The paladin took the wand with careful, experienced practice. He looked it over in the growing dawn light, holding it up a few times, as if sighting down it. Nodding, he listened to Novox's half veiled guesses and suggestions.
"I had a suspicion about the Revel as well, but could not prove it." He glanced up, a ghost of a smile on his face. A hunter finding a bent twig, or a drop of blood. "But this one, is most distinctive. I think it will prove Dye's undoing, at last. It should in a certain warehouse, confiscated for public safety from a refugee. It's owner is very much alive and will able to identify it." He placed the wand in a pocket, and added, "You have just helped bring a notorious, if petty, criminal to justice, Master Novox. I thank you." And Novox hears real thanks in the gravelly voice, if somewhat begrudging.
"As for the money, I found nothing on him." The paladin frowned, glancing back at the house, "He did try to make a break for it on our way back, it is possible he hid the money away. I will take a second look at the spot and see if I can recover your goods, master Novox. I am sorry for the trouble."
The bearded man listens, stoically, as Novox paints a picture of justice and it's interaction with practical politics. Sir Thyste face is unreadable during this little lecture, eyes slightly narrowed. As Novox finished, the wizard is shocked to see a sudden grim smile appear on those cragged features.
"You are a clever man, Master Novox. With one hand, you gesture to the Law and raise yourself with it. And with the other, you graciously offer understanding of a local circumstances. Very clever." A grunt, "Things should be simpler. We should hang them both, this morning, from the bridge. Right there." He gestured with blunt fingers to the arches of dark stone, washed by the river's flowing foam. "As it was in my father's time."
Thyste turns to Novox, eyes bright in the sun. "I heard rumor that you were offering a deal last night. Peace and order, in exchange for the cessation of deviant and unproductive behaviors." Seeing Novox's face the paladin barked a laugh, "No, I'm no druid. But a good lawkeeper knows his town, and all the elements within it."
A shrug and then the older man turns to sit. All of a sudden he looks much older, a weathered stone figure left out in the rain of a hundred winters.
"I think you may be surprised to find I agree with your methods, Master Novox. I have no doubt you would, if forced, put this entire town to the sword if required. Frankly, I am surprised you have not already done so." Then his eyes flick downstream, to the barely visible muddy tents and cabins of Decius's little encampment.
Curious.
"But instead you have chosen compromise and flexibility, if possible. Again, the actions of a clever man." The paladin waves away Novox's offer of help. "I do not think Eslih's stay will be of great duration, Master Novox. For now, I have her well in hand."
Then the conversation shifts to Murray, who has been standing like a very well cloaked statue this whole time. His unseen face pointed to the river, as if he had never seen one before (which, Novox reflects, might very well be true).
The devil turns to the paladin at his words. "I am Murray." he intones, voice rough but human enough. "A...solider. Hired by this wizard, after the attacks last night."
Thyste looks at him with narrowed eyes, then glances back to Novox, "A deserter from a deserter? No honor among thieves. Strange accent. A foreigner? You have a taste for them." His chin jutted toward Hax. Yet for his casual words, there is a tightness about the paladin's eyes, a sudden tension in his neck. Did he guess? Or did he merely regard everything involving Novox to be a snake?
"From a very distant land." Murray agrees gravely.
His language needs some work. Belle offered brightly in Novox's mind. The 'stranger in a strange land' routine is good, but won't work as the good captain.
Then the moment passed and the paladin shrugged, "That is all I need you for, Master Novox. I have a suspicion the trial will not be public, so I doubt you will be needed as a witness. You help is appreciated. If I have further need, I can find you at the Inn?"
His language needs some work, Belle offered brightly in Novox's mind. The 'stranger in a strange land' routine is good, but won't work as the good captain.
'True enough,' her master's thoughts echoed through the labyrinthine webway of their bond. 'You will have to weed out that accent of his one of these evenings.' Beloreth gave no response at being handed the duty of language coach. 'As for impersonating the traitor - did you really think I would trust that to a devil's capabilities and a dwarf's disguise alone?'
The raven turned its beaked head to the wizard. What was this now? Was her master harboring some additional measure beyond the magical disguise to ensure the barbazu's charade? Suddenly, in searching their shared mind-palace, there it was. It was almost like tripping over a forgotten step in a stairway; in reviewing her keeper's intricately laid plans, she found it: an extra precaution buried within the plot. Vast as his genius was, she had missed it earlier. But if her beak could grin, the little fiend would be positively beaming at the prospect. 'Oh, very good, Master. Absolutely devilish.'
Novox took no heed of his familiar. Of course his plan was genius; it was his. Instead he gave Murray a single little dignified nod of favor - for while no expert performance, the creature had honestly been more convincing than anticipated - before looking back to the paladin. The paladin with whom he was anything but pleased. How dared he? Of all the things that could have spewed from Thyste's self-righteous gob - whether anger, indignation or insults - Novox had been ready to weather them. The gnashing of teeth from one's enemy was naught but sweet song to the man with noble cause, after all. He would have exulted in anything the knight could have thrown at him. Anything but approval. How dared he?
"A paladin who knows compromise. This is a pleasant surprise," the Egorian lied, swallowing his outrage. "I admit I had thought the two anathema."
Though he hid it and hid it well, Novox was incensed. And the fact that the old man had provoked this in him only made him angrier still. To have one's efforts besmirched with the stamp of approval from a zealot was one thing. To find that zealot as staunch as a weather vane was another. Hypocrite. In a town full of hypocrites Thyste had just unveiled himself as the greatest of them all, this being no mean feat. He wasn't faithful to either the gods he had taken divine vows to or the law he was sworn to uphold, neither abiding compromise. Instead he was loyal only to his position, and hailed this outsider for making that position easier by doing what he could not allow himself to. The man was a fraud, a pretender.
All of which should be good tidings for Novox. Instead he was repulsed. For to the savior of mankind, the greatest mind to walk the earth since Aroden, the man who had sold his soul for his beliefs, there was nothing so revolting as the abandonment of one's principles. Did he not risk his life for his people every hour of every day? Did he not walk with devils for his ethics? Had he not dedicated his existence, his genius to uplift his race, to set the universe right? No matter how wrongheaded, he could respect another's dedication to a cause. He had respected Eslih for her willingness to kill and die by her faith, no matter how much he disagreed with her. In that dogged misguidedness he saw his own commitment to what he knew was right. For he too would die for his beliefs.
But this? This callous opportunism evidenced by the knight? It was the enemy of integrity and should be abhorrent to every decent man. Thyste said he was surprised the diabolist hadn't put the entire town to the sword, and by every god, there had been moments he'd considered it. But he hadn't chosen diplomacy and reason because they'd been easier. No solution was easier than slaughter! He had chosen his approach because to do anything else would compromise his vision of a united Cheliax.
And the road to Hell was paved with compromise.
"...Which is the greater victory, Sir Thyste?" The voice was only as tense as the bowstrings that produced beauteous symphonies. "To close your enemies' eyes forever or to make them see through your own?"
He rose. "Then I wish your investigations a happy outcome. Yes, you may find me at the inn. Though likely not for much longer." The dark eyes gazed along the bridge. "I estimate my business in Dekarium nearly completed. It is a great relief to know I may trust this fair city to your capable hands."
Not even a hint of irony slipped into the assertion.
Sir Thyste's eyebrows rose when Novox mentioned his time in Dekarium was coming to an end. Obviously this was news of some note, and the wizard wondered how long it would take for the rumor to get around. This town seemed to have very effective gossip network.
The sun is fully risen when Novox makes his farewells to the paladin and heads back across the bridge. It promises to be a crisp day, with a gentle breeze wafting from the north. Fluffy white clouds scud along the sky, piling here and there in tremendous cottoned piles. Birdsong fills the air, just audible over the rushing waters below.
"Paladins." Hax remarks, and adds nothing else.
The streets are more crowded by now, everyone having fully woken up. Tradesmen opening shops as smithies, tanneries and barrel-works come to life. The hum of spinning wheels reaches down into the streets, mixed with the creak of cart axles and neighing of horses. Novox also notes several gangs of refugees doing street repairs, fixing pitholes and digging deeper drainage ditches. The wizard approves but also wonders how much of it is simple busy work, just to keep idle hands from leisure.
The trio of Novox, Hax and Murray find the White Tree much as they left it, almost entirely empty. Almost. A pair of figures sits on the patio, drinking in the morning light.
