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I went back to bed, having had more than enough excitement for one "day". I wanted to be awake in the afternoon, as Rushi was scheduled to preach a major sermon in the central square, and all of the refugees who had accepted assistance from the city were required to attend. The watch had deputized Jack, Leroy and me. Rumors about that prophecy had circulated beyond our group, and I think I was included as a good luck charm. Leroy said that the watch in all cities can always use someone who can toss fireballs, but I don't see what that has to do with anything. First, I didn't toss that fireball. Second, why would fireballs be needed against refugees?
The sermon had been widely publicized and more than refugees were in attendance. It wasn't an ugly crowd so much as a surly one. Lytton had at least one congregation of Rushi's faith, and they occupied a band through the middle of the square. In front, members of the southern congregations, and behind, other interested parties.
Rushi had told Irvish, Mervish and Dervish she would not need their assistance, in part because she likely didn't, but mostly because their presence would inflame the more devout. I made two passes through the crowd, once with Jack and again with Leroy, and was glad to be with someone large, lethal and on my side each time. They may think I can help protect them against a crowd, but I know they are useful in a tight spot.
Jack, Leroy and I ended up near one of the exits from the square, toward the front, on the side. We spent the remaining time before Rushi spoke discussing how to get Rushi out alive if things went badly. I pointed out that if Rushi's deity disagreed with her, their plans were not likely to succeed. Jack and Leroy decided that the best option was go get Rushi off-stage as soon as anything suspicious happened, and as close to me as possible. Irvish, Mervish and Dervish joined us, fully cloaked and mostly unrecognizable.
Rushi's lecture closely resembled the one she'd delivered in Axton, only she didn't get to finish this one. A third of the way in, the crowd separated, with the front ranks, including a few of the Lytton adherents, surging forward with an ugly, aggressive roar. The middle band widened, as the rest of those from Lytton stayed put, or moved to the rear with everyone else, who was getting out of the square. Shutters on buildings around the square slammed shut. Lyttonites have a strong sense of self-preservation.
Had it been only the crowd, we might have had a chance. A military reserve squad had been called in by the watch and held the line of the podium against the advancing worshipers. As I had feared, however, Rushi's god took an active role.
Rushi worshipped a weather god, who was angling to become supreme and maybe someday the only god. She was suggesting his believers back off a bit and live and let live. That was not acceptable. She told us she first felt herself stripped of her powers. We noticed her falter, and the three orcs rushed the stage. The squad had been warned, and let them pass. They grabbed Rushi and yanked her off stage. The first lightning bolt missed everyone. The second knocked Irvish over, but he got up and staggered off stage. The next three bolts destroyed the platform.
We'd been watching for a gray-bearded old man in white or gray robes, as this god's aspect fit that description more often than not. This time, the god had opted for more direct measures. Fortunately, he couldn't strike within a few feet of us. Before Jack or Leroy weighs in with an opinion, I'll tell you why.
When I was very small, my mother, an advanced sorceress with an intellect inclined to experiment and a heart too twisted to care much about the possible consequences, conducted an experiment on me. She'd created, or found, a number of items with various powers, and made me eat them, usually after pulverizing and dissolving them. The effects of the first few were what she had expected, and so she continued, despite my complaints of symptoms ranging from indigestion to headache to a constant, loud buzz that made it almost impossible for me to concentrate. The effects in some cases provided a strong clue as to what I had been fed, as it would be exactly as if I were always wearing the magic item. After the twelfth item, something bizarre happened. From my perspective, I was suddenly cured. I could think clearly. My stomach felt fine. My head felt fantastic. But the effect on mother must have been horrible, because she threw me out of the castle without further explanation. She refused to receive me, and shortly after, died, never revealing the details of her experiment to everyone.
A dishonored bard took me in and adopted me. He appreciated whatever effect I had on him. We consulted several magic practitioners, to no useful end, as they all asked me to leave them after a matter of hours. They uniformly claimed I make it difficult to think, when I am near, and that spell casting never works right in my vicinity.
To return to the events surrounding our hasty departure from the square, the god located the center of the untouchable bubble (me), and I felt what I can only describe as a nudge. A very strong nudge. No one else reported any feeling when I asked later. However, a moment later, most of the believers left in the square fell over, not moving, or making any noise, and the god did nothing else that we could see. We got Rushi to a house Irvish, Mervish and Dervish had rented the previous day, in anticipation of this problem, and after checking Irvish over to make sure he wasn't going to belatedly drop over dead from the lightning strike, we left the four of them and returned to the square.
