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Istiel
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Blythe sighs, her voice heavy. "Fox Priest is, dear, simply one of the greatest single failures of the monastery, and a cautionary tale to all that take the Journey. He saw something in his Purpose, that had his masters had any inkling... well, I'm sure that he would have been stripped of all rank and banished."
"Anthius Claviger was a good student, sharp and well-spoken, quick to learn, and a leader among his peers. He passed his trials with little difficulty, or so the stories say. Of course, there's probably some exaggeration there, as time tends to do to truth..."
"But I digress. This old mind wanders at times, dear. I met Fox Priest when I was just two years an apprentice monk. He'd come from the town of Gideon's Crossing, to the north, at our border, for the fall excise. He'd taken his journey about two decades before, and there was no indication of what was to come. It was known that he was beast-touched - he'd changed for the first time the night of his Journey - and like his animal side, he was known to be crafty. We only talked briefly, but I can say that he was indeed quite intelligent and well-spoken. He had a vocabulary and sweetness of tone that could make a lady weak in the knees."
The master monk's eyes are dreamy, unfocused, Blythe clearly lost in the past.
"The Claviger line of Anthius was a particularly strong one. His father was pure, from father to father to father on down the line. They lived in a beautiful manor on Crocodile Mound, with a servants' dwelling out the back, and manicured gardens..."
"The night before the excise, the horns went off on Crocodile Mound, four short bleats, three long. Fire. The bucket brigade was started immediately, but they couldn't save the servants' quarters, where the fire started. The servants - all ten of them - were found blackened and burned around their meal table, as if they'd sat down for dinner and simply never gotten up. At first, bizarre as that was, it was thought it was a hearth fire gone out of control. But when the stonecloaks went to check on the Clavigers, they were also found around their table - the great table, in the manor's main hall. Not only Fox Priest's own mother and father, who would have been about my age on the eve of their deaths, but Anthius's uncles, his brothers and sisters, his nephews and nieces, and their children too. Poisoned. Four generations wiped out that evening, that entire line of Clavigers extinguished like the flames of the servants' dwelling. Set upon the table, in the middle, was his mask."
"Anthius was sighted headed north, but never caught. It was hoped that he died in the wilderness. More likely, he went among the People of the Reed or the People of the Sky and terrorized them.
Blinking, Blythe looks to you and Suuha. "There's more. A few weeks back, some of Damballah's Shadows came to the monastery. They asked to see our records on the Fox Priest. We let them in - of course, there was no choice in the matter, really - and they were dismayed to find that wherever they looked, any records that dealt with the Fox Priest or his direct line were gone." Nodding to your small pile of records, the master monk continues. "We were quite embarrassed as well. It seems whoever took them missed a few though."
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Drazan's shoulder's slumped at the sight of the tanning room, a little bit of home right in the middle of Three Peoples, and then he looked at Fulton with narrowed eyes, "By fires and ash," he swore.
Drazan found himself at a loss for words. Back in fire peaks, getting caught someplace one shouldn't carried the harshest of penalties, and explaining what was about to happen would be difficult. "Go stand by the vat over there. When your soon to be ex master begins down the stairs, tip over the vat to startle him down here." Drazan hands the dagger back to Fulton as he ushers him back into the room.
Drazan moves to stand just inside the tanning room off to the side of the door, fastening his grip onto his weapon.
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Rigel
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"Haaahhhhhhhh. Think I'll skip the dance tonight and just hang out with you. Unless you want to go, of course? I had a date, but... !"
Bally smiles and watches, wolfishly, as you brush your hair. "Abandon you? Not a chance! I, uh, should get dressed too."
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The night is crisp but not cold, the sky clear. Ayida-Wedu's children shine brilliantly down on Crocodile Mound, as you stroll from Bally's townhouse towards even larger dwellings, the holdings of the elite families of not only the capital, but the entire Baunti - Clavigers, like Bally, but of purer strain, as well as Houghs and Bellets and Lynes. Names you've heard of, even as far off as Shadeholme, but never met.
The dance is at a nearby manor, one that dwarfs even the High Hall back at Shadeholme. Made of black granite and topped with a green slate roof, the house consists of three wings. You enter through the front, the party already well underway. Drunk members of the capital's upper crust crowd the entry as servants scurry about serving guinea pig brochettes, goatsmilk stuffed potatoes, and spiced chicha on pewter trays. Climbing the sides of the great hall is a double curving stairwell, the landing of which contains a giant stained glass abstraction of the Father of Waters, a wavy blue line, flanked on both sides by brilliant green.
Bally takes your arm and you climb the left stairwell, turn at the landing and then head up to the second floor, Bally chatting happily, as he points people out. "Nalon Bellet - old bugger loves to lick his servants' feet. Anise Hough - she was my brother's first love. Lalix Lyne - dumbist git I know, only made engineer 'cause of his father..."
And so on, down the second floor hall towards a large open double door, of which you can see people twirling beyond, the music already quite loud.
The ballroom is huge, the ceiling completely glass, showing off the cloudless night above. Below your feet are baked ceramic tiles, brilliant cerulean blues mixed with darkest black. A five piece band works the stage, the acoustics broadcasting their music perfectly around the room.
"Yes! The Belfor Brothers! Love these guys!" Bally's all manic energy, grabbing your hand, pulling you onto the floor and into a spirited jig, twirling you and dipping you with aplomb. Nobles apparently spend a lot of time dancing. "Fiddle, triangle, accordion, and harmonica! Sure beats the pan pipes the rubes love!" He blushes. "Uh, sorry if you love the pan pipes."
It is apparent, as you spin about the room, that this is the type of party that's purpose is to get young people coupling. The dance floor is packed with paramours, while around the room sit the older generation, men and women of power and influence, who are going to make sure that their children meet the right person, Anaisa Pye's blessing or not.
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His heart beat like a drum as Imix started his oratory. His muscles clenched. His speech was loud, and fast. They might execute me, but not...
He was on the ground. There was pain - it hurt to breathe. His heart sped up. Something - Tazzuk - landed on him.