Morgana Greentounge sits imperiously at a table, sipping what smells like strong tea. At her side, hunched down as ever is a heavily cloaked figure that Novox vaguely recognizes. As Novox strides up, the woman raises her tea is salute. She smoothly rises to her feet, tea never wavering.
"Master Novox." Her voice is cool as ever. "I have found you an old friend." She waves to the other figure which stirs and reveals a leather masked face. Diseo.
"I present you Diseo, priest of Asmodeus." A glacial smile crosses the woman's stern features. "It is, as always, a joy to see friends re-united. "
She took a sip of her tea and added, "Apparently he was found wandering in the woods, entirely lost. Strange. Thank goodness I brought him back, who knows what trouble might have befallen him." Another sip and then, "Good day, Master Novox. I hope your efforts today are better received then yesterday." And with that she walks off, unstoppable as the tide.
And much like the tide, she left disagreeable debris in her waste. In this case, it was a sniveling skinless man, shivering on a wooden bench.
"This is what passes for a priest of Asmodeus, these days?" Belle remarked archly in his mind. "No wonder you need to remake Cheliax."
'A sniveling sycophant whose faith poisons his mind as surely as the flayleaf does his body?' Her master's reply felt cold within the devil's mind - little shards of ice in her grey matter. 'On the contrary, imp. I think him the epitome of all Asmodeans.'
"Ms Greentongue," he returned the woman's greeting, politely and respectfully. While there was no possibility of the two becoming fast friends - violently opposing ideologies and the odd tragic if unavoidable child killing rather making this impossible - this was no reason not to be civil. He looked to the ramshackle rag of a person she had left on his doorstep like an unwanted infant. Which, considering his fiend blood, could very well be how the tiefling's life had in fact started.
"You found him safe and sound then," Novox sighed. "What a relief." There wasn't even the slightest pretense of a smile on his bearded lip. Still, an affront to the eyes though the wretch was, the wizard couldn't deny that he took some small pleasure in his miserable existence. Seeing his despised devil worshipers as nothing more than a drug addled washout was pleasing, such was his hatred for the Dark Prince. Of course, this was all offset by the fact that said failure was supposed to aid him. Worse still, an actually capable Diseo would be a great asset to what he had planned tonight.
"Thank goodness I brought him back, who knows what trouble might have befallen him."
"Indeed. Who knows." It was a testament to the Egorian's practiced social niceties that he managed to utter this without his tongue rolling out his mouth from the sheer sardonic syrup that coated it. It was perfectly obvious to him now what had befallen the priest, the cult's role in it, and both knew this. "Thank you ever so much, Ms Greentongue. You are a credit to your fair city." Utterly indifferent to Novox's civility, however - genuine or otherwise - the woman departed, clearly not eager to share company with him any longer than necessary.
This in turn allowed him to dispense with all affectations in dealing with Diseo. "Look at me." Novox climbed the porch as a hangman might an execution scaffold. He stood over the floundering tiefling, brow heavy with discontent. "Tell me what happened."
Yes, Novox would know what had happened that fiery evening, and whether Eslih had really kidnapped the hapless fool. What's more, he needed to hear what the cleric had to say to deduce whether this really was Diseo. The diabolist was a paranoid man. He did not think it beyond his enemies to play some trickery upon him through Diseo. And so he signed the well practiced cantrip to search him for errant tricks even as he listened.
The hunched, battered looking man sitting in front of Novox certainly looked the part, at any rate. His clothes were torn and stained with mud, leaves plastered to the hem of his frayed cloak. He lacked any boots, merely wearing worn socks coated with mossy dirt. His entire body seemed to tremble slightly, like a leaf on the edge of a branch. Even as Novox surveyed him, he hacked a dry, nasty sounding cough that convulsed his whole body. Even the heavy leather mask that hid his grotesque skinless face, was cracked and splitting. It looked like Diseo, anyway, if one had dragged him through the woods for a few days.
"Do...you have any...please" Diseo starts then trails off, apparently slowly realizing that Novox is unlikely to supply him with flayleaf.
Murray, stirring from his usual silence says, "What is this creature? A servant of yours?"
Hax, who had turned away to find more tea, suddenly doubles back with a grin on his face. "A servant? No, no, my dear Murray." The fighter says moving up alongside the devil, keeping his voice low. "Why, that man right there is a priest!"
"This wretch is a conduit of the gods?" The summoned being says doubtfully, taking a single step toward Diseo, who flinches back pitifully. The devil sniffs the air then snorts derisively. "A disgrace."
"And not just any priest." Hax goes on, delight in his voice, "This person here is, according to Novox's society, in many ways the literal personification of your boss."
Murray is puzzled until Hax goes on, "The Master of Lies. He is a priest of Asmodeus. Old Dark Prince himself. Does he remind you of home?"
Murray curious disdain transforms to quiet fury, the emotion filtering through Novox's weird connection to the creature. "This...pathetic thing represents The First?" Murray says through grated, steely teeth. "This is a mockery of Hell itself! What jest is this, Novox? You humans jape this way with your gods?" A tremble seemed to pass through his body, revulsion, mixed with fear and anger.
Diseo, or at least the man who looked like him, faced away from Murray's incident rage and toward Novox. He looked up, his horrid visage hidden by the mask.
"I was set upon." He said, voice weak and dry. "I...a drink, at least?"
The teifling re-gathers himself and goes on, "I was deep in my studies, at the temple." Partaking Novox mentally corrected. "When I heard people outside. Rough laughter. I assumed it was merely children of the town, come to mock and harass me. It...would not the first time." An edge of embarrassment crept into his already pitiful voice.
"I ignored it and lost myself in thought. But then I smelled smoke. I rushed to the door, but it would not open despite being unlocked. I hurried back, but by then my rooms were full of smoke and flames. " Diseo hacked another shuddering cough, before going on. "I thought I was to die and meet my true Master but then a figure strode out of the smoke. It was the fisher woman, Eslih, the druid. Some magic protected her. She picked me up and I...all went black."
"When I woke up, it was morning. I..I was in a wood cutter's shack. Somewhere in the forest. I was alone, but they left.....food and water." The man hesitated at the last phrase. Lost and having no idea where I was, I stayed there. Shelter."[/b]
Novox frowns, sensing lies. He raised a hand and Diseo cringed like a broken dog. "The drug...they left the drug. What else could I do? Wander the woods? There was nothing else. I stayed."
How pathetic. The man had been chased out of his own home, kidnapped and left in the forest and instead of plotting revenge or even an escape, he sat in a drug-addled state. A slave to his pleasures. Disgusting.
"Eventually...what they left ran out." Diseo said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I grew thirsty, so I left the shack and was wandering in the woods, lost. That is where Morgana found me, this morning at dawn. She led me back here, without saying a word."
Arson and abduction with the aim to use the devil worshiper against him somehow, or at the very least remove him as an asset to their enemy. He'd been right then.
Of course he had.
"Firstly, that's Master Novox to you, serf," Novox quipped coolly at the barbazu's outburst before turning a yet cooler gaze onto the trembling tiefling. "And secondly, yes. Yes, I will help you."
No promise of aid had ever carried such cold menace - the gravity of a death sentence. "Up." Gripping the most literal drug fiend by his arm, he forced Diseo to his quivering feet. "I am going to gift you what your church, this town and the very god you honor have never spared you, that being their time of day. And given that this is my time, it's so much more valuable. Hax, door." The mercenary had nary opened it before Novox shoved the weary priest through the doorway and into the White Tree's foyer. "I am going to gift you exactly what you need: the reality you avoid." His aspect was that of an entire Asmodean inquisition, stern and terrible, in striding in after the heathen. The shock of any onlooker at this display was wholly ignored.
"Your soul you have consigned away to the God-Fiend to avoid the burden of responsibility. Your mind you mire in a stupefying fog in which shame might get lost. Even your body you hide behind mask and cloth. Murray, take him." Half corralled, half carried, the poor cleric already weak with withdrawal was herded further into the building, the man he had sworn himself to castigating him all the while. "You are a weak and wretched creature, so much so that you hide yourself away like a dog hides its filth. But in this is your one saving grace, Asmodean: that you are cognizant of your own misery. You would not chafe if you weren't. Your religion, your drugs, your mask: all symptoms of your shame. All attempts at avoiding what is. Well, no more. I will gift you the necessity to confront the reality of your miserable self."