The squad and the watch had been unaffected by whatever had knocked out the crowd at the front of the stage. From this we concluded that the effect had not been proximity, only, but required belief or worship as well. We helped the officials recruit citizens in the area, and when we had a good-sized crowd, we started removing people from the square. Thoughtfully, Lytton's mayor, anticipating disorder, had ordered a warehouse (empty, in the springtime, of food which would fill it in the fall and be slowly consumed throughout the winter) barricaded as a temporary holding facility for anyone who decided to incite a riot at the sermon. I said what a pity it was we couldn't lock Rushi's god up in here, too, but no one found that particularly entertaining. When Leroy retorted, "Only if you're willing to guard the place," however, everyone laughed.
Upon our return to the inn, Rachel fed us in exchange for a detailed description of the events of the day. After we told her, she left us for several minutes. Jack and Leroy looked like they were waiting for something, and I asked them what they thought she'd have to say if and when she came back. They shrugged. I asked why they thought Rachel's opinion mattered so much. Jack leaned towards me and whispered in my ear, "It isn't Rachel's opinion. It's Alice's we want." I frowned, and said it would take several days for a letter to get to her and her reply to return to us. Leroy and Jack slowly shook their heads and refused to explain further. I'm beginning to suspect that the physical similarities between our innkeepers may be more than a family resemblance. I toyed briefly with the idea they had all been the same woman, but dismissed it immediately.
Rachel returned, and rejoined us. She said Alice was concerned for our safety, and thought it imperative that everyone directly involved in the incident should stay together, physically within a few yards of each other, until something could be done about Rushi's god. I said that was trading a little extra safety for being that much better of a target, but no one else agreed. Astrea (who had joined us at dusk) asked Rachel if there were any ideas about what should be done about Rushi's god. Rachel said Alice thought I should be consulted, and if I didn't know, possibly one of the scrolls or the book would help. If none of these worked out, we'd have to go find something or someone or some set of other gods to help us neutralize him. Everyone else was pleased with this information. I did not find it particularly helpful.
After dinner, at Rachel's request, we moved to the house the orcs had rented. Rachel and Vira thought that too many people would know to look for us at her inn. Our departure would best insure the inn would remain available for our future patronage. For a young woman caught in this unenviable position, Rachel was both effective and diplomatic. Astrea moved with us, and Vira was to collect messages and forward them to us.
The house was spacious, about half the size of the inn. Mervish, who'd handled the rental, said the man who had owned it had died recently and the two heirs were bickering over how to divide the property. They'd removed the valuables and items of sentimental appeal, but were presently arguing over the choice of auctioneer for the rest of the estate. The house contained a stocked wine cellar, larder, pantry and still room. After surveying the house and its contents, we had a conference and Mervish was delegated to ask the two auctioneers in question how much the heirs could expect a sale to bring. Mervish returned about an hour later with two overlapping ranges. We huddled again, and Mervish was again delegated, this time to find the heirs and deliver a written cash offer to purchase the house and its contents at five percent below the low end of the stated ranges, which would be about what the heirs would receive after the auctioneer's commission, assuming a very successful sale.
The deal was concluded by morning. I kept asking why we wanted a house in Lytton, but everyone shrugged and said why not, besides, Vira can live here and keep the place up while we're gone. It was a nice place. I stopped arguing. Astrea, Joe and Marion, who had not been present in the square, went to find out how the prisoners were doing. We established a watch among Dervish, Mervish, Jack, Leroy and I. Irvish was sleeping off the shock. Rushi was depressed. She said her instinct when feeling this way had always been to pray, and she neither wanted to pray, nor cared to attract the attention of her former god. She asked to view the scrolls and book, but we said she should wait for morning.
When my watch came up, Astrea brought me up to date on the news by saying there was little. Some of the believers were conscious, and all who were had renounced their god. The watch had separated them from their unconscious former brethren after some had attacked the still-comatose bodies.
It was impossible to tell, Astrea said, whether they were sincere or not. She looked at me as if I should do or say something, and when I didn't, she suggested I visit the warehouse and try to find out myself. I pointed out that if I had the powers everyone believed I had, and left this house, the entire party might be placed in jeopardy. Astrea dropped the matter. We spent the rest of my watch poring over the scrolls.