Can't... breathe His muscles made demands on his blood. His blood on his lungs. Something held them closed. Squeezed the air out of them. He tried to move, but his muscles were weak. His fingers clamped on Tazzuk, straining, then tingling.
Not like this! I have to get up. Just a few more words...
Sparkling motes of light danced in the periphery of his vision. Where they passed only darkness remained. Quickly they closed in on the centre of his vision, and the Suriname found himself staring off into the dark.
He started awake from a dream of drowning, arms thrashing like a child, coordination gone. It only took a few seconds to take in his surroundings.
A bedroom. Warm. Well appointed. No restraints - and no weapons. His heart slowed down. He found himself staring at the intricate weaving of the yellow-brown canopy over the bed. His mind churned through the implications, and he could not say how long before Tazzuk entered.
The arrow is loosed. He thought. If he had wanted me quietened he had the perfect chance..
Decision made he shared all he knew - not simply the oratory, but all he had seen and heard since Texikuk woke him. Shadeholme. The barbarians. The axe. The wolves. His suspicions and the facts he knew. Only Beatix's conversation and Rigel's occupation is obfuscated - and that only just, with the woman described as a 'scout and diplomat'.
"I was ready to kill you in that forest - for sedition, for lies, for trespassing. And then, low and behold, others got to you first. That arrow saved your life, Suriname. And has convinced me of the truth of your words. There are troubles afoot, here in Coruncopia, and close by, but I'd thought them to just be coincidence. The miracle birth at Three Corners has much of the city in a religious fervor, but none of our Shadows have yet gotten a view of this 'Ayida Wedu.' Banditry has gripped our roads and rivers of late. Tooyah press into our lands, as you say, so do they - their lands are fouled, Fire Peaks threatens. Dark times lie ahead, I fear."
"Thank you for your visit, Suriname. Your trespass is pardoned. Emil, the stonecloak Garrison-Captain outside your door, will show out when you're rested."
Rising, Tazzuk absently brushes at some dirt on his pants, blushing a bit when he realizes it's not dirt - but rather your blood.
"Was there anything else?"
"Anything else?" the Suriname's impassivity cracked "I had not thought this far! I deduced you would be compromised. That the Hierarchy must be infiltrated. I hoped someone would carry word to the King when I was killed. I prayed for a miracle."
He shook with adrenaline, with the need to move. He threw himself on hands and knees at Tazzuk's feet."You are that miracle. A man at the top of the hierarchy not under the control of the enemy. Know the enemy cannot let this knowledge live. They will kill you now - or try to subvert you. Only in sharing the knowledge will you once again know even the shadow of safety." he shook his head convulsively "Anyone could be a traitor."
"If you wish I will stay here - you can claim I am unconscious, perhaps you can catch assassins with me as bait that would otherwise target you."
"I suggest you warn the Sky People - they will be targets as well, we cannot let them become co-opted lest we face them too. The group from Shadeholme is eclectic - perhaps we can use them to see this 'Ayida Wedu'. Possibly the Suriname House has something on these old powers in the Forbidden Tablets, if there is then I will share it with you."
He sighs and looks at the ground
"Few understand the Suriname. They see we are not bound by the Law and think us Free. I am not Free - I am bound to Loyalty to the Empire far more than any villager or soldier."
"I am... not good with people, Castellan. 'A Suriname Has No Friends', I was told when I was first discovered, and it seems true. My status leaves me isolated from humanity. My gifts mean most people I have met have sought to use me. My position means they have nothing I want. I speak the truth, bluntly, where I can and let the ripples run where they will. I realise this means politics and spycraft are almost inculcated as Suriname weaknesses. I say this so you understand why I say this to you."
He looks up, and holds out a hand to the Chancellor, still on the ground. "May the Gods Bless you, Chancellor Tazzuk. You have more than my gratitude, more than my trust - right now you have my Loyalty. You are the hope of the Empire now. If You command me I will obey."
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Oios
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Halpert, a long-bearded man about five years your junior, is thrilled to see you, and immediately sets about helping you with your request, after mate and brainfood is ordered, of course - granola and persimmons, stacked high on a plate off to the side of the Library, so that none of the documents are dirtied or spilled on.
The Shadows of Damballah, as obtainers of information, have one of the most extensive and unique libraries in the Valley. Most unique, perhaps of all their resources, are so-called field reports; rumors, incidents, gossip, and other related tidbits sent in from the field, from spots all over the Valley: small towns, Way Points, the capital, farmsteads... pretty much anywhere, at any time that an inquisitive may set foot, there is a report for it.
To organize such an extensive collection, however, is difficult. Even if it is Halpert's life work, the massive indexes including cross-referencing with other indexes, taking into account subject, geography, and time frame, and prove to be extremely complicated, requiring constant back-tracking and re-consultation.
Halpert, having worked with the field reports, begins searching the indexes. While he finds nothing of note, the fact that he finds nothing is interesting in itself. An incident listed in the indexes as religions of Fire Peaks, by a Shadow simply called A. T. is torn completely from the book it had been bound in. Likewise, the reference collection of the Library seems to have been raided by the same hands, chapters missing from encyclopedias and gazetteers. After a few hours, you decide to simply work backwards from the present through the incident reports. It is slow going, but complete work, and early in the morning, you have a bit of luck. One report from a village near to the Valley's northern border, denotes a contract signed between an armorsmith and one N. T., in which the armorsmith agreed to supply the bearer of the contract with fifty sets of wooden scale armor in as quick a turnaround as was humanly possible. The report states that once signed, the armorsmith worked almost to death, only stopping to eat quickly, drink infrequently, expel his bowels, and sleep, when finally overcome with exhaustion. The report, written in N. T.'s neat lettering five months ago, finishes by declaring that Never in my thirty years as a Shadow have I seen such a thing. Such magic must have come from beyond our borders, possibly even beyond the ken of mortals.
The fraternity of Shadows is a relatively small one. Though you don't know everyone in it, you're pretty sure that N. T. must be Nigel Tilltuk, an accomplished inquisitive of about your age, that has often been stationed around, or beyond, the Valley's borders.
