by Bill Ricardi
We both finished reeling in our lures. The two of us re-cast them in unison.
I said, “It isn’t all your fault you know. Omi-Suteth isn’t blameless here. She cursed us. That changed who we were, who we could be. That changed…”
And suddenly I was angry. Gray clouds started to form in the distance. The light of the perfect summer sun dimmed.
“Shaman. How could you let that happen to him? He loves you. He loves you more than he loves life itself, and yet he’s rewarded with Glogur’s curse! When are you going to step in? When are you going to tell that bitch enough is enough?”
Kenvunk winced under my verbal assault. He closed his eyes, like he was thinking happy thoughts. Slowly the gray clouds in the distance dissipated. The sun’s luminescence was restored.
Then the orc god replied, “I’m sorry Sorch. You don’t know how sorry I am. But no amount of divine conflict can reverse the curse of Glogur. It is a mortal issue, and mortals must find a solution. I’m afraid my own ill spoken words contributed to that reality.”
I stared into the clear water as I slowly made the copper lure dance and sway in the river’s current. I said, “It’s just not fair. He helped to save the world, and his mind is taken from him. Rick and Will helped to save the world, and their limbs were taken from them. Everything that happened… it wasn’t just the fault of mortals. It couldn’t be.”
Kenvunk agreed, “No, it couldn’t be.”
“Then why do we bear the burden?”
The big orc said, “If it were my choice alone, you wouldn’t, Sorch. I’m tired of the games and the wagers of the gods. I’m tired of the plotting and underhandedness of the demons. But we don’t answer to each other. We answer to a higher power.”
I remembered a lecture that I attended once. I recalled, “That’s what Lew said. He said that the new gods and the old don’t really seem to be in competition. He said that the accord or wager amongst the gods makes no sense unless they had a higher set of rules that they had to abide by. An overseer that limited their power.”
Kenvunk said, “Mister Rush is a wise man. I can’t say more than that. But Sorch… those rules that you’re talking about, that’s part of what prevents me from just swooping in and fixing Shaman. Otherwise I would. You know I would. He’s like a son to me. One of the most loyal and outstanding druids that I have ever seen on Panos. That was why I spoke through him. That was why I helped you early on.”
I snorted, “And yet when you speak through me, you just kind of take over my voice. I didn’t have the same choices he did.”
Now it was Kenvunk’s turn to sound annoyed. “Didn’t you Sorch? After you escaped the swamps, you could have learned your magic and attended your University and then stayed out of harm’s way. But you didn’t, did you? You chose adventure. You chose to meddle with the plans of demons and gods. So yes, I used your voice. You have no idea how much I risked, how close to the edge I wandered. But it had to be you, because you put yourself in the perfect position. It wasn’t happenstance. It was design. Your design.”
Rebuffed, I concentrated on fishing for a while. So did Kenvunk. It was only after a couple of fruitless casts that one of us spoke again.
“Hey Sorch?”
“Yeah?”
I could hear the tears in Kenvunk’s voice, though he didn’t allow them to escape his eyes, “Do you… do you think she’ll ever come back to me? Do you think we’ll be together again?”
I felt a lump in my throat. His pain, his sadness was palpable. I murmured, “Maybe. But fixing something like that doesn’t just happen. You need to put in the effort.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the big orc nodding a little bit.
I continued, “If you love her… if you really love her, you need to be brave. You have to put aside pride and be the first one to step up. The first to say that you’re sorry and that you want to work things out. And make sure she knows how you feel. We orcs, we sometimes want to hold it all inside. But I’ve learned that you get what you want by expressing things like love and appreciation. You need to do the same.”
Kenvunk took a deep breath. When he exhaled, he said, “Okay. Okay.”
Suddenly, I felt a tug on my line. Then another, much stronger. I almost stumbled into the water.
Kenvunk set down his own rod. He was quickly at my side, “Oh Sorch, that’s a big one! Come on, let’s see if we can land it.”
