The crone moved from behind the cauldron and placed a gnarled hand on the head of another witch. She was the one who met with Salmetu, and acquired the sample of blood. She was falling apart. Her face was loose on one side, and her hair falling out in clumps.
“Our sister’s sacrifice in leaving the swamp for the sample will not go unappreciated,” the witch said before heading back to the cauldron. “There was a time when we walked openly throughout all of Aurderia. We were beautiful and respected weavers,” she reminisced. “We will be again, and we will track down those who cursed us, and repay the favor.”
“That was long ago Grand Kashshaptu. Who shall stand blamed for an ancient curse?” the rotting witched asked.
“The same one responsible for our salvation!” she cackled as she dumped the container of Salmetu’s blood into a cup of the brew.
As the witch swallowed the potion, a spasm overtook her body. The shaking of her form brought a chorus of high-pitched screeches and cackling from the coven. The old crone fell to the earth, writhing and shaking until, at the apex of her roiling, a final scream of pain mixed with relief sounded above all.
She rolled to her side and slowly stood. As she made it to her feet, her skin began to lose the pale green tint. Blemishes, wrinkles, warts, and spots disappeared. The once old and hideous creature was now a stunning specimen of womanly beauty.
The coven’s cackles of delight resumed as the old crone, made young, discarded her tattered old robes and dress. She opened a package to her side and removed a crimson and black-laced gown. With the help of her sister witches she dressed and primped herself.
“Now I travel for the capital, where I shall take what is owed us by that fool Assinnu Isten and his Order,” she said.
The witches knew that the sample of Salmetu’s blood was only enough for one. They needed to acquire more of the blood from her line, in order to break the curse for the entire coven. As it was, the curse cast so long ago, has kept the witch coven alive in a state of perpetual rot. The vapors and mists of the swamp kept the worst of the effects at bay, so long as they stayed there.
Now the Grand Kashshaptu, Penelle, could leave the virtual prison indefinitely without fear of wasting away. Her intensions were hers alone. She did not share what she was planning beyond working from within the realms governing council, and acquiring the means to cure the remainder of the coven.
She did not have the power to take on Salmetu, nor did she want to. Although the Dark Priestess would be a means to an end of the curse, she also served the greater plans Penelle designed. It was not enough to break the curse. She was mad with vengeance, but she needed power to enact her plans. Time was on her side now; soon she would see Salmetu, as well as the brother.
“Is the carriage and the items I require ready in the border village?” Penelle asked.
“The driver stands ready. If I might ask, why travel by mundane means?” the witch asked.
“A new face requires a new impression. The people of this realm see only the surface and I will use that to my advantage,” Penelle answered. “By the time our true motives and nature is revealed, it will be too late. I must present a different image of witches to the realm, it will make my goals, that much easier to achieve,” Penelle finished as she continued walking to the outskirts of the swamp.
“This is where we part ways sister, you do not want to venture to near the border.” Penelle turned to walk from the marshy land out into the dry lands of more civilized inhabitants.
The mists cleared before her and she felt the rays of the sun, Utu, on her skin for the first time in many thousands of years. She tilted her face to the sun and drank in the light. Only when she heard the clicking of the carriage driver bringing the horses to a halt before her, did she snap out of her silent revelry.
“Are you ready mistress?” the driver inquired with an admiring look in his eyes.
“Yes, will you provide a hand kind sir?” she said as she approached the carriage door.
The driver and his companion both scrambled to help her aboard.
She smiled and nodded as she entered. “This is going to be easier than I foresaw,” she said to herself as the carriage drove off toward New Draven.
Penelle arrived at the gates of New Draven to find them closed and guarded.
“State you business!” demanded a guard.
“I am Council Member, Penelle, and I would very much like to be admitted to the city,” she said in a sweet voice that nearly brought bile to her mouth.
“I am sorry mistress, but the city is under military law. No admittance without prior authorization,” he said apologetically. He was softening up to her as she continued to spell him.
“But you see I am authorized,” she said handing him a parchment.
The guard unrolled the parchment, read it, and handed it back to Penelle. The guard ordered the gates open.
“Sorry for stopping you, Council Woman Penelle, please enter without further delay.”
Penelle nodded and smiled sweetly as she returned the blank parchment to her bag. Her carriage entered the big city and headed toward the building that housed the Great Council.
Penelle walked into the Council building with an air that belied her authority for actually being allowed within. She knew where she was headed since she already knew the layout of the building from her use of scrying. She continued on, until she reached her destination. With a determined posture, she opened the door and entered the room.
“What is the meaning of this? This is a closed session madam you do not belong here!” the man at the head of the table said.
“I have every right to be here. I stand before you, to reclaim the reserved seat of the kashshaptu,” Penelle said. Her eyes met Assinnu Isten and she smiled and gave a slight nod.
“Who are you to take the seat, certainly not a kashshaptu?” one of the members said.
“I am, and I will have that seat back,” Penelle said as she cast a spell shifting her appearance, from the beauty to old rotting crone and back again.
“I thought your ilk could not leave the swamps? How?” Isten asked.