Oios stands up and, with a long exhale, stretches to work out the kinks in his muscles. He claps Halpert on the back. This has been hard work, but has borne at least two fruits. He turns serious and leans in The first is a bitter one indeed. This library is hidden and protected. Who could have gained access and so cleverly hidden destruction of knowledge of Fire Peaks Halpert? Other than a fellow Shadow?
The second is only better as the implications of the first are so dire. This... compulsion contract... half a year ago? To equip a large armed force? What is happening Halpert? Have you heard of any of this and... Kastic. Did he die peacefully? What are the whispers and rumours among the Inquisitives? And Nigel Tilltuk.. is he still in Cornucopia?
As he talks Oios settles down to write his own reports. Given the recency of his retirement he is not out of practice at all and writes out a concise summary of everything he had told Lux, this time adding as well the details he had left out of finding Arnik the Blade and her contract, and the contracts that had driven the guards and the civilians of Wayrun to insanity. His second report is a summary of N.T's findings as well as a description of the information missing from the Library. The brevity helps him in making four copies. One for the Library, One to be sent to Lux, One given to Halpert for safe keeping and the last he keeps for himself.
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Drazan
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The singing continues and then there's feet stamping on the stairs, accompanied by the dragging sound and a thump as the thing being drug begins down the stairs too. There's just enough time passing that you worry that Fulton is standing frozen with fear when there's a crash as the vat is tipped over, and then a scream of pain from the secret the room, the sound of Fulton scampering, and then silence, except a low bubbling hiss coming from the behind you.
The man on the stairs stops, silent for a few seconds and then his voice, gruff, calls out. "Fulton! That you boy! Get your arse out here!"
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Imix
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The Castellen stands stunned as you prostrate yourself at his feet, eventually reaching down to lift you up. A long silence stretches out between you, before Tazzuk replies. "I hope you understand when I say this, that I mean no offence. I'm happy that I have your trust, and I'm inclined to believe every word you say... but. But, your allegations must be investigated. And I can't - yet - trust you completely. I can't have you so close to the king."
"But. There's that word again. But, your idea is a good one. We will spread the word through certain channels - Damballah's Shadows, the guards, the nobility, who love to gossip - that you came upon us with wild accusations, and were shot by the own guards because of them. And, that you lie, unconscious, a guest of the king until such matters can be investigated and validated, or proven false, in which case, you'll take a walk to the crocodiles. If there is a plot, there will be measures taken to find you, and we'll have a trap waiting for your would be assassins..."
"In the meantime, I'll have a stonecloak and guard's helmet brought to you. Wear them around the city. I suspect it will be enough to fool those that don't know you, and since you didn't mention Shadeholme on the Brow, your... our enemies should not think to look for you with the excise."
"Of course, you'll have to put aside your rank, and your helmet, for now."
Stifling a yawn, the Castellen continues. "I suspect I won't be able to sleep tonight, but if you can, you should. Leave in the morning in disguise, out the front gate of the Brow. As for what you do with your time, that is for you to decide. I'll make sure a trusted man will always be part of the guard at the front gate. He'll be a stonecloak, but his helmet will have a smudge of dirt running down its right side, so you know who to talk to. Pass information as needed to my trusted stonecloak."
Bowing, the Castellen makes for the door. "Gods be with you, Suriname Imix."
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Rigel
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You spin, and then Bally steps forward and presses, with the force of his left hand, sending you backwards, and then into a low dip. Your eyes catch a woman, older and quite regal, sitting with an entourage, four of whom are obviously muscle. She watches you intently as you bend, and then are brought up, and then turned, and still those eyes, placid almost, stay locked on you.
Bally follows your gaze and sees her, and slows his dancing, shrugging as he pulls you tightly into him. "She's sizing you up. A queen croc, that one. One of the great gossips of the court, head of her house. About as powerful a person as is in this room. And she's enthralled with my date!"
Picking up the pace again, its time for another twirl, another dip, another step step step, all the while the woman's eyes following you across the dance floor.
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Oios
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Halpert pulls at his beard, an affectation he's had as long as he's had that beard, which is to say the entirety of the years you've known him.
"It must be a Shadow." Looking at you out of the corner of his eye, his voice drops a notch. "Or Shadows."
"I'd not read too much into the report of the armorsmith from five months back. If there's an army being equipped, that would have been put in motion - at least the planning of it - longer ago, and there would be more than fifty suits requested. This... compulsion that happened to the armorsmith, it could be anything - a test, a vendetta, simple malevolence. It could also be part of something larger, but wouldn't there be more reports then? Unless they've all been stolen or supressed." Sighing, Halpert pulls on his beard again.
"As for Kastic, word is he was found dead in his bed, as nice a death as anyone gets. He was sent into the Father of Waters a few hours later. Most all the Shadows here attended, out of respect."
"Nigel... last I heard, I think he was up north."
Istiel listens quietly to the story, only entranced by this history because it has to do with her Quarry. Her hands ball into fists in her lap as Blythe describes Fox Priest's unrepeatable crimes against order and their monastic way of life. Did he go against our creeds and take revenge on the family he was no longer part of? Why kill them all?
She sits silently for a few moments, wondering if the Journey had produced some sort of evil, twisted Tenant, and Fox Priest was merely following it. Istiel shakes her head- she had no time to philosophize. Hazel eyes focus on Blythe. "I see. Someone wanted to remove him from history. Yet, he is still making history." Pausing, Istiel considers the possibility she too could end up poisoned or conflagerated. If she did, they must know the culprit. "I gave Fox Priest my name when I met him. No good will come of that."
The monk rises from the table and looks over the documents scattered about the table. She turns to give the woman another bow. "Thank you, Master Blythe. I know what I must do. I will find and put an end to Fox Priest's terror. He will either face the judgement of the Masters, or Damballah."
With this session of the hunt concluded, Istiel realizes she could certainly use a hot bath. After, she plans to join one of the evening meditation sessions to think on these revelations.
Imix nods "Of course. I completely understand - A Suriname is too dangerous to risk him near the King unless you know he can be trusted. I will rest, and do as you say."
"If A Suriname is held like this then the House will want to send someone to attend. Presumably you would respond by disallowing and sending regular missives instead. Perhaps I can deliver one of these in the morning - once in the library I can search for more information in anonymity."