The god of the scrolls was described as physically resembling a large squid with horrible tentacles. Each tentacle terminated in a small head, complete with teeth and independent intelligence. Some scrolls said the god controlled such a creature. Another said the god manifested as such a creature. Rushi's god manifests as an old man. This was not promising. Both gods controlled water, but the god of the scrolls controlled storms at sea and tides, whereas Rushi's god specialized in thunder, lightning and the occasional windstorm. We found one scroll which read like a pedantic lecture from a school teacher. It compared gods in general to the god we started calling Squiddie, so as to have a name other than his Name to call him by. The tenor of the letter was mostly favorable to Squiddie, as more modern and efficient a god than other gods. It described how gods existed only as long as believers believed in them, and the mechanisms, such as aspects, by which gods maintained that belief. Most gods limited the word-we-couldn't-translate of the contact, intending to prevent believers from damaging the god via the contact, or passing along damage to the god, or vice versa. Gods who took damage in a fight with other gods generally didn't want to offend their followers by passing the hit along to the believers, but Squiddie's cheerleader thought that was old-fashioned and silly. Believers got power from the god. They should expect consequences. Consequences also helped reinforce belief in the god. This limitation, furthermore, limited the power of the god. No limits meant Squiddie got a lot of power from a small number of worshipers. Combined with Squiddie's strong heart (read: bloodthirsty attitude), the author felt that no matter what happened to the believers, they would not dare turn on their god.
My watch over, I went back to sleep, and with that kind of reading material, my dreams were not pleasant. While I slept, Leroy and Astrea worked on another scroll, more recent than the one Astrea and I had translated. It was the story of a misguided young man, follower of Squiddie, who turned on his god and refused to worship Squiddie after Squiddie killed the young man's non-believing girlfriend. After Squiddie zapped the young man, the disbelief spread through his family, and then their in-laws, business associates, and fellow citizens. Squiddie was forced into retirement. The author was insistent that Squiddie was not dead, but rather researching a way to connect with worshipers which would not be susceptible to this threat, but while still supplying an adequate amount of power.
We continued to work on the scrolls throughout the day. Two described the return of Squiddie, in lesser forms, dwindling over time. The last scroll, and most recent, was a letter to a legendary mage, Tzika, almost a goddess in her own right, supposedly written on behalf of Squiddie, asking for a service in words we could not translate, but which resemble words used to describe the change of worms into flying insects. As a group, we thought that sounded very bad.
The book was the newest looking item. Rushi identified it as an extremely old copy of the holy book of her god. Its presence with the scrolls would have troubled her before, but after her rejection, it increased her confidence that she had done the right thing. She compared this version to her copy and pointed out the differences. The earlier copy described the bearded old man as having tentacles beneath his robes. His powers included control of bodies of water. We had found our connection, but as yet had no solution. After discussing the problem, Rushi suggested visiting Tzika, the mage we believed might have assisted Squiddie. A debate about whether she was alive or dead ensued. Jack and I believed her dead. Jack said she'd died of old age. I had heard from my mother the story of a mage-duel which Tzika had lost. My father's great uncle starred as the other mage, a man named Jerome. Leroy said that Jerome had indeed tackled Tzika in a duel, but that Tzika, not wanting to kill such a promising young mage, had feigned death. The date Jack had for Tzika's death by old age predated the duel in question.
We decided the next step was to find Tzika or, if she had died since that duel, her last resting place. Joe signed to Leroy that Juliana might help. Tzika's area of operations had extended north almost to the area under Juliana's control. It could not hurt to start with her library.
We contacted Vira and arranged for Astrea to help move her that night, maintaining a watch schedule. She was to maintain the house in our absence. We packed for the trip, and slept through the rest of the day.
The following evening, we began our travels to Bagton. We passed occupied farms both nights, belonging to refugees who had renounced their god and been released to resettle the area. The remaining refugees were slowly recovering and returned to the work camps. A squad of reservists had been sent down a day or two before us to notify the other races in the area that Lytton had confiscated the farms belonging to those who continued to worship Squiddie, and would be distributed by lot to non-humans who registered within the next month. No entrance fee was required, but the majority of farms would be distributed to those who could demonstrate knowledge of farming, other use of the property, or at least had a stated amount of capital in some form.
Upon arriving in Bagton, we found Juliana anticipating our return, although she did not know what we were looking for. Always a good hostess, if an unusual one, she patiently waited for us to rest and clean up before asking for an explanation. We explained what we had learned about the god Rushi had formerly worshipped, showing her our translations. Rushi showed the differences between the books. Juliana got an even older copy of the same text from her shelves, and Rushi helped her compare it to our two copies. In this older version, a battle between a woman who had once aided Rushi's god (presumably Tzika) and the god ended with the death of the woman. We were nonplused, until Leroy found a date on the copy which predated Tzika's supposed death from old age. Juliana had not known that this volume was the holy book of her former neighbors. She commented that if she had known, she would have notified Lytton long ago. She dug through her stacks, then, in search of a set of scrolls about Squiddie, in his earlier aspect, and several bound volumes of writings about Tzika. Juliana also said that Tzika had moved shortly after Juliana had attained her full powers. Juliana thought Tzika had moved much further south, well beyond the southern mountains.
