I am the law. Prepare to be smote.
Search Posts
Tain’s Journal
I had slept for a few hours at the dormitory at the Bank after returning from patrol in the early hours of this morning, before heading over to my apartment at sunrise to launder my clothes, polish my armour and take advantage of a morning off. However, when I reached my apartment door I discovered a note wedged into the door jamb. It was from Agon, and read; Tain, I’ve discovered a situation that could further threaten the city. Could use your help. Come to Brock House for breakfast to discuss, bring weapons!! Agon. I turned about and headed for Brock House. It took me longer to get there than I had anticipated, the journey slowed by a cold, dreary rain that slicked the streets, as well as the need to deal with some minor trouble on the way – it seemed that some unscrupulous people were taking advantage of the plague to indulge in looting and acts of vandalism. When I did arrive, it was Agon that opened the door. He was dressed all in dark clothing, a stained weatherproof cloak over his chainmail, and was fully armed. “Tain,” he greeted me. “You’re late. We were just about to leave. Come, I’ll get you up to speed on the way.” He clapped me on the shoulder and moved past me, squinting up at the grey sky before stepping out into the drizzle. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Fish markets on Warehouse Way South,” he called back over his shoulder. “Need to see a woman about some rats.” I raised my eyebrows and looked into the hall, where Marcus and Mari stood pulling boots and cloaks on. They wore old clothes and both wore rapiers. I noticed that Mari seemed to be wearing some light armour under her clothing. I watched them closely. There did appear to be an awkward tension between the two, but the fact that they were not fighting – and in fact Mari was here at Brock House – suggested that they had at least begun the process of reconciliation. Mari’s hair was still jet black, making her skin appear pale, but I noticed she walked with a confidence, a practiced grace that I had not previously observed in her. I greeted them as they stepped out onto the porch, and enquired after Ariadnae. I had briefly spoken to the priestess of Pharasma after Peryarv’s arrest, but had not seen her since then. “Aria and I required some healing at the temple of Pharasma last night,” replied Marcus, looking tired and scratching absently at his arm. As his shirt sleeve lifted I saw the new, pink skin typical of magical healing. “Given the situation with this plague, she needed to call in a few favours. She’s working, said we might not see her for a few days.” “You’d better update me on what’s been happening,” I said. I looked around and saw Agon waiting impatiently by the gate. “On the way,” I added.
Tain’s Journal
The Blood Veil, as the plague is being called, is continuing to spread throughout the city, with continuing reports of new neighbourhoods being affected, more people dying. Even as early as the afternoon of the 23rd, long lines of sick citizens had begun to form outside the Bank and the city’s other temples – more than our clerics could heal in one day. By now the number of sick have completely overwhelmed the temples’ ability to control the spread of the disease. Every day, the death toll mounts, and it is hard to see what we might do to stem it. We do our best. The clerics and paladins who are given the power to remove disease have been dedicating all their resources to doing so, though it is not enough, and nearly all our Bank’s store of scrolls, wands and potions that might heal the sick have been used (or reserved by wealthy patrons). Those of us who cannot heal (like myself) have been working double shifts, trying to keep the temples running, assisting the clerics, and ensuring that peace is kept in the long lines of people waiting for our assistance. In addition I, with some of my colleagues, have been assisting the Korvosan Guard in maintaining patrols of the streets, trying to ensure that the city does not once again devolve into anarchy. With the temples all so busy, the Guard has been tasked with removing the bodies of the dead, while the guarding of the city gates has been given over to the company of warrior women recently commissioned by Queen Ileosa, the Grey Maidens. Worrying reports and rumours reach my ears though; that the Guards’ orders are to bring the corpses of the diseased dead not to Grey District, or any of the temples, but to dump them in various secluded alleys around the city; that the Grey Maidens are stopping people in poor areas of the city from getting access to temples for healing; that the Hellknights guarding The Zone in Old Korvosa were attacked by purple cloaked assailants. Unfortunately my duties have left me little time to investigate these rumours (or sleep). Furthermore, the crisis has left the situation with Peryarv hanging in Limbo. He remains a guest of the Bank, but we have had no resources available to question him further or investigate what truth their might be in his claims. By necessity I have also neglected my friends and family. There has been no opportunity to visit with Lavinia Delamore or her mother the Baroness, I have seen Agon Deparle only briefly in passing, and have not seen the Merivanchis or been to Brock House. It was only from Agon that I heard of the falling out between Marcus and Mari following their argument after the meeting at the house on Summoning Street – that Mari had moved out of Brock House and is staying at Cambion House. It seems that they are beginning to reconcile … I must visit soon and make sure that no permanent rift is allowed to come between them.
Tain’s Journal
Having met Arius outside and negotiated our way past the ogre-like bouncer, we made our way into the main gallery of the secret auction room beneath the house on Summoning Street. There were perhaps twenty to thirty people present (and more arriving), most cloaked and hooded to obscure their identities (as we were to some degree), but we understood from Arius that the eight members of the Grey Council were in attendance, and each of them had brought along advisers or bodyguards (as Arius had in us). Arius had hurriedly thanked us for coming, explaining that he did not know what the evening’s meeting might entail, but that he wanted help along should trouble break out, or should the whole meeting turn out to be a trap. He urged us to stay peaceable until and unless physical hostilities were to break out – and to keep an open mind about what might be discussed. The main floor of the auction room was set up with a raised speakers platform at one end, and eight lecterns arranged in an arc around it, several yards back. Arius went to stand behind one of the lecterns, and we stood in a wedge behind him, with the other council members and their retinues taking similar formations. After a few minutes, by which time all of the Grey Council members seemed to have arrived, the main doors opened again, and in swept Peryarv, looking as haughty as usual, with two large, muscular men, armed and armoured, in tow. As Peryarv passed where we were standing he paused, looking at us intently, and apparently recognizing us despite our crude disguises. “It’s nice to see you on your feet Priestess of Pharasma,” he said, addressing Aria, a slight sneer in his voice. “I do apologise for how things happened last time, but then you did attack me. Worry not, there are no hard feelings … yet.” He then turned to Mari, looking her up and down for a moment before saying, “You show great potential. It is a crime to keep you restricted like a leashed dog to just one teacher, even one as good as Arius. You deserve to be free, as do we all.” I remained silent … for I was looking at Peryarv and his goons through the eyes of a paladin, looking for the evil that I was sure was within him – but to my surprise I sensed none. Had I misjudged the man? Were his actions not, in fact, motivated by evil? Or had I merely underestimated him, had he used magic to disguise his true aura? I could not tell. One of the Grey Council members (his low hood disguising his identity to our eyes), moved up to the central platform, calling the meeting to order. “There are many new people here with us tonight,” he noted, looking over the crowd. “I must remind you all that you have been invited to this meeting in good faith, and emphasis the need for secrecy. As usual, what is discussed here is for the ears of those present only.” That might be the intent, but I had taken no such oath of secrecy. I would use my own judgment as to whether I needed to report to my superiors on what took place tonight. The speaker then recognized Peryarv of Magnimar and invited him to speak, before returning to stand behind his own lectern. Perayarv nodded and moved up to the platform, his bodyguards standing beside him. “My fellow wizards,” Peryarv began. “Magic was once free in this great city. Magic was once respected, allowed to breath, to be its own creature. We all know there is no one true magic, just as there is no one true path to reach magic. Every form of magic and study must be respected, must be allowed to be free to develop to its full potential. “The Acadamae... turned some twenty years ago. Corruption of the highest order brought their order into the sights of evil. They closed their hearts to the true nature of magic, began to think that their way was the only way for magic. That through them, and their training, all magic must come. They did not see the evil that tainted their thoughts, or their hearts, making them greedy for power. Wantonly they reached for control of magic in Korvosa, and I assure you it must be just a stepping stone onto their path to dominate the world. “We cannot let that happen. The time has come for all arcane magic users to band together as one in this city, and stand before the so-called Acadamae and demand our freedom! That we may stand tall and proud as mages, that we are not lesser creatures because we choose another way to study and use magic. For the very life force of the universe manifests in us just as it manifests in them! We are mages! We shall be respected! We must stand and require that freedom!” By the end Peryarv was shouting, his long face red. The Council members (and others present) were obviously startled, clearly not having expected this. There was a murmur of voices. “What is he playing at?” muttered Marcus. One Council member spoke up, his voice cutting through the whispers and muttering. “Your goals are worthy, and you must know we have talked for twenty years of finding a way to come forward and claim our right to practice without the Acadamae ruling our lives. But they are stronger than us, they outnumber us, and we have been broken since the Day of Consolidation. Even if Lord Grestuv himself stood with us now, we would not be enough! And he lies dead at the hands of the Acadamae, killed on that mournful Day.” Peryarv looked at the man, nodded slowly, then threw his arms out beside him. I felt a static pressure drawing up in the room, and began to draw my flail, but Mari put a hand on my arm and shook her head. “Watch,” she whispered. The electricity in the room grew, people’s hair standing on ends, small white sparks jumping from metal objects. An alternating purple and while aura began pulsing around Peryarv’s body, a translucent silver form seeming to float through it. The Council members seemed shocked by the demonstration of raw magical power. “I am Lord Grestuv,” Peryarv’s voice boomed out. “Though severely wounded that Day, I managed to escape the city. It has taken me many long years to heal my body, more still to reclaim the power I once held. Now I stand before you twice the mage I ever was before! And I will not let that so-called Acadamae of magic stand as it is! We must fight! Fight with me my brothers! Fight and reclaim our right to freedom!” The room immediately interrupted into furious discussions and cries, some seeming to believe Peryarv (or Grestuv), some not, some agreeing with him, others not. “If he’s telling the truth,” began Mari, her eyes shining, “and that demonstration of power was certainly real – this could be our chance to end the tyranny of the Acadamae!” “I certainly have no love of the Acadamae or their methods,” I said, “but the city can ill afford a war between wizards right now, with the threat of plague imminent – and the Acadamae itself perhaps protecting us from a second and worse plague! Peryarv risks plunging Korvosa into suffering and anarchy.” “Who will protect the innocents in this war of wizards!” Area yelled loudly, to the room in general. “This is madness,” said Marcus, grabbing Mari’s arm. “Mari, you can’t be thinking of involving yourself in this – it’s far too dangerous.” Mari wrenched free. “Are you forbidding me Marcus?” she asked dangerously, as the room became more and more chaotic around her. “Enough!” Peryarv’s deep voice boomed out, for the most part quieting the talk and argument. “We deserve our freedom! I will not let this so-called Acadamae stand! I fight them, with or without you! I declare WAR on the Acadamae!” Before anyone could say anything in support or otherwise, or make a move to stop him, Peryarv had stepped down from the speaker’s platform, his bodyguards clearing him a path as he swept from the room. In his wake, the room once again began to break out into arguments.
Tain’s Journal
After Aria and I had informed our respective churches of the danger we felt threatened the city, we returned independently to Brock House as agreed earlier in the day. Marcus had also returned from his ride in the countryside looking none the worse for wear – it seemed to me that he had discussed something of his day’s jaunt with Mari, for they both looked at me with what I took to be slightly guilty expressions when I arrived – but they said nothing, and I did not press the issue. We all sat down to take an early dinner. The main topic of conversation was the disease – we shared what we had learned with Marcus, and he in turn relayed that he had noticed people bearing similar symptoms in the southern part of the city – so it seemed that the illness had already spread. Aria again urged Marcus to safeguard his household against the disease, and I suggested that trying to rid the house of all Chelaxian silver coins may be a small measure that might help. During dinner, a written message arrived for Mari, and she retired to her room to read it. She returned to the table presently, a determined look on her face. “As you all know, I went to see Arius the Wise earlier today,” she said. “I’ve been hesitant to tell you all what I discussed with him, as he asked me to bide my time, but he has just sent me a letter asking me to reveal some of what was discussed and invite you to a meeting.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “As some of you suspect, Arius is a wizard. Yes, it is he who has been helping me develop my skill with magic. He has kept this secret because he is not a member of the Acadamae, and I must ask you all to keep this between us, as well as what follows – agreed? Good … well, I discovered today that Arius is also a member of a group known as The Grey Council, a network of mages in the city opposed to the Acadamae. Peryarv visited Arius – and many of the other people he has been looking in on the past few days – because he is a senior member of this group. How Peryarv came by this information Arius does not know, and it concerns him, lest the Acadamae also come by it, or Peryarv uses it to blackmail him somehow. “Peryarv invited Arius and the other senior council members to a meeting, to discuss something important but unspecified. Arius has just received word that this meeting is taking place tonight – an hour from now, at the seventh bell, at the auction house where we encountered Peryarv before. Arius has asked if we may attend, as his bodyguards, as he suspects trouble. I intend to go – can I count on all of you as well?” We debated this for a few minutes – a trap seemed possible, but in the end we decided that at the least we might discover something useful, and at best we would get an opportunity to take Peryarv down or bring him into our custody. We readied ourselves quickly, geared for the battle we suspected was coming.
Tain’s Journal
“When did Brienna first become sick?” Aria asked Tayce and Grau. The two glanced at each other, and I could tell they were nervous about something. “The morning of the 20th was when we noticed it,” Tayce answered. “And has anyone else you know been sick?” the priestess continued. “Well … I think perhaps we’re coming down with it too,” said Tayce, stifling a cough. “And in the last day or so many people in the neighbourhood have begun feeling sick too.” Grau nodded. “Just about everyone we’ve been in contact with,” he said. “Do you have any idea why that might be?” I asked. Again, Grau and Tayce looked at each other, shame-faced. “Even if you think you have done something wrong, it is important that you tell us,” I continued gently. “We don’t want any more people to get sick.” “Alright,” said Grau, standing up straight. “Well, see, I was down at the socks the other day, with young Brienna, just after that ship blew up, when we noticed two silver boxes, just sitting there. Well sir, we’re not thieves, but … well, times are hard, and I decided to take the boxes. When we got them home and opened them, we found each one contained silver coins. New shiny coins, exactly thirty in each box. Well, we all went out and did some shopping … and now all the merchants we visited have become sick, and a lot of their other customers …” “The disease is being spread through the coins!” I exclaimed in wonder. “Do you still have the boxes, or any of the coins?” asked Mari sharply. It turned out that the family had spent most of the coins, except for one that Grau had given Brienna in thanks for helping him with the boxes. The boxes themselves were stuffed in a storage area under the stair – the family had not yet sold them. Once they were produced, Mari waved her hand above the boxes, examining them closely without touching them. “They radiate an aura of magic,” she said quietly to us. “Necromancy and transmutation.” Meanwhile, I was examining the coin, confident that my faith would protect me from any disease. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the coin – it was a recently minted silver coin of Chelaxian origin – there must be thousands of similar coins in the city, as Chelaxian money was legal tender in Korvosa. “Were all the other coins similar to this?” I asked Grau. He confirmed that they all looked like Chelaxian silver pieces, and were all quite shiny as if new. It seemed that the family had spent the coins at a dozen different shops over the past two days, and after a brief discussion we realized it was futile to try to track down all the coins – they were probably far spread by now, and the disease was no doubt being passed directly from person to person, not just via the coins. Soon enough Ishani returned with a more senior priest from the Bank, who (after having been paid the required amount), spent several moments of prayer over Brienna before announcing her cured. Already the rash had faded from her skin and her breathing was easier as she slept peacefully. After receiving heartfelt thanks and promises of lifelong friendship from Grau and Tayce, we retired with the two Abadaran priests to discuss the situation. Our order (and the other temples in the city) would need to be alerted to the fact that a dangerous and virulent disease was spreading through the city. I proposed that the Bank try to segregate any recently minted Chelaxian silver coins that passed the counters, for what little good that would do – it was clear that we would soon have an epidemic on our hands.
Tain’s Journal
The man, who gave his name as Grau, led us through the streets towards Trail’s End. His sister Tayce, he explained almost apologetically as we walked, had married a Varisian man, hence their living in this part of the city. The streets in Eel’s End were narrow and twisting, with buildings crowded close to the road, and as many dwellings seeming to be makeshift hovels, canvas tents or wooden wagons as solidly built buildings. Grau’s family though did live in a building, a very narrow two storey house with a faded façade. We entered the dwelling and Grau led us upstairs, past the gaze of several young, wide eyed children hiding on the other side of the banister, and to the door of one of the upstairs bedrooms. At the doorway we were met by a care-worn woman in faded, oft-patched skirts. Beyond her, I could see a small girl in a bed, coughing harshly, whilst being tended to by a dark haired man wearing gold and white robes, his back to us. “Oh Grau, I found a priest who might be able to help,” the woman said, hugging Grau before pulling away and shrugging. “But he’s not sure …” “So did I, maybe,” said Grau, introducing us to the woman, his sister Tayce. As we moved into the room, the robed man stood and walked towards us, and I recognized him as Ishani Dhatri, a junior cleric at the Bank of Abadar. We exchanged greetings, and then Ishani gestured us from the room to speak quietly to us about the girl, Brienna. “She has been afflicted with some disease, but it is not one that I have seen before,” said the priest, a worried look on his face. “The symptoms include a blotchy red rash on her face and upper body, a high fever, sweats, delirium, a hacking wet cough – as you can hear – and swollen lymph nodes.” He looked at me apologetically. “Unfortunately, most perfect Abadar has not yet seen fit to grant me the power to remove diseases. Paladin Tain, mistress Ariadnae, do either of you …?” We shook our heads, and Ishani sighed. “You know how it is paladin – most of our order do not believe in charity, and I could not persuade a move senior Banker to accompany me.” “I thank you for your good heart Cleric Ishani,” I said. “We will do what we can.” The cleric nodded. “Although I have not been able to remove the disease magically, I am a student of herbal lore … so far nothing I have tried has had much success …” He and Aria launched into a discussion of herbal remedies as we moved into to examine the girl. She was sleeping fitfully, her symptoms as Ishani had described. I laid my hands upon her brow and asked for Abadar’s blessings, and healing energy flowed into her, relieving her pain and allowing her to sink into a deeper, more restful sleep … but all I did was make her more comfortable, I did not have the power to remove the disease. Aria and Mari both examined the girl with magic, confirming that there was no magic or poison at work here – it seemed this was a natural disease, just a particularly serious one, and one that none of us had seen before. The symptoms did not seem to match the ones reported from the Zone in Old Korvosa at least, but that was little comfort to Brienna or her family. Aria also prayed over the girl, but with little more success than I had had. We had all realized that without proper help the girl did not have long to live. “I’ll not let that happen,” I said, having moved away from the girl’s bedside. “I will go to the Bank of Abadar and pay for a senior priest to come here and heal your daughter.” I reasoned that I had near enough liquid assets to cover such a cost, and if needs be I could sell something to make up the remaining money. “Oh no, we can’t let you do that!” spoke Grau, before his sister could thank me. “We’ve managed to dig into our savings, between Tayce and myself, call in some debts, sell some things … we’re only fifty gold sails short of the price the priests at your temple were asking. But if you could make up the shortfall, we would appreciate it.” I nodded. “Yes, I can do that.” Although I had been ready to pay the full amount, I appreciated that this family was trying to find a way to help themselves. I began counting out the shortfall from my money pouch. Aria also offered to pay some or all of the shortfall, but I waved her away, feeling somewhat responsible, given that Grau had first approached me, and that it was my church that had originally turned he and his sister away. “We need to find out how the girl got sick,” Aria murmured to me. “It will be a great pity to save her only to have the rest of her family die.” I nodded. It had escaped neither of our attention, now that we recognized the symptoms that Tayce was starting to develop a rash, and at least one of the other children in the household was stifling a cough. I handed the money to Ishani. “Please make haste to the bank and bring a priest capable of curing disease,” I said. Ishani agreed. “The money will bring them running,” he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. I clapped my hand briefly on his shoulder, pleased to see that there was at least one other amongst my brethren who did not agree with the Bank’s stance on charity.
Tain’s Journal
“It doesn’t look as if he’s going to show,” Aria said, disappointed. She, Mari and myself sat at a table in the main taproom of the Laughing Sails Inn, with a good view of the doors and the entire room, waiting for Devargo Barvasi to arrive. “Perhaps,” I said, nodding subtly towards the group of rough looking armed men sitting at the table near the door – men who would look more at home at Eel’s End than here in Northpoint. We had already determined that they were probably Barvasi’s hired thugs, but whether they were here to scout the place for Barvasi’s eventual arrival, or just to cause trouble for us, we did not know. For now we had agreed to ignore them. We had just about given up waiting, and resolved to order some lunch, when the inn’s front doors opened and in strolled Devargo Barvasi himself. He’d forgone the spider-themed leather armour and bladed gauntlets that we’d seen him wearing at Eel’s End in favour of a dark coloured but fashionable tunic and cloak decorated in silvery spider web patterns, no doubt trusting in the public nature of the place to protect him from any hostilities. He ignored the table of thugs (though they certainly noticed his arrival, straightening up and putting hands to weapon hilts as he walked by) and walked straight over to our table. “Well, well,” he drawled, stopping a few feet away and appraising us, arms folded across his chest. “Ariadnae and Marianna Merivanchi and Tain Locus … you have a lot of nerve inviting me out to lunch after what you pulled last time we met. What is it you want exactly.” I stood and nodded slightly to the crime boss. “We’re not here as friends Barvasi,” I said, “but neither do we need to be enemies … for now. We believe that we may be able to help each other.” “Help you?” Barvasi laughed harshly. “Why on Golarion would I want to help you?” “Because we have common enemies,” I said seriously. “I will be straight with you – I don’t like you, and I don’t like your operation … but for the most part it does appear to be a legitimate, if unsavoury business. You pay your vice taxes, you keep addicts and sinners off the streets, and you know your bounds. These newer groups – the crew that Lamm was part of, and the purple-cloaks, do not. They are a danger to this city and its people … and that is bad for your business. You want them gone, we want them gone … maybe we can help each other.” Barvasi studied me carefully, then glanced at Mari and Aria. “Alright,” he said slowly. “I don’t like you either, but you’ve intrigued me. May I?” He gestured to a seat at our table, and when we nodded our assent, sat down, as did I. “So … how is it you think we can help each other on this matter.” “You have access to information that we don’t,” said Aria, “but then the reverse is also true. If we pool our information, perhaps we can find something that will allow us to find and defeat these groups. That should be worth something to you.” “Perhaps,” said Barvasi. “Let’s start by exchanging information – what do you know?” “To begin with, we know their names, which may help,” I said. Then Aria, Mari and myself began explaining the admittedly little that we knew of the Harbingers of Doom and the Vanguard of the Amethyst Lindorm, concluding with our strong suspicion that at least one of these groups was behind the recent explosions, and our more tenuous suspicion that Peryarv Legran was involved in one or both of the groups. “You may well be right in regards to the explosions,” Barvasi said. “As for Ambassador Legran, I do not know … unlike the Chelaxian Ambassador, Legran does not frequent my establishment, and I do not have anything on him. As for the rest … well, it seems that you know most of what I know already – how these groups appeared, the war with the Cerulean Society, the taking and holding of territory … and you know names and something of agendas, which I did not.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, stroking the stubble on his chin. “There’s really not much I can tell you that you don’t know … but I do know a little more about the Purple Cloaks, the ones you call the Vanguard. They don’t operate like any other criminal organization I’ve seen – which fits I suppose, since you think they’re some cult. They’ve driven the Thieves Guild out of their territory, but they haven’t organized or taken over gambling, prostitution, theft, protection rackets, anything like that – just narcotics. Supplying drugs … as far as we can tell, apart from killing off Guild members, that’s all they do. Oh, and they’ve been particularly fierce about protecting the territory they’ve taken along the docks, more so than the rest of the city.” “We’re trying to track down some boxes that were stolen from the docks just after the Perraxian Eagle exploded,” I said. “Do you think the Vanguard may have had a hand in taking them?” Barvasi shrugged. “Perhaps … it certainly wasn’t the Thieves Guild, we don’t have anyone operating in the area.” The three of us exchanged brief glances – Barvasi did not seem aware that he had let slip his affiliation with the Thieves Guild – or perhaps he didn’t realise that we didn’t already know this. “Scuttlebutt suggests it was some locals – non professionals – who picked up the boxes,” Barvasi continued. He looked at Aria. “Actually, you’ve got a friend who might know something more about that.” Aria looked surprised for a moment, and then comprehension seemed to dawn and she nodded. I wasn’t sure who they meant – Felix perhaps? “At any rate, I’ll keep my ear to the ground, and I’ll let you know if I hear anything that I think might be useful in shutting these groups down,” the boss of Eel’s End said. “Now … have you ordered any food yet?” We had lunch, and as uncomfortable as I was with Barvasi, I have to admit he played quite the gentleman, before leaving some coins on the table once he had finished and taking his leave, striding out of the inn followed by the group of thugs at the other table. “Well, that went better than I expected,” Aria said as the three of us left the inn a few minutes later. We began to walk down the street when I noticed a rather disheveled looking man heading our way, his eyes fixed on me. He was probably in his late twenties or early thirties, lower middle class by his clothing, but was in quite a state, and looked and smelt as though he had been drinking heavily. When he spoke though, his words were clear enough. “Please sir,” he said, approaching me and tugging at his forelock. “You’re a priest of Abadar aren’t you?” I nodded in the affirmative. “Please, my family needs help. My niece is sick. I don’t know what she has and neither does anyone in Trail’s End. She’s broken out all over in red pocks and can barely keep down food, or even the swill that good for nothing herbalist gave her. Her mother’s gone to the Bank of Abadar, but we can’t afford to pay the prices the clerics demand. My sister and I sat outside crying and praying; I felt compelled to run to every church and ask for help. Abadar has led me to you when all others have turned me away! Please you must help my niece! We can pay, we just don’t have all the Bank is asking just yet …” “Slow down my friend,” I said. “I am a paladin of Abadar – and yes, I will help you if I can – I have no need of payment.” “Yes, if there’s a sick child – we’ll help you,” added Aria, concern etched on her face. We exchanged glances – disease! This may be what we feared. “Tain – a moment please,” Mari was tugging on my cloak, pulling me away from the man. “Do you really trust this man?” she asked in a low voice. “You’re just going to follow him into Trail’s End?” Trail’s End was a poor section of town, across the river, only infrequently patrolled by the Guard and with a large Varisian population. Nobles, and even those of Chelaxian descent were often not welcomed there. “We have made a lot of enemies recently – we could be walking into an ambush!” “If we are, then I have my flail and my faith,” I answered. “But someone has asked for my help, and I will give it. And if there truly is a sick child, an innocent – I cannot turn my back on that.”