Like a cajoling team of bullies moving upon their victim, they had driven Diseo to a door. The door to Novox's room. Here the wizard looked to his newest servant. "Murray," he said. "Take him in there, lock the door and keep him confined. The miscreant has been without his drug for a day or so. The next 12 hours will be crucial. He will be in agony. I want you to add to that agony." His tone was flat and dull like a cheap coil. "The addiction pangs will tie his guts into knots. The urge will set his mind on fire. He will wail, vomit, writhe and likely try to overpower you in his desperation - to find the narcotic to ease his burning veins. You may beat him, hurt him however you want so long as you do no permanent harm. Keep him alive, keep him as quiet as you can manage. And..."
Here the diabolist's gaze traveled back his quaking victim. There was no ill will gleaming in the black pearls of his eyes, only dispassion tinged by mild disgust. "...lower your mask. Let him see. As his body writhes in the consequences of his actions, let him see what he has consigned his soul to. That the pain he feels is only a first taste of what awaits him."
And with that Novox simply walked away with a roil of his cloak. Ridiculous. Did the tiefling think he would play drug dealer for him? The gall. No, the Egorian would do him the kindness he was too weak to give himself: he would force him to confront his weakness. A person - a people even - had their character defined in conflict. Diseo in his weakness had denied himself every conflict, resorting to religion to avoid developing his own strength and drug abuse to escape shame. Not any more. If the fool was to be any use to Novox, this couldn't be tolerated. With an infernal jailer and his body reduced to little more than sinews on fire, Diseo would have no choice but to confront the consequences of his actions - and what had led him to take them. He would either find himself, or find himself lacking.
Of course, this double dose of torture - both internal and external - would no doubt leave him useless for what Novox had planned tonight. But no matter. He had an idea for that. Now on to what actually mattered: finding a half-decent magic peddler in this backwater.
"Ah." Murray said, sounding like a child contemplating a favorite dessert. "Perhaps your service will have more rewards then I had guessed."
The devil turned to the quite literally quivering Diseo, his voice low and rich, yet barbed with steel. "Come, priest. Let us both contemplate the divine will of our most ultimate of masters." With an iron-hard grip of the shoulder, Murray led Diseo up the stairs into the Inn. Even as Novox turned to leave her heard a very muffled yelp from the dark upperstory. Had Diseo just had his first glimpse of Hell?
"He won't make it." Hax said, voice experienced, as they strode out into the now strong morning sun of the street. "The priest is in too deep. I've seen stronger men then him break under the need. It won't kill him, but it'll make him even more useless, if that is possible."
The search for a simple bag of spell components is annoyingly complex. In a civilized city it would be a simple job of finding a purveyor of magical items, and paying a simple price. Sadly, Dekarium lacked such a convenient system and Novox was forced to acquire his required items at half a dozen different shops and stalls ranging from an alchemist and herbalist to the utter indignity of a tanner's workshop. It was nearly noon by the time they had finished the degrading scavenger hunt.
Feeling more like himself then since Eslih and company jumped him in a dark alley, Novox headed off to Decius's ramshackle camp. It doesn't take long, just a few steps outside the open gate and the wizard finds himself in a collection of muddy tents. The number seems slightly larger then was last here and Novox guesses the promise of steady meals has brought in any number of bandits and stragglers from the woods. The wizard wonders how many other places like this are popping up across the struggling Empire.
A woman with a dirty overshirt and trousers directs Novox and Hax to a practice field where they find the exalted commander sitting on a stool, watching a few men spar with blades. Their skill earns a dismissive snort from Hax and a muttered, "Amateurs."
Decius however rises from his seat and smiles, "Master Novox, it is an honor of your to join us. You should have sent word ahead, I'd have had a better meal laid on for lunch. I trust all is well, despite the haste?"
"Stronger men? Yes. No doubt," the Egorian replied to his crude chaperone, already absent and preoccupied with interpreting a street sign versus the directions Belle's bird's-eye view transmitted him from high above. So indifferent was his air that they might just as well be discussing the prospects of the starving mongrel they passed on the street. "But a more resourceful one? Perhaps not. You forget that for all of his failings, the tiefling is still a priest. His fortitude is bolstered many times over by his curative magic. He'll manage. And if he doesn't... well, then he was never going to be any use to me."
And with that curt conclusion the matter was settled. The next hours were spent traversing that sea of inequity that was Dekarium's displaced masses, searching the town for such curios as parcels of soot and salt, twine, feathers from wings, powdered silver, spiderwebbing in jars, fermented cabbage and more. More such as cured leather, this necessitating a visit to a tannery. Novox hated tanneries.
-----------
The camp on the other hand, the stench of sweat and smoke and iron - it was like breathing in a lover's bouquet compared to the indignities of one's past.
"Is all well?" Novox greeted the traitor in turn with a no less traitorous smile. "I should think so. Especially so for yourself, Mr Decius. Or should that be Captain Decius?"
He retrieved a scroll from an inner pocket with some ceremony. "I will let you and the mayor discuss appropriate titles. For I have come to make good on our arrangement. Here, as promised." The rolled-up parchment was held out to the man as the distant Alkenstari would hold a gun barrel to their victim. "It took no small amount of coaxing, hence the delay, but Jireen agreed. She will make you the commander of Dekarium's official militia, the decree of which is already drafted. All it needs is her signature and stamp." Monumental news to be sure and the wizard did indeed carry himself like the savior he was, delivering all these derelict souls from armed vagrancy to a new home flush with safety and purpose. Pompous to be sure. And it was in this sanctimony that he veiled his true intentions.
"Congratulations, Mr Decius, to you and yours. A home complete with respected positions in exchange for protecting said home during these troubled times. A perfectly fair arrangement, no? Even so..." Like a cat hopping from the windowsill his voice lowered in regret. "Given, ah, past animosity, the good mayor would like to discuss some terms with you before signing anything. She would meet with you, in private. I'm sure you understand. There are powers within the town that will be less than pleased with her for agreeing to this. In my role as mediator, I have taken it upon myself to find you a neutral meeting place."
"Oh, well done." Belle coos inside his head, her raven form gripping his shoulder. "A bdellavritra itself could hardly have done better."
Unaware of this by-play, Decius looked at the proffered scroll like a man in the desert sighting an oasis. One of his gloved hands twitched slightly. Yet, a man did not come in command of a group of bandits by being trusting.
"A meeting." The man says neutrally, eyes flicking to Hax and then back. "Curious. Come, we'll talk about it over lunch. I insist."
The commander glanced at an aide who hurried off quickly. Meanwhile Decius turned back to Novox, "Rumor of a rumor says you had some issues last night, with some of those...powers in town you mentioned. Some even said you were dead. Obviously, it has been greatly exaggerated."
In short order a table is brought over, along with more stools. A few baskets of food are provided, obviously the same sort of fare Novox had noticed in the city. Heavy on fruits and vegetables with fish being the only meat offered. Novox is given a clean (if slightly nicked) plate setting to eat from, while Hax is given a single pewter bowl.
The food is fresh, at least, if nothing amazing. Still, better then most armies at the moment probably ate. Dekarium was a good larder, if nothing else. The town's value to other loyalist cities downstream was inarguable.
Decius Malco Axillusus took an apple and bite into it with a gusto, speaking as he did so, "So, your plans have all come together then. And for me as well. Commander of the town's militia, just as you said. Didn't take you too long to get things set up the way you like." A pause for another bite and then, tone casual "So why all the cloak and dagger? I mean, if Jireen and yourself are about to announce us as war heros of the Empire, with a full pardon and official status...it's a bit late to worry about some grumbling."
"Especially if the main grumbler is sitting in a jail cell." A third bite on the apple and bit of juice ran down his rough, badly shaven chin.
A single drop of clear nectar bled down the firm flesh of the peach as Novox skewered it with his dagger. "Dead?" he repeated, inspecting the fruit for blemishes. "No sir. I don't intend to die before I am immortal."
If the statement was cryptic, it was clearly intentionally so. What was certain was that the Egorian didn't think much of the supposed attempt on his life. He was impervious as ever, the very image of Egorian civility as he occupied the simple stool as others might a throne, his posture picture perfect in shaving off thin slices of peach and thoughtfully enjoying them. He conducted himself as if he was at a capital garden party.