The volumes about Tzika supported Juliana's remarks, ending about four hundred years ago. We each dug into a volume, looking for tales which might cast light on what Tzika had done for Squiddie. Over a career that spanned six hundred years in the volumes in Juliana's library, Tzika was described as doing nearly everything a mage might do. She'd assisted in warfare, as a combatant, a spy, a tactician, a general, and a healer. She'd delivered the babies of noble women. She'd taught those babies, and a number of other magically talented youth. Two of the books mentioned daughters of Tzika, of unnamed fathers. One daughter was named, we noted, Juliana. We asked her, and she responded, "I thought you knew."
Leroy asked, after a pause, if Juliana thought we knew anything else. She shrugged and gave no other answer. The other daughter had only a single mention, of starting a successful inn. No name was given.
Tzika researched illusion magic. She worked for a number of powerful people, in a capacity described variously as counselor, imagist, goodwill ambassador, secretary and advisor on public relations. Her work for them was only partly magical in nature and involved convincing powerful persons to not offend those nominally under his, her, its or their control. The rest of her efforts were directed to convincing those under the powerful person to not be offended by something they might otherwise rebel against.
The most recent volume was short, and its pages mostly blank. Tzika had retired from her last post, and refused new positions, maintaining contact only with the highest priests. She wasn't picky about which deity, but rather was searching for a different clientele: the gods themselves. No details of such work, if indeed she was ever hired by a god, were included in these volumes. Juliana said not to despair. Records of those and later years might have been kept by priests in the temples of the gods who made use of Tzika's services. We drew up a list of her priestly contacts, which included the author of the scroll we had. Juliana supplied maps, and we drew up a map with locations of the nearest temples of those sects, and roads to reach them. We made no attempt to draw to scale, as visiting them would have required over a year of travel.
We then debated the relative merits of traveling south, in hopes of finding Tzika or her last residence, versus visiting the nearest temple on our list. Between the research and the arguments, we spent three days and two nights at Juliana's. On the third night, Astrea flipped a coin to decide our destination and Juliana plucked it out of the air. Jack asked her what she wanted us to do and, with reluctance, she told us her Eyes had seen two dwarves approaching from Lytton. We were to wait for their arrival, and act on whatever news they brought with them.
Ivan and Mauser arrived late the next day. Mauser was mostly healed, but still weak, and exhausted from five days of travel. Juliana immediately hustled them off to bed. When Ivan came down for breakfast the next day, without Mauser, Juliana asked "how she was doing", which got the complete attention of everyone else at the table. Juliana looked around and said, "What?" I did not know dwarves could blush. I think Ivan blushed. Juliana said, "Ah. You did not know they are female dwarves?" The table could not get quieter or more attentive. Juliana again said, "What?" This time, Ivan said, "People tend to assume Mauser and I are male. We don't see any reason to make an issue of it."
Breakfast continued, with a concerted effort to discuss news and not our collective ignorance, prejudice or foolish assumptions. Mauser joined us towards the end of the meal. After bringing the dwarves up-to-date, they said their errand made more and less sense now. They had been sent by Alice to join us on a trip south. But had Alice meant to weigh in on our decision of what to do next?
Juliana emphatically said yes. She would not say why, but since we had no particular preference, no one wanted to say no, other than out of a sense of perversity. Leroy pulled a coin out, and flipped it three times, heads south, tails temples, and got heads each time. Jack's interest piqued, he flipped tails five times -- after declaring heads temples and tails south. We accused Juliana of rigging the coin or the room, but she denied it. We accused Joe, the other witch present, who barked at us and left for a walk. I flipped, each time declaring, always being told to go south. I asked Juliana if she had any sticks, or straws, as used by a form of divination. She gave me several dozen, each about the length of a finger. I cleared the dishes and books from the tables, and strewed the straws in front of me. They landed, spelling out, "Tzika south help kill Squiddie". Well, it didn't say Squiddie, but Squiddie's old name and new name run together as a single name. As soon as the Name formed on the table, Jack swept the straws into the empty fireplace. The straws burst into flame, and a pressure wave shoved out at us, dissipating rapidly.
We slept the rest of the day, after packing for an evening departure. We departed by evening, as soon as Astrea woke. At our midnight break, Ivan showed us a fourth edition of Rushi's religion's book. Rushi said she did not care for this version, and had attempted to suppress its spread. She showed us numerous passages which had slightly changed from version to version through the three copies (Juliana had retained hers), becoming a bit more antagonistic to non-humans and unbelievers. Those passages in the most recent text took a pure policy of human believers versus everyone else, to the death, forbidding any contact at all. As we rode the rest of the night, climbing through the foothills of the southern mountains, we discussed the meaning of the progression. The god, once all squid and entirely horrible, had changed physically, and in attitude. His appearance and powers diverged further and further from his previous nature over time, but his attitude returned to the former horrors. What kind of transformation might have had this effect?
