by Dave Gross
"Your new carriage needs a maiden journey, if it survives Fim," said Variel. "He could use some practice. Let's have him drive us to Riverspire. The family will have forgotten my face by now, and they will want to see yours."
His remark reminded me that I had been away from home too long. The second anniversary of my absence from Greensteeples approached. "Come with me to Egorian," I countered. "Let me show you all the places mother loved best. We have a box at the royal opera house. We can drive out to my vineyards. We shall drink the finest red wines of Cheliax."
He displayed a noncommittal smile, but I already knew his answer. If he could not bear to leave Kyonin to be with my mother, he could not do so for me.
"No." I relinquished the hope. "Your place is ever in Kyonin."
"It can be your home also. The queen decrees that you may come and go just like any elf."
The gesture was one of many honors and treasures Telandia had showered upon me for my role in thwarting Amarandlon's scheme. Although her generosity humbled me, it did not alter the painful truth in the phrase, "just like any elf." Rather like the Forlorn Oparal, I would forever remain an outsider to the elves of Kyonin.
"Queen Telandia honors me, but my place remains in Cheliax, and my fidelity to Her Infernal Majestrix, Abrogail II. Yet I look forward to returning one day. There are so many wonders yet to discover in Kyonin, and I should like to help recover more of what was lost."
"Zuldanavox will be impatient to see you again. She would not stop talking about your Thirty-Six Forms."
"In the meantime, I rest assured she will be content with your company."
"On that count she must be patient." He watched as Fimbulthicket guided the carriage around the courtyard, scattering elven lords and ladies. "Seeing how much he has changed reminds me how fleeting life can be for other people. I think you know something of that as well, living among humans and—what is the polite term? Hellspawn?"
"There is, I fear, no polite term."
"I want to fly across the Fierani again, visit the sites that Fim and I first discovered together. Well, that's my excuse anyway. The truth is I need to make sure you haven't accidentally sent any more ancient colossi charging toward unsuspecting villages."
"What? It was fewer than forty steps! Besides, if not for my experiment at the Walking—" Before my protests could make a worse fool of myself, I saw the humor crinkling at the corners of his eyes.
The nearest courtiers joined in his laughter, as if they had anticipated his jibe. I felt a pang of humiliation, but only until an elven lady adorned in gold and crimson feathers put her hand on my arm in a familiar but not unwelcome gesture. Her companion pressed a goblet of dandelion wine into my hand and said, "We are so glad you have returned home, Count Varian."
I did not correct her usage.
Variel had unleashed a dam of trepidation among the hesitant elves. Offered the welcome of a joke, they spilled around us, reintroducing themselves, inviting us to dine, and questioning us about our journey through the Fierani. Much of what we had experienced was already known throughout Iadara, but they craved details and gossip about our companions—especially Oparal and Radovan, around whom a mostly false and scandalous tale had grown since our return. We had only to omit mention of Amarandlon's treachery, although it was known and widely whispered, and the true nature of Caladrel's death. A heroic tale of aiding an unexpected new ally would serve the realm far better than the truth about the death of the master of the hunt.
It took a team of hostlers to pry Fimbulthicket from the reins and prevent a second disaster with the Red Carriage. The gnome joined us as we received the flattery of the remaining courtiers. Gradually they drifted away, until at last the servants attended only the three of us.
"We leave for Omesta soon," said Variel. "Come with us for a few days. Perhaps you'll change your mind and come with us to Riverspire."
"Tempting," I said. "But it is time I returned to Egorian. I have been too long away from home. But I will send word and wine and perhaps a few other things. And one day, I promise to return for a longer visit. In the meantime, you have many forgotten things to uncover. I insist you send me a copy of your notes."
"He will," said Fimbulthicket, clutching Variel's thumb. "If he forgets, I'll remind him."
We arranged a time for our farewells at the aerie, but first I would fetch Radovan. He would be as glad as I to return to Egorian.