Was he flaunting his own fortitude, showcasing just how indomitable he was even in the face of assassination plots? Was he taunting the commander, he with his civil bearing, neatly cutting his fruit before the simpleton with juices running down his unshaven chin? Or was he simply engaging in the grand old Chelish tradition of bringing culture to the savages, nothing more than a colonial reflex? Yes, yes, yes and more. Whatever Decius believed, however, Novox listened to his misgivings patiently. Only after carving, savoring and swallowing another slice of peach did he reply.
"Do you know, we are in the wrong vocations, Mr Decius." His pensive gaze traveled to the river glittering in the sun. "I - all I want is to serve my nation, to safeguard my people. It is the raison d'être behind all that I do. It is why I am here, why I am reinforcing Jireen's position, why I rejected your none too veiled suggestions and why I will leave Dekarium secured against the worst the war will bring. Because I am a patriot, Mr Decius. I would, and likely will, die for the country. But you - you have ambition. Ambition and the paranoia that is its inextricable companion. When one covets more, it is a given that one also suspects everyone else of coveting what you already have. Such as now when I bring you a gift horse and you carve it ear to ear. And so you see that we are in the wrong vocations. You should be the politician. And I the soldier."
The outspoken introspection was punctuated by a wistful sigh, the breath speaking to the fleeting folly of all men. Only for the wizard's bearing to whiplash from the ephemeral to the darkly pragmatic, suddenly flinty eyes fixing the captain.
"I have been nothing but candid with you, Decius. I am not playing games here. Why the cloak & dagger? Because Jireen doesn't like you. You know this. Because she fears what you represent to her power in the city once you're within its walls, that's why. Because she fears what aforesaid powers - which consist of more than merely the guild mistress as you should already know - will stir against her at any perceived 'outside interference', whether Egorian or vagrant army. And so she wants to set some ground rules, discuss terms in private." He hunched over the table. "Don't you dare waste this opportunity, Decius. I have put no small effort into convincing her that you are a necessary evil, and want to finish this. With her leadership and your men, I am assured of Dekarium's safety and can finally leave this backwater. Important as securing the town is to me, it's high time my considerable talents are put to use elsewhere. So you will see her tonight and the two of you will hash this out."
A diplomat done with diplomacy, a city slicker fed up with the boonies, a self-aggrandizing narcissist who wanted to move on to bigger and better things. No, clearly this was a man with nothing to gain from plotting against the traitor. As he said, he was a necessary evil. He needed him.
'Perfect.' Belle murmured. 'That touch of asperity really sells it. It makes it seem as if he is doing you a favor. Also mentioning his power, her fear. It places him in control...clever, Master.'
Decius grunted something that might have been an apology and tossed away the core of his apple. "Don't be offended, Master Novox." The would-be warlord said placatingly. "No need to be so touchy."
The man turned his attention to a plateful of buttered mushrooms for a few moments, piercing a few with a crude fork. The man raised it to his lips but did not bite, instead watching them quiver while he spoke. "I'm not objecting to anything, I just want to make sure I fully understand the circumstances. I have my own interests, same as you. if someone was arranging such a....match for you, wouldn't you want all the details up front?"
He waved his mushrooms, enough for some of the butter to drip on the table. 'I'll be there, don't worry. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Give me the time and place. I wouldn't miss it for the world, Master Novox."
"So," the big man said grandly, "Do you have planned after leaving this backwater? What new vistas open for you, in the greater world beyond? Should I expect you to come back in a few years ready to run the province?"
Like a sunrise at midnight, the diplomat's severe scowl brightened into a seemingly so sincere smirk at Decius's assent. All who looked upon him had to wonder at the man's true character, with his aspect changing as quickly - and surely being as false - as a harlequin's masks.
"Excellent. Then we shall expect you tonight on the hour vigilia. The location is a warehouse near the black obelisk by the outer wall, the one commemorating the last bit of trouble Dekarium had with the crown." The massacre was alluded to as lightly as such such travesties must be. "You should recognize it easily enough; one-story and abandoned. It was the scene of my supposed death or grand triumph depending on which you rumor you listen to. I trust people to stay clear of it for now whatever they believe."
Forgoing the knife, Novox bit into his peach. "As for my intentions post Dekarium," he continued upon swallowing, "you should be able to guess by now. I will do as the crown bids me and go where the nation needs me. Nothing more, nothing less." He rose from the simple stool. "But no, I don't expect to return here any time soon. Securing this town is but one brushstroke, Mr Decius, and I have a chapel spanning fresco to paint."
Yes, Dekarium would be free from Egorian oversight for the forseeable future. This was the message he wanted to leave the traitor with as Novox thanked him for his time and exited his camp. Meaning that Decius could fantasize about taking the community from out under the mayor's capable skirts that more freely. It was very intentional on the wizard's part to lend these fantasies just that little bit of plausibility. They acted as another carrot on the stick that already carried a bushel of them. Another assurance that Decius would attend the meeting this dead of night, drunk on his own ambition and as defenseless as the worst lush.
Though this didn't preclude the wizard from taking his own precautions. 'Imp,' he commanded in walking.
'Ready and willing, Master.'
'Fly to the warehouse. Watch over it. I don't consider it likely, but Decius may think himself tragically clever and try something. Report back to the White Tree if you see any activity there.'
'I shall count the minutes, Master,' the tiny fiend replied in alighting, the line between adoration and teasing blurring within the effervescent threads that connected their minds. That was the imp set to work. And as for Novox himself? Well, he had an idea or two for how to occupy himself until nightfall.
Alone.
How long had it been since Novox had truly given himself a few moments? He often had Hax looming like a vaguely disapproving shadow and at least one devil sounding off inside his mind. It was his duty (and his due) but it could still wear on the wizard. So it was with a certain amount of relief and anticipation that Novox retired early to his inn rooms and locked the door against further intruders. Hax had also went to his room for a quick nap, building up a reserve against a possibly long and strenuous night.
But Novox did not plan to sleep, he planned to do something better. To think. On the small battered table, the wizard laid out the items that would receive his undivided attention for a few hours. A stone lotus, a set of personalized sea charts and a very ornate box. A strange collection of objects perhaps, but worthy of his study. He turned to the charts at first.
The yellowed, oiled paper feels soft yet heavy in his hands, and Novox's fingers trace out deep folds and creases in the map, pointing to it being quite aged. It is well cared for however, with little more damage then a few stains and the slightest of fraying at the edges. It becomes instantly apparent to the wizard that the charts display the area around the city of Westcrown, that crime-ridden City of Twilight. Novox had never been but the shape of that river estuary is known to all Chelismen of learning. Well, that and the label in the top right corner. For it is an official map, created and produced by the Imperial Geographic and Commerce Board and available to all traders and captains (for a price). The map depicts the known reefs, currents and islands in the tangled mouth of the Adivian River.
More interesting however, are the copious hand-written notes that dot the entire sheet. To Novox's frustration however, the notes are in some sort of personal shorthand, part code, part convivence. It takes the wizard the better part of two hours to decipher the series of slashes, dots and wiggles. His persistence is rewarded however. Some of the notations reveal what he expected. A catalog of reefs, sandbars and hidden islands that any experienced captain gathers over a lifetime of his trade, the small tricks of the trade that mariners pick up.
More intriguing is a different set of script. It indicates places of pervious smuggling drop offs, times, placement of hidden wharves and caches and, more critically of all, names. Names of the fences and other underworld contacts this smuggler dropped off, as well as rough guesses at names and territories of various gangs and organizations. Quite valuable in the right hands, as Novox doubts many written records of such things exist.
Next, the wizard turns his attention to the brass box he had found in the Hellknight collection. It feels smooth and heavy in his hands, far weightier then it should be. Unlike the charts however, the objects reveals little under even his intense scrutiny. The box doesn't seem magical, no magical auras and the brass seems to be just simple brass. And then Novox also drops it in surprise and shock, when he peers just a little closer. There is a tiny antimagical field permeating the slowly clicking lock, just enough to envelop the gears and hidden mechanisms inside. Using magic to penetrate the mysterious container is, apparently, out of the question.
Novox only finds one other clue. On the bottom of the box, half hidden, is a tiny engraved termite. Termite? It isn't used in any heraldry Novox knows of, hardly being the most honored creature. The only people who use the termite are the rather obscure followers of Brigh, the goddess of invention and artifice. Was this some holy relic? The box yielded nothing else to the wizard, just the same slow winding of invisible gears.