Two huge orc hands joined my smaller ones. Together we strained at the fishing pole. It seemed to bend at an impossible angle, but refused to break. The two of us heaved in unison. Then it happened.
The giant rainbow trout was yanked from the water. Kenvunk laughed in delight at such a catch. The force of our tugging sent the heavy fish sailing right at my forehead. There was a wet impact, and then darkness.
“Come on Sorch, wake up. We don’t have all day.”
That wasn’t Kenvunk’s voice. I slowly opened my eyes.
I awoke under the curious gaze of Hemitath.
The scantily clad elven archmage said, “Ah there you are. We were worried. You seemed almost feverish and you were mumbling about fish.”
After coughing a couple of times, I sat up. I was in a comfortable bed, in a warm and well lit room with wooden walls. “Where are we?”
“Dignity.”
I knew that name. Dignity was the traditional personal residence of the Spymaster of Arbitros. I had been here once as part of a celebration. We just rescued Will and Rick and Toby. There was a lot of eating, and drinking, and dancing as I recalled.
I asked, “Hemitath, why in all the hells are we here?”
The elf murmured, “My fault actually. It was instinctive. In my panic and haste, I thought of the first safe place that came to mind. My father was the Spymaster at one time, Sorch. I took you home.”
I rolled out of bed. My pouches and belt were hanging from a hook on the wall, still slightly damp. As I wrapped the belt around my waist, I said, “We’re alive, so you’ll hear no complaints from me. Any spare clothes around? We aren’t exactly dressed for a state visit.”
From the next room, a familiar voice said, “Not to worry, you won’t be making a public appearance. You’re among friends.”
Hemitath led me out of the guest room. We stepped into the ‘debriefing chamber’, which was actually a large dining room meant for entertaining dozens of guests.
Our host was sharing a glass of wine with Assistant Donnelly, who looked surprisingly comfortable even in his half-dressed state. The tall, slender elf turned his head as we entered. He was still dressed in his brown work clothes; still wearing a flour coated white apron.
Ashley waved us over, “Welcome back to the land of the living. Come join us for some wine. I was just telling your companion that this is a new halfling red concoction. They add a few fermented persimmons to the grapes. It’s lovely.”
I knew that my jaw was hanging open a little bit, because I had to make a conscious effort to close it. My expression must have been priceless, because the innkeeper started to laugh.
Ashley said, “Well it wouldn’t be much of a cover if it weren’t surprising, I suppose.”
I padded over on bare feet and sat, heavily. “The Spymaster. The greatest intelligence agent in elven society. Is an innkeeper.”
Bill pointed out, “If you think about it, running a popular place in the largest city on the continent is a good way to pick up information.”
Ashley said, “I mainly steal recipes, to be honest.”
The Spymaster went on to explain that Dignity is fortified against unscheduled intrusion. He apologised for the knockout gas, but assured us that it was a necessary precaution given the sensitivity of his role.
“Hemitath, having been a resident, knew the one room that wasn’t shielded from teleportation. We call it the ‘arrival chamber’. Sadly, none of you were on the current guest list. Sorch, you slept for a couple of extra hours I’m afraid. I hope the experience wasn’t too unpleasant.”
&n
bsp; I drained my glass of the sweet red wine. I weighed my words before finally saying, “The experience was unique. I’ll be fine.”
Hemitath said, “I’ve already sent word to Rick and Will, telling them not to worry and that I would need to rest in order to get us all back to the staging area. They’ve headed back to shore.”
Bill added, “Now that you’re awake, Hemitath and I will go study.”
The elf nodded, “Indeed, we should do that. Is the second guest room also available, Ashley?”
The Spymaster smiled and replied, “My home is your home. Don’t worry, Sorch will keep me entertained.”
I found myself wondering how I would accomplish that, as my friends sequestered themselves away to memorize spells.
My internal question was answered when Ashley transferred his apron to my shoulders. The elf said, “Come on, you’re making lunch.”