Tain’s Journal
The section of the Midland docks where the explosion had occurred was still closed off to the public and ships, while the cleanup took place. We made our way past the Sable Company cordon and sought out the harbor master, who, though harried, seemed happy enough to answer questions only tangentially related to the explosion. By a quirk of chance (or, to the more suspicious minded, a result of meticulous timing), the Perraxian Eagle had exploded only minutes after the last of the Direption’s cargo had been unloaded. Although the Direption was badly damaged by the explosion, and sunk beneath the waters of the harbor minutes later, the ship’s bulk shielded the boxes, crates and barrels waiting on the dock from the blast. The harbor master had been provided with a cargo manifest prior to unloading, and it was a check against this list, several hours after the explosion, in combination with the testimony of the foreman of the dockworker crew who had unloaded the ship that it was discovered that three small boxes had been unloaded and subsequently gone missing from the docks, presumably stolen in the confusion after the explosion. The cargo manifest had the content of the three boxes listed as ‘Chelaxian wood art’. It did not list where the boxes were to be delivered – this information was presumably contained in a more detailed ledger which might be with the Direption’s captain, but was just as likely on the harbor bottom with the jigsaw sharks and reefclaws. The captain was being housed – currently at the city’s expense until the legal ramifications of the explosion could be untangled – at a nearby inn. We found the captain – a weathered old sea dog named Jack Harkness – drowning his considerable sorrows at the bar in the common room. He was certainly not happy at having lost his ship, and not much in the mood for talking about a few missing boxes. However, it is not easy to ignore the combined efforts of a paladin of Abadar and a priest of Pharasma, and it was inevitable that eventually Captain Harkness would speak to us (death and taxes indeed, as Marcus had said). After buying him the expected social lubrication, the captain told us that the three stolen boxes had been delivered to his ship in Westcrown via a barge from Egorian – a special delivery, but he did not know by whom. He was shown the contents of one of the boxes – a small, finely made coffer containing a couple of dozen finely carved and polished wooden statuettes, each about three inches in height. He was told that the other two boxes had similar contents, but did not view them. He no longer had the detailed cargo manifest that listed the destination of the boxes, but he seemed to remember that ‘Korvosan’ was in the name – the Korvosan Trading Company, or something similar to it. In any event, no one had come searching for their missing cargo. With this information in hand, Aria and I left the captain to his cups and went to meet Mari ahead of our lunch appointment,
Tain’s Journal
Marcus looked preoccupied when at last he arrived, troubled even. He seemed to notice Aria and I with some surprise, as if he had forgotten we were coming. “Oh, hello, it’s Death and Taxes,” he greeted us gloomily. I was somewhat taken aback; the relationship between Marcus and I had become strained after Talia’s death, but since the night at Lamm’s fish processing plant we had become close again - comrades, brother in arms. We could even jest with each other, but Marcus’s comment seemed out of character, almost mean-spirited. “You seem troubled Marcus,” I said. “Is there anything wrong? Do you want to talk?” Marcus shook his head. “No. My apologies Tain, I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Mari, can I speak to you for a moment - privately?” Aria, Mari and I explained glances. Perhaps Marcus’s mood was something to do with Mari’s new look? Mari raised an eyebrow, then nodded to Marcus and followed him out of the room. While they were gone, Aria and I began discussing Peryarv, and what we could do about him, but came to the conclusion that there was little we could do without more evidence of his intentions. His status as a diplomat made the situation rather delicate … not to mention the fact that he was possibly too personally powerful for us to defeat in battle should the situation come to that. “Well,” said Aria slowly. “If we can’t attack him, we can’t arrest him, and we can’t rely on the authorities for help, perhaps we can seek help from … less desirable elements.” “What do you mean?” I asked, frowning. “I was thinking we could speak to Devargo Barvasi. He seems like a man who keeps his ear to the ground … and he helped us last time we had problems with a foreign ambassador.” I stared at her, incredulous. “Barvasi? Assuming he can help us … do you really think he would?” Aria shrugged, an uncharacteristically impish grin on her face. “I have no idea. He might just be intrigued enough to hear us out though. And if he comes looking for trouble, I’m sure you and your flail can sort him out … again. Let’s invite him to lunch, in neutral territory somewhere. Say in Northpoint?” “Well,” I began, not certain this was a wise idea, but figuring we had little to lose - and that Aria was right, we could handle him if he turned into trouble. “There’s a little restaurant I know, not far from the bridge to Old Korvosa …” Aria sat and began penning a short letter to Barvasi, before handing it off to one of the household servants to organise for it to be delivered. I did not know how this would pan out, but had little doubt that Barvasi would pay close attention to a letter with our names attached to it. Shortly afterwards, Marcus and Mari re-entered the room. “Tain, Aria,” Marcus began. “I have a question for you both, based on a hypothetical situation. Say that someone you knew had been accused of a crime, but you had good reason to believe that they were innocent - and further, that they would not receive a fair trial. If they came to you asking for help to escape, what would you do?” Even though the question had been asked of both of us, I suspected that Marcus directed it more at me. “It sounds similar to the situation we faced recently with Trinia Sabore,” I answered. “And you know what I did in that case.” “Yes, yes,” Marcus said, waving his hand as if dismissing an annoying fly, “but in this hypothetical situation you have good reason to believe that no fair trial will be heard, unlike that situation - what then?” “Well, hypothetically, I would need some degree of proof, both of innocence and the unfairness of any potential trial,” I answered frowning. “If I had it, then, hypothetically, I may well try to protect this person from the hypothetically corrupt or misinformed authorities until I could root out the cause of the hypothetically unfair trial.” “Oh forget hypothetical!” Mari cried, looking crossly between Marcus and myself. “In the case of Trinia Sabore, should you find where she was and she ask for your help, what then?” “Do you know where she is Marcus?” I asked. “And if her - then Blackjack - what of him?” Marcus studied me carefully. “Let us just say I have come by some information - nothing more at this stage. And as for Blackjack, I do not know who he is.” I am a fair judge of character, and can usually tell when someone is lying, or avoiding telling the whole truth. Marcus, for his part, is an excellent diplomat and negotiator - and, when he needs to be, a good liar. I could not tell exactly what he knew or didn’t, though obviously he had had some word of Trinia at the least, and I noted that he had avoided answering my question on her whereabouts. “In the case of Trinia, it would be my duty to return her to custody, should I learn of her whereabouts,” I said, looking pointedly at Marcus, “unless I could be provided with a compelling argument as to why her trial would not be fair, or why her life would be in danger if I did so.” I kept looking at Marcus, silently willing him to give me a reason to help the girl if he knew more than he was saying. He looked back at me, seemed about to say something, paused, then spoke - something different to what he had been about to say I believe. “When you spoke to Blackjack on the rooftop, he seemed to think Trinia’s life was in danger.” I shook my head. “I am afraid I need something more than the suspicions of a wanted vigilante, however good his intentions may or may not be,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice. I took a deep breath. “But, if you could convince me … then yes, I believe she is innocent, and I would help her if I could. At least try to keep her safe until her innocence could be more universally proved.” Aria spoke up. “Assume for a moment Marcus that you are able to convince us - through evidence or argument - to help, and that you knew where Trinia was. What then? What would you do?” “If you did find where she was, and wanted to protect her,” I said, “it would be dangerous - for you, your family, and possibly Trinia too - to keep her here at Brock House.” Behind Marcus I saw Mari nodding in agreement, as if she had recently said the same thing to Marcus. “No, I was thinking that she would be safest outside the city,” Marcus said. “If things were ever to come to that point, I could think of several locations …” “That’s very dangerous Marcus,” I said. “If you were caught smuggling her out of the city, you would be arrested for certain. And once she was outside, what would stop her running away entirely? It might be difficult to prove her innocence once she has fled.” “I know the danger,” Marcus said, “but it might be the safest thing for her. If someone is trying to kill her, they will have more trouble finding her outside of Korvosa. And I don’t think she will run … she’s a city girl from Cheliax from what we have heard. She’ll have few friends outside of the city, and little knowledge of the countryside, or of how to survive in the wild.” Marcus sighed. “Anyway, let us drop this. It really is a hypothetical situation for now, as we don’t yet know where she is.” There was an awkward silence. I did not think Marcus’s last statement was entirely truthful, but did not wish to strain things between us by calling him out on it. Aria broke the silence by updating Marcus on what we had learnt over the past few days, and finishing were her intention to meet with Barvasi. “Would you like to join us?” she asked Mari and Marcus. “Certainly!” Mari answered. I expected Marcus to object, but was sitting staring off into space, obviously brooding on his ‘hypothetical’ situation, and neither answered Aria nor objected to Mari’s answer. “Lunch is not for several hours,” I said, “and there is something else that has been bothering me that I would like to investigate in the meantime. It may be nothing … but the ship, the Direption out of Cheliax that sunk after the Perraxian Eagle exploded … I wonder if the placement of the two ships was intentional? Did someone mean to sink the Direption? And … did you read yesterday’s Korvosan Times? Apparently some of the cargo that was retrieved from the sinking Direption was stolen from the docks. Perhaps I am merely seeing invisible imps, but I wonder whether there is some plot here. At any rate, I thought I would go and see the dock-master and try to discover what the cargo was that went missing.” Aria and Mari agreed this was a good idea, and said they would come with me. “I have some business to attend to today,” Marcus said suddenly, “so I am afraid I cannot join you.” “Marcus,” Mari began, glancing at me, “you won’t do anything stupid, will you?” “It’s just business,” Marcus said gently. “I need to visit the estate. I won’t be in danger and I shan’t be long - I’ll see you back here after lunch.” As I said before, Marcus was a good liar, and I could not be certain that his words were not true… but I suspected they were not. I suspected that he had resolved to help Trinia, and was off to put some sort of plan into motion - and I would not stop him. I truly thought that Trinia was innocent, and suspected some truth in the idea that she was not safe in official custody, but my oaths prevented me helping her without harder evidence than my gut feeling. By the same token though, my oaths did not compel me to stop Marcus when I had no hard evidence that he was helping her - just a gut feeling. Inwardly I sighed. I walked a fine line between obeying the letter of the law and its intent, but in Korvosa, with its laws and punishments which took much from draconian Cheliax, it was sometimes a line that needed to be walked. I just prayed to Abadar that Marcus knew what he was doing. As my thoughts were wandering thusly, Gavick brought in a letter that had just arrived for Mari. She retired to her room to read it, while Marcus instructed the footman to make ready his horse for a ride outside the city. When Mari came back downstairs a few minutes later, she said, “I’ll not be joining you at the docks after all. I’ve decided I’ll do as you asked of my earlier, and speak to Arius about Peryarv. I’ll see you at lunch.” She then turned to Marcus. “I hope your business goes well,” she said, an almost imperceptible quaver to her voice. “I’ll see you in the afternoon.”
Tain’s Journal
Upon my arrival at Brock House I was informed by Gavick that Marcus had left some hour earlier on business, but that Aria was visiting with Mari. Making my way into the sitting room, I was momentarily startled, thinking for a brief instant that it was Talia who sat talking to Aria. It was of course Mari, but she had apparently dyed her long hair black, and wore it loose as Talia often had, rather than in the tightly coiled and elaborate styles that Mari had previously favoured. I hesitated at the door … there was something somehow unsettling about the change, other than the resemblance it granted Mari to my dead wife, and I wondered if it somehow signified more than just a change in personal style. Was it my imagination, or did Mari also appear even more pale in complexion than was usual for her? Aria and Mari were deep in discussion, and had not noticed my hesitation. I walked into the room and greeted them. “Hello Tain,” said Mari, smiling at me, and I was relieved to see that apart from the slight paleness to her features, and a slight tiredness to her eyes, there did not appear to be anything amiss in her face. In fact, she seemed in good spirits. “Why, you’re looking bright and shiny today!” “Thankyou, the armour was a reward from Archbanker Tuttle,” I replied. “It appears that my good works have not gone unnoticed. Of course, I do not ask for or expect reward, but it is nice to be recognised.” I stopped, a little embarrassed, and scratched my short beard with a thumb, realising that my words had sounded somewhat preachy. “Where is Marcus this morning?” I asked, eager to change the subject. “Has he forgotten our appointment?” “I don’t know,” Mari replied with a shrug of her delicate shoulders. “He received a letter in an unmarked envelope early this morning, apparently, and told the servants that he had to leave on a matter of business, that he would be back in a few hours. He didn’t say where he would be, I’m given to understand. I was asleep.” She didn’t seem particularly concerned at his absence. “I arrived as he was getting ready to leave,” commented Aria. “He seemed to be in quite a hurry, a bit flustered - rushing around the place in that Tian robe he wears, looking for his pants.” “Well,” said Mari, a twinkle in her eye, “it’s not like you’ve never seen him without his pants on before.” There was a moment of awkward silence. “Anyway ... I’ve just been updating Mari on our surveillance of Peryarv,” Aria said, with a sideways glance at her cousin, “and have remarked how helpful it would be if she would see fit to question Arius the Wise as to what was discussed between the pair of them yesterday.” Mari rolled her eyes. “I told you Aria, he’s a respected professor, and certainly not some criminal or villain. I can’t just walk into his office and accuse him of something, or pry into his private business!” “It’s not his business we’re interested in, it’s Peryarv’s,” sighed Aria. It sounded as if the two of them had already been over this ground a few times. “Arius will no doubt be wise enough to recognise the distinction. And you’re always going on about how good a teacher he is, and how he has taken a particular interest in your education – I’m sure he’ll not begrudge his favourite student asking him a few questions. It will certainly be better coming from you than from Tain or I.” I nodded in agreement. “It is important that we find out what Peryarv is plotting – particularly if it is somehow involved in the activities of the Harbingers or the purple cloaks, or the explosions, or the disease, or the plot against the Queen … need I go on. Mari, I cannot emphasise enough how important this might be – can you help us?” Mari sighed. “I really cannot see Peryarv and Arius sitting down to discuss anything seditious … but I’ll think about it. I’m not going to promise anything just yet, alright?” “That will be most helpful Mari, thankyou,” I said, smiling. Mari shot me a mock sour look, followed by a wink. Then her eyes widened as if remembering something. “Tain, you mentioned the purple-cloaks? Well, you two are not the only ones who have been doing some research. I have too, and I’ve discovered something more of the purple cloaks – well, not much, but at least we can now give them a name. I’ve discovered that they call themselves ‘The Vanguard of the Amethyst Lindorm.’” “Lindorm …” mused Aria. “Sounds familiar, sort of Ulfen …” Mari nodded. “The Linnorm Kings – Linnorm of course being the Skald word for dragon. Lindorm is a less widely used variant of Linnorm. The group does in fact appear to hail from the Land of the Linnorm Kings, they are some sort of secret society active in those northern lands, but I have managed to discover precious little of their goals or methods.” “So, translated, they are the vanguard of the Amethyst Dragon?” I asked. “That sounds ominous.” “Yes,” Mari agreed, “although it’s not clear whether or not the ‘Lindorm’ refers to an actual dragon. Of the so-called ‘true’ dragons, none is of a purple colour, nor are any of the catalogued linnorm dragons of the northern reaches. I’ve heard tales of gem dragons, and wyrms of colours such as yellow, brown and purple, but I’m not sure what truth there is to them.” “Dragon,” Aria shook her head slowly. “Whether common or rare, real or figurative, I don’t like the sound of this.”
Tain’s Journal
I had been on patrol of the city streets with a squad of my compatriots from the Bank from the small hours of the morning until some two hours after dawn. The patrol was largely uneventful. Upon my return to the Bank, a junior acolyte was waiting for me with a message that I was to attend the Archbanker in his office at my earliest convenience. It was a favourable meeting. The Archbanker had seen reports of some of my doings over the past several weeks, and, after the customary greetings and blessings were exchanged, commended me on my conduct and service beyond the call of duty, especially in relation to the otyugh incident, my secondment to the Korvosan Guard, the arrest of Trinia Sabore, and my quick action in saving the Queen from the assassination attempt. The Archbanker added that he would be keeping an eye on my progress, and expected that I would advance rapidly within the church. I accepted the accolades with thanks, justifiably proud of my actions, although I also felt a twinge of guilt; some of my activities, conducted on my own time, had been vague in their details in my official reports to my superiors, in particular the attack on Lamm’s operation and the rescue of Yasmin Marcella. While I was confident that I had acted in the cause of good on these occasions, I had not worked within the framework of my city or my orders laws. True, legal recourse had failed in the case of Lamm in particular, mainly due to corruption within the Guard and the courts, but I wondered privately how my actions would be viewed if the full extent of them were known. On the other hand, the vagueness of detail in my reports had never been questioned. The Archbanker had seen fit to reward me for my efforts in protecting the city. Noting with some amusement that neither my old, Guard issue scale armour nor the second hand breastplate I was currently wearing really befit the image of a paladin of Abadar, Archbanker Tuttle called for an acolyte, who came into the office carrying a suit of chainmail, which he handed to me with a bow. I held up the chain hauberk admiringly. The armour was of quality craftsmanship, light but strong, and appeared to be tailored just to my size. The links were of highly polished steel that shone like silver, and the armour featured gold coloured shoulder guards and an integral holy symbol of Abadar on the chest. “The armour is enchanted too,” said the Archbanker. “Wear it with pride Paladin Tain – may it serve you well as you serve Korvosa.” “Indeed I will Archbanker,” I answered, bowing. After giving further thanks, I took my leave, and, after freshening up and donning my new armour, left for my appointment at Brock House.
Tain’s Journal
We have made no further progress in tracking down Blackjack after our rooftop chase of the other night, but perhaps the chase was not a complete waste of time. Although Agon and I lost sight of our quarry when he ran between the wagons, Mari had spotted him slipping into a nearby warehouse building, one marked with House Arkona’s coat of arms. Our subsequent thorough search of the building revealed no signs of Blackjack, but we did find some things that led Agon to suspect that the warehouse was being used to front a smuggling operation. He has made a petition to his superiors to be put in charge of a follow up investigation on the matter. I cannot help but wonder if Blackjack deliberately led us to the place. When I later mentioned this thought to Marcus (who had arrived at the warehouse about ten minutes after we did), he replied something along the lines of, “Yes, that seems like his style.” Something about his tone of voice when he said this suggested to me that he might suspect the identity of Blackjack, but when I pressed him on the matter, he demurred, saying that he was referring to Blackjack’s historical style. With no further solid leads to Blackjack, Aria and I have felt that it is more important to find out about Peryarv, and have spent some time over the past two days looking into his recent activities and even following him discreetly as went about his business. We have learnt some interesting things. Peryarv has been in Korvosa for over a year, on an extended ‘mutual business opportunity’ diplomatic mission from Magnimar. During this time he has been involved in discussions with some of the city’s religious leaders, including the heads of both Aria and my churches. As far as we have been able to learn, nothing sinister has been discussed in these meetings, we have though managed to learn of Peryarv’s religious leader. Apparently he primarily worships Nethys (which fits, now that we have discovered he is a wizard), but also follows the teachings of Alseta, Sivanah and even the elven deity Yuelral. Peryarv has been busy over the past two days, visiting a number of private residences and institutions. He has visited all the major churches, and has been buying up scrolls of the ‘remove disease’ spell, particularly from the church of Sarenrae, spending in the vicinity of 3000 gold sails over the past two days on these items. This seems somewhat sinister, given the threat of disease from the area the Hellknights are guarding (what some have began to refer to as The Zone). Coincidently, or not, the amount spent corresponds closely to the sum stolen from the Bank on the 19th. Yesterday morning, Peryarv briefly visited House Arkona – we have been unable to discover who he met with or what was discussed. Since then, apart from visiting the temples, he has visited eight other people in town, people that his role as ambassador would not normally bring him into contact with, but whom we can find no real pattern to or connection between. These people are from various walks of life and social stations, and most are unknown to us, with one notable exception; one of the people visited was Arius the Wise, a professor at the University and a favourite teacher of Mari. Aria has set up a meeting with Marcus and Mari at Brock House in the morning, to discuss with the others what we have learnt, and to see if Mari is able to approach her tutor to find out what was discussed between he and Peryarv. There is another thing that I wish to follow up on; yesterday’s edition of the Korvosan Times, in their coverage of the explosions, mentioned that several items from the Direption’s cargo manifesto went missing during the chaos. I have wondered if it is entirely coincidental that this ship was damaged and sunk by the explosion of the Perraxian Eagle. I may be paranoid, but I do wonder if there is some significance to those missing cargo items.
Tain’s Journal
Blackjack was not much faster than I, but he had a head start, surer footing, and the advantage of knowing the Shingles better than I. Nevertheless, I ran as fast as I could after him, somewhat recklessly. It was only by the grace of Abadar that I did not slip and fall, between the treacherous footing and fading light. We ran across the ridgeline of the one roof, with me following as he dropped down onto an adjacent flat roof, sprinting across that too. Here I saw a chance to make up some ground, and put on a burst of speed – but suddenly a trap door opened up just ahead of me, and I had to swerve hastily aside to avoid tumbling down. I whirled to face the figure emerging from the trapdoor, half expecting that some ally of Blackjack was trying to ambush me – but it was Agon! Apparently he had found another way up after all – only a few seconds too late. “This way!” I called, already starting to sprint away again, Agon close behind me. We scrambled up a low rise to a higher roof and ran along it. Up ahead was a gap – an alleyway some fifteen feet wide, and Blackjack was running straight towards it. I heard something on the street below. Glancing down to my left I spied Mari galloping hard atop her brown gelding, overtaking us and stopping at the mouth of the alley ahead. Looking up, she raised her hand as Blackjack leapt easily across the gap, clearly casting some type of spell, but whatever it was there was no apparent effect. On my other side, Agon had slowed, loosing the light mace from his belt. As Blackjack landed lightly on the far roof, he threw the weapon hard at our quarry. Blackjack seemed to sense it coming, and half turned, dodging neatly aside as the weapon spun past him, clattering onto the roof tiles ahead. For my part, I did not slow, but ran as hard as I could, leaping the gap. For a heartstopping moment I thought I would not make it, but again Abadar was with me, and my toes found purchase on the far roof. Windmilling my arms and leaning forward I managed to keep my balance and kept running. Just behind me, Agon attempted and made the same jump, a little more easily than I, making up the short distance between us to run at my side. We kept chasing the escaping vigilante from roof to roof, with Mari keeping pace with us on her horse on the streets below. Blackjack was slowly drawing away from us, but not so much that a mistake on his part would not allow us to catch him, The chase led us towards a wide boulevard, busy with traffic, both pedestrian and carts and wagons, as folk headed home for the evening. Blackjack was running out of options – there appeared no way that he could make the leap of more than thirty feet to the other side of the street, and he would surely need to stop and climb rather than risk the thirty foot drop to the cobbles of the street below. This would be our opportunity. Blackjack slowed slightly as he began to near the street, pulling a looped coil of thin rope from his belt – a rope with a light grapple at its end. Without missing his step he whirled the rope and tossed the grapple upwards, to catch on a gargoyle adorning a tall spire that loomed above us. Still running, he leapt out over the street, firmly holding the rope in his gloved hands, then swung about and down in mid air, landing safely in the street! Agon and I glanced at each other in shock, but kept running – perhaps we could find some swift way down. I kept my eye on Blackjack. He had hardly missed a step in his landing, and now ran down the street, towards where two large wagons, one carrying lumber the other piled high with crates, rumbled towards each other over the cobblestones. Agon meanwhile had his eye out for some way down. “There!” he pointed in excitement as we jogged along the side of the roof. Almost below us was a cart piled high with hay, moving slowly down the street. We looked at each other, nodded, then both ran towards the edge of the roof and leaped down into empty air. The gamble paid off. We both landed, unhurt, in the hay at the back of the surprised farmer’s cart. Quickly scrambling out, we looked about the crowded street for Blackjack. And spied him just disappearing between the two large wagons as they passed each other, several dozen yards further down the street. By the time we reached the area, the wagons had passed – and there was no sign of Blackjack. Had he climbed aboard one of them, or ducked down an alley, or into a nearby doorway? Agon and I chose a wagon each, and ordered the drivers to halt, whilst we searched … but there was no sign of him. Blackjack had escaped.