Or would he? I sensed he had enjoyed our journeys away from home. Despite the perils we had faced, I liked to believe there was an element of adventure to our travels. Though he had squandered much of his portion of our reward from the King of Quain, the wealth he received from the queen of the elves was enough to sustain him for years to come. There was no longer any financial need for him to work as my bodyguard.
I stopped at an intersection of four passages in the outer courts of the royal palace. Upon our return, I wondered, would Radovan continue to act as my bodyguard? Perhaps that term was no longer apt. More than a year earlier I confessed that I thought of him not as a servant but as my friend. A few months ago, in the certain belief of imminent death, I had called him brother. Suddenly I feared that his financial independence might spell the end of our association.
As these thoughts troubled my mind, a familiar voice called out from behind me, and I turned.
Radovan
Nothing beats a hot bath.
Washing up began as an excuse to go to the Calistrian brothel, but once I felt the steam of the hot springs I was sold.
When the majordomo told me about the gnome girls, I paid extra for the special. While I lay down on a warm stone, the muscular little gals danced barefoot on my aching back. By the time they were done with me, I knew how a warm pudding felt right out of the oven. I could barely move to go on to the springs.
When I asked after Kemeili, they told me she hadn't worked there in decades. I tried explaining that I knew that, but she hadn't been at her place when I dropped by, so I thought she might be here. Nobody wanted to talk in the common tongue, and my Elven still wasn't good enough to get my point across. I had to turn away four women and a man before they understood I wasn't looking for a tumble.
Most of the action was going on in another room, where I guessed they held most of their "worship." The temple acolytes steered me toward a hot pool as green as tarnished copper. There were only a few others there, elves with long, fine hair and features that could have been etched in glass. I still hadn't seen any elves with gray hair or wrinkles, but I was pretty sure they'd put me in the old folks' pool. That was all right by me. I sank in and let the heat of the mineral water soak into my bones.
I'd never really appreciated hot soaks before shaking off my first devil. Until then, even scalding water barely bothered me. Even a little fire had never bothered me because of him, this Norge who lay sleeping in the little hell. I'd like to be able to say that some of the wrong things I'd done were his fault, too. But especially after wrestling with Viridio back at the City of Thorns, I had a feeling the truth was I was always the one in control. Even if the devil cut short my temper and gave me his fiendish strength, what I did with it still came back to me in the end.
It'd been the same way with me and Kemeili, and especially in the way I'd reacted to Oparal. Kemeili had whispered in my ear, all right, but she couldn't make me to do anything I didn't choose. I'd begun to think of her as another kind of devil, giving me bad ideas but never forcing my hand.
But that wasn't the truth, either. I'd always known what she was up to. No matter how I tilted the question, it still came back on me in the end.
Now that a different devil had its hooks in me, I wondered what surprises were waiting for me in the days ahead. I was glad I could feel the heat of the bath, but that just meant I didn't know what "sigil" would bring Viridio across from the Abyss to ride me around the yard. The boss kept pestering me to do some experiments, but all I wanted was to feel clean again.
One of the temple whores gave me a
towel as I stepped out of the steaming pool. I couldn't decide whether I was sorry or glad that I hadn't found Kemeili. I had half an idea that I should say goodbye, make sure she wasn't still sore at me. When I didn't spot her among the Calistrians at the bath, I had to admit to myself that I was more relieved than disappointed. I started thinking it was better I got out of town nice and quiet. The girl was volatile, as the boss might say.
I dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist. Most of the elves returned from the baths completely nude, taking what they called a "gnome air bath" on the way back to their rooms. Tempting as that was, I didn't want to make the other boys jealous.
Just as I was stepping out, a tall elven man entered the baths. Pretty much all the elves looked tall to me, but this one was so skinny that you could put leaves in his hair and call him a Fierani. He wore nothing but a little loincloth and a leather harness with a golden medallion of Calistria on his chest. He took one look at me and headed over, keeping his distance as much as he could as he held out a rolled letter.