Drazan waits to spring his surprise, the tension building the longer the deranged man keeps away.
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Rigel
---------You spin, and then Bally steps forward and presses, with the force of his left hand, sending you backwards, and then into a low dip. Your eyes catch a woman, older and quite regal, sitting with an entourage, four of whom are obviously muscle. She watches you intently as you bend, and then are brought up, and then turned, and still those eyes, placid almost, stay locked on you.
Bally follows your gaze and sees her, and slows his dancing, shrugging as he pulls you tightly into him. "She's sizing you up. A queen croc, that one. One of the great gossips of the court, head of her house. About as powerful a person as is in this room. And she's enthralled with my date!"
Picking up the pace again, its time for another twirl, another dip, another step step step, all the while the woman's eyes following you across the dance floor.
Rigel's eyes gleam with interest. "Head of House, eh? Why not introduce me, honey?"
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Oios Gozran 8
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Shadeholme's excise is more or less as you left it, though the green is rapidly filling in behind you, as more tributes arrive from the outer reaches of the Valley. There's almost a carnival atmosphere to everything, though your companions in the Shadeholme excise are understandably subdued, with the trials that have been faced these last few days.
The Ostens are leaving as you arrive. The patriarch, Temor, nods at you as they make their way towards Father's Mound. "Off to see the priests, then maybe to see this miracle birth. Figure since our family was nearly killed... it's as good a time as any to pay our respects."
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Drazan Gozran 7
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Seconds pass, and then the man's voice comes again floating into the room, words syrupy and soft. "Boy, I told you to never go down there. I'm not mad, though. Maybe its time to let you in on my secret. Tell me, what exactly have you been doing down there?"
Fulton's voice comes, cracking with fear, or perhaps frustration. "The stranger came to look at weapons, and then I told him of your knife. And then I showed it to him. Forgive me, master! I have tipped over your tanning vat!"
Then the sound of the Master's feet clomping, clomping, up the stairs.
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Istiel, Gozran 8
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The baths are, as you remember them, luxurious, soothing the various aches and pains you've suffered over the last few days. And the meditation is excellent as well, the gardens in the monastery's large courtyard pleasant, even this early in the spring. The weather today is on the cool side, but the skies are clear, the air dry, and your surroundings greet your senses with all manner of enjoyable aesthetics - evergreen bushes and trees provide some green and interesting shapes and smells, while the dogwoods are just beginning to flower - providing a pop of white throughout the courtyard.
Mind clear and fatigue wiped away, you stand from your end-of-meditation savasana. It is mid-afternoon, and you still have much of the day ahead of you. Suuha stretches and sighs, the moments after meditation one of the few times when he's calm and contemplative. "What now, Ist?"
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Rigel, Gozran 7
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Bally coughs a bit in surprise, worry creeping across his face. "You want to meet the Lady Bellet? You don't just meet the Lady Bellet!"
Despite his reticence, with a sharp look from you, your paramour deflates, his shoulders slumping as he gives you a look not unlike a fearful coywolf - part avoidance, part submission. "Ah, OK. You can be charming. Don't embarrass me, OK?"
Grabbing your hand, Bally takes you over to the Lady Bellet, and as is customary when greeting nobility of higher station in a formal setting, he kneels, putting one knee to the floor while clasping his other with both hands. Then, standing, Bally rises into a deep bow. "M-m'Lady... I'd to introduce you to my lovely and charming -" Bally's eyes glance at you sideways when he says this "- date, the daughter of the Mayor of Shadeholme, Rigel. She wishes to meet the most well-bred and influential woman in the room, and I, well there's no one else that compares in such stature to yourself."
Lady Bellet's eyes shine, part surprise and part mirth, that shining eventually spreading to her thin crimson-glossed lips. She gives Bally a cursory nod before turning her attention to you, her eyes a brilliant deep purple.
"Young master Claviger, wasn't Alyna-Tennic Tinluk supposed to be your date this evening? This one is much prettier, to be sure. I can see why you've gone against decorum and insulted that poor dim girl."
"Dear, don't let Mr. Claviger's charms fool you. He may be a little doughy, but he's learned much from the court, and he's put that silver tongue to work on many a fine young lady. And no doubt many more in his lifetime, may that he see Ayida-Wedu's waking for many winters."
Bally reddens a bit with embarrassment next to you, as the Lady continues, looking to the sky theatrically and clutching at the necklace adorning her neck, finely polished, softly glowing and perfectly round river stones. "Shadeholme? An important part of our lovely Valley, though I confess I've never been. I hear the woods are majestic, and the silkwood inside Eel Mound is simply fabulous. I assume you're here with your town's excise then?"
Well this is already bad; Drazan hurries up the stairs to close distance to both the exit and the strange voice.
Istiel soaks in tranquil beauty of Cornacopia's monastery- literally, in the case of her warm bath. It is a shame her open wounds do not allow her to use some of the various relaxing salts available, but they are a luxury anyway.
Lying on her back during meditation, limbs spread wide, Istiel feels the cool sky above, the cold dirt below, and the warm of the sun on the other side of her eyelids. The monk steadies her breathing and becomes one with the other monks scattered about the courtyard, thinking... weighing options...
She would be saddened the peaceful meditations had ended if she were able to feel anything at the moment. Her mind was translucent as pure spring water, body relaxed like a roosting owl.
Turning her head to the warm sky, Istiel spreads her arms wide , arcing them out and upward. Hands touch above her head, and she slowly brings the touched palms to her chest, holding the prayer pose. "Looking for Fox priest now is folly. We have no trail to follow. I suspect he will find me first. I must be ready." Hands drop to her sides, and she turns to Suuha for a moment.
"The library was a challenge for both of us. I would have given up if not for your help. Thank you, Suuha." The monk turns and begins to make towards the training grounds. "We have accomplished our mission. Nothing is required of us until the excise leaves. I will be training until the tribute games begin. Your time is your own. See the city. Buy a souvenir."