Tain’s Journal
Soon we left the bank, heading towards Brock House. Aria looked up at the darkening sky. “Don’t look,” she murmured, “but up on that roof over there … a man dressed all in black stands there, looking down at the bank.” Carefully, subtly, we all glanced about, marking the man and the building he stood atop. “I know this area,” I said quietly. “There’s an external stair up to the roof of that block, in the rear alley. I’m going to get up there.” Agon nodded tightly. “I’ll try to find another way up,” he said, “cut him off. The rest of you keep walking.” Marcus and Agon agreed, though Mari, still riding her horse, looked as if she wanted to go chasing across rooftops her self. I took the next turning and walked down the alley, found the rickety stair I remembered, and began moving quickly but quietly upwards, two steps at a time. As my head cleared the edge of the roof, I saw a pair of polished black boots standing on the slate tiles a bit higher up the roof. Looking up, I saw above the boots a tall, slim man, wearing all black clothing, complete with cloak, half mask and wide brimmed hat. He wore a rapier at one hip and a dagger at the other. His features were concealed by his mask and shadows, but I could tell he was looking at me. He took a step back, but did not try to attack me or flee. “I’ve been waiting for you, Champion of Abadar,” he said in a softly spoken but firm voice. “Please, finish your climb.” Warily, I hoisted myself up onto the roof, watching him. He stood easily, having no apparent trouble balancing on the sloping roof. “Why were you waiting for me?” I asked once I stood at the edge of the roof, a few yards away from him. I was well aware that he could have fled - or attacked me - at any time whilst I was making my way up to the roof. “I wanted to tell you - I had nothing to do with that bank robbery today,” he said, gesturing down to the street. “Nor did I have anything to do with the attempted assassination of the Queen.” I looked closely at the man in black. “I’m inclined to believe you,” I answered after a moment. “Tell me, did you have anything to do with Trinia Sabore’s escape from Citadel Volshyenek?” The man nodded curtly. “Yes, that was me I admit. Before you ask, I firmly believe that the girl is innocent, and that she would have received no fair trial.” I looked at him again, hearing conviction in his words. “Are you then the true Blackjack?” I asked, inching slowly towards him across the roof. I saw the flash of a grin beneath his mask. “I like to think so, yes,” he replied. I sighed heavily. “I believe what you say, and you seem to be an honourable man. But I am afraid I must place you under arrest – my order has placed a high priority on your capture.” He nodded again. “I know. I just wanted to say my piece first. I – what in the world can that be?” He stared wide-eyed over my shoulder. Even as my head began to involuntarily turn, I knew it as a trick – one of the oldest. My gaze only left him for the briefest of seconds, but that was all he needed. The instant my attention wavered, Blackjack was off, running away from me across the Shingles.
Tain’s Journal
We delivered Rella into the custody of the Bank of Abadar, making it clear to all parties that he was to be protected as a potential witness to a crime, rather than to be shackled as a prisoner. On our way back out of the Bank, I saw Ardele Lianti hurrying towards us (or rather past us) up the main stair. “Abadar’s blessings upon you Cleric Ardele,” I hailed her. “What news from the city?” “Greetings Paladin Tain,” she returned my call, halting to catch her breath and wipe the perspiration from her brow. “The news is not good – I go now to brief the Archbanker. Explosions at Citadel Volshyenek, and at the Midland Docks. And one of our lesser banks has been robbed.” “Robbed?” I asked sharply. “Which bank?” At the same time, Mari put her hand to her mouth, looking stricken. “The docks?” she cried. “Oh no! Marcus!” Ardele looked between Mari and I. “The bank branch is at the south side of Midland,” she said, addressing me. I nodded, I knew the place - only a block or two from the Dancing Cyclops in fact. Ardele the turned to Mari. “Lady, did you refer to Marcus Merivanchi by chance?” I’m not sure whether the cleric recognised Mari, but she would have known my relationship to the Merivanchi family, and that I had recently been working with Marcus. Mari nodded, and Ardele continued. “I saw him not fifteen minutes past, at the bank, in the company of a Korvosan Guard lieutenant.” With that, she gave us a nod and hurried into the building. I led the way through the streets to the small bank branch in Midland. There was an air of fear and confusion in the streets; most people did not know all the details, except that there had been some sort of fire and explosion at the docks and at the Citadel. Some people feared an attack by Magnimar, or the Shoanti, or Cheliax. Others wondered if it was the work of the Thieves Guild, or Blackjack, or anarchists. Smoke still rose from the direction of the docks, although it had cleared over the Citadel. A scene of confusion greeted us at the bank, with Abadarian guards and bankers interviewing the branch staff and security and investigating the area, and Korvosan Guardsmen keeping onlookers away and getting in the way of the Abadarians as they tried to undertake their own investigation. We spotted Agon and Marcus standing outside, the former writing notes onto a wax tablet. Mari ran up and hugged Marcus - he looked rather surprised, but after a moment returned the enthusiastic greeting. Then we began to exchange notes on our doings of the last couple of hours. When he could not get into the courtyard of Citadel Volshyenek, Marcus had followed Mari’s suggestion and made his way to the docks (leaving Agon to organise the Guards who were arriving outside the Citadel) to find out what he could of the Perraxian Eagle. He’d found the dockmaster and learnt that the Eagle had arrived in the harbour last night, but was sailing erratically and not displaying the proper lights or flags. Sable Company marines who intercepted the ship reported that the entire crew appeared to be drunk or drugged, behaving very strangely, and that they could get no sense out of any on board. The ship was guided into port, but placed under quarantine. There had been no change in the state of the crew until midday, when several of them began to grow agitated and manic, and one managed to leap onto the dock and escape on foot into the city. This was of course Rella. As Marcus was talking to the dockmaster, the Perraxian Eagle - which he could see in the background - suddenly and without warning exploded in a tremendous ball of fire, sending flaming debris flying throughout the area. The chaos was immense and immediate, although soon enough the Sable Company, Abadarian guards on the docks and Acadamae mages who teleported in began to get things under a semblance of control, organising bucket brigades and using magic to quench the flames. Several nearby ships and buildings at the docks were damaged by fire, and it was only due to the quick reaction of everyone there that the fire did not spread through the city. As it was, only one other ship, a Chelish merchant vessel called the Direption was sunk, and most of its cargo was recovered before it went down, although before Marcus left the docks he heard that several boxes had apparently gone missing - perhaps stolen - in the confusion. The Eagle itself was completely destroyed, and Marcus did not think any aboard could possibly have survived. Several Sable Company marines and nearby dock workers and sailors were also killed in the explosion. For his part, Marcus had done what he could to keep things under control and organise people until the proper authorities had arrived on the scene. Once things seemed to be getting under control, he began to make his way back to the Citadel to find us, but had passed the bank here and noticed the commotion, with Agon interviewing people on the street. Agon’s story was longer, and started somewhat earlier in the day. When he and Marcus noticed the rest of us gone, back at the Dancing Cyclops early in the afternoon, Marcus had immediately tried to follow us on foot. Agon had a different idea, one possibly borne of him being slightly tipsy and not thinking his best he admitted a little sheepishly. Rather than run off through the streets, he had decided to climb up onto the rooftops to see if he could spot us. Gaining the heights, he had not seen us … but he did see Blackjack, standing atop a nearby roof. Or rather, someone dressed as Blackjack - the man’s rather podgy physique did not resemble the classic image of the vigilante, nor the ‘Blackjack’ we had seen at the Queen’s coronation. The man appeared to be closely watching a building across the road from where he stood - a branch of the Bank of Abadar. As Agon had watched the man, he heard a noise behind him. He spun, trying to draw his sword, but before he could another black clad figure had bashed him across the side of the head with a cosh, and he had fallen into unconsciousness. “Yes,” Agon said with an ironic smile. “I was hit with a blackjack by Blackjack.” Agon wasn’t sure how long he was out, but when he awoke (unharmed apart from a sore head), he realised that the ‘Blackjacks’ had been casing the bank, no doubt with ill intent. He briefly considered going into the bank to warn someone, but realised that in his dishevelled state, and smelling of alcohol, he may not be believed. It was not far to Citadel Volshyenek, so he resolved to go there for backup. He had almost reached the main gates to the Citadel (having met Marcus along the way and been filled in on the situation with the naked man), when the explosion happened. Agon soon found that he was the most senior Guardsman on this side of the barrier (in the vicinity at least) and began organising people, assisting as best he could (the explosion had injured even some people outside the gates, and started a few small fires). Once things were under control, and Marcus had departed for the docks, Agon suddenly remembered about the bank. Gathering a cadre of Guards, he made haste for the bank. They arrived some five minutes after the thieves had departed. There was little chance of catching them, so Agon set about investigating the scene and questioning the witnesses. There had been at least two thieves, each of them dressed all in black, wearing masks, in the manner of Blackjack. One of them was distinctly portly in build. They had apparently made extensive use of magic in their operation; guards were sent into magical sleep, or overcome by sudden, irrational fear. The staff believed that magic must have been used to get into the vault too. The thieves absconded with somewhere between three and four thousand gold pieces worth of coins and gold bars. Some of the witnesses claimed they saw a third thief. He stayed invisible through most of the robbery, but apparently cast most of the spells. Only towards the end of the ordeal did he let his spell of invisibility drop briefly, and a few witnesses caught a glimpse of his face (he was not wearing a mask). He was tall, with a haughty looking, lined face, a hooked nose and a bald pate. In short, he looked very much like Peryarv Lagren of Magnimar.
Tain’s Journal
Osric did not seem pleased to see us, when Aria, Mari and I knocked on the door of his warehouse, wanting to question someone there, but Mari sweet-talked him into letting us in and giving us access to a disused store room. He even (with some grumbling) provided us with a strong cup of Katapeshi coffee to waken our dazed guest, and some old clothes to cover his nakedness more thoroughly than my cloak had done. Aria had suggested we question the man here, being somewhat paranoid about who might be behind this all. I had assured her that my church was not corrupt, a statement she accepted, but still wondered out loud who else might be listening at the Bank of Abadar. In the end I had agreed to question the man here, as it was on the way to the Bank where I intended to place him in custody. As the man regained full consciousness, we could see the fear and confusion in his eyes as he looked at us – but the madness I had seen earlier appeared to be gone. We offered him clothing and coffee, and spoke calm and comforting words, although not entirely sure how much he could understand. “I do understand you,” he spoke up in heavily accented Common, having heard us talking amongst ourselves with his back turned as he dressed. “I speak some Taldane. Where am I? What happened to me?” As he spoke his hand traced the old and new scars on his still bare abdomen (he still held the shirt we had provided in his hand) and looked confused. Apparently he did not remember his run through the city streets, or (thankfully) his ride in the wagon with us. “You are in Korvosa, in a safe place,” I replied. “My name is Tain and these are my friends. We are trying to find out exactly what happened to you – we are trying to help you. What is your name?” “I am called Rella,” he said. “I’m a sailor, I was on the Perraxian Eagle … we were bound for Korvosa … something …” he trailed off. “Who did this to you Rella?” asked Aria, pointing to the scars on his stomach. Rella seemed about to answer, when suddenly his eyes rolled back in his head until only the whites showed, and he began shaking violently, frothing at the mouth. I grabbed hold of him, and Aria tried to hold his mouth open so that he would not bite off his tongue. “He must be under some kind of compulsion not to speak,” Mari explained. “Try to hold him still, I want to try something.” Not bothering to hide what she was doing, she began to murmur the words of a spell, then put her hand to Rella’s perspiring forehead. After a moment she shook her head, disappointed. “Nothing,” she said. “I tried to read his thoughts, but there is quite literally nothing there. An absence of thought.” Aria and I tried to soothe Rella, and soon enough his seizure ended, his face relaxed and he returned to normal. Once assured that he was alright, we began asking him more questions. Some he responded to, answering seemingly truthfully, others he could not answer, once again going into a fit from which it took several minutes to calm him. Aria asked where his ship was from. The ship had sailed from Katheer in Qadira, he said, and stopped at a number of ports within and without the Inner Sea before arriving in Korvosa. Did you stop in Absolom, Aria wanted to know? Yes, it was the first stop from Katheer. What about Magnimar? No, Rella said, they did not go to Magnimar. I asked whether they had called at any ports in Cheliax and was told yes, the ship stopped at half a dozen Chelaxian ports including Westcrown, the former capital. “We saw the tattoo you wear, what does it mean?” Aria asked. Rella replied that it was a devotion, he was a worshipper of Calistria. So perhaps there was nothing sinister about the marking. “What is the last thing you clearly remember?” I asked. Rella looked frightened again. “It was last night,” he answered quietly. “We had just gained the harbour in Korvosa and then … then we all went crazy. That is all.” “Was anyone on board the ship ill before that?” I asked, a question that elicited no answer, only another seizure. Aria asked if anyone boarded the ship in Absolom, any passengers or new crew members. Yes, was the answer, someone did, but when asked who, another fit. When at last it had passed, Mari asked, “Did the person who boarded in Absolom ever leave the ship?” He disappeared, Rella answered hesitantly, last night. Mari then pulled out a coin bearing the skull and cleaver symbol of the Harbingers, and showed it to Rella asking if he recognized it. Apparently he did, for his reply was to have another fit. We could think of little else to ask him at this point, especially seeing as he was unable to answer the most important questions. We took our leave of Osric and, once Rella was recovered, escorted him through the city towards the Bank of Abadar.
Tain’s Journal
I could feel the heat at my back as the wall of orange flame rushed towards Aria, the naked man, the two Acadamae mages and myself. The wizards stared wide-eyed above their half masks, then almost simultaneously flung out their hands. I wish I had learnt the identity of those two. It is true that I have no love for the Acadamae, but those two wizards probably saved Aria’s and my life - or at least prevented as from taking serious injury. The wizards had both reacted quickly, conjuring up hemispherical shields of magical force that protected us from the heat and force of the blast, the flames rushing past us on all sides. Others were not so fortunate. There had been upward of two dozen people in the courtyard; soldiers on guard or taking their leisure, administration staff for the Guard returning from their lunch breaks, people visiting the Citadel for one purpose or another. As the flames of the explosion died away, we saw that few of these people had survived unscathed, if at all. The explosion had completely demolished the wagon, and turned the horses, driver and guards standing nearby into charred wrecks, barely recognisable as corpses. All about other bodies lay on the scorched cobbles, some clearly dead, others merely badly burnt, or injured by flying shrapnel. Here and there, timber structures within the courtyard smouldered or blazed. Aria and I immediately set to work tending to the wounded, doing what we could to heal or comfort, or if needs be, speak prayers for the dead. The two Acadamae wizards meanwhile, spoke urgently into a crystal ball one of them had pulled out from amongst his robes. A few minutes later there were several audible pops of displaced air, as five more wizards teleported into the courtyard. Glancing about, I saw Mari riding over towards us, looking around in horror at the scene, whilst keeping her distance from the other wizards. For their part, the Acadamae members paid her no attention; arraying themselves around the courtyard, they began chanting in unison, and in seconds a shimmering, transparent barrier sprang into being around the perimeter of the courtyard - trapping us all inside, and Marcus and Agon - who had traveled on foot in Mari’s wake - outside. Mari raced over to the courtyard entrance where Marcus and Agon stood forlornly on the other side of the magical barrier. I approached one of the Acadamae mages who seemed to be inside, to enquire what was happening; he was brusque with me, and did not give me a full explanation, except to say that they were trying to prevent the spread of possible contamination. He did not ask what happened in the wagon, nor about the naked man. In the confusion and chaos of the explosion, it appeared that everyone had forgotten about him, or at least the original two wizards had not yet given their superior a complete report. I made sure our recent patient was safe (he was lying, passed out in a corner, wrapped up in my cloak), the returned to assisting Aria with the injured. Shortly Mari joined us, reporting that she had managed to communicate to Marcus through the magical barrier the name of the ship that the naked man had come from - he had gone off to the docks to investigate. Agon was still outside, taking charge of the Guards who had arrived on the scene, to provide what help he could from the other side of the barrier. An hour or so passed. We had done all that we could for the wounded, and paid our respects to the dead. The wizards had been casting various spells (including over us and the other survivors), apparently trying to detect some sign of contamination. We were pronounced ‘clear’, although we were still not certain exactly what that meant. Suddenly there came a distant boom from somewhere to the north. Instinctively we turned to look in that direction, but initially could see nothing over the high walls of the citadel courtyard, but a few moments later we saw a plume of dark smoke rising up into the sky. “Another explosion?” asked Aria. None of us could answer that question for certain, but it seemed likely - apparently our naked man was not the only person let loose in the city with an alchemical bomb inside them. The Acadamae wizards were speaking urgently into their crystal balls again, and, a moment later, began teleporting away one by one, apparently to deal with the latest threat, leaving only one mage behind to begin lowering the magical barriers. As soon as the barrier was down, Guardsmen began pouring into the courtyard from both the street and the Citadel proper. “I’d like to question this man - ourselves,” said Aria quietly, gesturing to the naked man. Mari and I were in agreement, and carrying the half conscious man between us, we left the courtyard, unnoticed in the confusion.
Tain’s Journal
Ariadnae pulled a short, sharp knife from somewhere amongst the folds of her dress, and tested the blade against her thumb. The eyes of our prisoner went wide, focusing on the blade, and he began to struggle, panicked. I tried to hold him still, but between his struggles and the jostling of the wagon it was near impossible. “This won’t do,” Aria murmured. She began chanting under her breath, one hand to the holy symbol of Pharasma that she wore at her throat. Abruptly, the naked man’s struggles ceased, he was frozen rigidly, unmoving, staring straight ahead, only the faintest rise and fall of his chest showing that he was still alive and breathing. “My spell will hold him for a short while, we must hurry,” the priestess advised. “Hold him Tain, in case it wears off or he breaks out of the enchantment. Unfortunately he will be alive and conscious through this … I hope he understands that this will be for his good …” Although he could not move, I could see the fear and hate in his eyes as Aria moved close, held the knife against the scars on his belly. I did not know how she would be able to perform this delicate surgery under these conditions, but as it turns out, Aria is not only well versed in the surgical arts, but has the determination to succeed against strong odds. Somehow accommodating in her movements for the jostling of the wagon, she inserted the knife into one of the old scars and sliced across with her razor sharp knife, using enough force to slice easily through skin and muscle, without piercing the organs (or the foreign object) underneath. Blood and pus oozed from the deep cut. The pain and horror of the situation was evident in the man’s unblinking eyes – I spoke words of comfort and assurance, but I do not know if he heard or understood me. Aria changed her grip on the knife, then made a second cut, running perpendicular across the first. Done, she put the knife aside and peeled back the resulting triangles of skin and flesh to expose the dark cavity of the man’s gut. A wave of black blood and yellow pus spewed forth from the wound, splashing Aria and myself, oozing down the man’s legs onto the floor. The stench that emanated from his gut was horrendous – like the rot of something long dead. I clenched my jaw – had it not been for our temple training and discipline I think that both Aria and I would have retched at the sight and smell, but we kept our collective composure. I looked again into the man’s eyes, but they were glazed, unfocused – mercifully, he had passed out. My gaze travelled down to that horrible gaping hole. There, within the cavity of his gut, nestled just above the tangle of his intestines, was a bloody membranous sac with a curiously regular shape to it. While I held the man against the jostle of the carriage, Aria reached into the wound and carefully manoeuvred the object free. It was difficult to tell exactly what it was, covered in blood and membrane, but it was about the size of a human skull, and shaped something like a cylinder that bulged out in the middle. “Hold this,” Aria said, passing the thing to me, “or put it down carefully over there.” She then turned back to the man’s wound, cleaned the pus from it as best she could, then folded the flaps back together and laid a hand at the convergence of the cut, calling on her Goddess for power. Her hand glowed for a moment, and the incisions began to knit themselves back together. She kept praying and healing until only a fresh pink scar remained. With the man healed (and unconscious), the two of us turned our attention to the mess in the wagon. The floor and seats (and to some degree us) were covered in gore and waste, possibly disease bearing. After a quick consultation, Aria again called on her divinely granted magic to create water, washing us, the man and the walls and seats clean – but creating a pool several inches deep on the floor, with the waste now floating within and mingling with it. There was a lip at the door, and the floorboards were sealed with tar, but we did not want to risk this mess getting out. Again Aria prayed, this time to purify the water she had created. She reported to me later that she felt some sort of resistance, as though the stuff was tainted somehow with evil or magic, but after several minutes of praying, the water we stood in was clean and pure. I hoped that this was enough – I was safe from the threat of disease, but Aria was not. We now began to examine the object. As we looked at it, we both heard an odd sound – a sort of ‘tick’ noise, followed by a sloshing sound, as if the object contained some sort of liquid. Carefully, Aria used her knife to cut away the membrane from around the thing – underneath, the object was indeed of a shape and size as I described above, and made from some dull, reddish metal. There were no seams or markings evident on it. We were mystified as to what it might be. ~Tick~ ~Slosh~
“Perhaps it contains some sort of water clock,” I theorised. “Except … are the noises coming slightly closer together?” Aria looked at me, concern etched on her face. “It’s a timer … it’s counting down … to something. Like … an alchemist’s bomb …” Just about then, the wagon stopped. For a moment we heard only faint, distant noises from outside and the increasingly unnerving noises from the object. ~Tick~ ~Slosh~
Then came the sound of hard footsteps on cobblestones outside the door to the wagon. Aria moved over to the door and banged on it. “Let us out,” she called. There was no response for a moment, then a man’s voice. “I’m waiting for the Acadamae wizards,” he said. ~Tick~ ~Slosh~
“By the authority of the Bank of Abadar, open that door right now!” I boomed. Either my words or my tone must have done the trick, for a moment later we heard the bolt being drawn and then bright sunlight streamed into the back of the wagon as the door was opened. ~Tick~ ~Slosh~
I picked up the naked man bodily and jumped out into the courtyard of Citadel Volshyenek, a moment behind Aria, then turned to slam the heavy door shut with my free hand. Looking about I saw a number of Guardsmen in the immediate vicinity, and the two aproned and masked mages hurrying towards us. ~Tick~ ~Slosh~ ~Tick~ ~Slosh~ “Get back!” I yelled, as Aria and I, dragging the man between us, began to run away from the wagon, towards the mages. “Get away from the wagon!” ~Tick~Slosh~Tick~Slosh~Tick~Slosh~
With an ear splitting bang, the wagon exploded in an orange ball of fire.
Tain’s Journal
By this point, Marcus had arrived on the scene. Aria directed him to control the growing crowd of curious on-lookers, then moved to speak quietly to Mari for a few moments. From atop her horse, Mari nodded, made a few subtle gestures, looked my way, the whispered something to Aria. “It’s magic,” Aria said in a low voice as she returned to stand next to me. “The thing inside him, although Mari is having trouble determining exactly what type or how strong it is.” I nodded, gazing intently at the man I held (he was beginning to struggle again) with the second sight granted me by Abadar. “It’s evil too,” I said, as my vision detected a faint aura of evil radiating from the man’s stomach, “or at least the method, or person, or intent that put it inside him was.” I looked around. “We have to get him away from all these people,” I added. Just about then the two servants of Abadar who had originally been chasing the man arrived. The sight of them seemed to send my captive into a second wind, and he began struggling again, and despite his bonds it took almost all my strength to hold him down. I was quite unable to return the salute the two gave me. “You two – where did this man come from?” Aria asked, in an authoritative tone. One of the men looked at me before answering – I gave him a quick nod. “We chased him from the docks ma’am,” the church guard replied. “He was from a ship called the Perraxian Eagle – it arrived in port last night, but had not yet cleared a customs inspection … the entire crew appeared to be drunk or some-such. This one managed to slip off, not a slip on.” He gave an embarrassed smile at the joke. “Not drunk,” replied Aria grimly. “Now, I need you to get to Citadel Volshyenek with all haste – report to a senior officer that we have a situation here potentially similar to the one in Old Korvosa that the Hellknights are containing. Please impress the seriousness of this. Have them send a wagon over to pick this man up, and have them send word to the Acadamae.” “Ah …” the guard hesitated, glancing at me. “Ma’am, we would normally report something like this first to the Bank of Abadar, or the dockmaster …” “Do exactly what my cousin says,” I spoke up from the ground, having contained the naked man’s struggles for now. “The Citadel is closer than the Bank, and this is a situation for haste. Report to the Bank once you have been to the Citadel. Now run!” The two church guards quickly saluted, then turned and jogged back up the street. *** It was perhaps fifteen minutes later that a covered wagon drawn by a team of fast horses came careening down the street towards us. Out from the back leaped two men wearing the robes of Acadame wizards, supplemented by heavy leather aprons, thick gloves, and half masks that covered their mouths and noses. They quickly assessed the situation, which had me still pinning the naked man to the ground with my knee, then addressed myself and Aria, who was still standing nearby (Marcus, with the situation of a Guard patrol, had the onlookers either dispersed or keeping well back; Mari had made herself scarce). “Who else has touched or been in close proximity to this man?” the mage asked, his voice muffled by the mask. “As far as I can tell, only I have had physical contact with him,” I said. “I didn’t observe his entire run through the streets, but from what I did see, he didn’t touch anyone. Since he’s been here, only I have touched him, and only the priestess,” I indicated Aria, “has approached closer than about ten feet.” The mages looked at each other for a moment. “Alright, get him into the back of the wagon,” the speaker told me. “And both of you had best travel in there with him just to be safe.” I looked to Aria, concern for her on my face, but she simply raised her eyebrows slightly, then nodded, a sudden look of steely determination in her eyes. I didn’t try to argue, either with her or the wizards. It was easy enough to manhandle my prisoner into the wagon – the fight had gone out of him, and he seemed only barely conscious, dazed. Aria and I got in behind him, and one of the wizards closed the heavy wooden door behind us. We heard the sound of a bolt being snapped shut from the outside. A moment later, the wagon began to move. The interior compartment of the wagon that we found ourselves in was solidly constructed of timber, a square cell about eight feet to a side. Narrow benches ran along two of the sides, and the door at the back was locked, with only a narrow slit window covered in a mesh screen allowing some contact with the outside world. I sat the man on one of the benches and held onto him, looked at Aria. “We have to get that thing out of him,” my cousin-in-law stated quietly, “preferably before we reach the Citadel.” I looked around at the cramped interior of the wagon, its distinct lack of surgical tools, jostled by the bumping of the wheels over the rough cobbles. “Is that …” Aria cut me off. “He has something evil and magical inside him, something for who knows what purpose – but it can’t be good. It might be making him sick, or make others sick. For his sake we need to remove it – and besides, I don’t entirely trust those wizards … I think it would be wise to examine this thing before they do. Will you help me? Looking into Aria’s mismatched eyes, seeing the set of her jaw, I realised I had little choice. I silently prayed to Abadar that we were doing the right thing.