We camped during the day, setting up our tents in front of some shallow caves, with Astrea at the back. Mauser we insisted sleep through the day. The orcs, Ivan, Jack, Leroy and I rotated watches in pairs. By staggering watch changes, we kept a fairly cogent debate going through the day about what we thought Tzika might be like. By the end of the day, the contents of the volumes we had read separately had been largely disseminated through the group, albeit imperfectly, as each of us in turn proposed a theory about Tzika's nature and further development over four hundred years and had it pounded into the ground by his or her compatriots.
The next day brought us over the pass, and into Riverford, a town about the size of Riding Cross. It was positioned on the north bank of the river Apha, and at the narrowest section without rapids for several miles in either direction. A ferry crossed the river, four times by day and twice by night. The income from the ferry, and the work it provided, was the source of virtually all the currency in the town and its vicinity. The town had a meager market. Most produce went south to Piph or Rayling. We crossed by night, admiring the well-developed muscles of the young men and women rowing us across Apha, and followed the produce.
Piph was less than a night's travel away, but we stopped anyway at the inn Juliana had directed us to, run by another familiar looking innkeeper who gave us our usual rooms. Ivan, Mauser, Irvish, Mervish and Dervish got the cellar. Rushi shared with Astrea. Mauser looked peaked, and Miriam, our hostess, fussed over her. Marion shared my room, and Joe got a room in the attic.
Over the next evening's dinner, Miriam discussed our errand with us. She had stories about Tzika that were not in the volumes we had read, explaining she was related to Tzika's innkeeper daughter. She knew nothing more recent than we did, other than rumors placing Tzika in or around Artana, a city south and east of Piph, about the size of Lytton. Leroy asked Miriam what she could tell us about Artana. I gathered from the ensuing discussion that Leroy, Jack and Astrea did not often travel more than a few days outside of Lytton. The cabins and the purchase of a house in the city started to make a little more sense to me. Astrea had not previously traveled south of the mountains, which locally were known, sensibly, as the northern mountains. No name had been offered up for the range as a whole, the peaks individually, or even the pass. I thought this anomalous and asked, but everyone shrugged and said when the area was better traveled or mapped, names would probably stick.
According to Miriam, who was familiar with both Artana and Lytton, Artana was the larger of the two cities, and at least as diverse as Lytton. Artana exerted more homogeneous control over the region surrounding it, which is to say less than Lytton exerted north, and more than Lytton had exerted south, until recently. Artana was surrounded in all directions by a network of smaller towns, each separated from the next by about a day's travel. Artana was surrounded by cultivated fields for about two days travel in all directions. Further south and east of Artana were a series of increasingly larger cities, spaced along the river Apha. Artana paid a small tribute to an amorphous government which controlled some of those cities, but in practice was independent. Like Lytton, Artana had multiple shifts for its offices, factories and shops. Unlike Lytton, Artana had four shifts, the morning dominated by one race of elves, the midday by humans, the evening by another race of elves, and the night by a group of night-dwelling races. The resulting fragmentation could disorient visitors, warned Miriam, and partly explained the continuing health of so many town markets within a day's ride of Artana. The bigots picked a village and gave the city a wide berth.
Because of its size, age and diversity, Artana also attracted a lot of travelers in search of goods, services, knowledge, excitement and trouble. Miriam said to keep an eye out for parties of travelers on the road, and to let anyone we encountered make the first move. To the extent that law enforcement bothered with the roads, they took a who-started-it approach to determining guilt, and Miriam emphasized the importance of not being on the wrong side of that determination. I wondered aloud if we could expect to see the physical results of The Law along the roads, and she said nothing as dramatic as heads on spikes or skeletons dangling from posts or crosses. However we could expect to see freshly dug graves or the ashes of a pyre.