She makes for the training grounds- a collection of obstacle courses, tracks, challenges, and sparring grounds of different environments, indoor and outdoor. Istiel stands before a gnarled old oak at the center of the grounds, a tree that was as ancient as the mound, it was said. As a warm-up she beings to climb it in earnest, attempting to reach the top to look at the city, as she used to many years ago...
All times are good times to pay our respects Oios says agreeably. Not seeing the more adventuresome members of the party he decides to go with the Ostens. If you do not mind I will go with you. I know Father's Mound passably well and can guide you to temples which are not as overflowing as the grand ones that everyone flocks to. Of course if you wish to see the crowded ones then I can show you there as well
While of course wishing to pray himself as well Oios is really hoping that being with the eager and obviously provincial Ostens would make it easy for him to go and see the miracle as well. He suspects that official Inquisitives are not very welcome and he intends to make use of the fact that he is no longer one.
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Drazan, Gozran 7
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Bounding up the steps, you leap over the prone body of a woman, unconscious or dead, no external wound to be seen. Bursting through the curtain that separates the production area from the storefront, a spear pierces your side, a sharp pain bringing a scream to your lips. Adrenaline pumping, you quickly take in the room.
In the middle of the shop floor lies a dropped mug, a puddle of chicha on the floor. Standing on the other side of the room, near the door, is a large man, hairy, his grey eyes shining brightly in the shop's candlelight. A rack of spears sits by the man's side, his arm hovering over it. The master's voice comes again, silky smooth, a bit of drool escaping from the corner of the man's mouth. "Stop, playmate!"
swift: hypnotic stare, action 1: thrown weapon attack, action 2 & 3: cast slow. SP 6/8
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Imix, Gozran 8
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Down the ghats on the other side of Crocodile Mound, you find Suriname Home much as you left it, at once squat and tall, perched at the bank of the swollen Father of Waters, its channel overcome to the east, marshy floodplain stretching out as far as you can see.
Up the ramp you go, knocking loudly on the door, and after a few moments, an old man answers. Of course you know this man, the Head Abbott, Maurcelius, and he would know you, if not for the plumed helmet that covers your head, and the cloak wrapped tightly around your armor.
Cloudy eyes peer at you, a slight frown crossing his face. Interference from the crown was never really welcomed at Suriname Home, despite the entire purpose of the building being to groom important assets for the Valley's leadership. "Yes, stonecloak? How may I be of assistance?"
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Istiel, Gozran 8
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You find the tree's folds and bends, hand and toe holds, easily enough, muscle memory illuminating them like they were yesterday. Eventually you're a hundred feet higher than the gardens of the monastery. Resting for a moment in your favorite perch, you can see most all of the capital stretching out before you, excepting the lowlands obscured by the mounds, and the brow of crocodile mound of course, which stands higher than even this tree.
To the east, the floodplains stretch out until they hit the eastern spur of the Teeth of the World, a long, flat land filled with woods, marshes, and prairie. The land to the east is largely uninhabited by the Three Peoples, it being mostly used as a discharge basin for the spring and fall floods of the Father of Waters, and it is a wild land, obvious even when at flood stage. Flocks of birds migrate across the skies, and trees and overgrown hillocks emerge from the floodwaters, which stretch placidly, you'd guess, about a mile, even this early in the spring.
To the west, the city's lowlands stretch, hovel upon hovel, and it occurs to you that Suuha was correct. The lowland dwellings stretch farther - much farther - than you recall the last time you perched in this tree, cookfires and the smoke of workshops creating a hazy view, where eventually the dwellings of the low castes are lost in the smoke.
To the north the other mounds stretch along the river's west bank, linked together with levees, roads atop them. The mounds seem, from this vantage point, much as they always have been, except for one immediately notable difference. Over Father's Mound a large murder of crows circles, low in the sky, the birds in a constant state of agitation, rising and falling, perched on buildings, covering the Three Corners neighborhood in a black-feathered cloud.
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Drazan, Gozran 7
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As Drazan reaches the top of the stairs he draws one of the javelins from when he was struck with by the cannibals several days ago and hefts it at the large hairy man.
The blacks of Drazan's eyes widen as the man's hypnotic stare toils with Drazan's mind, but Drazan shakes it off with a hard blink and clenched teeth as the pain from the spear reminds him just what life is worth. Drazan lets out a blood curdling yell as he charges the man with two spinning slashes from his unwieldy ax.
Move 2 acts
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Oios, Gozran 8
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You spend a few hours taking the Ostens around Father's Mound, showing them temples, all of which are lightly visited this day. The Ostens, for their part, seem generally contrite about their actions in the past, mentioning to you what you've heard, in gossip, from some of the other members of the excise. They were pious in name and not deed, prone to greed, and, Mr. Osten assures you, walking with open eyes for the first time in many years, happy that the family is alive and intact.
Eventually, you wend your way to the north, where, as you get closer to Three Corners, you see gathering on the eaves of the building around you and flying through the air just over the rooftops, hundreds, perhaps thousands of crows, at times blotting out the sun's rays. Below the crows, a mass of humanity gathers, getting ever thicker as you get to Three Corners - people from every strata of the capital's society, and likely from the surrounding region as well. Many of those, beyond being pilgrims, are sick, or destitute, or obviously in need of something.
The Ostens push their way through the crowd, you following, and you come across the entrance into Three Corners, a large red-stone gate. The neighborhood is really only a neighborhood in name; rather, it is the inverse of a neighborhood - the place where the surrounding three neighborhoods meet.
Because a quirk of bureaucracy, the surrounding neighborhoods were designated official districts, yet Three Corners was never claimed by any governmental body, and then, about 700 years ago, an act of sacrifice happened in Three Corners' large central plaza that would cement the area's status as no-man's land.
The Saint Gilmorgh, then just a carpenter possessed with a fit of delirium, burned himself alive after an impassioned speech in the middle of Three Corners' plaza. The speech was about a purifying fire, one directly from Ayida-Wedu's corporeal body, that cured the malcontent of mind and the diseased of body.
Gilmorgh's body burned for 7 days in the middle of the square, and those that bathed in his dying light were rejuvenated, bringing in an era of peace and tranquility Cornucopia had not seen.