Tain’s Journal
I quickly made my way out onto the street, with Mari and Aria close behind. By the time I got outside, the naked man, who was running fast, was well past The Dancing Cyclops. People in the busy street alternatively cheered or jeered him, or else yelped in shock as he ran past, but generally tried to get out of his way. Glancing back in the direction he had come I saw two armoured men, wearing the livery of the church of Abadar puffing and staggering along. Clearly they had chased the naked man this far, but were fast losing the race. I looked back at the naked man, almost out of sight at the end of the street. Not only was he Causing A Public Spectacle and Disturbing the Peace, but it appeared he was also Resisting Arrest. I broke into a run after him. Unhindered by either armour or clothes, the man would have been faster than I even in the light armour I wore this day, and he had a good lead. But I was fresh, whereas he had run a long distance and must have been beginning to tire (though his wild yells did not show it). As we weaved through the crowded streets and narrow lanes I began to gain on him, but not by much. Suddenly, I heard my name called from just behind me, and glanced back to see Mari riding towards me fast (sidesaddle of course) on a tall brown gelding. I did not immediately know where she had found a horse, or where she had learnt to ride so well, but I soon realized that magic must account for one or both. “Get on,” she called, pulling on the reins and sliding out of the saddle. I quickly mounted, Mari moving to sit behind me, and I kicked the horse forward into a fast canter. Using magic to summon a horse (as Mari later explained she had done) was potentially dangerous if any agents of the Acadamae were around, but I mentally thanked Mari for doing so – thanks to the speed of the beast we quickly caught up with the man, who was beginning to puff and slow, looking wildly about and tugging at his hair as he jogged. I guided the horse beside him, then, judging my moment, leapt from the saddle onto his back, knocking the air from him and sending him sprawling to the hard cobbles, with me atop him. He gasped as his bare body slid painfully across the cobbles, and lay still for a brief moment, giving me a chance to grab his arm and pull it behind his body. In a moment he began struggling frantically, yelling and screaming incoherently (or in some foreign tongue), frothing at the mouth, his eyes wide. He had a strength borne of madness, but in his position he was hard pressed to fight me, and I was able to hold him until his struggles began to grow more feeble (though his cries did not). “Tain, is there anything I can do to help?” Mari called, having taken the reins of the horse once again, and circling the naked man and I at a distance. “No, best stay back,” I replied, as suspicions began to form in my mind as to what might afflict this man. Pinning down his weakly struggling form with a knee and one hand, I unhooked a pair of manacles from my belt and clapped them around his wrists. “Do what you can to keep people away,” I continued to Mari, nodding towards the curious on-lookers who were beginning to gather. The man’s appearance and demeanour suggested that he was insane, and although it may simply have been paranoia playing on my mind, it had occurred to me that madness was one of the symptoms of the disease that the Hellknights and Acadamae were containing in Old Korvosa. I had really only gotten a good look at the man’s darkly suntanned back (and his far less tanned buttocks and legs), but I could see no sign of necrotic flesh. I sniffed, seeking the foul odour that had been described as another symptom - I did not find it, but instead smelt a curious, sweet fragrance something like slightly overripe fruit emanating from the man. I wondered if this was perhaps a sign of an early stage of the disease, or if some scent or perfume had been applied to disguise a less pleasant stench. Aria arrived, breathing heavily from her dash through the streets after Mari and myself, her black skirt caught up in one hand, and approached to assist me. “No, stay back,” I warned again. “I suspect this man may be a plague carrier.” Abadar had granted me the gift of divine health; so long as my faith was strong I could not get sick. I did not think Aria so protected. The cleric hesitated before moving forward again, halting only a few feet from us. “If I examine him I may be able to tell for certain,” she said. I shook my head. “It’s too dangerous. Let me be your hands - tell me what to do.” Aria looked at me for a moment. “Alright,” she said. “Start by turning him over, I want to see his face properly.” Ignoring his hoarse cries, and the spittle that flew from between his cracked lips and matted his beard, I manhandled him onto his back. His features revealed him as hailing from the far south or east. He was skinny, but with corded, wiry muscles - except for his stomach, which was rounded, stretched, distended - almost like that of a woman in the mid stages of pregnancy. He had a tattoo on his ribs; three daggers radiating out from a circle. Aria and I both recognised it as the holy symbol of Callistra, the goddess of lust, chaos and vengeance. More disturbing were the scars covering his belly. One of these poorly healed scars had split open, probably when I knocked him to the ground, and now oozed blood and pus. Aria shook her head, looking concerned. “That’s very wrong,” she muttered, then, louder, to me, “Tain, press on his stomach, around here,” gesturing, “tell me what you feel.” I pressed my fingers into his flesh where Aria had indicated, and felt resistance, something hard, like bone where there should be none. I told Aria as much, and her face paled. “Dear Pharasma,” she said. “They’ve cut him open and put something inside him.”
Tain’s Journal
The Dancing Cyclops was a soldier’s tavern, mainly by virtue of its proximity to Citadel Volshyenek. That the place served good fare, had reasonable prices and regular entertainment only helped. Today there seemed to be an awful lot of off duty Guards in the place, and as many of them as could were taking advantage of Agon’s generosity – I hoped for his sake his promotion came with a reasonable pay increase, or he’d by paying off today’s bar tab for weeks to come. For my part, I merely sipped slowly at the first ale purchased for me, for several reasons. Drinking to excess during the day did not seem proper, and besides, Field Marshal Kroft had suggested she may wish to see us later … but that was not the only thing. I found myself rather melancholy and thoughtful. I should have been happy for my friend’s promotion – I was happy for him – but the discovery of how the promotion had come about had soured things for me somewhat. Upon arrival at the tavern, Agon had told us the story. He had, it turns out, approached Lady Elizabeth soon after she had first tasked us with finding Trinia, and offered her a deal, being that if he delivered Trinia into custody prior to the Queen’s coronation, he would be promoted. It troubled me, not just that Agon had made such a deal, but that he had felt the need. I believe that were it not for his brother, Agon would already have been promoted, on the strength of his performance and deeds over the past weeks. I could not understand why Agon allowed Felix to lead the life he did - why he did not steer him away from that path, or, if needs be, arrest him. Oh, I knew why - the bond of family - but I did not understand it. If he truly loved his brother, Agon should steer him to a path that would not so imperil his neck - or his soul. As my thoughts meandered such paths, it occurred to me that perhaps I was not so different. Mari was like a sister to me, and I condoned - even encouraged - her use of magic, despite the possible danger to her, and the fact that it was against the laws of the Acadamae. Of course, the law of the Acadamae was not the law of the city, but the crown did not contradict the Acadamae when it came to magic, and tacitly approved of their draconian measures. And when Mari had begged me not to hand Trinia over to the Guard, I had seriously considered it. It was Agon who had talked me out of this course of action, speaking eloquently and passionately of duty, orders, and Trinia’s safety. At the time I had been thankful that he had reminded me of my duty; now I wondered if he was only concerned about his own promotion. I sighed. I claimed not to hold others to the high ideals I tried to live to, and yet I here I was, thinking the worst of my friend when we were supposed to be celebrating with him. I tried to turn my mind to more charitable thoughts, but it was difficult to shake my melancholic mood. Why had Lady Elizabeth agreed to Agon’s deal? Why was she, or the Queen, so desperate to get hold of Trinia? If they had legitimate proof against her, why not have the entire Guard (and the Sable Company, and the church of Abadar) looking for her? If there was no proof, why were they so determined to pin this crime on her, especially given the history between the three of them? I was roused from my reverie by a commotion from outside, heard faintly over the noise in the tavern - shouts, jeers, yells and laughter, distant, but growing closer. I looked up, looked to Aria and Mari who sat talking together at the table (Agon and Marcus were at the bar). “Did you hear that?” I asked. The women nodded, and the three of us looked over at the open door of the tavern which looked out onto the street, just in time to see a man dash past. He was yelling incoherently as he ran, his eyes and hair were wild … and he was completely and utterly naked.
Tain’s Journal
Field Marshal Cressida Kroft was in full dress uniform, in her position at the front of the small courtroom within Citadel Volshyenek. - a courtroom that was typically used for court-marshal proceedings. She nodded briefly in our direction as the four of us were shown to seats near the front of the room, but did not otherwise acknowledge us. The room was filled with Guards, most of whom I did not know, being in a different platoon to the one I had been in. “Bring in the accused,” the Field Marshal called, and marched into the chamber between two burly Guards came Agon - unless it was Felix. “Told you,” whispered Marcus. “Agon Deparle,” began Field Marshal Kroft. “Of late there have been grave concerns regarding aspects of your performance. Bailiff, please take Mister Deparle’s sword from him.” The court official took away the blade that was part of Agon’s uniform. Our friend - for it was indeed Agon - looked across the chamber at us, a look of disbelief on his face. Although I had never quite understood why (Agon was extremely good at his job - but sometimes it did not seem to quite fit his temperament), being in the Guard was very important to him. I prepared to stand, to ask to hear the charges, but before I could act, the Field Marshal spoke again. “In it’s place, please give him this sword,” Kroft handed the bailiff a finely made sword and scabbard - an officer’s sword. “Congratulations Lieutenant Deparle. It is true, concerns have been raised regarding aspects of your performance; I do not wish to hear of your brother wearing your uniform again, and I would advise against drawing the Queen’s bodyguard away from her duty in future. However, you have achieved much over the past few weeks. You have acted with distinction in your official duties, keeping the peace, quelling unrest, returning our city to order. And you have gone beyond the call of duty - the first Guardsman on the scene for a Code Brown, helping to quell a dangerous and ancient evil beneath our streets, and most importantly, your part in capturing the fugitive Trinia Sabore,” Kroft glanced up at a seemingly random point on the ceiling, “even if she did not remain long in our custody.” The Field Marshal stood. “Ladies and gentlemen, Lieutenant Agon Deparle.” I stood and began to clap, shortly followed by the rest of the room. Nearby Guards began clapping Agon on the back and shaking his hand. “Apologies for the hazing Lieutenant Deparle,” laughed Kroft. “You know, traditions to be upheld.” Agon made his way over to us. “Well, that was exciting,” he grinned. “Let’s hit the public house. Drinks are on me.” “That would be appropriate,” said the Field Marshal, who had come up behind us, “given the circumstances. But don’t get too drunk. I’d like you - all of you - to report back to me this evening to discuss a different matter.” Agon saluted. “Yes ma’am. If you need us before then, we’ll be at the Dancing Cyclops.”
Tain’s Journal
“So you see,” concluded Aria, “not only are these Harbingers foolish – most theologians agree that no act of mortals can return a dead god to life – and Aroden is truly dead – they are mad and dangerous too. Who knows what prophecies they may be trying to force, and what implications that might have for Korvosa?” She shook her head. “As much as all of that … trying to force these prophecies as they are doing is blasphemous in the eyes of Lady Pharasma. They must be stopped.” We all certainly agreed in principle with Aria’s words, but our subsequent short discussion proved that we did not know where to immediately start. “You’re not the only one who has been looking into things,” Mari spoke up. “Marcus and I have been doing a little research into the Queen’s background – and Trinia’s. As it turns out, Queen Ileosa and Lady Elizabeth have been friends since childhood. Ileosa’s father was a wealthy merchant in Egorian – so she’s not nobility by birth – and Elizabeth the daughter of a close family friend. The pair were brought up by the same nanny.” “Good fortune for her that she caught King Eodred’s eye,” commented Aria. “Yes,” Mari continued. “But here’s the interesting thing. Trinia was the daughter of a scullery maid in Ileosa’s household, but she was also under the care of Ileosa and Elizabeth’s nanny – which is pretty unusual.” She probably added the last for my benefit, given that I was likely the only one in the room not raised at least in part by a nanny or a nurse or someone similar. “Hmmm.” I stroked the neatly trimmed beard at my chin. “And do we know who Trinia’s father was?” “No,” answered Mari. “Which suggests we probably do in fact. It’s very likely that Ileosa and Trinia are half sisters.” “Which adds to the mystery of why the Queen is blaming Trinia for Eodred’s death,” I said. “Maybe not.” Marcus shrugged. “You were an only child weren’t you Tain? Then you’ve never experienced sibling rivalry …” He and Mari exchanged smiles. Our conversation was interrupted by a ring of the door bell. “Probably Agon,” Marcus suggested. “I’ve put food on, I was wondering when he’d sniff it out.” Momentarily Dante entered to announce the new arrivals (Gavick no doubt being off entertaining one of the maids as usual). “There are same Guardsmen here to see you Master Merivanchi,” he said. “Ah, show Agon in,” Marcus said. “Not Mister Deparle,” Dante replied. “Different Guardsmen. They were most insistent on speaking to you sir.” The two Korvosan Guards entered the room, standing stiffly. One of them took a rolled scroll from his belt pouch and read from it. “Marcus Merivanchi?” he asked, looking down at his list and then back up at Marcus. The nobleman nodded, and the Guard looked back down at his list. “And are your companions here, uh, Marianna Merivanchi, Ariadnae Merivanchi, and Tain Locus?” “Yes, that is us,” I replied. “What do you need of us?” “Well sirs and ladies, I need you to come with me, directly, to Citadel Volshyenek, at the order of Field Marshal Cressida Kroft,” the Guardsman replied formally. “Are we under arrest?” asked Marcus sharply. “No sir,” replied the Guard. “But if you do not accompany me I shall have to, regretfully, place you under arrest.” “Constable, may I see that writ you hold?” I asked, reaching out my hand for the parchment. The Guard hesitated, then nodded and handed it over. I studied it carefully for a few moments, then looked up at Marcus. “There is no mention of us being under arrest – or indeed what this is all about. It is, as the constable said, an official summons from the Field Marshal. It appears to be genuine, and the constable is correct in saying that he could place us under arrest if we do not comply.” Marcus sighed. “All right, we’ll come with you. Just give us a few minutes to get ready. In the meantime, if you two want something to eat, you’re welcome to help yourself – the kitchen’s just through there.” The Guard shook his head. “No thankyou sir. We’ll just wait here.” Marcus sighed again, and looked at us before he headed upstairs to change. “Five gold sails says that this is Agon’s fault. Or Felix’s. Or both …”
The Harbingers of Doom The Harbingers are a cult founded upon the goal of bringing the god Aroden back to life by fulfilling prophecies - any prophecy - listed in their holy book, The Book of 1,000 Whispers. The Harbingers are known as The Harbingers of Fate in their native Absalom, but have taken the name the Harbingers of Doom in Korvosa. The Harbingers were founded in 4648 AR by Lord Garron, an ousted noble of Cheliax and faithful follower of Aroden. A mercenary and adventurer, Lord Garron discovered the Book of 1,000 Whispers, a tome of prophecies predicting events from 4604 AR to 4714 AR. Seeing that those predicted to come to pass before 4605 AR had done so, Lord Garron became convinced that if he could make a prophecy from his book come true, he could re-write fate and bring about the Age of Glory, and possibly even the return of Aroden. He created the Harbingers of Fate, a secret group of believers in the book’s veracity, and tasked them with ensuring that one of the destinies outlined within came to pass. The Book of 1,000 Whispers has just 6 years left to run before its predictions run out. The current leaders of The Harbingers feel they have just these 6 years left in which to bring about any prophecy related to Aroden - even ones not mentioned in the Book of 1000 Whispers. Perhaps the time limit really only applies to the prophecies in The Book - but the leaders are not willing to risk losing their chance to bring Aroden back. Some stories have surfaced through hard research, showing The Harbingers desperation and determination in bringing about prophecies. One member spent more than 20 years taking pregnant women to the top of a nearby mountain every winter and leaving them to give birth in the elements, believing one would eventually live and fulfill a prophecy he felt was important. No mother or baby ever lived through these treks.
Tain’s Journal
As Gavik showed me into the entry hall of Brock House, I noticed a new painting hanging on the wall – a painting that had been hanging in Trinia Sabore’s apartment. Marcus, Marianna and Ariadnae were in the sitting room, just beginning a light brunch. “I noticed you have some new artwork Marcus,” I commented, after greetings and pleasantries had been exchanged and I had settled into a seat. “Yes, a Trinia Sabore orginal,” said Marcus. “I figure they could end up being quite valuable – no point them going to waste really is there? She’s done a really rather good one of King Eodred too, I expect it’s the last portrait painted of him before he took ill. I was thinking of sending it to the Queen as a gift – something to remember her late husband by.” “That’s an idea,” I replied. “The note could read ‘Dear Queen Ileosa, I hope you enjoy this painting of your dead husband, as painted by the woman accused of his murder, who by the way has escaped your custody.’ She shall enjoy that.” “Oh. Well …” Marcus obviously hadn’t thought about it like that. Mari and Aria laughed at his discomfort. “Good point, but no need to get sarcastic about it. Isn’t sarcasm against your code as a paladin? Anyway, I thought this was a social call Tain,” Marcus nodded at the studded leather I wore beneath my tabard, and the customary flail at my belt. “Why the weapons and armour? Expecting trouble?” “No, I’m not expecting trouble,” I replied. “If I was I’d be wearing heavier armour. But it never hurts to be prepared.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “It’s not entirely a social call,” said Aria. “Tain and I also wanted to update the rest of you on what we have discovered about some of the goings-on in the city.” “Oh come now Ari,” Marcus said, “We’ve already saved the day! Killed the villain, rescued the girl, tracked down the wanted criminal, saved the Queen … there’s nothing for us to do but sit back and let the money roll in.” “Let me remind you,” I began seriously, “that Trinia has escaped, as has the would be assassin. The underworld war has turned out to involve a dangerous cult – or two.” “That’s what I mean,” said Marcus, who seemed to be in a jovial mood. “Everything that could go wrong has already gone wrong – it’s all smooth sailing from here!” “Anyway,” Mari interrupted before I could retort. “Aria, I think you were going to tell us what you had found out about the plague in Old Korvosa?” Aria nodded, and proceeded to do just that, with me interjecting from time to time with things I had discovered. Mari and Marcus listened, asking questions every now and again. Soon enough, the summary came to an end. “Marcus, have you considered the suggestion I made to you last week – purchasing enough scrolls of Remove Disease to protect your household, just in case?” Aria asked once she was finished. “Well … that’s a rather expensive proposition Ari,” Marcus replied evasively. “I thought you had done rather well out of your business deal with Ambassador Amprei,” I said, an eyebrow raised questioningly. “Yes actually, but my assets are all rather tied up in property as you know – not exactly liquid. I’ll think about it Ari, but as you said, the threat seems to be well contained.” Marcus looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. “Besides, I happen to have a cousin and a brother in law as members of two of the most important temples in the city; if there is a disease outbreak, I’m sure I can get access to some protection quickly. Now, what else did you have to tell us Ari?” Aria seemed a little disgruntled with Marcus’s blasé attitude towards her warning, but was eager to tell us what more she had learnt regarding the Harbingers. A summary of her findings is as follows.
Tain detects evil!
Tain’s Journal
Word from Castle Korvosa is that Lady Elizabeth’s condition is improving, and that she is expected to make a full recovery. In all likelihood this has a lot to do with Aria – she was the first to Elizabeth’s side, and her quick application of first aid and healing kept the woman from slipping into Pharasma’s grasp before the senior clerics in the room could get to her. Something troubles me though. Aria confided in us later that as she worked on Lady Elizabeth, who lay near death, she again felt the disturbing presence about her. Only when she brought Elizabeth back from the death’s grasp did the presence fade. ‘Blackjack’ (if it was indeed him) and his accomplices managed to escape from the Castle in the confusion – the Castle Guard (and Agon, who made a concentrated effort) were prevented from reaching them by the crush of the panicked crowd. It seems that Castle Korvosa was not the only place Blackjack visited that night. The following morning, when the guards at Citadel Volshyenek checked Trinia Sabore’s cell, they found it empty apart from a playing card lying on the floor - the Jack of Clubs, Blackjack’s symbol. Later in the day, street criers announced that the villain known as Blackjack had attempted to assassinate the Queen. Although the attempt had failed, three guards were killed, and Lady Elizabeth was gravely injured. The Crown was offering a bounty of 10,000 gold sails for the head of Blackjack. The wording of this announcement troubled me somewhat, given that it implied a man who’s true identity was unknown was wanted dead. I grimly predicted a spate of bounty hunters turning up with corpses wearing black masks. The higher-ups in the church of Abadar obviously shared these concerns, as earlier today we were all briefed that the capture of Blackjack had become the church’s top priority. It was stressed that all effort should be made to take him alive, and that no reward would be paid if proof of identity could not be established. I understood that the Korvosan Guard were similarly briefed. Despite the talk of Blackjack, things appear to be returning to normal in the city. There have been no signs of further large-scale civil unrest, ships have begun to return to the city docks, and food prices are dropping, with supplies of essentials returning to normal. Rumours are rife about Sabine Merrin, some suggesting that she was derelict in her duty, others even suggesting that she was in league with Blackjack. As far as I have heard though, the Queen is sticking by her chief bodyguard, and she currently retains the position. The 17th of Calistril Work has consumed most of my time in the almost two weeks since Queen Ileosa’s coronation. The frequent sightings and rumours of Blackjack have kept the city’s law enforcement bodies busy. ‘Blackjack’ has been sighted all over the city, engaged in a variety of activities, some seemingly noble if perhaps misguided (such as diverting one of the earlier food shipments to arrive in the city so that it reached a poor neighbourhood before a richer one), some villainous (there have been several accounts of ‘Blackjack’ robbing or attacking people), some flashy (the Guard have given chase to suspected ‘Blackjacks’ several times, often across the Shingles, but he always manages to evade capture in some spectacular or mysterious fashion). The varied actions of Blackjack gives strength to my theory that we have more than one impersonator on our hands. Even Blackjack’s traditional supporters (the poor and downtrodden) are split in their opinions, some glad to see him back, others wondering at his methods and his apparent attempt to assassinate the Queen (or Lady Elizabeth, though it is not widely known that she seemed to be the intended target). The Lady Elizabeth has recovered, though rumours from the castle indicate that she is much subdued since the attack. These are not the only rumours from Castle Korvosa; apparently no one has seen the Seneschal of the Court, Neolandus Kalepopolis since around the time of the coronation, or shortly afterwards. Some say he has taken ill, or that he is busy on some task for the Queen (perhaps on foreign soil) – a few wonder in whispered tones if he had something to do with the assassination attempt. I have heard some say that he might be Blackjack, though I give that rumour little credit – the man is in his late fifties, and not particularly athletic or skilled with weapons that I have heard. One person that has returned to society is Peryarv Lagren of Magnimar. He has blamed his recent absence on a short illness. I wonder what sort of deal he made with the Arkonas … or if it is indeed Lagren in body and mind and not some imitator working for the Arkonas. I have not yet had an opportunity to get close to him to find out. Not all my work has involved patrolling the streets looking for Blackjack. At my request I have also been working extra shifts, liaising with the Hellknights in Old Korvosa (my opinion of them having changed now that I know they are here at official invitation and performing a service in defence of the city). As such I have been briefed to some extent on the disease that they guard against. Aria has also been making her own investigations into this matter, and we have been able to share our knowledge. A few days after King Aroden’s death, on the 24th of Abadius, an Acadamae rapid response team headed into that part of Old Korvosa, after detecting a powerful and unauthorised use of magic in the area. They apparently discovered an extra-planar portal had been opened, and a dangerous and highly infectious disease was beginning to spread through the area. The team of mages immediately raised magical barriers around the area, and contacted the Acadamae, who sent more wizards to strengthen the barriers from the outside, and called in the Hellknights to maintain order and prevent anyone who might escape the barriers from leaving the area and possibly spreading the infection. The original team of mages remained within the area. All contact has been lost with the last team member for several days now (as he presumably succumbed to the disease) and it is unknown how many people remain alive in the area, but before the Acadamae team was lost they were able to magically communicate with the outside, and were able to give quite a bit of information about the disease. It is highly infectious, spread by physical contact with an infected person (it does not appear to be airborne). Symptoms include blackened, necrotic skin that gives off a foul odour, frothing at the mouth, insanity and finally death within three to four days of symptoms first appearing. The incubation period is unknown or varied, but seems to be within one to seven days. The mages believe that corpses stay infectious for up to three days after death. The Acadamae seems to have taken a long while to involve the city’s churches in this matter. I commend their dedication to protecting the city, but I cannot help but wonder whether the disease might have been contained through clerical magic, without the loss of possibly hundreds of people in those four city blocks, had the Acadamae called on the churches immediately. Of course, a disease of magical or extra-planar origin may prove somewhat resistant to clerical healing. Thankfully, the Acadamae and Hellknight cordon seems to have been successful – there have been no cases of the disease reported elsewhere in the city. Thank Abadar we did not try to enter the area in search of Trinia! Felix and his misinformation have a lot to answer for. As well, I allowed my suspicion of the Hellknights to cloud my judgement. For all their sinister appearance, glorification of Hell, and harsh take on justice, they are just as dedicated to Law as any cleric of Abadar. Although work has consumed most of my time, I have had a limited amount of time for my own pursuits. With everything that has happened since I caved Lamm’s chest in with my flail, I have had little opportunity to visit Talia’s grave. I have done so now, and the sense of closure I had begun to feel with Lamm’s death is strengthening. I have also called in on the Delamore’s for tea. Lavinia seems a lovely young woman in her appearance and her manners – and strong of spirit too, with all she had experienced in Galt and her flight from that troubled country. Her mother is also pleasant, though I feel she wishes a courtship between her daughter and I to proceed more quickly than I am ready for at this stage. I have seen little of the Merivanchis (with the exception of Ariadnae) or Agon for the past week or more. I understand that Lady Yasmin is still a guest at Brock House, and that a minor Arkona cousin has called several times to ensure that she is comfortable. I further understand that Marcus has concluded some profitable deal with Ambassador Amprei that sees him the owner of a warehouse in Midland (coincidently, the property next to Lamm’s fish processing warehouse) and a villa in Cliffside, as well as part owner of a tenement in Old Korvosa and a vineyard outside of the city. Amprei has also called on Brock House several times. Aria has been conducting further research into the Harbingers, and has suggested that we meet at Brock House in two day’s time to discuss what she has uncovered.
