by D. H. Aire
“We don’t appreciate thieving around here.” Tett gaped, realizing that crones had been hidden behind a number of nearby stacked up crates.
Spiro said, peering out, “Actually, we’ve just come home for a visit.”
“A visit?” the old dwarven woman said.
Tett nodded very slowly, “Family sent a message saying we needed to come home, but not why.”
The old woman stepped back, “So, of course, you arrive through the sewers. Come out of there slow… Real slow.”
They came through the grille.
“Just the two of you?” she said, joined by three aged friends with more improvised spears, which apparently doubled as canes. They were leveled at them menacingly.
“Yes,” Spiro said. “Just us.”
Tett said, “Uh, no disrespect intended, uh, ladies.”
The wizened of the old woman before Tett leaned close and said, “You look well fed and those hands aren’t crippled from working the locks or docks.”
“We’ve come from the Capital,” Spiro replied.
One of the women laughed, “Right. I say we kill them and stuff them back down that drain.”
“That doesn’t sound particularly hospitable,” Spiro said, “Young Lady.”
“Who you callin’—” the old woman grated.
“I’m Spiro, Cousin.”
The old woman frowned, “Spiro? Spirodopolis Mindiz Y Hirnandiz?”
“Spirodopolis Mindiz Y Azerhaus as you well know, Cousin.”
Unhappily, she nodded.
“Tett, you wondered about what life was like for me here… Well, this is my old part of the Hole. I’m home.”
The women glared at him. His cousin said, “You were told never to come back.”
“Ah, believe me, I would rather not have, but I’m a bard, and tales draw me as they will… Oh,” he said, gesturing to one of the old woman, “Cousin, your wrinkles are falling off.”
“I warned you, Hilda!”
“Oh, Renara, it’s the darned glue.”
The disguised Renara frowned, “You are a bard? Who’s ever heard of dwarf bard?”
Tett chuckled. “Spiro got himself a fine education, he did.”
“Tett…” Spiro muttered.
“An educated dwarf from the Capital,” Renara replied, “traveling the sewer system, no less. What are you really doing here?”
Spiro smiled, “We need to wash up and definitely a change of clothes.”
They stared at him.
“Help us and Lord Tane will be a very unhappy elflord quite soon. I promise.”
“Bind their eyes and take them home. Grandmother will decide…” Renara said. “We’ve an educated dwarf, here, after all.”
#
“So, you are supposed to be a bard?” the truly very wizened dwarven lady said, leaning on her cane, seated at the head of a very long, rather diminutive, wooden table.
“Yes, Lady, and I admit that this place hasn’t changed a bit,” Spiro said as Tett stared, knowing this was the finest house in the warrens he had ever seen.
“You are too young, Spiro,” she replied.
“I know, Maj. Isn’t that the reason that your mother exiled me?”
“And who’s this rascal?”
“Uh, I am Tett of the fine dwarven lineage of Go Fend For Yourself.”
Spiro chuckled, “Tact? Tett, you usually have a more colorful name for your family lineage.”
“Well,” Tett replied, “it’s bad enough we smell this bad in front of, well, your Grandmother.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m younger than he is.” Her nose wrinkled, “You two really are quite rank. I’ve a judgement to make. One that would see you washed and properly clothed for a dwarf of the warrens. The other… I doubt you would like.”
“Somehow I don’t doubt that,” Spiro replied.
Tett frowned.
“Why are you here?” she asked, sounding irritated.
“We’ve been asked to retrieve an object d’art.”
“You plan to steal from Lord Tane?”
“If he knew the item existed, he would consider it an improvement.”
The old woman frowned, “Don’t be so cryptic.”
With a shrug, Spiro replied, “There’s a shrine with an old statue needing a new home.”
The old woman blinked, shouted, then soon waved her short gnarled looking cane at one of her grandchildren, “Set out their baths and proper clothes. We’ll take refreshments after...”
#
Spiro was lathering up in a patched porcelain tub. Tett was in the next, muttering, “I can’t get the stink completely out.”