Since that time, Three Corners has been off limits to any government official - in decree at least, if not action, though no Grandson of Damballah has dared to send in any outright authority, or redraw Three Corners' boundaries to be engrossed by one of the surrounding neighborhoods, lest the crown be seen as interfering in divine will.
Of course, as is want to happen with areas where no government peeks, over the years Three Corners has seen much activity not seen openly in other areas of the capital. The plaza and its surrounding buildings - once warehouses and townhomes for those that work and live on Father's Mound - have long been a red light district of sorts. It is here that one can find - easily available and out in the open - drug use, radical thought, the mad, the damned, and the thrill-seeking.
All of that seems to be changing, however. Humanity presses you on all sides, a bottleneck formed at the gates. The gates are large, made of fire red stones, three successive arches, blanketed in crows, two of which are closed. A man in black robes stands at the third, a crow perched on his shoulder, cawing in his ear. As you try to pass under the gates, the man's hand comes down on your shoulder. "I'm sorry there's no Shadows allowed here, friend Oios. By divine right, as you know."
You're certain you've never seen this fellow before.
Istiel takes a moment to stare at crocodile mound, and its overwhelming presence. That was the point, she supposed, but the fact it was built by people is astounding.
Casting her eyes through the barren branches towards the east, she sees the same flood plains that have always been there. Nature has a simple beauty to it, and the law of the world was fascinating, but it was unimpressive compared to the accomplishments of the Three People on display here.
She turns to the west, and tilts her head slightly in thought. Suuha was right. Where did all these slums come from? With a sigh, she pauses the thought to the back of her mind. She was a warrior, not a city planner.
Another thought occurred very quickly as she started to look towards Father's Mound. The swirling mass of crows that covered the second largest mound in the city was highly disturbing. Clinging to the tree, Istiel stares, and wonders. The talking wolf suddenly makes a reappearance in her mind, the mass of crows, the stories the wolf told...
Fingers grip the bark of the tree tightly. Something is changing in the world. It seems sinister. She stares for a few more minutes, and wonders if the entire world is changing if there is anything she, alone, could do to stop it.
Slipping from her perch, Istiel climbs down the ancient oak tree. By the time she has reached the bottom, she has decided a jog is in order. A jog to and around Three Corners, to look around. The last time she saw so many crows there were talking wolves... If the world was changing, she wanted to at least be present.
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Imix, Gozran 8
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"Good evening Abbott." Imix's attempt at a new voice is raw, at best "I have a message from the Suriname Imix. To be delivered to you in private. May I come in? The issue is sensitive."
The obsequious nature of the speech grates on Imix's nerves.
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Imix
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The Abbott relaxes a bit as you mention your name, acknowledging you request with a nod and a step to the side leaving the entryway to the Home clear.
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Rigel, Gozran 7
----------"Shadeholme? An important part of our lovely Valley, though I confess I've never been. I hear the woods are majestic, and the silkwood inside Eel Mound is simply fabulous. I assume you're here with your town's excise then?"
Rigel does not embarrass Bally, dropping a perfect, demure, curtsy and giggling dutifully at Lady Bellet's words. "Yes, my lady; although I am here for other matters as well. But perhaps I have said too much already, I would not want to bring the troubles of the outside world into such a lovely evening." It's carefully calculated to bring an invitation for a private discussion. Well, that or a slap for impudence. But it's all or nothing at this point.
Imix unthinkingly leads the way to the seclusion of the Abbott's study, closing the door behind the Abbott and seating himself.
"It is I, Imix. I am sure Chukix has briefed you so far. Find some notepaper, for I have more to report."
Oios looks at the man, then at the crow, then back to the man. They are in plain sight now. he thinks to himself. I am no longer a Shadow, friend, just a humble devotee wishing to see the miracle child. I would very much like to enter but I do not want to cause a scene. Would you not let an old man through?
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Rigel, Gozran 7
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The Lady raises her eyebrow and gives you a smirk, waving her hand at one of her companions, who dutifully gets up from his chair and stands nearby, looking to Bellet for further instruction. "My dear Mayor's daughter, the only thing worth bringing inside on such a lovely evening is trouble. Sit, and tell me yours. And don't mind my... companions. They're here simply to assist me in whatever I need, and never stray far."
Patting the empty seat, Lady Bellet looks to you expectantly.
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Drazan, Gozran 7
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19
Your javelin catches the master in his shoulder, and your greataxe finds purchase as well. The weaponsmith stumbles backwards, yelling through blood stained teeth. "Stand still, gods damn you!".
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Istiel, Gozran 8
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Your jog takes you up the levee road into Father's Mound, and once there it is easy enough - though not quick - to figure out where you are headed, as you follow the throngs of people through the streets. Eventually you arrive at a crush of humanity as a bottleneck forms at the entrance gate to Three Corners. As you shuffle forward, a man in black robes, crow perched on his shoulder, begins moving towards you. "No entry, monk!" he yells, waving you back from where you came. "You know the government isn't allowed here!"
You note that the man's robes are similar enough to your own. If you circled back and removed your mask, you could probably move through unmolested...
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Drazan, Gozran 7
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Drazan feels the joints of his body begin to stiffen like his entire body were at the onset of one simultaneous muscle cramp, but the moment is gone just as quick as it appeared, though the moment was enough to mitigate Drazan's strength making the unwieldy weapon easy to avoid.
Step 1 act
Istiel slows as the massive throng of people stops her from jogging at an appropriate speed. Does Shadeholme even have this many people? She shuffles forward with the rest, curiosity driving her.
Her head turns to the crow-man, and her hazel eyes focus for several moment on the bird for she even acknowledges the man. He seems a good person to ask. "I am not entering. I am interested in the crows." She says over the clamor, moving towards him. "What are they doing here? There are thousands." Briefly, she looks down at his robes, crossing her arms over her chest and standing in front of him. "Are you a priest?" It was clear she didn't have anywhere to be, nor was she going to be chased off simply because she was told to leave by an unknown man with a pet bird.
The thought of removing her mask to circle back for entry does briefly occur to her, but it is immediately struck down. Most monks considered it a black mark on their ascension to godhood to remove their given face without just reason.