Tain’s Journal
The celebration prior to the coronation was going well. We had delivered Trinia to Field Marshal Kroft personally, gaining assurances from her that Trinia would be well treated, and that we would be kept informed of any information on her trial. Kroft had even confided that she too suspected Trinia was innocent. She had also delivered a reward for capturing the woman. We had returned to Brock House with enough time to prepare ourselves for the coronation. The others mingled and talked in the ballroom of Castle Korvosa, as we waited for the actual coronation to take place. I saw Marcus (who had not disappointed his wife by missing the coronation) in a deep discussion with Lord Haytham Bannyer and later with Ambassador Amprei; Aria was chatting with the High Priestess of Shelyn; Mari was with her parents and Lady Cristiana, looking like she was trying to avoid someone (most likely her intended, Orlando Ornelos); Agon, in his Guard dress uniform, was looking about the room as if looking for someone. For my part, I was walking the room with Lavinia Delamore and her mother. I did notice that Peryarv Lagren was not in attendance. After some time, the deep voice of Archbanker Tuttle rang out across the room, calling everyone to order – the official part of the ceremony was about to begin. Ushers and pages hurried about the room, helping everyone to their places. I found myself standing about two rows back from the front of the room, next to Aria. “I found out something more about the Hellknights,” she whispered to me as we waited for the Queen to emerge onto the stage. “They’re guarding against some type of plague that has broken out in that part of Old Korvosa.” Before I could answer, the herald on the stage announced the Queen. The ceremony unfolded as tradition dictated, presided over by Archbanker Tuttle, attended by the high priests of Asmodeous, Pharasma and Shelyn. Ileosa stood, attentive throughout, flanked by Lady Elizabeth and Sabine Merrin. At last, the ceremony drew to a close, with the Archbanker placing the crown atop the Queen’s brow. As he stood, holding the crown above her head, speaking the final words of the ceremony, I felt a strange feeling of unease pass over me. There was a ripple of the crowd, a murmur – it seemed others had felt it too. Beside me, Aria’s face had gone paler than normal, and she put a hand to her temple, looking about. It appeared that she had felt something more than I had. The crown descended onto Ileosa’s head, and as quickly as it had begun, the felling passed. There was a moment of silence, then the Queen smiled, someone in the crowd began to clap, and that became a round of applause and cheers. Musicians began to play a dancing tune, and the the crowd spread out, the Queen and her retainers stepping down from the platform to mingle. “What was that Aria?” I asked quietly. “I don’t know what it was,” Aria answered. “But it was the same presence I felt outside Lamm’s warehouse that night, and again at the Harrower’s house. You felt it too Mari?” This last was directed at her cousin, who had joined us. “Yes,” the girl answered. “The same thing. But this time it appears that others felt something too, if not as intensely.” The celebratory atmosphere made such grim talk hard to continue, and soon we were caught up in the dancing and festivities. During a turn on the dancefloor with Lavinia, I spotted Agon speaking to the Queen – it looked like he was asking her to dance! Apparently his offer was rejected, but I soon saw him dancing with Sabine instead. I shook my head, smiling. After a second dance, I noticed Mari standing looking very uncomfortable in the presence of Orlando and an older woman, obviously his mother Ophelia. I decided to come to her rescue, making my apologies to Lavinia, then going over to ask Mari to dance. Of course, she could not refuse so polite a request from her brother in law, and thanked me as we danced away from unpleasant company. We found ourselves dancing not far from where the Queen stood, not dancing herself, but surveying the floor with a smile, Lady Elizabeth by her side. All of a sudden there came a scream, and two armoured guards who were standing by an entrance to an upper balcony overlooking the ballroom crashed to the floor, blood pooling around them. Behind them stood three black-clad men, their faces masked, holding aloft daggers. There appearance put me immediately in mind of the infamous vigilante Blackjack. “The false queen must die!” shouted the leader, and then all three threw their daggers down, towards the Queen. Before I heard the shout, I was already moving. I pushed Mari away, spun and ran for the Queen, trying to place my body between her and the masked intruders – and their knives. Dressed for the coronation I was wearing no armour, my flesh would have to be her shield. I pushed other guests aside, sprinting forward, and with almost superhuman effort I managed to leap in front of the queen as the daggers tumbled through the air. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mari’s hands raised in what appeared to be spellcasting. I felt the disturbarnce of the air as the daggers flashed past me. I had been close, but I must not have been close enough! “No!” I yelled in frustration, and turned, expecting to see the Queen pierced by the knives. But I saw instead, that I had managed to leap directly in front of the Queen – only the daggers were not aimed at her. All three had hit Lady Elizabeth in the chest. She stood with a look of shocked surprise on her face as the bodice of her gown darkened with blood … then she tumbled slowly to the floor.
Tain’s Journal
“What’s going on here Felix?” I asked. “Why did you not tell us you knew where Trinia was?” Felix sneered and shrugged. “Why would I?” he said. I frowned, and tightened my grip on my flail. Before I could act, Agon hurried up behind me. “Tain, let me handle this,” he murmured. “Please.” I nodded briefly and turned back into the room. Had I stayed talking to Felix I may have done something hasty, despite my friendship with Agon. In the room, out of sight from the doorway, Aria and Marcus were standing oddly, a few feet apart. “I made Trinia invisible,” whispered Mari’s voice beside me. “Ari and Marcus have her. We can get her out of here unseen that way.” I nodded, and took Marcus’s place holding onto Trinia’s arm. “Don’t make any noise until we’re out of here,” I warned her in a low voice. “Please,” she whispered. “Didn’t you believe me? I didn’t do it. Please let me go.” “I do believe you,” I said. “But it is my duty to see you brought to trial. If I can, I will speak on your behalf there. Miss Sabore, if you run, or if we let you go, you will not be proved innocent. You will be on the run for the res of your life - or until you are caught.” Trinia said nothing. I don’t know whether she saw sense in what I said, or merely felt defeat. A few minutes later Agon returned. Felix had hurried off down the stairs, and the crowd of tenants were beginning to disperse, having seen no sign of Trinia inside, only several armed men and women. “I told him that Trinia did a runner across the Shingles. Asked him if he knew where she might have gone - he claimed he didn’t, but he’s gone to ask Bloody Finch. Finch knew she was here too.” Agon threw his hands up in front of him. “I know, I know, I’m going to have a serious talk with both of them before this is over. But for now we need to get Trinia to Kroft. I suggest we go quickly, now, and try to hail a cab. There may be those who would prefer that Trinia doesn’t get to safe custody and trial.” We got out of the building without further incident and hurried towards the bridge, intending to find a carraige once we were on the other side. Marcus had been quiet and thoughtful for the past ten minutes or so, but spoke up now. “You go ahead - I’m sure you can handle things. I need to see Vencarlo Orisini about something. I’ll see you either at Brock House or at the coronation.” Marcus smiled to forestall our questions or protests. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there. Cristiana will kill me if I’m not.” Assuring us that he’d be fine, Marcus strode off into Old Korvosa. The rest of us hurried across the bridge and soon found a cab. We all got in (with Trinia, still invisible, squeezed between Aria and Agon) and set off for Citadel Volshyenek. As the carriage bounced along the cobbled streets, Mari (finally visible) leaned towards me. “She seems like a sweet girl,” Mari whispered. I nodded. Actually, Trinia reminded me somewhat of Mari. Both were petite blondes, both were very pretty, and both were very passionate. “You don’t think she did it,” Mari continued. It was not phrased as a question. “Why do we have to hand her over to the Kroft? I have a bad feeling about that.” “We were ordered to,” I answered. “Besides, Field Marshal Kroft has always struck me as honourable and lawful. I trust that she will see Trinia is kept safe to her trial, and do her best to ensure that the trial is fair.” “Yes, she’s very mindful of the law - and the chain of command,” answered Mari. “So what if she’s ordered to see that things aren’t safe or fair? Tain, I know you believe in the law, but you believe in doing the right thing too. What if we’re not doing that here?” “Mari, we can’t just let her go,” I whispered. “I know,” said Mari. “But we don’t have to hand her over to Kroft. Can’t we … I don’t know, hang on to her for a bit? Until we can figure things out? We could protect her.” “Well …” The problem with Mari is that she is very hard to say no to. “Sabine didn’t actually order us to hand Trinia into the Field Marshal’s custody … she merely suggested that that would be safest … I suppose …” “Don’t even think about it Tain,” Agon whispered harshly, leaning forward towards us. He’d obviously been listening in. “Safest. What if Sabine was warning us of something? Like I said, there may be those who don’t want Trinia to get to trial. We can’t protect her as well as Kroft can. Besides, what if she escapes from us? I wouldn’t want to have to explain that to the Queen.” I sighed. “Agon’s right,” I said. “Sorry Mari, but we’re going to deliver her to the Field Marshal.”
Tain’s Journal
“What?” I asked sternly, looking to Agon. “What?” Agon exclaimed, looking at Trinia. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.” “How can you say that Agon?” Trinia asked, looking genuinely hurt and shocked. “After all the time we’ve spent together? After your promises to me? After I shared my bed with you?” “Now hold on,” said Agon, “I’d remember – oh damn it! Felix …” He hit his forehead with the palm of his hand and turned to Aria and I. “I honestly have not seen this woman before … I, uh, think Felix has been impersonating me …” He turned back to Trinia. “Perhaps you’ve heard this before, but I am honest when I say, it wasn’t me. It was my twin brother.” Trinia’s eyes blazed in anger, and she looked about to retort, when Aria touched her lightly on the arm and she slumped once again into unconsciousness. “I can’t keep doing that indefinitely,” warned the cleric. “We need to move her off this rooftop.” “Yes, and quickly, before we run into Felix,” suggested Agon. “Or someone worse.” He scanned the skyline and added darkly, “I wouldn’t wonder if there were people in this city who would see her dead before trial. We need to get her to the Field Marshal as quickly as possible.” “Not so quickly,” countered Aria. “I’d like to question her first.” “And determine she’s innocent and let her go?” Agon asked, then shook his head. “We can’t do that Ari.” “Of course we can’t,” I agreed. “Process must be followed. We’ll deliver her to the Field Marshal’s custody. But I agree with Aria, I would like to question her first, discover her side of the tale. We may not get a chance to speak to her again before her trial.” “Let’s get her back into her room,” Aria suggested. Together, and with the help of Mari and Marcus (who had gained the room and slid a heavy wardrobe in front of the broken door to give us some privacy), we manhandled Trinia back in through her window Aria began casting a spell. “What are you doing?” Agon asked. The cleric ignored him until she had finished her prayer. “I’ve created a zone of truth within this room,” she said after a moment. “She will not be able to lie - not easily anyway.” “Does that apply to the rest of us?” asked Agon. “Yes,” Aria replied. “Now, have any questions ready. She will come around again in a moment, and the zone of truth will not last for long.” Indeed Trinia was beginning to gain consciousness again. Before she could resume where she left off with Agon, I knelt down in front of the chair we had placed her in. “Trinia Sabore, I am Tain Locus of the church of Abadar. Please answer my questions honestly.” She looked at my, scared but defiant for a moment, then looked about, taking in her situation and seemed to shrink slightly. She nodded. “Did you kill King Eodred?” I asked. “No! I did not!” was her forceful reply. “I would never do something like that!” “The queen seems to think you did,” I said. “Do you have any idea why she might?” “I don - … well, I think maybe she was jealous of me. Her relationship with Eodred had deteriorated and I, I was spending a lot of time with him.” The true extent of Trinia and Eodred’s relationship did not seem relevant - only what Ileosa thought of it. I did not wish to embarrass the girl by forcing the issue in this setting. “Do you know how to get or make poisons?” asked Agon. Trinia looked at him. “Why are you doing this?” she asked again. “Look honey, it really wasn’t me you were with before,” Agon said, looking at her straight. “It was my brother, Felix.” Trinia looked about at the rest of us for confirmation. “He does indeed have an identical twin brother,” I said, nodding. “And it would not surprise me at all that Felix would do something like this.” “But … he had a Guard uniform and a badge and everything …” said Trinia in a small voice. I glanced up at Agon, frowning slightly. Agon was frowning too. “Dammit,” he muttered. “He’s getting better than me at this stuff.” He turned back to Trinia. “Anyway. Poisons?” Trinia shook her head. “No, I don’t know the first thing about poison.” “Would you have had the opportunity to poison the King?” I asked. “I just told you, I didn’t kill him and I don’t know about poisons!” Trinia exclaimed. “That’s not what I asked,” I said calmly. My tone seemed to take the wind out of her sails. She sighed. “Yes, I suppose so,” she said. “I didn’t do it of course, but yes, I brought him his meals sometimes.” She looked at me, defiant again. “But there are plenty of other people in the Castle who had access to his food too. And others who might have had more to gain from his death than I did!” Agon and I looked at each other. We could both think of one person who had both opportunity and possibly the most to gain from Eodred’s death; Ileosa. There came a knock at the broken and barricaded door. “Trinia?” a man’s voice called. “Are you alright?” Marcus hurried over to the door and looked through a crack between the wardrobe and the door frame. “There’s quite a few people out there,” he whispered back to us. “I’ll handle it,” I said, as whoever was outside began banging on the door again, harder this time. As I moved over to the door, Aria and Agon began asking Trinia about her relationship with Ileosa. They had known each other since they were girls, Trinia said, and had been friends, but the Queen had changed in the last few months, becoming somewhat cold, controlling, short tempered. Trinia didn’t seem to know what had sparked the change. I peered through the crack. The people outside - a small crowd of about a dozen - looked like locals, probably residents of the building. A few carried knives or makeshift clubs. They were calling out to be let in, and were trying to force the door. “Step away from the door,” I called loudly, “on authority of the Church of Abadar.” This stopped them. They stepped back away from the door, whispering amongst themselves, until one called out, “Yeah? How do we know that?” I looked back to where the others stood around Trinia. “We need to get her out of here,” I said. “Preferably unseen,” Agon added. “I can make her invisible,” came Mari’s voice, startling us. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Aria. “Making the person we’re taking into custody invisible? It’s only going to make it easier for her if she tries to escape!” “You want to get her out unseen,” replied Mari’s voice, “this will do it. Just hold on to her, make sure she doesn’t get away.” “Whatever you are doing, get her out of sight right now,” I said. The crowd outside was growing bold again, moving back towards the door. “Step back!” I warned, then heaved aside the wardrobe and let the broken door fall party open, affording the crowd a view of me - with my flail firmly in hand - but not much of the rest of the room. “I am a paladin of Abadar,” I said, “and you will not get into this room without going through me.” Behind the crowd there came the noise of hasty footsteps coming up the stairs. “What’s going on here?” asked a familiar voice. “Is Trinia alright?” Pushing through the crowd there came Agon - or rather, Felix, clad in the uniform of the Korvosan Guard. He looked up and saw me, and his mouth dropped open. “Oh sh*t,” said Felix.
Tain’s Journal
I had envisaged us marching straight to Old Korvosa to find Trinia, but Marcus was still paranoid about movements to and from Brock House being watched or noted, and had us all leave in small groups, some by the back gate, with our normal clothes or heavy cloaks disguising our arms, armour and other equipment such as ropes and grapples. We were to make our way to Osric’s warehouse in Midlands, regroup and change there. The dwarven merchant had granted us the use of one of his wagons to take us from Midlands to Old Korvosa. The wagon was driven by a pair of half-elven teamsters, who chatted quietly to Agon in the elven tongue during the short journey. I noticed Mari listening intently to the conversation; for myself, I do not know the language. Soon enough the wagon’s wheels clattered across the cobbled main bridge into Old Korvosa, and it was time to put our approach into motion. Agon had earlier proposed that Marcus, Mari and I openly enter the building and try to find Trinia, while he and Aria head around to the back to watch for any back doors or windows, should the young woman try to ‘do a runner’ as they say in the Guard. This was close to the approach we took, except that Mari (under the cover of a dark alley-mouth) used a spell to cloak herself in invisibility. She did the same for her cat, and sent the beast up onto the rooftops to watch. She then put her hand on my back as she followed behind, so we would have some idea of where she was. The use of magic here on the street troubled me a little. Although we had all resolved to be supportive of Mari’s talents, and had spoken to her to encourage her in their use, my recent discussion of the Acadame had brought something to mind; the Acadamae like to see themselves as the one and final authority on magic in Korvosa, and do not much approve of mages without Acadamae training practising their craft in the city. Mari would need to be careful not to attract unwanted attention to herself. The tenement building we approached was three stories high, with a stained and faded façade of small stone bricks and timber infill panels. The shuttered windows and size of the building indicated that there were probably between four and six small apartments per floor. While Agon and Aria hurried around to the back laneway, the three of us approached the front of the building, mounted the short flight of steps to the open front door and entered a somewhat dingy central corridor, that opened up into a narrow atrium, crossed by heavy beams, with an open flight of stairs leading to the upper levels. A balustraded corridor circled the atrium at each level gave access to the apartments. Almost as soon as we entered the building, the nearest apartment front door on the ground level opened, and an older human woman poked her head out. “Hello,” she called warily to me (seeing as I was in the lead). “Who are you, and who are you looking for?” Slightly taken aback by her bluntness, I answered truthfully (as my oath demanded) and warmly, trying to gain her trust. “Good afternoon,” I said. “My name is Tain, and I am looking for a young lady named Trinia Sabore. I was told she might be here – can you help me find her madame? We mean her no harm, and your help would be much appreciated.” The old lady looked at me appraisingly for a moment, nodded, then looked upwards and shouted at the top of her lungs, “TRINIA! THEY’RE HERE FOR YOU!” She then stepped back into her room and slammed the door shut. A moment later we heard the tinkle of small bells ringing throughout the building, and noticed that there was a network of bells strung throughout the atrium, along the walls and up the stairs, all connected by lengths of fine twine. Noting the direction the old lady had shouted, I immediately began running for the stairs. I heard Mari’s disembodied voice call, “Tain, wait for me!” as she followed me. Marcus meanwhile began hammering on the door to the old lady’s apartment. “Open up you old bat!” he shouted in frustration. I had noticed that the building had no apparent back door (at least not from the central corridor), and that the network of bells extended up to the top floor. This suggested to me that Trinia then must be somewhere up there, and might try to escape through a window – perhaps across the Shingles. I raced up the stairway, taking two or three steps at a time, as Mari struggled to keep up behind me. I reached the top floor and looked about. Six identical doors stood closed onto the corridor. There was an open window at either end, one looking out onto Fort Korvosa Boulevard, the other onto the back lane. I ran over to the rear window and looked down into the lane, but saw no sign of Trinia – nor of Agon or Aria. There did not appear to be any external stair to the building (as you sometimes see, for emergency fire egress), although the building adjoining this one seemed to have one. I tried to listen for any movement, but could hear only what sounded like quiet muttering or chanting from Mari. Then, I heard her voice clearly at my shoulder. “Tain! My spell … Trinia is behind that door.” “Which door? Mari, I can’t see you point!” “The door right beside you – on your left.” I quickly stepped over to try the door that Mari had indicated. It was firmly locked. I took a step back, then charged with my shoulder against the door. I heard and felt something splinter and give slightly, but the door would still not open. “Marcus! Up here!” I shouted, and charged the door again. Again, timber cracked as both the door and its frame started to give, but it held still. “Tain!” I heard Mari’s voice again. “Not now Mari – I know what I’m doing.” I prepared to hit the door again. “But Tain - ” I smashed against the door again. This time the frame splintered around the lock, the damaged door swung open and I stumbled into the small apartment beyond. I noticed an open window, and also a bed, with a blonde haired figure lying within, apparently asleep … or … “Be careful Mari,” I called softly back to the seemingly empty corridor. I could hear Marcus clattering up the stairs. “Something doesn’t look right here …” “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” came Mari’s exasperated voice, now within the room. “She’s not in here. My spell tells me she’s moving … still nearby, above – on the roof! That must be a dummy or an illusion in the bed.” I ran over to the window. There was a narrow ledge below, and it looked possible to pull oneself up over the roof parapet just above from there. I was not confident that I would be able to give chase across the Shingles, at least not quickly enough to keep up with the probably nimble girl, but I had to try. I climbed out onto the ledge, the hauled myself up onto the roof. When I got up there, I realised that I would not need to give chase after all; there, a dozen feet away, stood Aria and Agon, with a slight blonde woman lying at their feet, a net tangled about the lower part of her legs. Agon looked over and flashed me a grin. “Fire escape!” he called, indicating the next building with a nod of his head. “We had a feeling she might try to do a runner up this way. When we heard the commotion inside, we knew to be on the lookout.” I made my way over and clapped Agon on the shoulder. Aria was bending down clapping a manacle about the apparently unconscious woman’s wrist. I looked into the sleeping face – it was Trinia, or at least it very closely resembled the portrait we had seen of her. “Ari hit her with a spell,” Agon continued. “It dazed her or something.” “She’ll come around in a moment,” Aria spoke up, and indeed the woman’s closed eye lids were beginning to flutter. She opened her eyes, looked about, dazed, confused and scared. Then her gaze settled on Agon’s face, and a saw a clear look of recognition and betrayal pass her features. “Agon! Why are you doing this?” Trinia spoke in a familiar and pleading tone to the Guardsman. “You said you’d protect me! You said you wouldn’t let them take me!”
Tain’s Journal
I was not the only one who returned with news, and Mari had done better than me – her magic had discovered Trinia’s actual location – a building on the corner of Fort Korvosa Boulevard and Wave Street. Still in Old Korvosa, a block away from where we thought she was. With midday approaching, we made ready for the task ahead. Everyone had returned save for Osric, who had decided not to accompany us on the mission to secure Trinia (perhaps his financial arrangement with Marcus did not cover that, despite his other help; perhaps he had some other reason), but had offered some assistance. I was in the hall, waiting whilst the others got ready upstairs or elsewhere in the house (as I seldom walk the streets without my weapons and armour in attendance) when there came a rap at the door. Being at hand, and with all the servants otherwise occupied I answered it, and was surprised to see Sabine Merrin, the Queen’s bodyguard, armed and armoured also. She too seemed surprised, either at having me open the door or seeing me so attired I could not tell, but we both recovered quickly. I greeted her and invited her in, then instructed Dante (who had belatedly arrived in the hall) to fetch his master. Agon was in the sitting room, and bowed deeply when he beheld our guest – I’m sure he would have kissed her hand, had it not been gauntleted and resting on the hilt of her sword. There was a moment of awkwardness as the three of us stood (Sabine having refused Agon’s offer of a seat), but we were saved by the arrival of Marcus, who quickly took charge of the situation, enquiring of the health of the lady and her mistress and subtley asking her business. “I’ve come at the behest of Queen Ileosa,” Sabine answered. “The recent deeds you have performed on behalf of the city have not gone unnoticed by the Queen. She invites you all, and your guests, to attend her coronation ceremony this evening – as her guests, in the royal audience chamber.” Sabine handed Marcus a small envelope as she spoke. The Merivanchi heir’s eyes widened. This was a reward indeed. Only the elite of Korvosa’s nobility and other important personages would actually be invited into the Castle for the coronation – everyone else would have to watch from the plaza below. “The Queen also offers you this small monetary reward, to cover any expenses occurred,” Sabine continued, handing Marcus a bulging pouch of coins. Marcus absently handed the coins over to Agon, still looking in some wonder at the invitation. I can’t be certain, but I think I saw Sabine glance at Agon and wink. Agon stared back at her confidently, a half smile on his face, seemingly recovered from the ill mood that had gripped him last night. “There is one more matter,” Sabine continued, still addressing Marcus. “How goes the search for Trinia Sabore?” “Oh, we don’t know her exact whereabouts as yet,” Marcus lied smoothly, not at all deterred in his falsehood by our recent discussion, or the fact that we were all obviously kitted out for action. “We’re following up on a few promising leads though. We hope to have some good news for you in the near future.” Sabine glanced around the room, looking doubtfully at us all. Marcus smiled pleasantly, Agon winked, I stood with a blank expression on my face, not quite looking either Sabine or Marcus in the eye. “Well then,” she said at last. “I hope your leads do indeed prove promising.” “There is one thing,” Marcus said suddenly, as it looked as if Sabine was about to take her leave. “When we do find Trinia, what should we do with her? Is she to be delivered into the custody of the Korvosan Guard? Or directly to yourself, or the Queen?” Sabine looked thoughtfully at Marcus for a moment before speaking. “I think that delivering her directly into the custody of Field Marshal Kroft would be … safest,” she answered, somewhat obscurely. She then quickly took her leave, before any of us could question her on her answer. I took note of it though. Safest? For whom, and against what eventuality exactly? *** Our leaving was delayed somewhat, given Marcus’ excitement on the invitation to the coronation – and more importantly his wife’s reaction. In fact, I believe she almost forbid Marcus from doing anything else this afternoon but preparing for the coronation. As it was, he had to promise to return to the house in good time, and spend some time before we left penning notes to his parents, inviting other members of the family along too. “It looks like we have leeway to invite a couple more people too,” commented Agon, reading the invitation over Marcus’ shoulder. He looked at me, his face split into a sly grin. “Tain, you should invite the ladies Delamore.” I shook my head slightly, glancing at Marcus and Mari (she and Aria being present by this stage). “I don’t know that that would be appropriate,” I muttered. Although I could not deny that I was physically attracted to the young Lavinia Delamore, it seemed a betrayal of Talia’s memory to engage in a romance so soon. “Talia has been gone these two years or more,” Marcus said gently, as if reading my mind. “And we have avenged her. Besides Tain, you’ve been entirely too grim and focused on honour and vengeance since … then. We all have to some degree I suppose, but we must move past it. I trust you’ll not ever forget Talia – but you must live your life.” Here he broke into a grin and slapped me on the back. “For the gods’ sake Tain, ask the woman to the ball!” I smiled, nodded, and sat down to write a message of my own.