“Scrub harder,” Spiro said.
The bathing room door opened and Grandmother marched in, can tapping, “You have a problem, Bard.”
“I do?” he replied.
“The statue’s been taken from the shrine.”
“What!”
She waved her cane at him, “It was collected to grace some festive dinner Tane is throwing tonight.”
Spiro paled. “We may not be too late, then.”
“You understand what Tane does with the statues?”
“He’ll break them to bits for sport,” Spiro replied, shaking his head.
“He’s destroyed hundreds these last years, saying dwarven work is inferior to what elfblood artisans are capable,” she told him.
“And people believe that?” Spiro asked.
“We know the tales of who created them… Lord Tane finds those stories an affront to his right to rule, claims they’re dwarven made. His family is only distantly related to the old line. After all, they only gained their rule through plotting and scheming.”
Tett said, “What are you talking about?”
Sighing, Spiro answered, “The line ended about four hundred years ago. It’s said that Lord Tane essentially abdicated. The current lord’s family were members of a very wealthy merchant clan angling for position at Court.”
“And changed everything about life in the city!” the old woman said. “They treated the dwarves working for them like oxen rather than people.”
Spiro grabbed a towel and rose from the tub. “Can you get us servants clothes?”
She stared at him. “Are you mad?”
“Very… That statue is sacred and the shrine so out of the way they should not have found it.”
The old woman said, “The price for its location was an Imperial penny.”
Chapter 38 - Truth and Illusion
In the warder environs, Shannon felt suddenly heavier as Rexil called out, “Aaprin can you hear me?”
Shannon suddenly felt her back pressing up against Rexil’s, “They’ve made it all the way through. We’ve our link to Aaprin and Gallen, but it’s, well, twisted.”
“Aaprin, Gallen, can you hear me?” he said over the comm.
“Do you feel that? I can’t feel my toes,” Shannon replied.
“My fingers tingle, too… Aaprin,” Rexil said over the comm, “you all right down there?”
There was silence for a moment, then, ‘Shaken but otherwise fine. How much time has elapsed?’
Rexil nodded, “Thirty seconds… You guys alone?”
“If you mean is the training cadre settled in, I’d say so,” he replied.
#
Legionnaires across the wide cavern stared at them. “Who’s in charge here?” asked the human appearing mage, wearing a wyvern cloak and bearing a staff.
“I’m Captain Duff and you are?” he asked frowning.
Cle’or announced, “This is Highmage Je’orj du Bradlei.”
The captain wasn’t the only one to gape.
They stepped off the platform. Captain Duff cleared his throat, “Clear those supplies, then get the children aboard.”
Gallen gasped, moving Aaprin’s ill-placed hand off her arse. “What happened?”
“You visualized too well,” he whispered back, hand now on her right arm.
Cle’or shook her head and
muttered under her breath, “Je’oj definitely trained you.”
#
The Highmage and Ander and Cle’or as his Cathartan bodyguards climbed down as the Legionnaires retrieved the welcome supplies and the next batch of refugee children began to be led to the lift floating still just above a wide swath of what appeared to be fused black glass.
“Children, sit down and, please, be quiet,” a Legionnaire said before he moved back. “Everyone clear?”
“Yessir!”
“Then prepare to signal the Citadel.”
“No need,” the human seeming mage in a long wyvern hide cloak announced, raising his staff.
A moment later, there was a flash and the lift appeared unmoved except that the children were gone and more supplies appeared on it.
Ander and Cle’or helped steady Aaprin as he swayed, leaning heavily on his grounded staff.
#
“You all right?” they heard Rexil say.
‘Are you? After all, you just fell into my arms.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Shannon moved her left hand and tapped his chest, then moved up to his face.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Seeing if you have a fever.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Hey, what do you think you’re doing?’
‘I’m trying to recalibrate your… I mean… our equipment.’
She blinked. ‘Fine, I can see my controls better.’
‘Uh, Shannon…’
‘What?’
