceive of after the time-bending began. It was caused by primal magic nudged by me in that direction, sure - and I suppose even doing such a thing would impress my tutor were he here to see it." The mage reminisced a moment.
His expression turned into a frown then. "But he would be more alarmed, I hope. Once the event was in motion, I knew of little in how to stop it. My studies, my training? Next-to-worthless, reduced to just educated guesses. This Shyka, even if she trained me, would only create another agent of possible danger, just like our adversary. Who's to say I'm not susceptible to enchantments or vindictiveness? I'd like to think I've not shown a streak for that behavior, but the future is an unbuilt thing where anything is possible. Shyka might only be replacing one crazed man with another given enough time." Dalton sighed. "And I'd be in the debt of a deity; those burdens carry a hefty weight, and while you may be accustomed to them, dear priestess, some of us are relieved to have lighter yokes."
Ianna blinks and Dalton can tell she is a little startled.
"I wasn't suggesting you convert. I try not to proselytize for any goddess but my own. I brought up Shyka because the Eldest were not always demigods. She must have learned her chronomancy somewhere or somewhen. If she could cultivate her mastery, so too could you. Knowledge of how others blazed the trail is prudence if not wisdom."
Her tone remains gentle and conciliatory.
Allowing himself a laugh, Dalton continued the conversation.
"Oh, I did not think you were enticing me to don her cloth! One needn't be a member of the clergy to have a debt though. I don't like having those strings attached - especially when held by such a powerful being. Even the Aestherics, piecemeal as they seem to be, can weave a wide web, and it concerns me somewhat the small group of potent personalities we've seen are the chief spinners."
"You are absolutely right she would have had to hone her skill somehow, and she would know how I could improve mine. If she is not a fickle or vindictive deity, perhaps we could beseech her for aid. I've heard naught of this Shyka though, so contact is something out of my ability."
"My brother mistrusts them also. I think it wise to be cautious about beseeching something so powerful and capricious for aid, but records of her ascendancy might be fruitful."
"Then if you need help in your research, let me know. I'm going to turn my studies back to the more mundane arcane ... if there is such a thing ... to take my mind off the situation."
Dalton made his left hand into a position that resembled the resting state of his spectral conjuration. "I never sought harm with my magic. When I was young, I didn't see wars directly, but I saw the hardship they caused. The absent family member. The grief of a widow. A few losses of life were immediately known to be, but it is not the number of those emotional wounds so much as their depth that is difficult." It was clear the man spoke from experience and delighted very little in bringing up the subject. "We are in situations now where some harm to a few may prevent a great deal of harm to many. What is the right path to take in those cases?" The mage shrugged.
"I've tried to answer in neither manner, instead bolstering the abilities of my friends or hindering those of my enemies. Yet I am just as complacent in their undoing, albeit not in a direct way. Not too long ago, I researched an incantation that can imbue my touch - or that of a ghostly hand - to turn others to stone. While petrified, time does not pass for them. I imagine it is uncomfortable as they harden, yet they should not be in pain, and surely not while a statue. It seems a more final "answer", a way of imprisonment without being cruel. One can undo that status with the appropriate spell when the time is right." He dropped his hand. "Since time nor feeling would come to pass for that person, is such an act harmful? Or is it not punishment enough for those fit to be sentenced? I worry stopping time - or moving someone around in it - can cause the same dilemmas to arise, and Shyka may espouse such ideas. With the petrification, it is a short-term solution until one is in custody of sorts. Yet with what we've seen in our adversary, could people simply be discarded in a distant time and left to languish until death? Or could they be left in stasis for eons until everything they care about has turned to dust?" The transmuter shook his head. "If one has become immortal, I am concerned the concept of time and value of it to mortals becomes seen from a different perspective. One we might not share."