Tain’s Journal
Following an early breakfast at Brock House, I prepared to head to the Bank of Abadar. Mari would accompany me as far as Osric’s warehouse (where she had arranged for the dwarf to assist her somehow with her magic) and Agon had departed in the night, promising to meet back with us at the townhouse two hours before noon. Over breakfast, Marcus had gently questioned Yasmin about her ordeal; she had little of value to tell. She had not known who her captors were or where she had been kept, except that she had, from time to time been moved from one location to another, at one point somewhere out of the city she thought – the place in the Thieves Camp we suspected. All things considered, she had been treated well enough and did not seem unduly traumatised by her ordeal. When Marcus broached the subject of Ambassador Amprei, Lady Yasmin expressed a desire to see him, tempered by a wish not to seem improper. Marcus agreed to send a message to the ambassador letting him know that Yasmin was safe and suggesting that a meeting be arranged. He penned a letter directly and had Dante deliver it. *** Upon my arrival at the Bank of Abadar, I sought out a cleric by the name of Ardele Lianti. Although a fairly junior priest, Ardele often assisted the Archbanker and some of the other clerics, and was thus privy to a lot of information. She was also something of a gossip, and although her loyalty to the church stopped her short of impropriety, she was still a good source of information. “What have you heard of the Hellknights who have been stationed around several blocks in Old Korvosa for these past two weeks?” I asked once pleasantries and blessings had been exchanged. “What are their orders?” “They are under strict orders to let no one leave the blocks they guard, save perhaps for select members of the Acadamae,” Ardele replied. “The Acadamae?” I exclaimed in surprise. “What interest have they in Trinia Sabore?” Ardele looked confused for a moment before comprehension dawned. “Oh, you refer to the woman wanted on suspicion of regicide. Yes, I’ve heard the rumours that the Hellknight’s guard her … the rumours are false, or so I suspect. Why would they stay in position for almost two weeks without moving against her?” I had to admit I had wondered the same, though I had begun to think that perhaps the Hellknights were for some reason trying to protect the girl. “No, as I said they’re not letting anyone out, but although they warn people away, they will let people into the area … but they warn you will not be allowed out again, so I don’t think many have taken up that offer. At any rate, I believe that Archbanker Tuttle has been briefed on their purpose here – I can’t say what that is though.” The Archbanker was not at the Bank, being at Castle Korvosa in preparation for the coronation ceremony that evening. Armed with the information that Trinia was likely not where we thought she was, I returned to Brock House to inform the others.
Tain’s Journal
Following the skirmish outside the slave den on Summoning Street, our bruised and battered group made our way through the dark streets towards Brock House. Having healed Aria of the worst of her battle wounds, I supported her on the walk, whilst Marcus and Agon (recovered from his magically induced impairment, but in a foul mood) closely guarded Lady Yasmina. Mari bent low, discussing something quietly with Osric as they went. As we walked, my mind raced, trying to take in the night’s events. We had rescued Lady Yasmina Marcella, had attacked and severely injured the Magnimarian Ambassador, and had discovered House Arkona seemingly at the centre of an evil criminal operation. We would see Lady Yasmina safe - whether we arranged for Ambassador Amprei to see her would be her own choice. For his crimes Peryarv of Magnimar would no doubt be punished harshly by House Arkona, never mind that they had no lawful mandate to mete out such punishment. Still, justice was served, after a fashion. What troubled me more was how to deal with House Arkona. The rich and powerful often think themselves above the law; they are not of course - no one truly is. But the sad fact is that the richer and more powerful the accused, the more compelling the evidence against them needed to be, and I had to admit that the evidence we had against the Arkonas was circumstantial at best - no judge in Korvosa would bring charges against that powerful family, let alone try the case. I had to decide how to pursue them; gather the needed evidence and follow the processes to prosecute them through the laws of men; or bring the sword of justice against them personally as an instrument of divine Law. But such quandaries could wait - they would not be solved without much contemplation, prayer and spiritual advice, never mind that I currently had neither the evidence nor the skill at arms to pursue either course. Right now we had more immediate concerns to attend to. We reached the Merivanchi townhouse without incident, and a spare bed room was hastily made up for Yasmin. Marcus gave his wife a (likely much abridged) summary of the night’s events, and Lady Cristiana saw Yasmin settled, and comforted her against the trials she must have endured. The rest of us meanwhile took counsel together. Once the events of the evening had been well and truly discussed and dissected, talk turned to the present and near future. Ileosa’s coronation was tomorrow night, and we had still not found Trinia Sabore. Although we had been given no deadline, Marcus and Agon in particular wished to have the matter resolved prior to the coronation. “We should do this tomorrow,” Marcus declared. We all looked at Aria, who had suffered the most in the night’s battle, and who looked little up to a morning jaunt, despite the fire damage having been healed, but the priestess smiled. “I agree,” she said. “First thing in the morning. I just need a good night’s rest and an hour in prayer to Pharasma and I’ll be ready.” “Morning?” questioned Mari. “Mustn’t these sort of things be done by dark of night?” “If we are to be invisible then what does it matter?” Aria replied. “Yes, let us attempt this in the morning!” “I have been wondering if we are going about this the wrong way,” I spoke up. “Hellknights are surely forbidding and intractable, but they respect legitimate authority. If we can convince them that we have lawful need to pursue a suspect into the area they guard - which is the truth - they may let us pass.” “You want to negotiate with Hellknights?” Marcus sounded incredulous. “I don’t think so Tain.” The others agreed with Marcus and I dropped the matter, but privately resolved to discover more of the Hellknights’ actual orders. Talk turned back to when we should pursue our objective. “Not in the morning,” said Agon. “I have somewhere I need to be. Lunchtime, the activity should work in our favour.” “I hardly imagine that Hellknights break for lunch,” scoffed Mari. “No,” Agon replied, “but others in the city will, and the more activity that may distract the Hellknights from us the better.” We all agreed with this logic, and so we had a time - but one problem remained. Although we had a reasonably good idea where Trinia was (if the information that Agon had from his criminal brother, who heard it from a drunken fencing instructor could be trusted …) and had at least half a dozen ideas on how to get past the Hellknight cordon, we would still have four city blocks (tightly packed blocks in Old Korvosa at that) to search when and if we got past the Hellknights. “Perhaps I could find her, pinpoint the location, using the same spell with which I found Yasmin,” Mari suggested. Marcus was, naturally enough against the idea, reminding his sister that she had almost died last time she tried that … but Mari was persuasive and convincing, insisting that she had refined and perfected the magic, that it was now perfectly safe. The rest of us agreed that this seemed our best chance of finding Trinia; Marcus was outvoted and it was decided that Mari would try her spell in the morning.
Tain’s Journal
I will be brief in my description of my part in the remainder of the night’s events; I am sure that someone closer to the heart of the action, such as Agon Deparle, will tell it better. My part consisted mainly of inglorious sneaking about under the direction of Osric; waiting whilst Osric despatched a guard; impersonating said guard whilst Osric and Aria dealt with another; hiding so as not to be seen by a third guard; then spending a long while standing watch whilst the others went off to find Yasmina. It was the sound of combat out in the laneway that at last drew me away from my guard duty, where I beheld Aria facing off alone against a purple robed mage (who appeared to have Yasmina in his custody) and his bodyguards. I charged into the fray, but was prevented from reaching the tall, arrogant looking mage by a trio of his guards. As I traded blows with the thugs, the rest of our party dashed out from some hidden vantage to assist, Marcus taking on the men guarding Yasmin, Mari trading spells with the mage, Osric selecting targets at range, and Agon seeking to find a way past the guards to engage the mage in close combat. Although the warriors amongst us fared well, there were too many guards for us to fight past quickly. Aria was felled by a blast of hellfire from the wizard, and Agon, having finally reached the mage was soon after rendered insensible by a second spell. Determined to reach Aria, who I feared grievously wounded, if not dead, I smashed aside the last warrior who faced me and ran to the priestess’s side. Her face was a charred wreck, the pallor of death was about her unburnt flesh, and I felt no pulse or breath … for a moment. But then, a weak pulse. Praying to Abadar, I placed hands upon her face and neck where she had received the brunt of the blast and channelled healing energy into her, restoring her flesh … and slowly bringing life back to her. Meanwhile, the fight had been broken up by forces from the slave house (servants of House Arkona as I later learnt). They took the purple robed mage (who I later discovered was Peryarv Lagren, a diplomat from Magnimar) into custody, and would have done the same with Yasmina if it were not for Marcus’ forceful refusal. Instead, they returned to the house with Lagren, leaving us alone in the laneway.
Tain’s Journal
As we approached Brock House, Agon and I heard a hail behind us and turned to see the dwarf Osric approaching us. It seemed that he had received our message. We waited for him, then took the steps up to the door and knocked. To my surprise it was not Dante or Gavic who opened the door, but Marcus himself, looking tired and a little paranoid. “Come in quickly, quickly,” he said, gesturing us inside and glancing about the street before closing and locking the door. “What’s the matter Marcus?” asked Agon teasingly. “Don’t want to let the neighbours see you consorting with the rabble?” “Hmmm? Oh, I don’t much care what the neighbours say,” Marcus replied. “It’s who they say it too … we’ve potentially made a lot of enemies in the past fortnight, and with all the comings and goings here … well, I’ve been thinking, maybe we should start using the back gate a bit more often.” He sighed, and straightened his vest. “Anyway, it’s not just that … Mari is … well, there’s been an accident …” Agon and I looked at each other in alarm and instinctively made to head towards the stairs. “Is she alright? What happened?” “Yes, yes, I think so – I sent for Ari, she’s here, upstairs, looking after things. Ordered all the servants out and told them – and me – not to come into the room until she called for us. I’m not exactly sure what happened.” Marcus sighed again. “Mari was trying some new magic and something went wrong. Ari thinks she’ll … well, she should be alright.” We decided not to cross Aria, and settled in to waiting impatiently for news from upstairs. While we waited, Agon and I told the others what we had learnt from Balko, and I declared my intention that we should seek to rescue her as soon as possible. Marcus agreed, given the girl’s apparent predicament, and Osric offered to help. Agon started outlining his plan to get into the house at Summoning Street, a plan that involved Marcus and potentially Marianna acting as interested buyers, and the rest of us posing as bodyguards. He figured that the ruse should be at least good enough to get them to open the door, and possibly (given that we knew the secret handshake) all the way to the girl. If we had to fight our way back out, so be it. “We’ll need to ask Mari for a description of Yasmin,” Agon said. “Your sister has met her, right? That way you can say you’re interested in girls who look like whatever the young lady does.” “Oh believe me, I know exactly what she looks like,” answered Marcus, looking somewhat pained and glancing upstairs. The rest of us looked at each other and shrugged – whatever Marcus might be referencing was lost on us. Marcus agreed with the plan in general, but had concerns about some of the details. “I’d not want to be recognised,” he said thoughtfully, “and there would be trouble if someone recognised you or Tain … so we would need disguises. Also, four bodyguards seems a lot … it may raise suspicion. And,” Marcus glanced apologetically at me, “I’m not sure that I quite trust Tain and Ari not to pull out their flails and begin hitting people at the first sign of something … uncivilised.” “I’m not convinced we’ll get in and out without a fight anyway…” I remarked. “What about the Shingles?” Osric suggested. “I could lead Tain and the priestess over the roof tops, try to find a way in through the upper floor. Two pronged approach, if trouble breaks out.” “The idea has potential,” I said. “Though if I recall correctly from my patrols of that part of the city, the houses are widely spaced, with yards and lawns about them. I don’t know that we’ll be able to gain rooftop access via adjacent houses.” I turned to our host. “Marcus, you have a detailed map of the city do you not?” Marcus nodded, and retrieved the map, unfurling it across the dining room table, and we all gathered about. “Here is the house,” I said, finding it on the map and stabbing it with my finger. “Yes, I was right, it appears that it is set back from the adjacent buildings … but here, there’s a laneway behind, we might be able to approach from that direction.” “That’ll work,” agreed Osric. “We can sneak along through this series of lanes here, get to the back of the house … if there’s upper story windows or balconies at the rear we might still be able to get in that way … I’ll bring a grappling hook. You and Ari had best wear light armour.” Agon was studying the map too. “I’ve heard of underground chambers and tunnels in that part of the town, near the Acadamae,” he muttered. “Like where we fought the Thassalonian last week. Hold on!” The last was exclaimed with a hint of alarm, as he pointed to a star shaped building shown on the map, just past the end of Summoning Street. “Isn’t that …” His voice trailed off. “It is,” I agreed stone-faced. Agon was pointing to the Temple of Asmodeous, a blight on our fair city in my opinion, an indication of the influence that Cheliax still held over us in Korvosa. “There’s been rumours for years that … that place … has been involved in the illegal slave trade,” Agon continued. “Nothing’s ever been proved of course … but let’s hope they’re not involved in Lamm’s operation.” “If we must bring the fight to the Temple of Asmodeous, then we will bring the fight to the Temple of Asmodeous,” I declared grimly. “I have no fear of - ” Agon practically lunged across the table to grab me. “Tain,” he hissed. “If you say one more word, I swear to the gods I will stab you in the face.” I frowned indignantly, while Osric snorted and Marcus nodded. “Yes Tain, no good ever came from speaking the name of a hostile deity three times in quick succession.” We were saved from a protracted argument by the appearance of Mari and Aria. The former looked paler even than usual, and leant against her cousin for support, but otherwise did no seem to be injured or in distress. We all stood, concerned, and enquired after her health. “I’m alright,” Mari answered quietly, taking a seat. “Thanks to Ari. I tried a spell that was probably too much for me … it didn’t go quite according to plan. But don’t worry, I’m fine, and I think I found what I was trying to learn.” She leaned forward to study the map on the table. I glanced at Osric, wondering how he would react to Mari’s admission of spellcasting. The dwarf grinned at me. “Oh, I know all about your sister-in-law’s secret,” he said, winking. “She’s been coming to me for reagents and supplies for months.” “Ah! Here it is,” exclaimed Mari pointing at the map. “I know where Yasmin is – she’s at this house.” She was pointing to the house in Summoning Street that we had been discussing for the last half hour. The four of us men looked at each other. “Yes … we know,” I said. “Agon had the information from Balko. Although at least that confirms what he said,” I added diplomatically. “Yes, and your magic showed me what Yasmin looks like,” Marcus added, patting his sister on the arm. “That will help.” Mari looked at us, wrinkling her pretty nose. “That was an unintended side effect,” she said to Marcus. “Spoilsports.”
Tain’s Journal
We walked briskly through the cold streets, Agon telling me what he had learnt from Balko - once the criminal realised that in sending me away he’d lost his only protection against the man who had shot him after he surrendered. That fact having sunk in, Agon hadn’t had to lift a finger to get Balko to spill his guts. “At least we don’t have to worry about our noblewoman being forgotten and starving to death,” Agon said. Whether Lamm had had a boss or not Balko didn’t say (though Agon was still convinced of the former), but he certainly seemed to think that one way or another the slavery operation would continue in his absence. Balko had maintained that he did not know anything of the Lady Yasmin specifically, but that he did know two likely locations where she might be kept if Lamm had grabbed her, assuming she hadn‘t been shipped out immediately to foreign parts. One was an old warehouse near the docks of the Thief Camp, a place where less important and lower class prisoners were kept, the other was a house on Summoning Street in The Heights, where the slaves that would likely command a higher price were kept. Balko had also taught Agon a secret handshake that would get him past the guards at either location. We agreed that the place on Summoning Street seemed the far more likely of the two. “So we only have to find her before she’s sold off, raped or both,” Agon continued. “We must find her before then,” I agreed. “As soon as we can.” “The plan was to try to go after Trinia Sabore today - or tonight,” Agon reminded me. We were on our way to Brock House to meet with the others and discuss that very thing. Before we left the Bank we had sent messengers to summon Ari and Osric to the same meeting. “I still think she’s a patsy … but we have been all but ordered by our shortly to be crowned Queen to fetch her, and I think it might be smart to do so before the coronation. I wouldn’t want to make the Queen’s lovely bodyguard angry … much.” He smirked slightly. “The conflict troubles me,” I admitted. “I have no way of knowing of Sabore is innocent … but it is troubling that she already seems to have been deemed guilty. I have no wish to bring an innocent woman to her execution. But if we don’t find her, eventually the Hell knights - or someone worse - will. And we have been instructed by the Queen to find her. To do so as quickly as we can would be the lawful thing to do … and yet prioritising rescuing the Lady Yasmin seems the right thing to do.” I frowned, considering the options. “Sounds like almost a crisis of faith Tain,” Agon commented. “Maybe you should consult a priest - or a fortune teller.” “A fortune teller did you say?” the voice came from an old, shawled Varisian woman who stood by the side of the street. “I can read your fortune, for a coin of silver.” She smiled, showing a mouthful of yellowed teeth. I hesitated. I did not put much stock in fortunes and prophecies, but Agon was bowing in respect to the woman and was pulling me by the arm towards her. I nodded - surely there could be no harm in it. We paid the woman a silver coin, and she led us over to a wooden bench by the street, sat down, and pulled out a battered Harrow deck. “What is it you seek?” she asked, looking at me. Agon answered for me. “My friend wants to know if he should do the lawful thing, or the good thing,” he said.
“Ah,” she said, looking at the card. “The Winged Serpent, the couatl, most appropriate. Knowledge and prudence are sperate keeps, bridged by understanding. The serpent is the bridge - knowing when is the time to strike, and when doing so would be ill-advised. If the moment is not seized, the bridge may fail.” Having given this cryptic piece of advise, she took my card back and shuffled it back in with the others she held, then laid the nine out on the bench before her, studying them intently for a moment. “There are times when the world makes no sense,” she says at last. “The choice may test your faith, but you will be forced to choose between the two; remember - law can give strength and purpose, but without good, it’s true purpose is lost.” With that, she bowed, gathered up her cards and tottered away. Agon looked at me. “Well … did that help.” I nodded. “Strangely, yes. I know what I have to do.”
Tain’s Journal
By the morning of the 4th, conditions in the city had returned to something approaching normal - if one ignored the long food lines, the occasional burnt out building, the closed and boarded up shops. It seemed that the people accepted (or in some cases were resigned to) the fact that in two days hence we would have a new ruling monarch on the Crimson Throne. Agon and I had arranged, through a series of notes and messengers, to meet with the Merivanchis at Brock House later in the morning. I had managed to secure permission to interview Balko, and had requested Agon’s assistance, a help he was willing to give. “I heard about the debacle last time you and Ari questioned the alchemist,” Agon chuckled as the pair of us approached the Bank of Abadar. “Let me take the lead this time, alright? You just hang about and look forbidding. Oh, and try not to fall over this time.” He clapped me on the shoulder and I nodded, embarrassed but grateful for the help. I had Balko brought up from his cell to an interview room. Although I knew that my order had not been treating him with undue harshness, he looked somewhat pale and sickly. Upon seeing me he sneered disdainfully, then looked at Agon with barely disguised hate, perhaps with a hint of fear, no doubt recalling the arrow in the stomach. Whatever he may have felt towards Agon, it did not change his approach to interrogation - denial that he knew anything, and assertion that no amount of threats or violence would change that. Agon and Balko verbally sparred for a while, with my companion seeming to make no real ground, while I stood in the background, arms folded, watching the alchemist sternly … and watching Agon too. I wondered at his approach. Agon was good at speaking to people, good at getting them to do what he wanted - often while making it seem like it was their idea all along. He’d make a fine officer when his promotion came through. In fact, he’d make a fine noble under different circumstances, his faint disdain for that class not withstanding. I resolved to put in a good word for my friend with Field Marshal Kroft - if our recent success with finding her information to use against Amprei had given me any sway with her. The thought of Amprei brought me out of my musings and back to the present - Balko was still denying that he knew anything about the Lady Yasmin, or where she might be kept, and Agon was still not pressing as hard as I had expected. I wondered what his game was. “Alright,” he said, changing tack suddenly. “I can see that threats will not sway you Balko, but I don’t believe you’ve told me all that you can. What then can I do for you?” “Let me out of here,” answered Balko defiantly, licking his dry lips slightly and glancing at me. Agon didn’t have to see the expression on my face to know that was not an option, and he said as much. “They only let me out of my cell for an hour a day,” Balko whined. “More than you deserve,” I muttered, and Agon put up his hands. “Look,” he said, “I don’t think my friend here is going to give you much more than that … but if I can’t get you outside, perhaps I can bring a little of the outside to you. You look like you could do with a beer - would you like that? It can be arranged.” Balko nodded warily. “A beer then,” said Agon, “if you’ll agree to keep talking me with for a little longer - I can’t give you something for nothing … agreed?” Balko nodded again, and Agon turned to me. “Tain, would you be so good as to bring this man a beer?” I looked at Agon for a long moment, and he looked right back - then winked slightly, so that Balko could not see. I nodded, then, with show of annoyance, turned to leave the cell. When I returned some fifteen minutes later with a mug of beer from a nearby tavern, Balko looked paler than ever, though Agon was grinning broadly. I looked closely at the prisoner, but could see no sign of blood or bruises, or anything to indicate that Agon had roughed him up. “Give the man his beer Tain,” said Agon, standing and turning to leave the room. “He’s earned it. Thanks for the information Balko - enjoy your drink.”
Tain’s Journal
It has been almost a week since I last updated my journal. After defeating the fiend beneath the city streets last week, my companions and I all eventually returned to our own errands of the day, but events transpired to prevent us from meeting up at Brock House that evening as we had planned. In the afternoon, cryers and messengers flocked the city streets, proclaiming that, with the official week of mourning after the King’s death drawing to an end, and with no legitimate challenges to Queen Ileosa’s right to the throne having been received, a coronation was being announced, to take place in a week’s time. While many hailed this as good news - a return to stability, with an officially ruling monarch back on the throne, others did not. Angry voices were raised on the street, citing Ileosa’s open disdain for Korvosa, her inexperience, and her nationality. Fears were expressed about Korvosa becoming once again a state in thrall to Cheliax. While most of the dissent came from the lower classes and those of Varisian ethnicity, there were grumblings amongst the nobility as well, that proper procedure had not been followed in respect to allowing challenges to the throne, and the announcement of the Queen’s coronation. By nightfall, violence and chaos had once again broken out across the city, centred on but not restricted to areas such as Old Korvosa and the Varisian quarter in Midland. Riots, protests, looting and burning. The Korvosan Guard, the Sable Company and the Bank of Abadar called all their personnel to active duty, a further squad of Hellnights entered the city, curfews were imposed and enforced, and slowly the city was brought back to order. Within two days the last of the rioters had been arrested or dispersed, but our group had little chance to meet and pursue our agenda’s, given that Agon and I remained on duty, and continuing curfews and heavy patrols made movement through the city difficult. Agon and I found ourselves primarily patrolling similar areas, and were able to meet for a meal or a drink on several occasions when we were off duty. I was also able to visit Brock House once or twice to call on Marcus and Mari, but it would be several days before all of were able to meet again. I had put in a request to my superiors to once again question Balko, hoping to learn something of the whereabouts of Yasmin Marcella, but given the situation in the city (and also, no doubt, my dismal showing the first time I had questioned him), a response to my request was delayed. Meanwhile, the others were continuing to look into the Trinia Sabore situation, although any plans for getting to her were delayed, with the riots and the temporary increase to Hellknight numbers in the area that the trouble had brought. On Agon’s suggestion, Marcus had contacted Osric and had him set up some climbing frames and planks and such in one of his warehouses, so that we could get some practice if it did come to dashing across rooftops. Mari, it seemed, had completed her preparations for the magic that would allow us all to become invisible, and was now working on some other project, the details of which she left vague. Aria meanwhile had been researching into the Harbingers, those mute, purple cloaked villains we had tangled with several times before. It seems that the Harbingers were the remnants of an ancient cult originally based in Absolom, who were amongst the first worshippers of Aroden. With their god’s death they had been thrown into chaos (as were many), and have devoted the last century to gathering prophecies that they believe may predict Aroden’s resurrection. Although, if anything, Aroden’s death should have taught them how unreliable prophecies have become in this Age of Lost Omens, their activities may seem harmless enough - after all, Aroden was a benevolent god, closely allied to Abadar. What made the group dangerous was the extremely dubious nature of the prophecies they followed, they oft-times even more dubious interpretations of said prophecies, and the fact that the Harbingers would go to any length to actively make events interpreted from their prophecies come to pass, including indulging in murder and promoting evil and chaos.