‘I, uh, can suddenly sort of see you.’
She frowned, ‘What?’
She felt his finger against her nose, then abruptly she was staring into his eyes. ‘Hi.’
“Ahem, Rexil, Shannon, you ready for the next shift?”Aaprin asked over their mental circuit.
Rexil’s breath touched her cheek as he answer, ‘They are loading as quickly as they can. We need a moment.’
Their noses touched.
POWER OPTIMIZING IN THREE, TWO, ONE.
They floated in the ether within the pressure suit.
“They’re loading the next batch of refugees and those in need of further medical attention,” Aaprin said. Shortly thereafter, “Ahem, Rexil, Shannon, ready when you are.”
‘That’s it, they’ve finished loading the recruits and supplies,’ Shannon remarked. ‘Wait! What’s he think he’s doing?’
‘Apparently, going down to Bastian,’ Rexil replied, changing the view as she pressed on his cheek, which created resonance with the warded tunnel. ‘Now!’
‘Engaging,’ she said.
#
The cavern’s ceiling blazed with light. In the next moment, Captain Duff found himself staring, the children had been replaced by a small group and another of the large warhorses he had ever seen, an oddly dressed man on his back, leaped over their heads from the lift and landed in front of the Highmage.
Sighing, the Highmage said, “Fancy meeting you here, Truthsayer.”
“Our old friend told me,” he replied, “that I would be needed for a parley with Fenn and my four-footed friend would bring me when it was time.”
“Captain, I believe we are needed outside,” the Highmage said.
The captain frowned, gesturing for a junior officer to continue the evacuation as the last of the sick along with women with young children were hurried forward as the reinforcements jogged past. “We can send the next group up in an hour. In the meantime, Milord, there is something I think you should meet.”
He accompanied the Highmage, his Cathartan bodyguards, the newcomer, and their warhorses toward the cavern’s entrance. The Legionnaires at the inner gate opened it and blinding sunlight streamed in. They strode into the Great Courtyard, which was bracketed by a string of fountains on either side. Bastian was a small city; the Empire’s sole lowland connection to Gwire and the border lands.
The fountains had little water flowing out of them. With so many refugees, the cisterns had been substantially drained. As the Highmage passed, water shot high in the air from each and the pools around them began to refill.
“Wow,” Ander whispered.
Cle’or nudged her, “Don’t get distracted.”
Nodding, Ander whispered, “Uh, yes, Milady.”
Cle’or shook her head and sighed.
“Rexil,” Aaprin muttered.
‘Uh, Aap, the wards are reacting up here!’
“They are down here, too,” he muttered in reply as Gallen stared around them.
Refugees given arms to help man Bastian’s parapets paused in their weapons training across the Great Courtyard. Gallen concentrated, illusioning the Highmage’s staff flaring with light.
The crowd parted. A woman stepped out of the crowd. Grendelsteed knelt on his front legs. Truthsayer dismounted. “Seeress.”
She smiled, “Greetings.”
“Uh,” Aaprin said, glancing at Truthsayer, “Seeress, it is a pleasure to see you.”
Nodding, she gestured, “It is my pleasure to introduce you to Prince Duncan of Gwire.”
Surrounded by four large hounds and a naked young woman his age wrapped in a blanket, Duncan came out of the crowd, having been forewarned to watch his words and not to address the mage as “Highmage.” “Milord,” he said instead. “May I present the Falc Ambassador, Stunning in Flight.” He grinned, “I just call her Stunning.”
“Truth.”
She canted her head.
Cle’or frowned, “Are all falcs shapechangers?” Aaprin averted his eyes as Gallen nudged his ribs with her elbow.
“No,” Stunning replied, “I am adopted.”
“She is newly risen. She is of my people,” a Chainhill medicine man said, eight large hounds pacing and sniffing around him.
Prince Duncan said, “I believe we have much to discuss in private, Milord.”
“Truth.”
“Captain? Is there somewhere we might—”
Before he answered, the Seeress said, “I know just the place the Captain intends.”