We departed for Rayling the next evening, wary now, and expecting to meet travelers. Shortly before midnight, we met a group setting up camp in a fallow field. It was a large, diverse and formidable party. After we looked each other over, Rushi struck up a conversation with a half-elf, half-human named Berecca in the other party and asked if they would object to us stopping for our mid-night meal. She was initially surprised to discover we were traveling exclusively by night, and two other humans in the party looked shocked when they realized why we traveled by night. When a dwarf named Morgan in the party dragged his attention away from Ivan and Mauser (how do dwarves determine gender, anyway?), he was all ready to rush Irvish, Mervish and Dervish, but another elf, or half-elf, in the party named Tiera settled him down with what looked like a small fireball, and a threat that sounded like, "Dwarves burn." Leroy, a mage named Martin, a silver-haired, auburn-eyed gentleman named Pen and Joe hunkered down by a fire and toasted vegetables and meat, and carried on a three-way discussion about magic, with Leroy as interpreter. Jack took an interest in a dark-skinned elf named Lorem, who reminded me vaguely of Vira, probably because I couldn't determine Lorem's sex, either. While they were comparing small metal items which I did not recognize, they were joined by a gnome named Tzikh. Rushi talked to two of the humans, Renis and Alexandra, and was more animated than I had seen her since Lytton. I think they were discussing theology, and Rushi was taken by Alexandra's glowing description of her service to her god, a god which emphasized caring for the weak and needy. The rest of us discussed food and towns and the discomforts of the road, and our respective quests. They were headed south to rectify a problem they thought they might have inadvertently created, and asked a lot of questions about whether we'd seen any gold that looked reddish. They showed me some coins, which had a reddish look to them, and a purplish aura which I had never seen before. When I picked them up, however, the aura winked out, and the gold looked normal. This got them excited, and they kept handing me coins until Morgan told them to stop, or they'd have no examples left. After further discussion, Berecca asked if there might be a way to get in touch with us in the future, and I said to leave a message with any innkeeper matching the description I gave. Jack frowned, when he heard me, but did not demur.
After the meal, we wished them luck in their journey, and continued. Rushi was bubbling over with excitement over this new god Alexandra had described to her. I asked if the rest of the party also followed the god, but Rushi said no, not everyone in the group was from our world, and even the ones from Alexandra's world did not all worship Xena. Gods which are willing to live and let live are all fine by me, so I gave Rushi some of my attention as she rattled on.
The remainder of the night was uneventful, and we arrived in Rayling in good time, to stay in a familiar inn, with a familiar innkeeper, this one named Eve. We told Eve about the party we had encountered, and Eve told us that from Rayling, we had a choice of three roads to Artana: one south to Marsven, one east to Waston and one southeast to Crossville. All were within a night's ride, but the trip to Crossville would require us to start early and keep up a good pace. In view of the size of the party, and in the interests of Mauser's continued recovery, we dismissed the southeast road. The eastern road to Waston most closely followed the course of the river. We decided to take it.
Our night's journey was interrupted only by wildlife crossing the path in front of and occasionally through our group, until some hours after our midnight meal. Eve had, like Miriam, warned us to expect to meet groups bent on errands other than buying or selling the local produce, and to allow the other party to make the first move. This had been excellent advice so far. Last night's crowd, about the size of our own, had looked us over and opted to talk and eventually share a meal with us. With this in mind, we look over this second group of traveler's, waiting to see what they would do. There were six. One was an elf dressed as a ranger, with silver eyes and silver hair. Another was a small man with golden eyes and a lot of hair on his face and neck. He kept peering from side to side, and occasionally ducked around to look behind him. Another was a woman who sat so straight in the saddle her spine might have been a bar of iron, rather than the curved mess of bones us lesser mortals are cursed with. Her chin was pointed up, and her eyes stared down her nose at us. I suspect her posture might have been intended to both stabilize her elaborately coiffed black hair and the jewels it contained. However looking back now, I think it might also have made it easier for her to raise her chest, the better to display an oversized gold chain with ornate pendant which dangled between her sizeable breasts over a plunging neckline. Yet another member of the group was a large man wearing ill-fitting clothes which were torn and muddied in a variety of places, and stank even from a distance of several yards. The rips exposed the generous amounts of hair covering his huge arms and legs. Another was a preadolescent girl, which caused me to wonder what her parents were thinking to let her travel with such a motley crew. Bringing up the rear was a slender young man with a gnarly wooden staff taller than himself, topped with a faceted crystal. He wore a flowing black cloak with red lining and a great deal of embroidery, over a multi-colored costume. His mount had silver bits all over the harness and saddle.
As they advancd, Jack commented that every horse in the party, including the one with the girl astride, was a stallion. We could see by their expressions that they were not feeling overly friendly. Can foxes grin evilly? Or only were-foxes? Marion did. As the party approached, they hauled back on their reins, and with much bucking and wheeling, halted. They dismounted. In light of the unruly character of their horses, I understand why they dismounted, but once on foot, it was basically over. In light of Eve and Miriam's insistence on not being the ones to start anything, we stayed put until the elf put an arrow to his longbow. He was slow and his aim was poor.
Marion ran a circle around the group, coming up behind the stallions. After a couple yips and several well-placed nips, all the horses took off back the way they'd arrived. The departure of their mounts gave the group pause, but they rallied, running toward us. Well, most of them ran toward us. The furry man got down on hands and knees and finished turning into the wolf we'd half suspected he was. He chased Marion off into the woods by the side of the road. Marion was eager to go, and even happier to come back a moment later with blood dripping from her mouth. The woman with the glittery stuff in her hair took one look at Marion, stopped whatever she'd been doing, which consisted mostly of a bunch of gestures, and ran off into the woods. When she returned a few minutes later, tears streaked her face, which was distorted in fury. She was screaming something about making us pay for the murder of her companion.