“We were granted a gift that allowed me to break the curse. That is all that is necessary to share. As the Grand Kashshaptu, I have arrived to retake my coven’s seat.” Penelle saw that Isten understood she was calling on the bargain made in Drakkfoth with her sister witch.
Isten and Penelle met in private after the meeting broke up.
“Your arrival could not be more serendipitous,” Isten said. “We are about to hold a trial of Anzillu,” he continued. “We are holding the boy thought to be Shuran, son of Sulura.”
“How did you capture him?” Penelle asked.
“He came to us. I am told that he came with an old man to be submitted for sanctioning,” Isten told her.
“What of the old man?” She asked.
“He was said to have gone to the Academy Library but has not been seen. I am not certain there ever was an old man, but an illusion of some sort. We have no idea what this young man is capable of,” Isten said.
“Young man? Shuran should be just a boy yet,” Penelle said doubtfully.
“We have seen to Salmetu’s rapid growth, what is to say someone did not do the same with him?”
“No, he was with no one who could work such spells when last we were able to scry him. He is either far from here or dead. What of the boy your demon claimed in Birchshire?” she asked.
“That was not Shuran. We know nothing of who he is, since he still lies comatose, only enough of a shi to keep him alive.”
“Well, shall we go and see to this young Shuran? I assume he is at the Academy?” she asked.
Isten nodded and then offered his arm to Penelle. “I must say, I approve of the new look.” Isten said just before they disappeared in a swirl of brackish smoke.
***
Shuran sat in the gug lined cell, eyes closed as though in a trance. He attempted to send a thought to the Zidu’Si, a feeling that he wa
s fine. He hoped that would be enough to keep them from mounting some sort of rescue plan. Shuran wanted to gather information, and this opportunity could not be lost.
Though gug would normally prevent a weaver from using Essence, Shuran was able to manipulate the stone to allow him escape should he need. He sat there for long enough that night had come and gone before soldiers appeared.
“Get up!” they ordered as they opened the cell. “Someone is here to see you, anzillu!” The guards escorted Shuran through the maze of hallways and climbed several stairways to reach the main level where the guards led him to a room, where two people were waiting.
“Good morning, I hope you have been treated well?” Penelle asked him. She approached him with a look of recognition. “You remind me of someone,” she said.
“What is it Penelle?” Isten asked.
She shook the memory from her mind. “Nothing!” she said abruptly. She looked over Shuran again before turning to Isten. “When will he be tried?”
Isten looked past her to Shuran. “On the morrow he shall be put to the test and then executed,” Isten said with a smile.
Penelle walk over to a table near where she found Shuran’s belongings laid out.
“Those were found on him when he was taken,” Isten said.
“What are they used for?” she asked.
“We have not been able to determine a use for them. They are imbued with Essence but seem to be useless,” he said.
Penelle picked up the gem-inlaid band and placed a finger on the red gem and tried to use a spell on it. The band vanished in a bright flash. “What just happened? Nothing should be able to leave this room!” she insisted to Shuran.
He just shrugged his shoulders.
She started to anger before she looked at him closer, and a memory stirred. Her anger abated and her expression softened. “And if I touch the green gem, will it also vanish?” she asked.
“It is a useless keepsake, nothing more,” Shuran half lied. True it no longer served its original function, but it was more than a keepsake he began to suspect.
Penelle examined the gem, running her fingers over the runes. She recognized them but said nothing to Isten. She handed it to Shuran against Isten’s visible objection.
“It is harmless, he should keep it. Take comfort in your last few hours under this roof young man,” she said as she turned and left with Isten.
Isten was concerned about the disappearance of the armband but he would not allow Shuran to see.
The Guards took Shuran back to his cell in the lowest level of the academy.
When he got to the small dirty chamber, he entered and heard a muffled yell before turning to find Mallick, dressed as a soldier, subduing a guard while Orian dispatched the other. “What are you two doing here?” Shuran asked. “Did you not sense my thought I sent?”
“We did, but we needed more information,” Orian said, not convincingly.
“You fell victim to the nagging of Moona?” Shuran asked with a smile.
“It was unbearable Shuran, she was ready to come herself. She said she would shake the place apart with Earth Essence if she had to,” Orian said.
“I believe she would,” Shuran chuckled. “I am unharmed and not finished here,” he added.
“What is it that has your attention, that you risk a trial of anzillu?” Mallick asked.
“You have heard about that? No matter, it will not be an issue, I plan to make exit before they can execute me,” Shuran said.
“Why have you not communicated?” Orian asked.
“They took my band. Earlier it was sent back to the Vault when a woman tried to activate it.”
“What woman?” Mallick asked.
“I do not know her, she was with an older man. They came to question me. I think she just wanted to see me herself for some reason. She looked at me as though having seen me before.”
Shuran told Mallick and Orian to explore the academy before heading back to Smuggler’s Cove to report what was to take place. He wanted the two of them back in the morning for the trial. He was interested in knowing more of the Anzillu trials and he wanted to determine who was on the Great Council. Shuran moved to the cot to lay down and get some rest when he heard a noise in a dark corner of the cell.