Lastly he turns his attention to the intricately carved stone lotus, also looted from the Hellknight's mismanaged pile of debris. The holy rock is small, easily fitting in the palm of his hand, and oddly cool. It has a slight greenish cast to the smooth, engraved surface. Novox is forced to be impressed with the craftsmanship of the item, with each petal and fold of leaf exquisitely carved in flowing, natural angles. There is no sign of chisel or file here, just organic smoothness. Etched into the surface with delicate care are the elegant letters of the Celestial alphabet, spiraling outward across the leaves. It is a very formal version of the language and despite being fluent, Novox takes a few moments to decipher it fully.
Om who is clearer than our breath is self-subsistent.
All Knowledge and All Bliss.
We meditate upon that adorable effulgence of the resplendent Vivifier of the Universe, Irori.
May He Illumine our intellects unto the right path.
Irori, god of perfection, self-discipline and knowledge. Hardly surprising that he has followers in Nirvana. It seems to have no magical auras or purpose, except perhaps a lingering trace of that distant neutral good plane of existence. Sacred to some, and a valuable collector's item to others.
Om who is clearer than our breath is self-subsistent.
All Knowledge and All Bliss.
We meditate upon that adorable effulgence of the resplendent Vivifier of the Universe, Irori.
May He blah blah blathy blarney.
Novox nearly tossed the stone aside before he finished deciphering its inscription. Yes yes, divine this and reverential that; he was fairly confident he could guess how the rest of it went. All gods were the same, after all, and their dull worshipers similarly uninspired. Just a coalition of fat, bloated piglets suckling down mortal souls from the teat of the Prime Material to the shrill choir of mentally addled sycophants. Right up until the swine began their perennial fight over the most succulent udder, aforementioned sycophants burning on their worlds caught in the cosmic conflict along with everyone else. And even then they would warble their chants so that those selfsame gods might spare them until the very end. Those woefully boring chants.
Well, he certainly wouldn't grant them the attention the divine couldn't be arsed to spare, so the diabolist set aside the stone lotus. As trinkets went it was both novel and attractive, qualities that lent it some value, sentimental or monetary. But this was all it was, he concluded. The maps on the other hand, these were interesting. Novox pondered the smuggling routes and fences it detailed. Westcrown, the City of Twilight. He had never had the pleasure of visiting the storied metropolis. Would his destiny ever take him there? Undoubtedly, if not now then some day. On that day the information stored on these sea charts could prove invaluable. Not that he couldn't see some use for them here and now. He had no doubt that Vannellus, with his less than legal endeavors, would find these yellowed pages very intriguing indeed.
But then the wizard wasn't sure what further use the fixer could be for him at this point. His complete success in Dekarium was now a given, mere hours away in fact. This in turn was what afforded him the luxury of contemplating the most curious artifact in his growing collection: the box. Novox traced a long, pale finger across the smooth brass. Brigh, eh? Obscure though she was, he had read of the so-called Whisperer in Bronze. Hardly the worst of the parasitic pantheon if her scripture spoke true. Invention and engineering were worthy pursuits he himself had publicly championed. What, the Egorian wondered, could a clicking case dedicated her hold? If indeed it was dedicated to her. The termite symbol could refer to any number of little-known or even wholly private causes, making guesswork based on it meaningless. And this only made the fruitless examination of the thing that much more frustrating.
Novox sighed. While his expedition through the capital's libraries had once turned up an anonymous little pamphlet detailing the ignoble art of lock picking, no doubt waylaid somehow, this wasn't a skill set he had bothered to acquire. He was the savior of mankind, for goodness's sake. His time was valuable. Unfortunately, picking the lock was apparently the only way to open the darn chest. Though this was interesting in and of itself. A locked box with a minute anti-magic field surrounding only its lock. A box made of brass. Why, the soft metal could easily be broken through. As a secure storage, the construction was severely lacking even with the magic. So if the abjuration wasn't placed to protect its contents, why was it there?
Two possibilities presented themselves to the genius mind. Either that the box's inner workings would not survive such a direct assault and that its builder presumed any attacker to know this, thus deterring would-be thieves. Or that the anti-magic was the entire purpose behind the whole construction - that it was some sort of puzzle box. Both options carried implications. Neither, however, could be verified at the moment. Packing away these curiosities, both those littering the desk and the more intangible ones occupying his mind, he rose from the chair. What time was it? Was Hax occupying the inn's lounge as warlords occupied cities? Perhaps the sellsword had a hidden talent with locks.
"So tell me, Snoop," he asked in seating himself on the simple stool put out for the occasion. "What is it like finding yourself behind bars? Because in your case I imagine it feeling like coming home."
The query, civil as an entire courthouse and genial as a whore's kiss, clashed with the grim surroundings of Dekarium's jail, the hallway outside that somber institution's cells being where Novox now found himself. More specifically, he was looking into a cell only recently occupied. "After all, this is where scum such as you belong."
Possessed by curiosity and with the time to indulge, the wizard had left the White Tree with Hax in tow. From there they had returned to the place of their morning rendezvous; namely, they had returned to Thyste with a request. It was a simple appeal, especially so for the man who had shown such goodwill for the community. Novox wished to see the footpad Dye. To "inquire about the aforementioned gold he stole off me," as he justified this visitation to the canny jailer. His true intention was baser still than plain avarice, however. Greed blackened the soul, but curiosity ate at the intellect, and the Novox valued the latter far more than the former.
"Shut up, Snoop," he said at the rogue's inevitable outburst, his interjection sharp as the cracking whip, his demeanor listless as the coiled whip. "I haven't deigned to hear a single word out of your fool mouth as of yet, so why you would think this likely now is beyond me. No, what I am here for is your fingers." The statement drew uncomfortable thoughts to the dismemberments regularly employed as punishment for stealing. "You fancy yourself quite the larcenist, no? An artiste even? Well, I find myself in need of such a skill set."
Setting his haversack before him, Novox bent forward on his stool to retrieve a small brass box from it, the thing's innards curiously alive with soft clicks audible in the quiet of the prison. "Pick open this lock for me, and I will reward you with more than you deserve: I will lie for you." The diplomat's black eyes appeared like deep, dark cavemouths in the dim light, twin entrances to realms primordial and terrible. "The good Sir Thyste is building his case against you, and it looks very damning indeed. That wand of yours? It is now the lynchpin to your undoing, apparently connecting you to a great many serious thefts. Very stupid, Snoop. Very stupid. Except..." Hope sprang into the air light and naïve as a the lamb. "Except his only proof of you purloining that particular wand is... why, it's my word, isn't it? He only saw it in my own hand. Hm. And I suppose even I can make mistakes. Perhaps the wand is my own. Perhaps I simply got confused in the terrible attack. That's perfectly understandable, a mere academic such as I forced into harrowing life-and-death combat. And so, perhaps Thyste's case against you starts to look a great deal more questionable."
The trade was then clear, as clear as such illicit activities could be: the Egorian would help the thief avoid too harsh a sentence on the condition that he aid him in opening this mysterious box. Novox held out his palms, one of which held the brass construction, the other a pair of intricately carved bones. "I have brought with me the tools you may need. You will note that they carry some special properties."
Novox had expected to find Dye locked in a dank set of cells underground, surrounded by little more then damp stone and perhaps some mildew. It was with surprise when Thyste led them upstairs, along a creaking wooden staircase. The paladin explained that while the building certainly did have subterranean cells, one of them was currently being occupied by Eslih.
"And considering her skill set," The paladin had said firmly, "It was best to leave her alone."
So instead of damp stone, Novox was fronted with a small wooden closet that had been hastily transformed into a cell. Holes had been bored into both the top and bottom of the lintel, and thick iron bars inserted. There was no door. Apparently the paladin simply intended to dismantle the entire façade when it was time to extract the thief. Hax inspected them with considerable experience and nodded in approval.
"That's one way to do it." The athiest said to Sir Thyste, who took a step back toward the stairs.
"You have no idea how much of a comfort that is me." The stern faced man said and then, in respect to what Novox asked, left them alone. The wizard could tell it galled the unbending lawman but he could hardly tell Novox, his star witness and defendant no. Like so many in Dekarium, he found himself needing Novox far more then he would have liked. As he stumped down the stairs the paladin threw over his shoulder, "Leave him unharmed, Master Novox. I will not have a prisoner molested on my watch."
The wooden cell was not very appealing. It was totally bare of any furnishings except a slop bucket in the corner. No windows, no bed, not even a blanket. Clearly, coddling prisoners was not one of Thyste's weaknesses. Dye looked tired, dirty and altogether hopeless with torn and battered clothes. He showed no signs of life in the presence of his jailer, just morose depression and languid indifference. A model of a beaten man, without a single shred of defiance. He lived up considerably when Novox spun out his combination of lies and promises.