Leroy attracted the elf's attention, by making a number of comments on his stance, grip and sighting techniques, slowly walking towards him the while. The elf dropped his bow, and tried to pull out a dagger, which Leroy casually knocked out of his hand. The elf then shouted, "Haiiiya!" or syllables of that sort, and struck at Leroy's face with two fingers extended, slightly apart, wrist bent. Leroy turned his cheek and the blow harmlessly brushed past his ear. Leroy said, "No, not like that. The elvish eye poke is done like this," and, so saying, struck the elf in one eye, wrist straight, two fingers extended together. The elf swayed momentarily, giving Leroy time to pick up the elf's dagger, and eviscerate him with it. He fell over and bled to death. Leroy walked back to the rest of our group, commenting, "Elves these decades are getting slack."
The malodourous man with the ripped clothing had inexplicably rushed towards Mauser, swinging a broadsword and shouting obscenities. Mauser was so surprised, she ducked out of the way without a split second to spare. While she pulled out her ax to counter-attack, Dervish and Mervish landed on the fighter, and reduced him to a small number of pieces before Mauser got in a single swing.
We turned our attention to the flashily dressed man, the bejeweled woman and the young girl. The girl was arguing with the other two. I hoped she was urging them to call off the senseless attack, but what drifted back to me sounded more like, "We must combine our energies to overcome them! Take my hands, I know I can focus our energies! Trust me!" They didn't listen to her, which I initially took as a good sign, until I realized they instead intended to attack us separately. The woman held out her holy symbol at us, watching us anxiously. We discussed this, but no one was sure what the effect of that was intended to be. We shrugged, and watched for further developments. Those of us wearing pendants made from the gems and jewelry found on the bandits hauled them out and displayed them to her.
Next, the man pointed his staff at us and wiggled it. A bolt of lightning came out the end of it, extended to within a few feet of us, arced back, and killed him (we thought at the time he was merely unconscious, but discovered later he was actually dead) where he stood. Jack said, "Heh", and raised a fist in a congratulatory gesture towards me. I took that to mean that he believed me to be the source of our protection from that staff. Who knows; maybe he's right. I think the staff was defective. I've heard that happens a lot with poorly crafted magical equipment, and this crowd wasn't smart enough to tell the difference.
The woman had started gesturing, but when her companion fell to the ground, she screamed, and ran towards him, wailing. I heard Ivan comment that if she'd finish what she started, she might actually accomplish something. Mauser responded in a derogatory mutter, of which the only words I caught were, "Stupid breeders." The woman knelt beside the man, and spent several minutes placing her hands on him, to no effect. Meanwhile, the girl had decided to try something on her own. She'd opened up a scroll, and was reading out loud whatever was written on it. Astrea started reciting extremely raunchy doggerel at volume. The girl stumbled several times, looking up to glare at Astrea, and once shaking her fist at us, before continuing. I don't think she finished, because in the middle of saying what sounded like "exter--", which presumably wasn't the entire word, the scroll burned up with a greenish glow, surrounding her with the glow. Her entire body trembled briefly, and she toppled over. The woman got up from where she knelt by the man, and went over to the girl, still wailing, again putting her hands on the body, and still having no discernible effect. We judged by this that the girl must be dead as well. After a few minutes of this, some of us were feeling a little restless, and Rushi called out to her, "We'll call it quits if you will." Astrea took issue with that, and was backed up by the orcs and the dwarves. Even Joe resented Rushi volunteering to leave any of this party alone after what they'd tried to do to us, at least without consulting with us first. Jack shushed everyone. The woman stood and pulled a jeweled (why was I not surprised?) dagger out from its concealment between her breasts in all the frou-frou of her riding habit. Holding it clenched hilt down in her hands, she raised her face and eyes toward the sky and uttered a string of ululating syllables that I have no inclination to transcribe. We later spent a lot of time debating what we'd actually seen. Everyone else said that the woman split down the middle, including right down the middle of that gem in her hair, and the middle of her pendant, in as straight a line as any of us had ever seen or imagined. Both halves fell bloodily apart, to the left and the right.
I, however, swore that a shimmering plane extended from her, to us, turned neatly, and extended back toward and through her, at which point it vanished.
After talking about what to do next, we split up. Ivan, Leroy, Mauser, Joe, Marion and Astrea went ahead to Waston. Astrea needed to be in by daybreak, and with the approach of the full moon, we wanted Joe and Marion settled. Mauser, although she argued about it, was still weak, and the rest were sent to keep the group large enough to deal with whatever they might encounter on the road into town.