I half protested as we walked into the adjoining kitchen, “You’re an accomplished chef, aren’t you? You’ve won awards, I think.”
Ashley shot back, “The Spastic Vole recently won an award from the Culinary Guild, did it not?”
I used flint and steel to fire up the stove, which had already been prepared with kindling, wood, and some coal. “Yeah, but I wasn’t in the kitchen. Or if I was, it was in a dishwashing capacity.”
“Hush. Cook me lunch.”
I checked the larder and the ice box. Comfortable ingredients caught my eye: There was some tree snake cutlets available, as well as green beans and a cob of corn. I put the iron pan on the burner to let it heat up, and then set my selected food items on the counter for prep.
As I sliced the kernels from the cob of corn, I said, “So by now you’ve heard what’s going on. You know what the Arcane University and the Adventurer’s Guild are doing. What’s the next step for the elven nation?”
The lean elf considered my words with care. Then he said, “I think they hedge their bets. Providing financial support and research assistance is one thing. But they’ll have a multi-tiered plan in place in case your efforts fail. Likely, they’ll develop a backup plan to try to save Panos, and a second one to try to save the elven race.”
I noted, “You say ‘they’ instead of ‘we’. Why?”
“As the Spymaster, I find it useful to divorce myself from the political realm. What the elven nation does is separate from what I need to do in order to secure the safety of Arbitros. That’s why the position is secretive. That’s why people in my position are never from families of high power within the elven community. The Spymaster works for the common folk, not the affluent. It didn’t always used to be that way, but we found that this approach works best.”
When the corn was liberated from the cob, I asked, “Where’s the butter?”
Ashley dug around in the ice box until he found a slab. I cut a piece off and allowed it to melt in the rapidly heating iron pan.
I said, “I understand a secondary plan to save Panos. But how would the elven nation possibly save the elves if Panos itself is doomed?”
The innkeeper leaned against the counter to watch me work. “Planar portals. They would find the friendliest, most survivable plane and evacuate as many elves as possible before the end. Their hope would be to start over.”
I never even considered using a portal to leave Panos entirely, forever. The thought made me slightly queasy. “Wow.” was all I could say.
Ashley said, “Wow indeed. But until we reach such a drastic point, you can rely on the support of the elves. They understand that some of the best minds on Panos are working on these problems.”
I seasoned the meat with salt, pepper, and parsley. Then I dropped the snake cutlets into the pan. The sizzling was quite satisfying.
While cleaning the vegetables, I noted, “Any time the Arcane University is involved in something, the elven nation tends to have some visibility into it.”
Ashley nodded. He said, “For a couple of reasons. They built and financed the University of course, so their performance reflects on the elves. But equally important, the elves see magic as ‘their’ domain. With that attitude, keeping close tabs on the future of magic is in their interest.”
I flipped the snake and let the other side cook. Then I admitted, “That sounds a little creepy.”
The tall elf laughed. “Maybe. Let us just say that I’ve seen a lot more of you over the last few years than you have of me, Sorch.”
I sighed a little bit. I couldn’t say I was shocked that the elves would keep covert watch over me, but it was yet another thing I couldn’t share with Ames. The were-cat would be quite annoyed.
I stirred the meat and veggies as they fried, and then quickly took the pan off of the heat. Ashley had wooden plates at the ready. The food was divided into two portions, and we took the plates and silverware back into the interrogation room.
The elf dug in. After swallowing the first bite, he said, “Oh Sorch this… this is a truly awful effort.”
I had to laugh. After trying some myself, I said, “I’ll admit that this isn’t my best dish. But I can taste the salt, and the butter. And the snake, sort of.”
Despite his critical review, Ashley was smiling. “If one of my apprentices made this, I would put them on washing up duty and have them ponder their premeditated assault upon good taste.”
I snorted, “Shall we scrap it and have some jerky instead?”