“Who is there?” Shuran asked.
From the shadows a small creature emerged. It was the size of a cat but walked upright to spite the fact its head was far too large for the trunk. Large pointed ears framed its oval face. It blinked its large round red eyes.
“I have a message from my master,” it said.
“Who is your master?” Shuran asked.
“Nagutan wishes to warn you. He says that you must not allow the beautiful lady to sample your blood at the trial,” the imp told him.
“Why is this a concern, and who is Nagutan?”
“You will see him on the morn. Remember the warning weaver. The woman is not what she appears and must not have your blood.” The imp blinked again and disappeared in a puff of smoke.
***
“You delivered the message?” Nagutan asked his imp servant.
“Yes master, though I am not certain he will follow your warning.”
“We shall see on the morn. Perhaps I can intervene if necessary,” Nagutan said.
“You would risk exposure, master. What is this young anzillu to you, that you risk yourself?” the imp asked.
“It is not for you to be concerned about, my little friend. What is important is that the man has a purpose to fill and it is in my best interest to see him proceed.” Nagutan turned the pages of an ancient book that lay across his lap. He stopped on a page that had an image painted on it. A young asipu was standing before a group of other men, each of a different race of man. They all wore the same blue cloak baring a symbol.
“That looks like the young man in the cells below, master,” the imp said.
“Yes, it does.” Nagutan said.
“What is that symbol on their cloaks?”
“That imp, is the sigil of the Shin’Ar and his Zidu’Si. This portrait is over seven thousand years old.” It was then the imp noticed the ring on his master’s hand was also on the hand of a man in the painting.
***
“WHAT?” Moona screamed. She was not happy with the information that Shuran sent along back to the keep.
“He is going to face the Council and stand trial for anzillu?” Codger asked.
“He said he would not allow it to get that far. He wants to find out who sits on the council and anything else he can.” Mallick said.
“MADNESS!” Moona started. “No one ever left that trial chamber that was accused of anzillu. Even if they are found innocent they could not be allowed to know who the council members were. They will not allow him to leave!” Moona cried out.
“I would like to see them try to keep him. They never tried a seven blood weaver.” Codger said with a wry smile.
Moona calmed remembering exactly what Shuran was.
They all sat aboard the Mellamu Nanna and ate dinner. Aknard provisioned them some food since they had not packed much, thinking this was a simple job to fetch the ledger.
“What price has Aknard placed on this little favor?” Moona asked.
“Nothing,” Codger said.
“Nothing? He will want something,” Mallick said.
“The matter is a favor to me, my Uncle will require nothing directly, though he did ask about the power source for the vessel,” Avrank said.
“I bet he did!” Moona remarked.
“Orian, have you found anything useful in that ledger?” Codger asked.
“Yes actually, quite a bit, there are trade routes mapped out. They seem a bit wrong though,” he answered.
“How so?” Mallick asked.
“According to this, the giants are somewhere to the Frozen North or beyond. There is nothing north but ice.”
“Have you been there?” Avrank asked.
“No.” Orian answered.
> “Thought not. Stick to making shoes, not geography.” Avrank joked. “You two just make sure you get in there in the morning, and be ready should Shuran need assistance,” Avrank finished.
“We will be aboard the Mellamu Nanna floating as near as possibly.” Codger said.
“We will signal you if we need help, but I have a feeling it will be the Council needing assistance,” Mallick said.
“Just be prepared to swing over and get us. Shuran said he can transport us from the room but not to the ship since it will not be on or near ground,” Orian said.
“We will be ready, just send a signal or wave your arms about.” Avrank smirked at them.
“Turd,” Orian whispered to Mallick as they left to get rest.
“I heard that!” Avrank yelled.
***
Isten and Penelle reached her room that was prepared for her while Isten took her around to see the building.
“This will do nicely. I see you had my things brought up as well,” she said to him.
“Will you join me for dinner Penelle?” Isten asked as his eyes followed the line of her curves.
“I would be delighted. Allow me to change and freshen before I join you,” she said.
“You will find me in my private chambers. I thought it best we dine privately so we might discuss the matter of your reclaiming a seat on the council. And also please call me by my given name away from the Order’s keep, Vardoran,” he said, then turned and left smiling.
Penelle closed the door and moved to the dressing table where she sat and cast a scrying spell upon the mirror. “I am positioned within the council building and will be soon, sitting our proper seat,” she spoke to the witch in the mirror. “There is also a development,” she continued.
“You do not seem concerned, what is this news?” the crone asked.
“The boy, Shuran, is being tried tomorrow for Anzillu. He will not allow himself to be executed, but he is up to something for certain. I will make sure I am the one to administer the test and draw his blood,” Penelle said with a smile.
Penelle arrived at Isten’s room, dressed in a low cut fitted dress of deep emerald green. The dress flattered her youthful appearing figure and made her red hair appeared on fire in the firelight of the torches in his room.
Chronicles of Aurderia: The Balance Page 24