The thief shuffles over to the bars, rubbing a hairy, unshaven chin. Novox can smell his unwashed body over the scents of fresh wood and old iron.
"A lighter sentence.." Dye says speculatively, looking hard at Novox. The wizard could see what the wiry man was thinking, as clearly as if he was reading a scroll.
Dye did not trust Novox's promises at all, that was obvious. But he had precious few options. Sir Thyste was not any deals, unlikely or otherwise. Eslih had leverage, of a sort. Not only her rather potent power but also he position. A guildmisstress of the fishers and some kind of personal connection with the Mayor. Those were powerful tools, perhaps even enough to stave off the ultimate punishment.
Dye on the other hand, patently had nothing. Not even infamy. He was just a two-bit thief caught by a very stern and uncompromising warden. Not even his patron would do much for him, Novox guessed. Vannellus seemed the type to drop unwanted and inexpert tools. Dye the slinking lookout was useful, Dye the miserable prisoner was less so. All these calculations and more were clearly becoming clear to the man he called Snoop.
'You have all the skill and nature of a cat, Master. You toy with your prey as if you were born to it. Make him hang on your every word, on the mere whisper of your grace and hope. Dance to your tune and then, when it amuses you most, cut him down to the bone. Delightful, Master!' Belle cackles in his mind, voice warm as summer honey.
"A lock, eh?" Dye says with forced heartiness, as if they were two friends, debating some point over ale in a tavern. "Sure, I'll give it a try." He rubs his hands together and blows on them, as if warming his fingers to suppleness.
"So how does it work?" Dye said, glancing at the proffered tools. "I can't reach-" As if activated by his words (or thought) the tools spring to life, loudly clattering to upright positions.
Dye whistles, "That's a neat trick. Where did you get those?" he leans closer, "Is that...bone?" The man recoils slightly, making a face.
"A bit late for being squeamish." Hax says bluntly, to which Dye shrugs.
He leans forward again, frowning slightly, head cocked, for all the world like a dog hearing a distant whistle. Then the picks move in smooth unison toward the brass box, penetrating the small keyhole. They dance and click with quickening speed, like small ivory blurs.
"Amazing." Dye said, staring at the box. "I am doing it and yet...not. Like, if I was doing it asleep. Or drunk." Clearly the man was no poet. Then something very odd happens.
The picks suddenly slow, as if they were caught in thickening mud, first to half speed and then a mere crawl. Finally they freeze to a total stop, with just the barest trace of a quiver. A flare of hope springs in Novox's mind. Was it working? Was it about to open already?
"I don't understand-" Dye starts then stops as one of the picks suddenly starts to dissolve.
And in a trice all the tools are mere dust, and Novox can see the lockpicks are no more, the enchantment broken and the items destroyed. And the brass box remains unchanged, gears apparently unaltered by the brief attempt, slowly winding down on the very edge of hearing.
Dye looks down at the sand that was once his ticket out of his cell, and then up to Novox.
"I mean, it's the thought that counts, right?"
"Hmph."
Powerful engine for innovation though it was, it would seem that Novox's curiosity had to acquiesce on this occasion. If not, it could well go him as it did the proverbial cat. What in the world just happened? Stooping forward like a black clad vulture, the wizard scrutinized the dust that moments earlier had been a pair of lockpicks. He stroked at his bearded chin. Had he seen that right, he wondered? Had the picks aged into dissolution? How very curious. And no less aggravating.
Testing. This required testing before any conclusion could be reached. Digging back into his haversack, the Egorian retrieved a small knife, one designed for little more than shaving quills into pens, and also one such quill. Ignoring both thief and mercenary entirely in his scientific fervor, he carefully inserted these - one after the other - into the box's keyhole. Though not before protecting his hands within the snug confines of his travelling gloves. Whatever was within the thing, it involved dangerous magic and Novox was too well-versed a practitioner not to respect anything arcane.
It was vaguely comical, really; the dapper man kneeling before a simple box and scowling at it as if it had insulted his person. Such was the diabolist's visible rancor, however, that few would dare laugh. How was this possible, he pondered? His examination of the artifact had revealed no magic beyond that protecting its lock, so what of the unnatural something it housed? Was the brass - plain though it appeared - shielding it from detection somehow? And what of the machinery within? Novox had mulled upon a great many thoughts on the possible nature of this machinery, but now, looking at the weathered lockpicks turned dust, a very particular engine leapt to mind. Could the clicking inside be emanating from a... timepiece?
A clock. Time. Aging. It was the sort of esoteric association that the magically inclined and plain mad too often indulged in. It made an aggravating sort of almost sense. More aggravating still was that this ghost of an hypothesis was useless. How could it not be? The very center of this mindspin - the box itself - was useless. For if neither the arcane nor practical could open it, what use was the thing to he who did not possess its key?
"I mean, it's the thought that counts, right?"
Novox's sigh was more venomous than a hydra's breath. "I fear our world is not quite that generous. I know I'm not." Slowly coming to terms with the box being a mystery that would have to be for now, his disappointment made way for plain chagrin. That is to say, chagrin at the price for this resignation. He looked to the dust pile. Those enchanted lockpicks would have fetched no small fee if sold to the right buyer, he knew. And gold was the fuel that powered all arcane research. Damn it. He could have accomplished much with that gold. Dekarium was turning into an expensive venture.
This in turn was why he next demanded: "Although you may redeem yourself by telling me where you hid that money you pilfered off me."
Of course, there was nothing Dye could do to redeem himself in the wizard's eyes.
Why would this box, which may or may not be related to Brigh age things? Was it just a safety measure or some kind? The wizard had to admit, the idea of any thief being instantly crumbled to weathered dust was potent.
So, like all men of keen mind, he put his theory to the test. He inserted the thin blade of the tiny knife into the small keyhole. After a few moments of somewhat aimless jiggling, the knife suddenly freezes in place, as if locked in hardening cement. Then, just like the lockpicks, it starts to change. The shiny metal grows dull and pitted, then rust grows across it like a fast-growing fungus. Soon the knife crumbles away into brown dust, leaving him with an untouched handle. The quill has much the same result, the feathers quickly withering away into a desiccated hollow stalk and then mere dirt. Clearly the nature of the item inserted doesn't seem to matter. There is a slight delay however, before the effect occurs. Curious.
Still, that was enough science for one day. Novox straightened and he saw Dye tense as the man watched his only hope out of this cell preparing to leave.
"The gold?" Dye looked sly and said, "Get me out of here, and I'll take you right to it."
The wizard is no mood for demands or games. Novox was a busy man with things to do, and he had no desire to linger in this broom closet. So, without a further word he glanced at Hax, turned on his heel and left. behind him, Dye raged.
"You stuck up aristocrat!" The thin man shouted, grasping the firm bars of his cage. "Damn you, Narsus Novox! Asmodeus drag your soul into the Everlasting Darkness!" And, as Novox descended the stairs, the wiry man broke down and began to cry.
Time passed, night fell and finally Novox felt it was time to prepare his meeting place with Decius. With Hax at his side the wizard strode off into the darkness. Another day had passed and once again Novox walked the quiet streets of Dekarium, winding his way between the warehouses. While the streets were empty, he noted more then a few of the dilapidated buildings were indeed full of refugees and other societal castoffs. Morgana had been correct, any considerable disaster would claim many lives.
He found 'his' warehouse without much trouble, and his keen nose even picked up the faint lingering scent of bear fur.
"So this is where you had all that fun last night?" Hax murmured, glancing at the mildewed building. "Looks fine from the outside. I find when wizards get angry they tend to leave more...ruins."
Belle swooped in, emerging from some hidden crevice. She lands on Novox's shoulder, digging in with that soft, but ever so sharp grip.
'Empty as a merchant's soul, master.' The devil said impishly. 'No signs of traps or visitors.'
And then Novox heard a firm, heavy stride coming up an alley. Before he had time to react, two figures emerged into the street in front of the would-be meeting place. To the wizard's surprise, he recognized them.
One of them was Krin, the bad tempered guard Decius had brought onboard his little boat. The other was Melly, the slim woman who had competed in the diving contest during the Revel. Both are armed, although their weapons are sheathed at their belts. Behind him, Novox notes Hax takes a step back, his hand casually resting on his own sword hilt. His eyes fix on Krin and a tiny smile quirks one corner of his mouth.