Tain’s Journal
It was probably the better part of an hour before Agon returned, with Ari in tow, but it seemed much longer to the three of us, waiting in that place. Agon explained that he had instructed the guardsmen up above to disperse the crowd, and had also penned a scroll to his superiors explaining our purpose here, in case anything should go wrong. Aria had been appraised of the situation and had come prepared. She called on the power of her goddess to heal all of us of our minor cuts and burns, and distributed several flasks of healing potions and holy water amongst us. Then she turned her attention to the sarcophagus, chanting a prayer as she examined it. “There is nothing undead within,” she spoke after a moment. “The evil you sensed Tain must be something else. Most likely a fiend.” “Evil embodied,” I answered, my face grim. “We must be strong of body and mind.” “Many fiends can transport themselves instantly by magic, or summon more of their kind to the material realm,” said Mari, as if quoting from a book (as she likely was). “We shouldn’t have to worry about that here, so long as the dimensional anchor I detected stays in place … of course, there’ll be plenty enough to worry about.” And indeed, her young face looked troubled. “Don’t fear Mari,” said Agon. “We’ve strong arms and strong blades - well, weapons,” he added, looking at the bludgeons carried by Aria and myself. “With arcane and divine magic to assist us, we’ll do alright, I know it.” Mari pursed her lips and shook her head slightly. “You don’t understand. Many fiends are resistant to weapons, and some even to magic.” “Fear not in regards to the first,” I said. “Abadar will grant me the power to overcome whatever resistance the fiend may bear to honest steel. I will be able to hurt it.” “And the holy water should harm it also,” Aria added. Agon digested this information. “Here’s what we’ll do,” he said. “If Tain can hurt this creature, then he can lead the attack. I’ll try to distract it - maybe I can’t hurt it, but I can take a few hits if needs be. The rest of you can assault it with spell or holy water as you prefer.” We steeled ourselves for the battle to come, checked weapons and gear, prayed to our gods. Marcus gathered us together and made a short speech of encouragement. When we were ready, we positioned ourselves about the sarcophagus, and Agon and I pushed at the lid. The lid was heavy, and it took all our strength to move it - but at last it slid aside and crashed to the floor, revealing the coffin’s occupant. It was a man, or something that took the form of one. He was beautiful, in a twisted way. His features, in repose, were regal, his skin golden in sheen. Two small bumps that might have been horns adorned his forehead, and the skin below his neck bore tiny scales, like a snake. An instant later, his eyes flew open, and flicked around to look at us. “Thankyou for freeing me,” he said, his voice powerful and resonant. He looked at me, and his lips twisted into a smirk. “Kiss me,” he said. The idea was abhorrent and ridiculous, but something about his voice was compelling, commanding. It took all my strength of will to resist. But resist I did. “No,” I growled. “Kiss this,” and I smashed my flail down into his face, praying to Abadar for strength as I did so. The fiend brought his arm up to block me, but Agon blocked the move with his blade, and my flail ruined his face. Marcus hurled a vial of holy water at the monster, burning its flesh, whilst Mari sent an acid of arrow burning into its other side. Although clearly hurt by our attacks, the golden fiend ignored the pain, and stood up in the coffin, turning to face the metal door at the back of the room. “Come to me,” he intoned, power in his voice. One by one in rapid succession the locks clicked, and the door flew open, revealing a small space containing a rack of weapons and armour. As we watched, they flew through the air towards their owner, a short blade leaping into his outstretched hand, a shield onto his other arm, a shirt of gleaming chain mail wrapping itself around his body. I attacked him again, but this time my flail was turned aside by his shield. Another acid spell from Mari found its mark, and as the creature turned its attention towards me, Marcus leaped forward and struck him with his rapier, drawing blood. The fiend glanced at Marcus. “Kill him,” he commanded in that resonant voice, gesturing with his head towards Agon. For a moment Marcus’s blade wavered, then, with a visible force of effort, he shook his head no. The fiend snarled, then stabbed his blade forward at me, but he was obviously rattled by Marcus’s refusal, and my armour turned his ill-placed thrust aside. Now realising that their weapons could indeed harm the creature, Agon and Aria leapt fully into the fray, whilst Marcus and I pressed our attacks. Agon and I both wounded the fiend, who’s face was now showing strain and desperation. “Enough!” he shouted, and suddenly the air about him filled with a swirling mass of black thorns that cut at our faces and hands and wormed their way through clothes and between armour plates. While the five of us tried to escape the thorns, the fiend leapt from the sarcophagus and towards the open doorway. But I would not let the thorns distract me - as the creature ran past I smote him with my flail. Ribs cracked loudly, and black blood spewed forth from the monsters mouth as he fell heavily towards the floor, dead. As he fell, the thorns faded away, and we were left, bloodied but victorious.
Tain’s Journal
Some sixth sense seemed to alert Agon to the danger an instant before it manifested, and he leapt into the room, only marginally singed by the sheet of intensely hot fire – but cut off from the rest of us. We could hear his raised voice over the whoosh and roar of the flames – and he us – but we could not see or reach him. Once the immediate shock of the situation subsided, we found ourselves not overly alarmed. There was no immediate or apparent threat to Agon within the chamber, and we felt confident that between us we could find or figure a way to help him escape. If worse came to absolute worse, we reasoned that Agon could leap back through the flames, and we would be on hand to help extinguish and heal him. Agon was reluctant to pursue this option if another could be found … so he began searching the chamber he was in, and describing what he found to us. The room was of middling size, but ornate design, with tight fitting stone work and carved pillars on either side of the chamber. One of the first things that Agon discovered was that when he moved a certain distance back from the doorway, the sheet of flame died away. This did not help him escape, as soon as he moved closer again the flames sprung up again, but at least it relieved the oppressive heat that the flames were beginning to cause in the chamber, and allowed us to more easily communicate.
Agon reported that there were more runes carved into the heavy stone lid of the sarcophagus, quite closely resembling the ones on the door to Agon’s eye. There was also another single rune carved into the inside face of the door. Mari had Agon describe it to her in painstaking detail, and after ruminating over it for a few moments, her face brightened. “I believe the rune you describe means ‘Purity of Flame’ in Thassilonian,” she called to Agon, excitement in her voice. “It must be something to do with the fire trap. Perhaps if it erased, that will dispel the magic of the trap.” “Erased eh?” Agon muttered. Pulling the small mace from his belt, he proceeded to bash at the wall until the rune was obliterated. While the act seemed to give him some satisfaction, it unfortunately had no effect on the flame trap - the flames still appeared whenever Agon neared the doorway. Marcus had the next idea, suggesting that we lay some slabs of stone over the threshold, to prevent the flames from rising. He and I returned to where the otyugh corpse lay, and chose a large slab of stone, carrying it between us back to the doorway. We threw the flat piece of stone down into the doorway … it worked, to some degree. Flame spurted out, but this time not in a sheet or curtain to fill the doorway, rather in narrow tongues to either side of the stone slab and spurts and bursts of flame out from beneath it. Still, it was enough to allow the rest of us to cross into the chamber with minimal chance of being burnt. Marcus joined Agon in examining the locked steel door, whilst Mari studied the runes on the sarcophagus lid, confirming that they were indeed similar to those on the door (they read ‘Here rests a loyal servant’). Whilst the others searched using their physical senses, I concentrated my Abadar granted sixth sense on the sarcophagus, and whatever might be interred within. What I sensed troubled me greatly. “A great evil lies within,” I warned the others, pointing at the stone coffin. “Not dead - though perhaps undead.” The others stopped what they were doing and turned to look warily at the sarcophagus. “Can it get out?” Marcus asked, drawing his sword. Mari began making arcane gestures, looking intently at the sarcophagus. “Magic,” she whispered softly. “There is some type of binding spell centred on the coffin. It does not physically confine whatever is within, but it prevents incursions from or departures to dimensions beyond our own.” “What does that mean, exactly?” Agon asked. Mari shrugged. “What I said. It may though, imply that whatever is confined within is a denizen of the Beyond - a fiend, or something similar - rather than one of the undead.” I gazed thoughtfully at the sarcophagus. “Will opening it dispel the magic?” I asked. Mari shrugged again, then shook her head. “I don’t think so, though I can’t be certain.” “You think we should destroy whatever rests there,” Agon said, a statement rather than a question. I turned to look at him, and by the fire in his eyes I knew that he was thinking along the same lines as I. Still, I was wary. “Yes,” I said slowly. “I intend to attempt it. But it would perhaps not be wise to act in haste. Whatever is within may be beyond our capacity to destroy or contain. By attempting to do so without proper preparation, we risk allowing it to go free into the city above. I think we should seek help first, and ensure that we are properly prepared.” Marcus and Mari were nodding in agreement, but Agon shook his head. The Guardsman stepped towards me. “I disagree,” he said, looking at me intently. “I think we need to do this, and now. Who would we go to for help? The Guard? The churches? A wizard? We have a representative of each here already. You have already defeated one monster this day - I believe, together, we can defeat another.” He stepped back and looked at the door. “Besides, we may not have the luxury of time. I think I know what happened here. Someone - grave robbers, looters, adventurers - came upon this door. They forced it open, but were deterred by the fire trap and departed, probably to research some way to overcome it. Meanwhile, the otyugh stumbled across the open door, was burnt by the trap, and, enraged, caused the havoc you encountered. My point is, those who originally opened the door could return at any time, and open the sarcophagus. We need to act before that happens.” I thought about this, and nodded. “You are right. Still, we would do well to have a cleric with us, whether we face undead or fiends. The cathedral of Pharasma is nearby, and Ariadnae is expecting us. It will not take long for one of us to fetch her here, whilst the rest of remain on guard.” “Good idea,” replied Agon. “I’ll go. Good luck.” He glanced at the sarcophagus, flashed us a grin, then darted away through the open doorway.
Tain’s Journal
“I’m going to have to burn this entire outfit when we get back,” Mari complained, holding her skirts up as she trudged through the filthy water after Agon and I, with Marcus bringing up the rear. Conditions were not as bad as they might have been, had it not been for the recent rain, and no doubt the otyugh keeping the vermin population under control. Even so it was not pleasant. Not far down the passage there was a large alcove in the wall on the right hand side of the passage. The smell, the gnawed bones and smears of refuse indicated that this was the lair of the otyugh. A quick search of the alcove revealed nothing of interest, and we continued on down the main passage. So far the passage had run dead straight with no intersections, but a few dozen yards past the alcove the tunnel we had been following ended in an intersection with another passage. This one was angled - to the left the tunnel angled downwards, and the water ran deep and fast in that direction. To the right the tunnel rose up above the water level. In that direction, just at the edge of our torchlight, we could see a stone door, slightly ajar, on the left hand side of the tunnel. By silent assent, we headed for the door. Outside, Agon knelt down to examine the floor. “Tracks,” he said after a moment, looking up. “Large ones - likely the otyugh. There are smaller prints too, booted feet, laid down before the otyugh tracks.” Some faded runes were carved into the door. They were not any language I understood, but Mari recognised them. “Thassilonian,” she said in some awe. “This place is old. Let’s see … it reads, ‘Herein lies the bones of a loyal servant’ - or something to that effect. A tomb then.” “There’s something else,” said Agon, who had been looking at the door too. “Here. Tool marks. Someone forced this door open. Recently it seems.” He reached to push the door the rest of the way open, but Mari touched his arm. “Wait,” she said. She made an obscure gesture with her other hand, and the door opened, apparently on its own. “After you,” she said with a smile. Agon held up his torch and we looked into the chamber beyond the doorway. It was relatively small and unadorned, except for a large stone object in the middle of the room - a sarcophagus. Agon stepped through the doorway – and with a hiss, a curtain of flame burst up from the floor at the threshold to fill the opening!
Tain’s Journal
More Guardsmen had arrived, and Agon had directed them to keep back the growing crowd, and report the disturbance over to the nearest watch house and the Citadel. I’d done what I could for the worst of the wounded, and arranged for those that were beyond my ability to help to be taken to the Cathedral of Pharasma. Soon I found myself back by the edge of the hole, staring thoughtfully at the corpse of the otyugh below, and doing my best to ignore the stench. I heard a noise, and looked up to see Agon coming to stand beside me. “Not pretty is it?” he asked rhetorically. I shook my head. “I’m trying to understand why it came up to attack like it did,” I said. “Eight people and five horses died here today - there must be some reason.” “I’ve heard of it happening before,” offered Agon. “Not often though, and not for a long while.” He joined me in looking thoughtfully into the hole, then looked over at me with a grin. “There’s one way to find out.” Hurrying away, he soon returned with his pack, which he’d dropped when he requisitioned a horse to race over here, and one of his men had brought along later. Reaching within, he retrieved a coil of strong rope and a pair of torches. “Always be prepared,” he said. There was a lamp-post nearby, and he tied the rope off around it. After testing it, we both climbed down into the dark hole, one after the other, over the rubble and the otyugh corpse and into the sluggishly moving, knee deep dirty water at the bottom. The tunnel we stood within was wide and high ceilinged. The stone work of the walls and ceiling looked very old, but sturdy … and rather more decorative than one expected of a sewer. The monster appeared to have burst out onto the street at the end of a tunnel (although the movement of the water suggested that there was perhaps some smaller passage or pipe now partly concealed by the collapsed rubble) - the other way stretched away into darkness. The stench was intense, but after initially almost gagging we soon got somewhat used to it. “This doesn’t look like a sewer tunnel,” commented Agon, looking down the dark passage. The elven side of his heritage had gifted him with keen vision, and he could see further than I in the wan sunlight that filtered down the hole from above. “Many parts of the sewers - and other places besides; parts of he catacombs below Grey, the pyramid that Castle Korvosa is built atop to name a few - were already here when the Chelaxian’s established Korvosa,” I said. “This place was a sacred site to the Shoanti before then,” Agon said thoughtfully, “though they are not noted builders - no more than us Varisians.” “I have heard that there are ancient ruins and monuments scattered all over this land,” I said. “Magnimar is full of them, or so I have heard. There must have been some great civilisation here, long ago.” My companion nodded thoughtfully, but said no more on the matter. Agon lit the torches and handed one to me. “Now … lets see what we can see,” he said. We both crouched down around the corpse and began searching for anything unusual. Given that the tunnel was flooded with water (fortunately the rains seemed to have swept away the worst of the sewage) there was little chance of finding tracks, but we did find something of interest. “Bring the torch closer Tain, over here.” Agon was pointing to an area on one of the creature’s stumpy legs. A large patch of skin here had been charred away, and the flesh beneath was red, raw and blistered. “Burnt,” I said, then stood and stared down the tunnel into darkness. “It seems unlikely that such would happen by chance in a sewer does it not? This may be a sign that someone attacked the creature - perhaps deliberately drove it to the surface.” Agon nodded thoughtfully. “Let me try something,” he muttered. Taking his torch, he held it against the dead otyugh’s flank. The torch sputtered and flickered, and the unpleasant smell of burnt skin pervaded the sewer stench. After a moment, Agon brought his torch away and we bent to examine the burn mark it had caused. Although it was a serious looking burn, it was not nearly as bad as the one we had seen on the creature’s leg. “Magical fire?” I surmised. If so, this appeared to add strength to my theory. Agon shrugged. “It appears so,” he said. “Mari might be able to tell for certain, given her new-found talents … and we may need her and Marcus if there is a mage down here to be dealt with.” “I’m not sure that we will be able to convince them to come down here,” I said, looking around in distaste at our surrounds. Agon looked at me for a moment, then his face brightened. “I think I have an idea,” he said. “Wait here.” He turned and climbed back up the rope to the street above. Soon after, I heard his voice, as if speaking loudly (though I could not make out the words) followed by loud cheering. I didn’t know exactly what had happened, but a few minutes later I was assisting Mari and then Marcus in climbing down the rope. Standing on the pile of rubble beside the dead otyugh, Marcus looked green and Mari paler than normal, seeming to have trouble breathing for several moments. “What an incredible smell you’ve discovered,” she said, once she had recovered enough to speak. However, the smell was soon forgotten (as much as it could be) as Mari gazed around the tunnel. “This place is ancient,” she muttered in wonder. It was with some difficulty that we turned her attention to examining the otyugh corpse, but when she did, she agreed that the burn mark was almost certainly caused by magically hot flame. “So your secret is officially out then?” Agon asked of the young lady. Mari smiled coyly, whilst Marcus muttered something that I could not hear. “You can count on my discretion on the matter,” I told Mari. She nodded, but seemed distracted. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing into the dead monster’s open mouth. “Tain, can you get that for me?” Looking where she was pointing I saw something stuck between two of the creature’s jagged back teeth. Holding my breath against the increased stink, I reached into the creature’s cavernous mouth and freed the trapped object. It was a skeletal human hand, the bones beyond the wrist crushed and broken. The hand still clutched a sealed bone scroll-tube and wore a gold ring on one finger. Mari opened the tube and unfurled the still intact parchment within, whilst I examined the ring. It was unadorned except for the phrase ‘Feed Me’ engraved on the inner surface of the band. Mari murmured some arcane sounding phrases and inscribed a sigil in the air with her fingers, the stared at the scroll and ring. “These are both magical,” she said. I glanced significantly at Agon and Marcus as I handed the ring to Mari - she had made no attempt to hide her spell-casting. Agon was looking into the darkness further down the passage. “Whoever attacked this creature may still be down here,” he said. He held his torch aloft and gestured ahead. “Shall we?”
Tain’s Journal
The three of us – Marcus, Mari and I – stood looking down at the aberrant corpse in a sense of mild shock – but also feeling justifiably proud of having defended our city against the rampaging monster. “What manner of beast is it?” I asked. “And where did it come from?” “An otuygh, I believe it’s called,” answered Marcus. “Several of them live down in the sewers, or so I’ve heard. Didn’t realise they were quite this big – or this ugly.” I nodded. “Filth-eaters.” I had heard of the creatures, though I would not have recognised one. As Marcus said, they dwelt in the sewers, living off refuse. It was said that they were both the reason that there were so few problems with Korvosa’s sewer system, and the reason that work crews were so hesitant to go down there when there was a problem. But why had this one emerged onto the street? “Excusez-moi?” Our musings were interrupted by an accented woman’s voice from behind us. I looked about. Agon had begun trying to take control of the crowd that was gathering, keeping people away from the hole and the remains of the monster and seeing to the wounded - but he was having a hard time of it by himself. The two noblewomen that I had pulled from the coach had so far escaped his attention, and had approached close behind us. It was the older lady who had spoken. I studied her and her daughter closely. Both were beautiful women, and the family resemblance was obvious. Their appearance, garb and accent, all being slightly exotic, marked them as foreigners. “You are Lord Marcus Merivanchi, no?” the woman asked, approaching Marcus. “At your service,” Marcus replied, bowing (and obviously trying to place the woman). “I am Lady Liella Delamore,” the woman said, “and this is my lovely daughter. “We are newly arrived in your city, from Galt.” “I am sorry that your introduction to our city has been so harrowing Lady Delamore,” said Marcus. “No, no, there is no fault,” said the lady. “We have seen much worse in my homeland.” Marcus nodded. Rumours of the troubles that had long plagued distant Galt had reached us even in Korvosa. “Allow me to introduce my companions,” Marcus said. “My sister, Marianna, and my brother in law, Tain Locus.” Mari curtsied and I took the lady’s hand. “Mister Locus, thank you for rescuing us,” gushed Lady Delamore. She turned my hand over in her own, and seemed to be examining it closely. I could feel her daughter’s eyes on me too. “It was my pleasure,” I said, feeling a little embarrassed. “But if you will excuse me now, I must help.” I gestured to the nearby broken carriage and wounded people. Giving my apologies, I hurried over to Agon. The Guardsman seemed to be getting things slowly under control, gesturing over the heads of the crowd to the two privates who had been with him earlier at Brock House and were now puffing their way up the rain-slicked street towards us. “You seem to be getting the situation well in hand Cadet Deparle,” I said. “I’m at your disposal. How can I help?” Agon looked at me, a rueful smile on his face. “Well, someone has to take charge while you monster slaying heroes are seeing to your adoring fans,” he said. He looked over to where Marcus and Mari were still talking to the two Galtan ladies. “You should go over and socialise. It looks as if the lady is trying to find a suitable man for her daughter. And if the daughter doesn’t appeal to you - though I can’t imagine why not - well, the mother has not lost her looks …” I allowed myself a brief smile at my friend’s joke (at least I think he was joking). “There’ll be time enough for socialising later,” I said. “I’ll see to the wounded, I’ll leave you to focus on managing the crowd.” Agon nodded, and I went off to see what aid I could render to those wounded in the attack.
Tain’s Journal
We had not been in the coach for long when we noticed an odd rattling sound, and that the coach seemed to be jolting somewhat, as if riding over a very rough surface. Marcus said that he could also hear a faint rumbling sound. He poked his head out the window, but noticed nothing unusual about the road, and the driver could not explain what the problem might be. Looking out the other window, I saw that the rain had stopped for now. There were several other coaches on the street (not unusual at this end of town) and a few pedestrians. Some of the people seemed to be looking about, as if they had also heard something odd. Marcus called out for the driver to stop, and the coach slowed to a halt behind two other coaches that had stopped just ahead of us. Marcus and I were just in the process of beginning to open our doors to see what the matter might be, when there came an almighty roar, almost an explosion from just ahead of us, and cobblestones and larger chunks of rock began raining down all about us. There were clatters on the roof where small stones landed, and then a great thump as the front wall of the coach bulged and splintered as a large rock hit it at great force. The next moment came the frantic screams of horses and people, and through the window I saw the surreal but horrifying sight of a coach – horses, driver, passengers and all – being hurled violently through the air to crash against the side of a building. Marcus and I both leaped from the coach (on opposite sides) sheltering behind the open doors in case of more projectiles. Looking ahead, I could see what at first appeared to be a pair of giant snakes twisting and snapping through the air above the coach stopped in front of us, but I quickly realised they were mottled tentacles ending in barbed paddles looming out of the mist. I looked back into the coach. “Stay here,” I said to Mari, grabbing my crossbow from the seat, then started to jog across the street and forward, so that I could get a better look at whatever monster was wreaking havoc. Marcus had darted around to the front of the coach, and now climbed up onto the driver’s bench. “Gods!” I heard him exclaim. Glancing back, I saw (as he did) that our driver slumped dead in his seat, his face staved in by the rock that had slammed into the front of the coach. Only momentarily deterred, Marcus climbed up onto the roof of the coach to get a better vantage, whilst I continued to jog out across the street, then turned to see. The scene that greeted me was from a madman’s nightmare. Standing half within the great hole in the street from which it had climbed – or erupted - was a creature the size of a small whale with a bulbous, leathery skinned body (dripping with dirty water and mottled by rock dust) dominated by a slavering, tooth filled maw. Three long, entirely flexible tentacles sprouted from the thing’s flesh, each ending in a thorny, paddle shaped appendage. The two longer tentacles seemed analogous to arms, while the shorter, more slender tentacle that sprouted from the top of the creature’s body bore eyes and orifices that might have been ear holes or nostrils amongst the spikes on the paddle. The creature (an otyugh, as I later learned it was called) stood amongst shreds of mist, the wreckage of the street and the coach it had thrown across the road, one of its tentacles dragging a dead horse into its mouth. Almost as horrid as the sight was the stink of rot and refuse that emanated towards me – whether from the creature, the hole beneath or both I could not tell. “Not in my city,” I swore grimly, quickly loading a bolt into my crossbow, bringing the weapon up, aiming, firing. The bolt flew straight and true, burying itself into the creature’s hide. The otuygh’s tentacles waved for a moment, as if trying to swat at an annoying fly, then it went back to devouring the horse, its teeth shredding flesh and crunching bone. Glancing back at our coach, I saw that Mari had stepped outside (naturally) and seemed to be mouthing something silently to herself – spell-casting? Marcus had climbed back down to the ground and was unhitching the horses from our coach. I took another step forward, reloading my crossbow and fired again, once again injuring the creature. The otyugh’s sensory appendage began questing about on its tentacle, seeking its tormentor, but was soon distracted as a panicked horse running past it. It lashed out with a killing tentacle, smashing the beast against the side of a nearby building. The horses hitched to the coach directly in front of the creature began to panic too, trying to back up, but unable to do so. The coaches driver was no-where to be seen, though a smear of blood behind his seat suggested his fate. The otyugh’s tentacles snaked forward towards the trapped horses, then lashed into their flanks, the barbs digging deeply. The horses screamed and stamped as the monster began dragging the two animals – and the coach they were hitched to – towards its murderous maw. As the coach began to roll forward, the screams of the horses were joined by feminine screams from with the coach – the passengers were still inside! I began to run towards the nearest door of the coach as it was pulled towards the monster, when suddenly the otyugh let go of the horses, its fighting tentacles hanging loosely, the sensory appendage swaying slightly in the air. Glancing around, I noticed Mari had taken a few steps forward, and was staring at the monster with a look of intense concentration on her face. As I reached the door of the coach, I saw Marcus dash past on the other side and begin unhitching the horses while the creature was apparently dazed. I wrenched open the door. Within were to women, dressed in the garb of nobility. Perhaps fearing that it was the monster at the door, the ladies shrank back into the coach. I reached out a gauntleted hand to the nearer, older looking woman. “Come with me if you want to live,” I said in a commanding voice. The woman reached for my hand, then hesitated. “Not without my daughter,” she said in a heavily accented voice. Even in the heat of the moment I noticed that both women were strikingly beautiful. “I’ll get her out,” I said, lifting the lady bodily from the cab and placing her on the street on the far side of me from the monster. “You go.” I reached back for the younger woman, dragged her from the coach, then turned back to face the monster, as its tentacles began to reach forward again. As I turned, three bright missiles of light streaked past me to slam into the creature’s body – Mari stood a few paces behind me, bravely holding forward the wand we had found at Lamm’s warehouse. I brought up my crossbow to fire again, but before I could, a tentacle slammed into me, the barbs digging through gaps in my armour into the flesh beneath. I found myself being constricted, and dragged towards the creature. Looking about, I saw that Marcus was in exactly the same predicament, having been caught be the creature’s other tentacle on the far side of the coach. With one arm trapped against my body, I dropped my crossbow and began punching at the tentacle holding me with by spiked gauntlet, but the blade skittered off the leathery hide without causing significant damage. Marcus seemed to be having a little more success, sawing at the other tentacle with his dagger, but he too was still being dragged forward. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light from just behind me. Almost immediately the tentacle holding me relaxed its grip – slightly. The otyugh’s sensory appendage was moving in slow circles through the air above, apparently focused on the light shining behind me – another spell of Mari’s I assumed. I resumed punching at the horrid limb that held me, this time the blade penetrated through the skin deep into the muscle below. The creature spasmed, and I was able to wrench free from its grip. Looking over, I saw that Marcus had almost severed the end of the other tentacle with his knife, and he was also free of the monster’s hold. At this moment I heard the sound of a horse galloping close over the cobbles behind me, and a Guardsman charged into view, crouching low over a horse, a spear held out before him like a lance – it was none but Agon! However, his horse – not trained for battle – baulked at approaching the monster so closely. It reared, whinnying, and threw the soldier from the saddle. Only slightly injured, Agon picked himself up and charged forward on foot, seeking to skewer the otyugh with his spear, but he was caught by the tip of a flailing tentacle and flung aside. As another three magical missiles from Mari’s wand slammed into the creature, Marcus and I looked across at each other, nodded, drew our weapons (rapier and flail respectively) and charged at the monster. Marcus reached it an instant before I did, plunging his rapier deeply into the thing’s body, causing it to emit a sort of coughing noise as blood oozed from it mouth. Then my flail slammed into it with all the force I could muster, hitting it hard enough to actually spin it around and drop it back down into the hole, where it landed with a wet thud. Its tentacles continued to twitch for a few moments, before they stilled, and the creature lay dead.