The elf shook his head, “No. It’s perfectly edible. We try not to waste food in either of my kitchens. But maybe...”
I finished the thought for him, “More wine?”
Ashley nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, more wine would help.”
And that’s how I single handedly got the Spymaster of Arbitros drunk.
Chapter 15
“I have it.”
Hemitath’s voice was confident as she touched the crystal ball, summoning up a vision of the small hillside town of Braxen.
I looked at the image in the crystal ball. After careful examination, I said, “Yeah, that’s it. Looks like we’ll be just outside of town. In theory, our base camp should be set up by now and not very far away.”
We were gathered in the Spymaster’s private study, making use of one of the mystical items that he ‘acquired’ over the years. Ashley said his goodbyes earlier, then excused himself so that he could sleep off the midday drinking. He had to be recovered in time for the dinner service at the Drowsy Dragon back in Royal Moffit. My orcish constitution served me well; I had only ended up with a pleasant tipsy feeling.
The image within the crystal flickered and died when the archmage stepped away. With the exact position in her mind, Hemitath told Bill and I to stay close. She rested those delicate, aged elven hands on our shoulders and murmured the incantation that would Teleport us to the correct destination.
And then we were elsewhere.
The hilltop that we appeared upon was overlooking Braxen. Although it was a somewhat sleepy place, it was also immaculate. The distance away from major cities meant that land was cheap here. Which meant that the retired seafarers who populated Braxen, many of them former captains and officers, had to find something else to spend their money on. This manifested in high quality housing, stone work, and provisions. But Braxen wasn’t a snobbish place. These former professionals rewarded hard work and loyalty. So they ended up hiring dozens of trusted people to keep the town clean and safe for the sailors and their families. It was the kind of place that I would be happy to move into when I retired from the foolishness that we call ‘adventuring’.
We made our way downhill, heading away from town in a southerly direction. This area was lightly wooded. In better times there would have been more trees, but the saplings had a lower survival rate over the past decade, resulting in more old stumps than new growth. We quickly found the main path towards the docks and followed it for a few minutes.
I paused at a fork in the path. Southwest seemed to slope sharply upwards, while Southeast continued the downward trend towards the sea. I ask
ed, “Any idea which direction they chose?”
Hemitath pointed to the left. “This way. I believe they said that there was no benefit to setting up on the cliffside. It’s a fantastic view, but we’re not here for the scenery.”
The elf was correct. A couple more minutes of heading down the Southeastern trail brought us to our destination. Just off of the beaten path was a large ring of tents. In the center of it all, the remains of a foundation to a home that burned to the ground decades ago.
Assistant Donnelly stared at the square of stones. He said, “Ah yes, Will mentioned that this was the only place available that already had a functioning well. No ghosts though. The man who used to own it wasn’t here when it happened. Lightning strike is what they suspect, apparently. He simply decided to rebuild closer to town, since there was nothing left here and his fortunes had changed.”
Outside of the largest tent was a hanging brass bell. Hemitath decided to make use of it, which alerted everybody in the camp to our arrival. Heads poked out of tents and peered in our direction. It reminded me of those little creatures near Eastern Hook. Perhaps we had stumbled upon a community of meerkat sorcerers.
A significant number of the mages emerged from their makeshift burroughs. They gathered in the large tent to hear our debriefing. It was standing room only. Which was fine, because there was no place to sit.
Before we got started, Rick and Will were kind enough to return our packs and clothes. As we thanked the humans, Dutch slithered up to Hemitath, coiling possessively around her legs.
Once that was sorted, Bill and Hemitath related everything they saw and experienced on our journey. Then it was my turn. To say that some of the faces in the tent were slightly dubious would be an understatement. Particularly the elven faces. Many of them were from Civilia and had only met me the one time. I guess they weren’t very impressed.
Regardless of the looks I was getting, I pressed on. I told them everything: The divinely inspired vision about the end of the world, the source of it being Kenvunk, the encounter I had with the god after getting knocked out. No withholding.