They headed towards the captain’s office.
#
“Captain, please wait for us out here,” Cle’or said as Grendelsteed blocked his way.
The Highmage nodded, “It will be all right.”
Cle’or closed the door behind them as the Seeress leaned up against the captain’s desk. “Things will move quickly soon.”
“What do you see?” Aaprin asked in the Highmage’s voice.
“Journeymen mages playing roles that are more vital than they can imagine,” she replied. “Lady Gaelyn, you need not spin your illusion. You should rest while you can.”
“Truth.”
Gallen glanced at Aaprin, who nodded. She released her illusion.
Prince Duncan blinked, “I thought…”
The Seeress shook her head, “The Highmage is where he is needed most. He must only appear to be here to help our cause.”
“I have no doubt as to why I am here,” Truthsayer said. “But sending any delegation to speak with Fenn is pointless. He’ll only seek to kill them.”
The Seeress smiled, “Exactly… we have much to do.”
#
The Talisman Pool was at the base of the Consecrated’s oldest structure, the Tower, which lay east of Midway, the Legionnaire fortress that connected to Bastian far below. The Tower grounds lay a few leagues from the northern edge of the Empire. The grounds were built like a well defended keep. High outer walls, higher inner walls, maker the territory that only the virgin Consecrated scryer could enter or the young servants that were dedicates of the Consecrated Order. The Scryers who lived within could leave as long as they remained virgin, which is why the Tower was staffed only by young women and Mistress of the Order.
“Mistress,” the scryer, Liadra, said, opening her eyes as she stood in a half soaked silken gown in the too still waters of the Talisman Pool. “The unicorn comes.”
“Excellent,” the silken robed elfblooded woman said to the t
welve other scryers around the vast chamber. “We’re scrying nearsighted and otherwise blind… and the unicorn is coming here with a boy as the Highmage’s Hand… Anything else I need to know about our guests?”
“Uh, no, Mistress,” Liadra replied.
The Mistress sighed, wondering what game Master Terhun and the Lady Esperanza had in play this time. “Well, this should be interesting… Ladies, please arrange a welcome for our guest… Liadra, a moment, please. Katrin, you, too.”
Katrin frowned as the other young women in the silken gowns left the chamber. The Mistress raised her hand and the Talisman chamber’s wards flared, assuring their privacy.
“Liadra, what else did you see?” the Mistress asked.
“The boy is riding double with a girl, whose image is vacillating between an illusion of the Highmage’s beast.”
Katrin frowned, “A girl? Trying to pose as Raven of all people?”
“Lady Esperanza could explain, if only we could reach her,” Liadra replied.
“You did not recognize her?”
“No, I’ve never scried her before… and between the Lady Esperanza, Lady Amira, and the three of us, I can’t see how anyone around Casber, or the Highmage for that matter, would be unknown to us,” the Mistress said, then clasped her hand over the locket around her neck, “not unless she’s heavily warded.”
Chapter 39 - Talisman
Juels whispered, “Don’t give me away,” as they rode off down an east-westerly road toward the Province of Lyai side of the Great Wall of what the denizens of the Margins called Empire’s end.
Casber sighed as the unicorn bespoke, ‘He won’t… I am maintaining the illusion of your being Raven in beast form. But don’t try to fly. That’s beyond both our abilities.’
“You can hear her?” he muttered back.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Do your friends know that?”
“Not really.”
Having grown used to things not being what they seemed, Casber said, “Somehow I think someone does.”
They rode in silence for the longest time. Several hours later they were clear of the Margins and the Tower came into view, clouds swirling around above it. Both Juels and Casber had the feeling they were being stared at.
The unicorn winced.
#
The human guardsman was gray haired and wondering if he should keep the gate barred. A hundred Legionnaires was a rare sight. The fifteen foot tall well armed something else, which wasn’t an ogre, more so. Rarer still was the presence of the white horse, which was not a horse. He had been a boy when he had last seen the mare, which did not look a day older. It eyed him, seeming to look deep into his soul.