The rest of us searched the corpses (or corpse halves, in one case). After stripping the valuables and other items of interest, we debated burning versus burying. The elf we'd met the previous night notwithstanding, I said, corpses do not readily burn. Jack said a little greek fire did wonders to get things going. No one wanted to dig, so we gathered brush and dead branches. Rushi supervised the stacking of the bodies. Jack deferred to her, from which I assume she had greater knowledge than he. I do not care to think about how. Dervish poured greek fire over them, and I applied a spark. The smell was repellent, the stink of burning hair and flesh mixing with the less noxious scents of burning fibers and wood. We stoked the fire for a few hours, long enough to be confident the bodies would burn completely. We then followed our companions into Waston.
Along the road saw the stallions' tracks often. Leroy's group had collected at least two of them, if we read the trail right. We hunted down the remaining four, and brought them in after difficulties which Jack resolved by whispering into their ears. When I asked him later what he had whispered, he grinned and refused to answer.
In Waston, our innkeeper, Abigail, had already heard our story from Leroy, and commended us on burning the bodies, saying some travelers were barbaric enough to leave them lying by or even on the road, spreading stink and disease. She also regaled us with tales of the party we encountered.
The furry faced man who had tried to rape Marion was credited with scratches on most of the locks in town, whether doors, vaults or chests. In one case, the lock was broken, but the chest was still unopened since nothing was missing, and most of its contents had been worth stealing. The incompetent fighter had started brawling in another tavern in Waston when someone made a humorous remark about the woman's over-the-top coiffure and jewelry. The comedian had ducked readily, and continued to dance around the man, swatting away the young girl when she joined her companions in the brawl. The owner of the taproom had bounced everyone except the large man. The watch was summoned and jailed the fighter to cool off for a few hours. After his release, the fighter went to another tavern, and bragged about his escape from jail, before continuing his journey. The flamboyantly dressed young man had shoplifted two silk scarves, which the shopkeeper had noticed him wearing on the way out of town. We dug through the saddlebags of the young man, and found them.
Abigail gave us directions to the local thieves' guild, saying they had a bounty out for Furry Face, dead or alive. She thought they'd take our word, plus the thief's belongings, as enough evidence to pay up. I asked if the watch respected that bounty, or if we might be in any trouble. She said with this crowd, no one was going to worry too much. But, she said, she had one more story, that had been pieced together only in the day after the group's departure. The elf had hit on every single child in town between the ages of five and fifteen, and she didn't mean begging for sweet treats. The town had put a steep bounty on the elf's head.
After Abigail moved on to help other customers, I asked Jack what had happened to the man he'd decapitated in Lytton, or his body. He said in cases like that one, in Lytton anyway, the body was left for two days with an explanatory sign. On the third day, the body was removed, and a permanent plaque installed. I want to watch for those signs and plaques the next time I was in Lytton.
Abigail asked where we would be traveling the next evening, and I said south to Crossville. She nodded, and said adventurers usually avoid Artana. For the last hours of our ride into Crossville and thereafter, we would likely encounter only farmers and traveling merchants, although we shouldn't rely on that. Less than a week before, a mail carrier had been found dead. Word had been sent south to other authorities, and in the interim, Artana and Crossville watches were searching the area for the person or persons responsible, and the mail that was missing. Any information we heard that might contribute to the search should be relayed to the watch. If it was useful, we would be rewarded. After sizing us up, she went on to say that the guilds enforced rules closely in both Crossville and Artana. While we might have paid dues in Lytton, those did not enjoy reciprocity this far south. We all expressed shock and sympathy at the death of the mail carrier and the hopefully temporary loss of the mail. Leroy and Jack thanked Abigail for the information. I wonder if they are members of one guild or two.
We visited the town hall and collected the bounty on the elf. Leroy and Jack stopped in at the thieves' guild, to collect the bounty on Furry Face, after deducting local dues. We returned the scarves to the shopkeeper, and invited him to look over what else was in that pack. He sorted through it, and said nothing else came from his shop, but offered to purchase it and its contents. We sold it to him. That evening, we rode to Crossville.
The remainder of our journey to Crossville was characterized primarily by discussion of what the food, beds and baths might be like when we arrived. The food had been improving steadily from Riverford on, and in Crossville, it reached what we had enjoyed in Logwood and Linkton. Salads were common, and in some cases, were large and diverse enough to constitute an entire meal. In one restaurant, patrons were permitted to assemble their own salad from ingredients laid out along a long bar on one side of the room. Sweets were common and inexpensive, and included a new type. It was puffy and air-filled, and mostly made of egg. None of this prepared us for Artana.
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Copyright Rebecca Allen, 1999.
Created: July 8, 2012 Updated: July 8, 2012