"We didn't come too early, did we?" Krin says, his grin broader. He looked quite pleased with himself. "I suppose not since you had the same idea. Make sure everything is well in hand, eh?" Melly is silent, gazing at the old warehouse with vague distaste.
'Empty as a merchant's soul, master.'
A delay. Interesting. Novox rubbed at the dusty smudge on his finger that had been part of a quill moments earlier. While it was entirely possible, even probable, that the slight delay before the box's ruinous magic took hold was mere circumstance, just the oscillations of the arcane attuning themselves like a concert orchestra before their opening prelude, he wondered. What if it was intentional? What if it was there by design? What if this delay represented the brief window of time in which the key to the box might unlock it, the wasting security system only activating if it recognized this process as taking too long - in other words, if it suspected that one wasn't using this hypothetical true key?
As theories went, it was possible, if not probable. But then theories in the sciences weren't judged by their feasibility. They were either proven wrong or assumed true. And at the moment it was the wizard's only means for opening the thing, so assume it true he would. For if the right key could open it, no matter its properties, then it stood to reason that the right lock-picker could do the same. Granted, said larcenist would have to be a true artiste, a master of his craft, to cajole the lock within the brief interval allowed, but such was so often the snag to all theories: that they were only theoretically possible.
Still, it was a hope, however dim, and Novox would wield it undeterred. Much could be said about the man, but he wasn't one to surrender. One didn't upend the multiverse by balking at the improbable. Though this wasn't to say that he intended to shakedown the nearest thieves' guild for their finest rogue at the earliest opportunity. No, ever practical as he was, Novox knew not to pin any great hope on a haphazard mystery box. Perhaps the silly thing was even empty. He was a busy man. He had a nation to save, a people to uplift, a wold to build. Traitors to kill. One errant trinket couldn't be allowed to distract the savior of mankind. Instead it would merely remain as a footnote in the vast archive that constituted his grand plan, something to pursue should the opportunity present itself. But nothing more.
These were the far-flung hypotheticals that played upon the Egorian's genius in exiting Dekarium's jail, and extraordinarily unlikely as they were, they still affected him more than any one of the curses and cries of the prisoner he left behind.
----------
Ah. The overcompensating one.
'The what now?'
And the pearl diver.
'... Master, are you goading me?'
Novox eyed the two interlopers to his scheme with the coolly civil regard they were due. For in truth they weren't wholly unwelcome. "Well, they do say great minds think alike," he replied evenly to this Krin's remark. "If so, this is surely a great compliment for yourself. Less so for me."
Yes, he had been less than courteous with this conscript when they last met. There was no reason to treat him any differently now. Fool though he was, the diabolist knew better than to give him any reason to suspect this uppity urbanite to be anything other than genuine. That was precisely why their commander had sent these two here, after all: to root out any foul play. Decius didn't trust him. He was wise to do so, even if it was the base animal wisdom of the beast who knew that bare survival was never a given.
And yet Novox wasn't entirely displeased at the development. It meant the death of not just the traitor, but two of his closest subordinates. Perfect. If they insisted on joining the proceedings, rushing to their captain's defense, then that was merely two fewer who might recognize the false fiend-commander for what he truly was. This more than made up for the waylaying of his trap.
The idea that this was a fight he couldn't win never entered the wizard's mind. "Please understand that I am only here to satiate the mayor's paranoia. She has trouble trusting your good commander, a hurdle I will do my best to help her climb during tonight's negotiations. I of course have nothing but the highest regard for the man." The praise was flaccid as a palsied earthworm. "You two must be very excited to join the decent citizenry."
It took Krin a minute to parse Novox's insult, so it quite obvious when the point hit home. His face clouded over and he took a quick step forward. Hax, stone faced, also took a step forward and said, "Are we starting early?" There was a hunger in his voice that the wizard hadn't heard before, a tiny thrill hiding behind his words. For whatever reason his bodyguard really wanted to hurt this man.
Krin's eyes darted from Hax to Novox and then back. With apparent effort the man shrugged and said, "Why rush things?"
Meanwhile, Novox mentally instructed Belle to fly back and retrieve Diseo, if possible. The imp was a bit put out at the order.
'You want me to leave, now?' She pouted in his mind. 'Right before this two big men strip to the waist and wrestle? Think of the sweat...and the blood.' A sequence of happily blurry images flashes between their mental link before the raven-shaped imp sighs theatrically, 'Sometimes a girl just has to make do.' And with that she flies off into the dark sky.
Time passes as Novox awaits the arrival of his cohort of various extra-planar allies. Idlily he wonders if Diseo survived 'treatment' under Murray's care, and if so, what condition he is in. Would a broken, cringing dog arrive? A nearly comatose zombie? An actual corpse? Part of Novox would not be surprised if the bearded devil would take a simple delight in handing him back a corpse.
His various worries are soon interrupted when a voice calls out from around a corner. "Hello!" The voice is jovial and hearty, more suited to polo grounds then a midnight warehouse. Krin jerks up, sword half-drawn at the sound, while Hax does the same.
Around the corner comes two shapes. Bringing up the read is the heavily cloaked Murray, walking with his usual firm stride. Novox peers closely but is happy to see the devil is well covered, keeping their secert safe. More distracting however is the other figure.
Diseo strolls down the empty street like he owns it, head held high and chest out. His booted feet are loud on the dirty cobbles, making enough noise for a regiment of priests. More shockingly, he is not wearing his mask, and the moonlight catches his transparent, horror show of a face. Veins pulse visibly, eyes round globes of white and teeth grinning like a skull. For all that thought, Diseo is smiling and even waving.
The Allnight seems to have hit him quite hard, Master.' Belle chortles in his mind, 'It was all we could do to have him put any clothes on.' The vision of a naked Diseo whips through Novox's mind, thankfully so fast as not to induce nausea.
krin narrows his eyes at the two new arrivals and says, "What is this Novox, bringing in a private army? Why not call in a private company of archers too? Could you be any more obvious?"
"Firstly, that's 'Mr Novox' or 'Master Novox' or perhaps even 'O great benefactor and Chelish exemplar Novox' to you." Speaking over his shoulder, the aforementioned titan of humanity did not deign the wiry villain with his full attention, instead reserving his probing gaze for the two new arrivals. "Secondly, a boor such as you forgets himself in questioning a man of quality. You are not entitled to my time. Sterner gentlemen than I would say that merely looking upon your better entitles you to nothing but a beating. And thirdly," he said, disinterestedly, "see the second item."
Thusly prompting his own exit from this exchange, Novox put word into action and dismissed the thug in favor of the fiendish friar and devil-in-disguise, taking a few long strides towards them. He did not have to explain himself to this Krin. Some explanation from these two would be appreciated, however.
The wizard studied the so very lively corpse man before him, slowly. The ponderous gaze and stately bearing acted as a mirror to Diseo's frantic buoyancy, and deliberately so. "Do calm down, tiefling." Stern disapproval might not mean much to the drug currently, almost visibly, pumping through the man's heart, but it was better than nothing. Novox needed him to take it down just as a notch. While the veins in the transparent face were plainly gushing like a proud mother, it wouldn't do to arouse suspicion just now. Was the priest... well?
'Relative to what, Master? A gnat, ah, hopped-up on stimulants? An elephant-seal hopped-up on stimulants? Because I fear that whatever your criteria, the whole "hopped-up" part is the key issue.'
'Well enough to be any use.'
"Thank you for escorting him, Murray," the Egorian suddenly said, addressing the robed stranger. "You may return to your duties." If this command confused the barbazu here expecting a fight, the playful voice slithering its way into his mind like a snake through grass clarified matters.
'Smile, my friend. You're on stage. Our Master can't speak freely with the traitor's minions listening, but he would have you leave. Or rather, he would have them see you leave. Go. Cross the corner, get out of eyesight, and then teleport yourself within this warehouse here - yes, that's the one,' Beloreth confirmed at the devil's eyes searching the ramshackle building. 'Once inside, be discreet. There are chambers below ground. We will follow in after you. Our victim will arrive shortly.'
Such was the message her master had instructed her to relay, a minor, but necessary measure. For clod though he was, Krin was quite right to be suspicious. Having multiple armed and able men attend the negotiations was fair cause for alarm, which was why Murray should not be seen entering. It was also why, still playing for the audience, Novox gripped Diseo by the shoulder and, leading him inside, went on in his assured voice, always loud enough to hear:
"I appreciate you attending on such a short notice, especially considering what befell your church, just as I value your discretion. Having a priest of the god of contracts overseeing the conference will help both sides adhere to any agreement."