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Imix, Gozran 8
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The Abbott sits a long while after you are done speaking, slowly twisting the knob of his striped oak walking cane, lost deep in thought. "IF you are correct, Suriname Imix, this is dreadful news. I rather wish you had not reported this at all, but a bitter truth is still healthier than a sweet lie, I suppose."
Sighing, he closes his eyes. "And here is a bitter truth, Suriname Imix, that I hope you will take better than a sweet lie. You are extremely gifted, there can be no doubt. Your facility for problem solving, you attention to detail... they are peerless. But, you have always been cocksure, Suriname Imix. Your place in the world puts you above others, but that is a lonely place to be. And a lonely place is one filled with presumption and false conspiracy."
"Let me ask you some questions, Suriname. These wolves, why do they get your trust? Perhaps they don't like crows? Did you hear the crows say these things? And this monk, perhaps he does what he does for some greater good, for the king or by the king's orders, or some other force within the Valley? Or perhaps there is no cause to the Fox Priest's acts, and no relation to anything else, but simply the wanderings of a dangerous madman?"
"Lastly, why attack the excise? The capital's military might is at its highest when the Palenque Green is filled with tributes. All those towns, all of them sending not only tribute, but also soldiers and militia to accompany them. The Palenque Green is certainly one of the most militarized sights in all of the Valley, perhaps even more than the Red Keep or even the Brow of Crocodile mound."
The Abbott waves absently at the air in front of him, dispelling any further thoughts. "Ah, at any rate, I don't have any answers. Only questions. I'd say the king must be informed, but you've got that well in hand from the sound of it. And there is a pressing matter I'd like to discuss with you."
Leaning forward, the Abbott gives you a severe look, a frown crossing the old's face.
"Why is Suriname Home boarding a gaggle of children, exactly?"
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Oios, Gozran 8
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A thin smile passes the man's lips as the crow caws, loudly, its head cocked. "Sorry old man, but once a Shadow, always a Shadow. Nothing personal, but your kind's place is not here."
He looks back towards three other men working the gate's entrance, all black robed. Beyond them, a great crowd mills about in the plaza, though there is more space than where you are at. It looks like, were you to make run for it, you could perhaps get lost in the crowd - for a while at least. Old warehouses and townhouses rim the plaza, many of which have seen better days. Some are businesses, legitimate or otherwise. There are surely places to hide in them as well.
With a little luck, you could also leave, circle back, and try to sneak in with the crowd, putting others between you and the black-robed men.
There are, of course, other entrances to the plaza - this is just the main 'public' one. There's sure to be alleys, smaller streets, even perhaps buildings that can be gone over or through. They can't all be guarded, right?
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Drazan, Gozran 7
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The weaponsmith dodges out of the way of your attacks, fear spreading across his face. Stepping backwards, he holds his hands up in front of him. "You can't be immune! No one is ever immune! STOP!"
2/8
19
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Istiel, Gozran 8
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The man smiles and pulls a hunk of bread from his pocket, holding it out for the crow perched on his shoulder. "Ah, the crows. Crazy, huh? They started showing up not long after Ayida Wedu did. First a few, then more and more every day, every hour. Must be drawn to her."
The man shrugs, then laughs. "Am I a priest? Lay priest, perhaps. I got no formal schooling. Was a mason just last week. Now they call me one of the brothers black."
The crow caws and the man's good nature dries up, as he looks at you, face impassive. "Anyways, you best be moving on, monk. Those with impure motives aren't allowed here. And nice as you seem to be, all weapons are impure."
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Imix, Gozran 8
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"You know I have always respected the Truth. Especially from a Keeper - it is your jobs, after all, to ensure the Suriname knowledge passes through the ages. You are the river that connects the pools." Realising he is digressing, Imix sighs and continues.
"I have tried to separate the facts I know, from the facts I have been told, and the suppositions I have made. But yes, I realise this is a near paranoid set of suppositions to make. Perhaps this is all just a drop in the river of time. Perhaps it is unimportant. But if that was so, why am I here? As society has evolved, Suriname are less and less necessary. Why, suddenly, am I here? Why was I in exactly the right place to see the beginning of this? It has to be Divine Providence. That is the core fact of my theories."He sighs again "Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps when the Excise is here they will strike elsewhere. Perhaps there is no point. But there are weapons in war that can only be used once. After that tactics evolve. Perhaps they have something of that ilk. Perhaps they can, once, strike at a single place. If they strike the Excise they wipe out our military and leave us defenceless against siege in all our outposts."
"We are a people of the Waters. Our opponents seem to be a people of the Fire. They have abilities - such as this contract - that we have seen nothing like before."
Imix's eyes seem to stare through the walls for a moment, looking out over the city. "There are Ravens in town. There is talk of a Divine birth. These are signs."
His eyes snap back to the old man's gaze.
"Why are there a gaggle of children? I'm not sure. It... made sense. At the time it helped the town by reducing the number of mouths they had to feed. But it is more than that." he looks at the old man "I've charted the frequencies. Suriname births have decreased through time. I am the only birth in a century. What if I am the last one. The knowledge you Keep is too valuable to be let go. Perhaps it is time to let humans start to learn it." he looks off into the distance again, this time towards Shadeholme. "It was a child who made me think of it. The Empire has perhaps passed the point where it needs near-omnipotent mystery figures outside the law. Perhaps now it is ready for the sciences to pass into human hands."
He shrugs "It is a test, I suppose. Can they be taught? If taught, can they be trusted? The original rules were laid down when there was a surfeit of Suriname. Perhaps it is time to change those rules - and isn't that what Suriname are for? Perhaps this is my Purpose."
"Kraghh!" Drazan yells as if to startle off the man's magics as he heaves his weapon in crazy arcs and circles.
Step 1 act
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Rigel, Gozran 7
------------The Lady raises her eyebrow and gives you a smirk, waving her hand at one of her companions, who dutifully gets up from his chair and stands nearby, looking to Bellet for further instruction. "My dear Mayor's daughter, the only thing worth bringing inside on such a lovely evening is trouble. Sit, and tell me yours. And don't mind my... companions. They're here simply to assist me in whatever I need, and never stray far."