He cleared his throat and said, "'I stab at thee from my heart.'"
I regretted leaving the big knife with my jacket back in the room. I made a fist and showed it to him.
"No!" he peeped. He glanced around to see who was watching before whispering. "It's a message from Kemeili."
"All right. Let's hear it."
"Remember, I'm just the messenger. Between you and me, she never did learn to separate the chef from the dish."
"Spill it, beanpole."
He cleared his throat. "'You turned away what I offered freely. Now you will suffer as I take from you that which you love better than me.'"
"What does that mean?" Even as I said it, I got a real bad feeling.
The skinny elf shrugged. "Revenge, obviously. I don't know the details, but Kemeili is famous for her ...let's say 'disproportional' retaliations. When she says she's taking something you love, she means whatever you love most in this world."
"Desna weeps." I shoved him out of the way and ran. Somewhere between the temple and my room I lost the towel. Pushing past anybody that got in my way, I charged up the ramp to the diplomatic quarters. Arnisant sat in front of the boss's door. That was a good sign, since I couldn't imagine the hound letting anybody in to hurt him. I hit the door hard enough to make Arni woof.
There was nobody inside. I peeked around the privy alcove and out the window. Nothing out of place.
"Arni, where'd he go? Find the boss!"
He took off like a bolt. I grabbed a sheet off the bed and chased after him.
The hound followed the trail toward the royal palace. For a second I debated whether it was better to explain to the guards or just bowl past them, but before it mattered Ani stopped to snuffle the ground. He sniffed the area, following some confused scent trail. The boss had gone in, but he'd come out again.
Or maybe he'd been dragged out.
"What are you doing here dressed like that?"
The sight of Oparal surprised me. She hadn't let the priests disappear the scars on her face. I thought the wounds made her look more human—not that she'd appreciate that sentiment. Actually, they made her look more like her stupid unicorn with all its scars.
That damned thing followed her, a black-and-silver saddle on its back. With the worst of its wounds healed, it looked better than it had, but still like a girl's doll that'd been left out in the rain for a few weeks. Arnisant barked a warning, and the big gray beast stopped in its tracks. It might not like me, but it knew the pecking order, and Arnisant was on top.
"You seen the boss?" I asked.
"We said our farewells a short time ago. What he said made me think—"
"Which way did he go?"
Arni woofed and began following the scent trail in a new direction.
"I don't know," she said. "We parted in the inner court. I was on my way to speak with you. I thought we should—"
"I got no time for that. Arni, go!"
The hound loped away from the palace. Here and there someone pointed at us, but no one got in our way, lucky for them. We ran across a grassy meadow and up a hill leading to the royal aerie. From below, all I could see was a giant owl rising from its perch. I couldn't see past the beating wings to tell who was riding it. We ran up to the platform. I felt a cold ball of lead in my stomach and was afraid of what I'd find.
The boss was alone on the platform. He held up a hand to wave at the giant owl and its riders. Arni went to sit at his heel while I looked around, expecting an assassin to pop up at any moment. Why hadn't I grabbed the damned knife?
"You all right, boss?"
"Quite all right," he said, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. "These owls certainly stir up a prodigious amount of dust when they take flight."
I didn't notice any dust, but his eyes sure were red. I looked up at the owl to see Variel leaning forward in his saddle, Fimbulthicket seated in front of him. "You going to see your dad again soon?"
"Not soon, I fear," said the boss. He noticed I was wearing his bed sheet. "What possible reason—?"
"Wait a second," I said. "You're all right. Arni's all right. What did Kemeili mean?"
"What did she say?"
"She said she was going to take away something I cared about more than her." It hit me then. "Oh, nine hopping hells!"
I took off at a sprint. When the sheet tangled up in my legs, I threw it away and ran bare-assed in the open air.
"Radovan!"