In dismissing Krin so caustically, Novox almost overplays his hand. As he turns, the muscular man's hand plunges for his belt and comes up with a sparkling blade. In a flash his arm is cocked, ready to throw it at Novox's back. Hax surges forward, feet moving noiselessly over the grimy cobblestones. Just before the man can throw the blade however, Melly catch his arm in what must be a grip of steel. Pulling on his elbow, the slender woman whispers urgently in Krin's ear, too quietly for Novox to hear. Finally, the fighter sheathes the knife with a low curse.
"That was close, Master." Belle says in his mind, voice a mixture of anticipation and reprove.
At his instructions Murray grunts and bows stiffly, before vanishing out of sight around a corner. It seemed fitting, somehow, for his own ambush to take place in the same place where Eslih tried to weave her own convoluted schemes. Novox had little concern however, who would prove the better spider.
Diseo seems to barely hear Novox's words however, merely nodding, "Of course, of course." His eerie face turns this way and that in the dark. "Always happy to help, been doing contracts my whole life. Always was a whiz with a quill." Diseo drops his hearty voice to a very bad stage whisper, "Later, we have to talk about whatever you slipped me. I feel amazing!"
Any further exaltation about Novox's excellent taste in recreational drugs is cut short by more arrivals.
Out of the gloom, strolling as if he owned the place came Decius, cape just shy of trailing over the ground. A sword hung at his belt, but he did not seem to be wearing any armor. Behind him, half hidden by the bulky man's rather impressive frame, was a slight, short figure.
"I feel like a woman who wore the same dress as the host." Decius says easily, eyes lingering on Diseo. The deserter waved at the man behind him, "Meet Pallus, former barrister of the Sixth Riding." The man, who apparently wished to keep to the shadows, bowed nervously.
"I found him by chance a few weeks ago, among the refugees of the city. I thought perhaps his talents would be useful, so I pried him away from the family dining table." The man gives an artless shrug but Novox can see the truth behind the banter. This man had family, friends who would miss him if everyone at this meeting went missing. A small bit of insurance, just like Krin showing up early. What else did the solider have up his sleeve?
Decius looks around, "Her Mayoral-ship has not yet arrived? Perhaps she wishes to be fashionably late." His quick eyes lit on Krin and he smiles knowingly, "Did you entertain my friends during my absence?" His tone is light, casual but Novox is not fooled. His prey is not entirely at ease, not to be lead blindly into any trap.
Hmph. He supposed this was what the common people referred to as a 'pickle'. Novox eyed the barrister Decius had in tow like a cowed dog. Rather a wrench in the wizard's cogs, as any newly introduced factor must be to his plans now, here in the eleventh hour. Of course, this was no doubt precisely the deserter's hope.
"How thoughtful, Mr Decius," he replied even as the mind raced for a solution - a reason to deny this Pallus entry to the negotiations. It wasn't that Novox was opposed to murdering the man. Heavens no. He was plotting to snuff out three lives within the next few minutes; another one would not weigh his conscience. Narsus Novox was ready and willing to kill a hundred, a thousand, an entire continent if the cause warranted it. And there was no cause higher than Cheliax.
No, the problem was the logistics of it. What happened when he - again, in just a few minutes's time - aimed his unfathomable magical might against the captain? Decius would fight back, obviously, and his two witless cronies would join him in doing so. But the solicitor? With no stakes in the conflict beyond his own skin, and likely no combat experience? He would likely simply flee, and while the Egorian could conceivably stop him, this was not guaranteed. Not in the heat of battle. Even were he to do so, killing the hapless fool came with more problems still as was no doubt the traitor's intent. 'I pried him away from the family dining table.' Someone would be asking questions at this one's disappearance, questions that weren't as easily dismissed as those of outlaws Krin and Melly. A headache at best; a threat to the plan and therefore Dekarium as a whole at worst. Novox didn't just need him gone. He needed him to never have been here, to leave immediately.
The issue was how to manage this? The mere fact that he had brought this man along meant that Decius would never allow the wizard to speak with him alone; the commander was far too suspicious for this, severely limiting options. A subtle threat perhaps? Some reason as to why it was not in the the lawyer's best interest to attend? No, Decius would recognize any such warning for what it was. He wasn't that stupid, sadly. Surely any reason for the attorney to leave would have to come from himself; anything less would arouse suspicion.
'Then let us make the man recuse himself,' chirped the imp within her master's mind.
Yes. Let's.
"The madam mayor should be here any minute," Novox offhandedly answered Decius's query. "She has been apprehensive about this meeting. Come. We should wait for her inside. It won't do for a group as prolific as ours to loiter out here in plain sight. Rather goes against the idea of a secret conference."
This said, he flung open the dim warehouse's door to let the others enter. And all the while, he and the devil on his shoulder had something of a secret conference of their own. 'Do it,' the diabolist commanded once they had settled upon an approach within the safe confines of their shared mind-palace. The fiend did as commanded. In her guise as simple familiar, Beloreth focused her midnight black eyes on the ill-fated solicitor. She stared as only the evil orbs of a raven could: with all the mystery and pervasiveness as the night sky they belonged to. And inside their target's head, that stare translated into thought.
'Why are you here, Pallus?' a voice, seductive in its reason and sympathy bubbled up from the darkest recesses of the attorney's mind. 'You are clearly not wanted, and even Decius has no reason to keep you. Look: the Egorian brought his own legal help. There is no reason for you to be here. You should leave. Decent law-abiding men do not get involved in midnight dealings, your family needs you, and Decius cannot protest with the Asmodean here. Leave. The Egorian will support you.'
Novox waited for his minion's magic, ever convenient, to take hold.
Decius seems rather convinced of Novox's easy lies, which makes sense. The deserter wants, no needs this to be true. If Novox is telling the truth his deepest wishes of power, influence, even legitimacy are waiting right inside this door. And if the wizard is lying, it's all ashes which is hard for anyone, no matter how hard-bitten and practical to face.
Everyone turns toward the mouldering warehouse, all contemplating what might happens as they enter inside. Novox can't help but notice the faintest scent of bear musk on the air but that is surelyjust in his head, right? He wonders if Murray has taken up his place and if the devil is ready.
Meanwhile his other summon begins to work her magic. Through their bonds, Novox can feel the tendrils of magic spiraling out of the imp and into the mind of the nervous local. It was like feeling a network of tree roots grow in a moment. Or, considering their corrosive, corrupting effect, perhaps more like the fuzzy network of white slime mold, converging on a perceived food source. Belle's seductive, lilting voice enters the man's mind and...
They are all approaching the warehouse door when Pallus suddenly stops, glances at Decius, Novox and the rest of the obviously armed and tense gathering. Doubt flashes across his face, visible even in the murky lighting of the night street. Clearly he doesn't want to go in this building, even before Belle pushed him. Novox can hardly blame him and reflects that he might just be saving this little man's life. If he goes into that warehouse, Novox is not quite sure what will happen, but it will not be pleasant.
"I..." Pallus stammers, "I think I will take my leave. The Egorian brought his own scribe and you obviously have this all well in hand. There is no need, well, to g...inside."
Decius rounds on him, eyes quick. "What's this? We had a deal Pallus. Are you going back on your word?" His words are hard, unforgiving and just at the tone, Krin and Melly jump slightly, which causes Hax to tense. Only Diseo, mind dulled by Allnight, seems blissfully unaware. Good Gods, is the man humming to himself?
Pallus pales but stands his ground, his natural fear conflated with magical prompting. "I really...I mean, I shouldn't....We can talk in the morning. Give my regards to the Mayor." With that he turns and nearly runs down the dark street. Decius watches and, to Novox's surprise, takes a step after him. Would the deserter physically compel the little man to attend as witness? How would that go?
But no, Decius watches the man run off with a mixture of confusion, frustration and more then a little concern. Clearly this puts the man on his guard. He feigns a smile and turns to Novox, "So much for my scribe. Good thing you brought one. So three and three then? I suppose that is good luck. Perhaps the Mayor brought three as well."
He glances at the dark door then nods to Melly, "She can go first. It looks like a rickety building, wouldn't want us to trip on any missing stairs or dead rats. Once she gives the all clear, we'll follow."