Patting the empty seat, Lady Bellet looks to you expectantly.
Rigel doesn't even think of lying; there are some people (Oios is one of them) who just seem able to see right through her, and she suspects that this Lady is one such.
To be sure, there are some things she leaves out: she never fully got to the bottom of Drazan's adventures with the axe, and the Fox priest pretty much passed her by as well, since she was on the other side of the excise in the mêlée and then lost track in the talk of magical compulsion; but pretty much everything else, she discloses. The only thing she leaves out entirely is her own profession: she can be the mayor's daughter here and that will suit her fine.
"...which brings me to my point, Lady. With the attacks on the excise here, in the heart of the kingdom itself, how can I ask the king for aid in our far-off troubles? But if the fire tribes invade us, they will burn the silk trees just for fun. Surely there must be a noble house or two who would mourn that loss deeply. If they could be persuaded to send help, then I would not need to trouble the king at all..."
What she leaves unsaid is that the house which saved the kingdom's silk supply would doubtless gain in prestige. The Lady is bright enough to work that out for herself.
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Oios, Gozran 8
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Oios nods and sighs and pats the Ostens on the back to let them know it is okay for them to leave him behind and moves away pushing his way out of the waiting crowd and follows the wall around leaving the gate and the black robes and the gate crows behind. Once that is done and he is in a spot where his peek through the gates showed him the other side of the wall a relatively empty space free of guards and crows. He mutters a prayer to Damballah and Makaya and... moves... to the top of the wall and then quickly down to the other side.
Once there he leaves his branch spear lying in the ground like a piece of debris and, hopefully looking like one of the admitted throng, moves into the Three Corners.
Any other roll to not be spotted or is this good enough? If Oios feels like he might not blend into the crowd he will try to go into one of the closeby businesses.
Istiel is disappointed the man has little information, but the fact the crows appeared at the same time as the miracle birth does lead her down intriguing alleys of thought. It's no use to tell this "lay priest" about the wolves, so she drops her arms from her chest and shrugs. "Weapons can be used for any propose. Pure or impure. But you are correct. I am a weapon." The monk did want to see this miracle birth, but going into the anti-government Three Corners alone was far more dangerous to her than any seedy back alley. There will be plenty that saw it.
She turns to leave, weaving through the crowd of humanity. What if the crows are an omen? They appeared at the wolves. And at this miracle birth. Do they know good omen from bad, I wonder? Perhaps they appear where the world is changing.
Once the crowd thins out, Istiel resumes her jog, lost in thought. She returns to Monk's mound and continues exercising until the sun dips below the horizon, retiring for some decent food and an early rest. Tomorrow, she would compete in the games for another chance at glory.
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Imix, Gozran 8
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The Abbott rubs his eyes, suddenly looking much older, something you'd not think possible. "Yes, the contract magic is disturbing. Most foul, to take one's will away. And powerful. Perhaps there is information about it in the Library?"
A smile crosses the Abbott's face as you talk of the children. "I must admit, it is interesting to have children here again. Of course, there was you not so many years ago, but you were alone, and so, so serious. There is some joy in those ones, for all the trials they've faced. Don't lose sight of that, Suriname Imix. It will keep you grounded as well. That Alglin, though. I'm afraid the boy has little brain rattling around in that big snot-filled head..."
"It is a good idea, Imix! See what they can learn from you... and Chukix, of course. And they are always welcome here as well! Now, what will the rest of your day entail?"
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Drazan, Gozran 7
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Your second wild swing connects, dropping the weaponsmith with a final spray of blood across the storefront window. The shop is completely quiet, except your ragged breathing, and that of the man at your feet, his gurgling exhales growing fainter by the second...
28
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Rigel, Gozran 7
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The amused smirk never leaves the Lady's face the entire time you speak. Her eyes though, those eyes, they're devoid of mirth, probing and serious. Once you finish, Lady Bellet doesn't miss a beat. "My, you are quite the catch, young lady. Pretty and with the gift of gab. I think poor Bally is in well over his head. You'd do best to propose to this one tonight, young man, before she wises up!"
"No one in this room could simply continue to live, I suspect, if Shadeholme lost its silk forest - there'd be dead nobles, strung up by their thousand thread-count sheets. And I just can't allow that to happen, can I? Think of all the orphaned noble children. Yes, we'll simply have to do what we can for the children of Cornucopia's noblest classes - and for your people too, of course."
Turning to the man who vacated his seat for you, Lady Bellet holds out her hand, and the man draws a fine paper fan from a satchel at his side. Opening the fan, the Lady quickly waves it back and forth in front of her white-pallored face. "Antuk? When was the last time you killed a Frozen? It has been winters, yes?"
The fan-carrier flexes his wrists, nodding, dead serious. "Ai. Seven winters, I believe. Sounds like a lovely way to spend my spring."
Lady Bellet gives you a nod and a smile. "Excellent! It is decided then! Antuk wants to kill Frozen, and I'm sure the rest of my guard would like the experience as well. I would like to see Shadeholme's silk forest, so of course I will insist on meeting your father for a proper tour. And I have an old acquaintance that has moved to Shadeholme, I believe... We'll have a dramatic reunion, if I'm so lucky!"
"When does your caravan leave? The day after the Tribute, I assume?"
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Oios, Gozran 8
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You make your way from behind a townhome into a short alleyway and then out into the plaza. The plaza, as you saw from the gate, is crowded with all sorts - pilgrims, hucksters, the addled, the criminal. Jugglers, drunks, folks in a religious pique, musicians, the serious and pious, gawkers, the swarthy and scowling, they all circle the plaza, the air filled with excitement, potential. And there's more of these black-robed fellows like the ones at the gate, performing various services for those in the square. Some bandage wounds, some preach, some sing, but none seem to be doing anything expressly suspicious or evil.
Criss-crossing the plaza, you see plenty of people exhibiting the whole range of the human condition, except for miracle births. There is a large crowd gathered at the entrance of a three-story building, a tavern - or once tavern - by the look of it, a weathered wooden sign hanging by one chain, the other long broken, over a doorway. There's no name or even writing on the sign, just a simple illustration - a mug filled with what can only be chicha.