I ignored him, but a second later I felt the cool tingle of magic through my body. He'd sped me up with a spell, so I took full advantage and flashed back to my room.
The door stood open. A couple of elf servants retreated from the room, slapping wet blankets at the black smoke.
"What's going on?"
"There's nothing to fear," said one of the elves. They stood in the way, stupid smiles tilting their mugs as if they'd accomplished something. "We managed to save the room."
I shoved them back and looked inside. As the smoke cleared, I saw the source of the fire was on the table. There wasn't much left but a shapeless mass of charred leather and the blackened shape of the big knife.
"Kemeili!"
The boss arrived, running so fast I knew he'd cast the spell on himself, too. He looked at me and the burned remains of my jacket. By the way he smiled and shook his head, I swear he could have recited Kemeili's note word for word. I didn't need to explain nothing.
"Oparal was looking for you."
"Yeah, she found me, but I was in a hurry." I couldn't stop looking at the smoldering pile of leather. So much for the sorcerer's claim that it was fireproof. Then I noticed the slashes in the leather and the yellow stain still burning through the hardened wood. "A blade, acid, and fire? That's just mean."
"At least not all of the ladies of Kyonin are displeased with you. The queen asked after you earlier, and Oparal gave me a message in case she did not find you before she left. Having discovered that fighting demons is far simpler than navigating the intrigue of the elven court, she has decided to join the Mendevian Crusade. She said to tell you, 'Let the perfect and the good be at peace.'"
"Yeah? Which one am I? The perfect or the good?"
"You are far from perfect," he said, poking at the ruin of my jacket with the tip of his scabbard. "Kemeili certainly seems to think so."
"'That which you love better than me.' I should have known."
"At least she left your pants," said the boss. "Perhaps you could put them on, and we can go find a saddler to make you a new jacket."
I got dressed and wrapped a cloth around my hand to retrieve the big knife. Even through the cloth, it was damned hot. The grip was ruined, but maybe I could salvage the blade, as long as whatever Kemeili had poured over everything hadn't broken the enchantments. It didn't look good.
We went down the ramp side by side, Arnisant just behind us. When we reached the ground, the boss said, "I must thank you."
"What for?"
"You sa
id Kemeili threatened to take away something you loved, and you did not think of your treasured jacket before you came to ensure my safety. A touching gesture."
I shrugged it off, hoping he wasn't going to need his hanky again. "No problem."
"And yet ..." He trailed off.
"And yet what?"
"I notice that you saved the dog first."
About the Author
Dave Gross is the former editor of magazines ranging from Dragon to Star Wars Insider and Amazing Stories. The adventures of Radovan and Count Jeggare feature in the novels Prince of Wolves and Master of Devils, as well as many novellas and short stories available at paizo.com. His Forgotten Realms novels include Black Wolf and Lord of Stormweather. Other recent publications include stories in Tales of the Far West and Shotguns v. Cthulhu. You can keep up with Dave's latest shenanigans on Facebook, Twitter (@frabjousdave), and at frabjousdave.blogspot.com.
For feedback and encouragement from outline to draft, I thank Elaine Cunningham, Amber Scott, Lindy Smith, and Kevin Andrew Murphy.
Glossary
All Pathfinder Tales novels are set in the rich and vibrant world of the Pathfinder campaign setting. Below are explanations of several key terms used in this book. For more information on the world of Golarion and the strange monsters, people, and deities that make it their home, see The Inner Sea World Guide, or dive into the game and begin playing your own adventures with the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Core Rulebook or the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Beginner Box, all available at paizo.com. In particular, fans of Kyonin may wish to check out Pathfinder Adventure Path #17: A Memory of Darkness for its gazetteer of the elven nation, or the novels Prince of Wolves and Master of Devils for the previous adventures of Count Varian Jeggare and Radovan.
Absalom: Largest city in the Inner Sea region; current location of the Starstone, which allows mortals to ascend to godhood.