“I heard you talking about me before you know,” said Mari, sweeping into the room. “Hello Agon. I’d rather you didn’t - If Orlando hears rumours - true or not - that I’ve been learning magic, it could jeopardise a very advantageous marriage and family alliance. Father would be most upset.” Her light tone belied the seriousness of her words - perhaps she did not consider that scenario such a bad thing. “You are too young to be thinking of the political advantage of your betrothal,” I said. “You should be marrying for love - as Talia and I did.” There was an awkward silence. I reached up to touch the twin wedding rings that hung on a chain around my neck. That had not evoked the emotions I intended. Talia had defied her father’s wishes to marry me, and we had been blissfully happy in our life together … right up until the day she was murdered. “Anyway …” Mari began again after a moment. “The plan has changed. We aren’t going to disguise ourselves as Hellknights any more, there are too many things that could go wrong. We’re going to be invisible instead. I just need to go out into town to pick up a few reagents…” She looked out the window at the rainy street, and her face fell. I quietly noted that she seemed to have dropped the tale about someone else using magic for her – perhaps she was almost ready to claim this as her own. “I’ll need to head back out on patrol shortly,” spoke up Agon, “if I can tear my men away from your kitchen. Perhaps I can pick some things up for you?” Mari looked dubious for a moment. “A lot of the things I need are awfully specialised … ah, but Ari will probably have a lot of them at the cathedral!” She looked at Agon. “If you’re passing through Midlands there are a few things you can get for me - I’ll go and see Ari for the rest.” Agon said that he could go that way if needed, and Mari called for Dante. “Dante, could you have Gavik call a cab for me? To go to Grey.” “Yes Miss Marianna,” replied the manservant. He turned to Agon. “Mister Deparle, would you like to fetch your men from the kitchen? The chef has made your salad roll and … chips ‘to go’.” While Agon went off to sort out his men and his lunch, Mari made ready to leave. I insisted on accompanying her. She protested that she was only going to Grey, and that she would take Claudio, her servant and sometimes bodyguard and Marcellano (her cat) along for protection anyway, but I insisted. “Things have certainly been improving, but the streets are still not entirely safe,” I said. After a little more backwards and forth, she relented. “I’ll come along too, at least partway,” said Marcus suddenly. “I have some business to attend to over on Pillar Hill. It’s not far out of the way.” I returned to my room to don my armour and secure my weapons, whilst Mari and Marcus gathered winter cloaks, boots and whatever else they would need for a short journey. By the time we came back downstairs, a coach was waiting for us out on the street, and Agon and his two Guard privates stood by the door. Mari hurried over to Agon, pulling him aside and spoke quietly to him for a few moments, then pressed a small coin purse into his hand. Then we all bid the Guardsman farewell, suggesting we meet back here at sundown. Agon started off on foot with his patrol, whilst Marcus, Mari and I climbed into the coach, headed for Grey.
Tain’s Journal
Dinner of the previous night was awkward as expected, with little conversation. Even so, the hour was late by the time Ambassador Amprei and Seth Jeggare had departed in their coaches, and Lady Cristiana had gone to bed. The rest of us attempted to further brainstorm on how to deal with the Trinia Sabore and Yasmin Marcella situations, but we were so fatigued we made little progress. We agreed to sleep on it (all of us were spending the night at Brock House) and talk further in the morning. It had begun to rain during the night, and the morning was grey and blustery, with squalls blowing in over the bay, interspersed with sunny periods, veiling the city in mists and fogs. Aria departed early, having duties at the cathedral of Pharasma to attend to. My own hopes of a morning spent in planning and discussion with the others were soon dashed, as Mari retreated to her room to study (apparently consumed with the problem of how to make us appear as Hellknights, though she did not say it in so many words) and Marcus got caught up in business of his House that had been somewhat neglected for the past week or so. I had no duties at the Bank this day, so stayed in, confining myself to the guest room to update the events of the last several days in my journal, and pray to Abadar for strength and guidance. It was approaching noon when I heard someone at the door, and soon caught the faint murmur of conversation coming from the sitting room. Heading downstairs, I found Marcus in conference with Agon Deparle, who was outfitted in his Guard uniform and full patrol kit. I nodded a greeting to him, pleased to see our sometime companion – Agon and I did not always agree on matters of law and order, but we were essentially in the same business, on the same side, and he was a good fellow to have about in a fight – or planning for one. “’lo Tain,” he said, returning my nod. “Marcus was just updating me on events of the last few days. I hear you’ve been putting the smack-down on local crime bosses.” “Something like that,” I agreed. “It was strangely satisfying. But it may be the Hellknights we go up against next.” “Yes, Marcus was getting to that,” Agon replied. “I’m so glad you decided not to go ahead without me on that front. So have you found out any more of that situation? As far as I’ve been able to discover they’re not here on the behest of the Guard.” “Field Marshal Kroft indicated as such,” Marcus agreed. “And that they’re not working for the Crown either.” “Well, so far as the Field Marshal knows,” I corrected him. “I had the distinct impression that she was not entirely convinced that her intelligence was correct on that matter.” “Oh? The Field Marshal and our Chelaxian queen are not exactly bosom friends as yet then?” asked Agon, a twinkle in his eye. “Let us just say they do not confide in each other on all matters,” I replied. “Well, to be fair, Kroft is not the easiest woman to understand,” Agon said, shaking his head. “I met with her again yesterday too. It was … odd. I couldn’t quite tell whether she was rewarding me or punishing me.” “She didn’t respond to your good looks and charms is what you mean,” said Marcus with a grin. Agon glanced at me before responding to Marcus. “Let us just say she does not confide in me on all matters,” he said with a half-smile. I chuckled, then tried to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand. “At any rate, the Hellknights…” “Yes, Hellknights,” said Agon. “Do you have a plan for getting by them? My brother had suggested that we try to find our way above them, through the Shingles.” “We’ve discussed that,” I said. “But the current plan seems to be to disguise ourselves as Hellknights, and simply walk in there.” “Oh? And how will you manage that? Hellknight armour going cheap a the local general store?” Agon raised an eyebrow, looking between us. Marcus and I looked at each other. “Ah … Mari has a plan …” Marcus replied. “Is she going to cast a spell on us all?” Agon asked. We looked at him in surprise. “Yes, I’ve known about Mari’s talents – or at least had strong suspicions – since Lamm’s warehouse. I take it you two know?” We both glanced at each other, then nodded slowly. “I don’t know that we should be discussing your sister behind her back,” I said to Marcus. “Oh, she’s probably eavesdropping on us through the chimney stack anyway,” Marcus replied, but Agon nodded in agreement with me. “Dante!” he called out loudly, and Marcus’s manservant momentarily appeared from the direction of the kitchen. “Ah, Dante, by your master’s leave,” Agon glanced at Marcus, who nodded, “will you ask Miss Marianna to join us in the sitting room? Oh, and Dante … on your way back, could you ask the cook to whip me up some salad on a bread roll? And perhaps some fried slices of potato? Thanks.” The long suffering Dante bowed (hiding the roll of his eyes) and departed the room. “I’m still not sure we should all be accepting and discussing this so openly,” Marcus muttered. “I have to admit, I fail to see quite what the issue is with Marianna learning magic,” I said. “She is a sensible girl for the most part, and I do not see her dabbling in the black arts. We are living through … interesting times in Korvosa. If Mari’s magic can help her, help us all – as I believe it has already – we should show her gentle encouragement, not treat it as some dirty secret.” Marcus shook his head. “I would think you’d know our father well enough Tain, from when … yes, well. The life of a sorceress is not what he has planned for Mari. And to make matters worse, she is not only learning magic, but is not Acadamae trained. It will not reflect well on the family, and could jeopardise her betrothal.” “One less Acadamae trained mage – and one less imp flying free on our streets – is a good thing in my opinion,” I replied, before Agon gestured for us to cease our argument. “Let’s wait until Mari can defend herself,” he advised. I nodded. “You’re right. Moving on from how we might get past the Hellknights … has anyone thought further on what we will do if and when we find Miss Sabore?” “I’d like to question her myself before we hand her over,” Agon said. He glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “Though perhaps we should also forestall this conversation to a later time…” “This all assumes we get to Sabore first,” said Marcus. “I’ve been trying to reason why the Hellknights have apparently had her surrounded for several days without appearing to make a move to capture her. I think they’re guarding the area so that someone else can nab her.” “Who do you have in mind? These ‘Harbringers of Doom’?” “Perhaps; the purple cloaks, Lamm’s group, I don’t know,” Marcus responded to Agon’s question. “But there must be some reason they’re not moving in.” “Marcus believes that Lamm was not calling the shots in his organisation,” I explained as an aside to Agon, “that there is someone else running things from behind the scenes.” “Yes, Marcus and I have spoken of that,” Agon said grimly. “And I have an idea of who it might be…” He seemed reluctant to explain further, and before I could press him, Dante returned to the room, announcing himself with a polite cough. “Sirs, it seems that Mistress Marianna is not yet ready to come down quite yet.” “Still hard at work is she Dante?” “I would suppose so sir. Her, ah, cat, did not seem inclined to allow me into the room…” “Ha! She’s doing the ‘speak to the cat’ thing again is she?” asked Marcus with a grin. “Poor Dante. Never mind, I’m sure she’ll come down if we begin gossiping about her.” While we waited for Mari, the conversation ranged over several subjects, including Ambassador Amprei and Yasmin Marcella, the underground war between the various criminal groups, and the nature of the ‘Harbringers of Doom’ – all without coming to any real conclusions or plans. Soon enough, we heard Mari’s light tread on the stair.
Tain’s Journal
We returned to Marcus’s townhouse for dinner and to continue our planning. Marcus had barely taken his key from his pocket when Dante, his manservant, opened the door from within. “Ah, Master Merivanchi, Lady Marianna, you’re home,” he said, looking with barely disguised dismay at our outfits, weapons and armour. “Your guests are waiting in the dining room … with Lady Cristiana" Marcus was taken aback. “Guests? What guests?” “Master Seth Jeggare,” answered Dante patiently, “And the Chelaxian Ambassador.” “Amprei’s here? asked Marcus, incredulous. “And he’s being entertained by my wife.” He looked back at the rest of us. “Gods help us,” he muttered. “And Kroft wanted to avoid an international incident …” We moved into the hall. “We can’t greet our guests dressed like this,” said Mari, picking at her linen skirt. “We’ll have to wash up and change before we go in there.” Her brother and cousin agreed, and the three began to hurry towards the stair and their rooms above (Aria stayed at Brock House from time to time and kept several changes of clothes and personal effects in one of the guest bedrooms), when Marcus looked back and noticed that I had remained where I was, arms folded across my breastplate. “Tain! Of course, you don’t have any other clothes here … Well, little that I own will fit you … maybe one of the servants have something…” “I’m happy to meet the Chelaxian Ambassador in what I’m wearing,” I answered stiffly. “My clothes are well tailored, clean enough, and largely free of blood. My own at least.” I saw little reason to make an effort for an avowed hater of our fair city, a man of vices, and a possible murderer to boot. Marcus rolled his eyes, and Mari looked cross. “Whatever you may think of him, you really can’t meet the ambassador looking like that Tain,” she said. Then her expression brightened. “Just go and wash up in the guest washroom. Leave your clothes - all of them - outside the door. They’ll be fine by the time you’re ready.” I wasn’t sure what Mari had in mind, but there was no denying her - and as it turned out she was right; by the time I had finished towelling the day’s sweat and grime off, the clothes that I had left outside the door were as clean as if they had been freshly laundered. Either Marcus’s staff were almost superhuman in their efficiency or, more likely, here was a practical application of Mari’s magic. I could not help smiling as I dressed. *** Upon the four of us entering the dining room (the three Merivanchis looking very smart, and me at least out of my armour and wearing clean clothes), introductions were made. Seth Jaggare was a contemporary of Marcus’s, a younger scion of one of the more influential Korvosan noble families. I believe the pair fenced together under Master Orosini. Apparently the Jeggare’s are on reasonably good terms with Amprei, and Marcus had entreated Seth (in the letter he sent earlier in the day) to set up a meeting with the ambassador. Now, even Marcus seemed taken aback that his plan had worked so quickly, and somewhat on the back foot given that he had had second thoughts about holding the meeting at all. However, he recovered admirably, and soon took charge of the situation, quickly finding diplomatic and believable reasons to send Cristiana and Seth from the room so that we could speak with Amprei alone. Actually, both of them seemed only too pleased to leave, no doubt sensing the underlying tension in the room. “I trust you have found our fair city to your liking Ambassador?“ Marcus began politely after the others had left the room, “Actually, I find very little about this back water town to my liking,” replied Amprei. “We would be most pleased if you left then,” I interjected coldly. Amprei spared me a disdainful glance, then returned his attention to Marcus. “Such a coincidence Merivanchi,” he continued, “for me to receive word that you wanted to meet with me, not an hour after I had heard you’d been running about town asking after me. Oh don’t look so surprised. You should have realised that Devargo Barvasi would sell out anyone for a fee, and he was only too eager to tell me about you. Apparently your conversation left him quite upset.” He flicked another brief glance my way. “Although for the amount I hear you paid him, you probably could have bought his silence - if only you’d thought of it … Now I suppose your interest in me was either in regards to my recent investments, or to do with my relationship with Yasmin Marcella?” “You admit your involvement then?” I asked. Amprei gave me the same disdainful look again. “Admit to what exactly? Yes, I have made a number of real estate acquisitions - I think you’ll find that they have all been entirely above-board. I have been known to frequent Mister Barvasi’s businesses - legal businesses I note. And yes, I knew Miss Marcella, intimately you might say. But I didn’t come here tonight to tell you things you already knew.” The ambassador sighed, some of the haughtiness and bravado seeming to drain out of him. He stepped back and slumped down into one of the dining chairs. “I think we’ve gotten off to the wrong start here,” he said, his voice subdued. “What you know of me has no doubt led you to certain conclusions, and for my part, I don’t take well to people prying into my affairs. Ha,” he added, with little mirth, “no pun intended. No, I came here to tell you my side of the story … and ask for your help.” We all looked at him in surprise - or shock. I searched his face, listened closely to his voice. My years in the Guard, not to mention my current duties at the Bank had trained me to read people. I could sense no deception in Amprei - but then the man was likely a practised liar. “I’ve made no secret that I do not much care for my posting here,” he continued. “For the most part I’ve viewed it as little more than a stepping stone to better things. But some months back, I found to my amazement that there was something that I loved here, or rather someone. Yasmin Marcella. She was a breath of fresh air to my life. What began as a diversion - to my amazement more than anyone’s - blossomed first into a genuine friendship, and then into love. I promised Yasmina that we would spend the rest of our lives together, but I could not immediately declare our union to the world. While there is little stigma placed on those who choose to indulge in affairs in my homeland, leaving my wife for a Korvosan woman would no doubt be the end of my career - my wife would see to that, as well as gouging me for as much as my estate as she could.” “You claim to love the Lady Yasmin,” I said. “And yet Barvasi told us that you would often frequent the brothel at Eel’s End.” “What does one have to do with the other?” Amprei asked. “I love Yasmin, but obviously, given my position - political and marital - and her being a single young noblewoman, it was difficult for us to spend much time in private. I was in love … but a man still has certain needs, and I satisfied those at the House of Clouds.” So far as I could tell, he genuinely did not see anything wrong in this. I shook my head in disgust, but let him continue with his story. “So I began buying up investment property here, property in my name that neither my wife nor Cheliax could touch - enough to ensure that Yasmin and I could live long lives in comfort, after I had divorced my wife. But it seemed that my trysts with the lady were not as secret as I had believed. Somehow, word of our dalliances leaked into the city’s underworld. You can be sure that I did not confide in Barvasi, but somehow he knew of the affair, as evidenced by the fact he told you. But far worse for me, word of this reached Geadron Lamm - perhaps you’ve heard the name? And he decided to use it against me.” Amprei looked up at us, no longer morose, but grim, angry. “He tried to blackmail me, but I would not give in to him- although I was not yet quite ready to announce my intentions, I was close enough to having enough things in place that it would still work well enough. I never dreamed he would do what next he did - he kidnapped Yasmin, kidnapped my love - and demanded a large sum of money to get her back.” “You would not pay it,” I theorised out loud. “Well, not if there was another way,” Amprei answered. “But Lamm was careful. He was not keeping her at his warehouse, where he met me, and would not let me see her. He would only show me tokens to prove he had her, such as articles of personal clothing, her diary, things of that nature. He promised me that if I did not pay him, or if I attempted to move against him in any way, she would die. I tried to find out where she was being held, but I could not. I have wealth and power, but I do not have the right sort of connections. The Korvosan Guard has no love for me - they would probably arrest me on suspicion of her murder if they knew my involvement - and the only low-life I know is Barvasi, and he has little interest except keeping his own personal empire at Eel’s End intact. “I had to pay him … but all my money was tied up in investments and I could not liquidate it quickly. I was meeting with Lamm regularly, paying him what I could in an attempt to forestall him doing anything. But then, almost a week ago, your King died; riots broke out, Lamm was killed,” Amprei took a brief moment to scan us with narrowed eyes - it seems perhaps he knew or suspected our involvement, “his warehouse burnt down.” At this Marcus and I exchanged surprised glances - that wasn’t our doing. “I fear that my Yasmin - if she still lives - is locked away in some hidden oubliette. As I said, I don’t have the right resources to find her - but perhaps you do. You are obviously resourceful and tough to have gotten to Barvasi the way you did. If Yasmin lives still, I think you may be able to find her. Will you?” He looked at us with the plea evident in his eyes. Could this all be true? It seemed so unlikely … and yet … “A moment, please,” Marcus requested of Amprei, then gathered in a huddle. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?” he asked us quietly. I nodded slowly. “As far as I can tell - yes. I know, it seems unlikely, but why would he make up such an elaborate lie. Even if he is, for some reason … if there’s some grain of truth to it, if the lady is really locked away somewhere in this city, we must find her. Not for his sake, but hers.” I paused. “And if it is all true … she may not have much time.” The others all seemed to agree, although we were at a loss to know where to start our search. It seemed we had less faith in our abilities than Amprei did. Of course, it had been a very long and eventful day - something might come to us after a proper night’s sleep. Still huddled close to us, Marcus nodded. “All right. But I want to speak to Amprei alone for a moment. Tain, Ari, Mari, do you mind waiting outside for a few minutes?” Aria and I looked at each other, shrugged, then agreed. Mari did not. “Fine,” said Marcus, rolling his eyes. “You stay.” The two of us left the room, until a few minutes later when Marcus poked his head out to call us back in. “We’ve come to an arrangement,” he said. “We’re going to try to save the girl. Any ideas on how to go about it?”
Tain’s Journal
Around mugs of steaming Qadarin coffee, Osric explained the workings of the Shingles to us, from where to gain access to the rooftops, how to choose the best or safest routes, and how to cross streets (using makeshift rope bridges). I tried not to focus on how and why Osric knew all of this. “I’m not certain about using the rooftops,” spoke up Mari. “None of us are really adept at such things.” “I tend to agree,” I said. “And as for crossing these rope bridges, I cannot see how we can do that quickly, and remain unseen and unheard by the Hellknights patrolling the street below.” “But their attention will be focused at street level,” Marcus countered, “and those fiendish helms they wear should limit their perception.” “Perhaps,” I said, dubious. “But I think we should explore all the options before making a hasty decision.” We discussed various options for getting past the Hellknights. Combat was not viable, and we fairly quickly dismissed a diplomatic route, or anything that required us trying to bluff, bribe or threaten our way past them, given their intractable reputation. Options involving either trying to sneak or dash past the guardians unseen were also mentioned. “Do you have a map of the city?” I asked suddenly. Osric nodded, and pulled out a furled map, unrolling it onto the table. I studied the map for a few moments. “Ah, here it is,” I said, stabbing my finger at the map. “This is probably the narrowest point along the streets bordering the blocks that the Hellknights guard. And here, and here; narrow streets on either side. A perfect place to hurry across between patrols without being seen. Even if we are spotted, we should be able to outrun the Hellknights in their heavy armour, lose them in the backstreets here.” “Well, that narrow point may also be a good place to cross above the street on one of these rope bridges,” Marcus suggested, looking past me to the map. “If the Hellknights have trouble running in their armour they’ll surely have an even harder time climbing in it.” “There’s another way,” spoke up Marianna, who had seemed lost in thought for the past several minutes. “We could disguise ourselves as Hellknights; then we could likely walk in and out of the blockade without being stopped.” “Oh? And where are we going to get several suits of Hellknight armour?” Marcus asked. “Not to mention how will we manage to walk about if we were to find them. Tain is a broad-shouldered fellow, he might manage it, but I that most of the rest of us would manage very well in full plate armour.” “What exactly did you have in mind Mari?” asked Arianna. “Well,” began Mari slowly, seeming to choose her words rather carefully. “You recall that I had someone use magic to make me appear as that old Varisian woman at … several nights ago? Well, I believe that I could arrange for that same person to make us all appear as Hellknights - an illusion only. It may take some time to organise … but I believe it can work.” Marcus was giving his sister a very hard look and now shook his head vigorously. “No. I really don’t think we should be relying on this person’s magic.” Mari was returning Marcus’s hard look, her delicate chin out-thrust. Aria, sensing the tension in the room (and, as suddenly occurred to me, perhaps knowing Mari’s secret - after all, the cousins were close) spoke up. “We should keep our options open. All our options. Now, if we are going to be sneaking about or climbing up on to rooves, Tain and I will need lighter armour. Osric, do you have any leather armour that might fit us?” The dwarf indicated that he did, and Aria and I followed him out into another room to allow Mari and Marcus some privacy for their inevitable argument. After a bit of searching through the dusty recesses of his warehouse, Osric found a couple of battered suits of leather armour that looked like they would fit Aria and myself. By the time we returned, the argument was over, and Mari had apparently won. “Alright, we’ll look into the disguise option,” Marcus told us somewhat morosely. “Apparently it might take a day or two to organise though…” Wookalar has not participated in any online campaigns. |