Rendering Nirayel-Stepping on Arbitos

by Nathan P. Cardwell

  "How about the cold-blooded Murder of a defenseless Ranger of four hundred and thirty-two summers? Perhaps we could fault her for that?"

  "Some could, I suppose," Reginald replied thoughtfully while refilling his own teacup, "though I don't think you should."

  "Oh, yes, I… Huh? Why not?"

  "You promised."

  ***

  Clawtorn handed over the requested supplies: food, water, bedding, and several alchemic concoctions, which included a gate potion. This last had been more difficult to procure. It was too expensive to purchase on her salary. She had been forced to acquire the elixir from military stock, and then doctor the records. Why he didn't use it to return home right away was something he had not offered to share with her.

  "It's not my fault!" she voiced in an abrupt, but quivering tone, and then in turn produced a sheepish smile as he momentarily ceased his inspection to address her directly.

  "No, of course not," he crooned, mocking her own style of ingratiation. He then continued to rummage through her care package.

  "There was no way to influence the situation. That idiot was fawning all over him."

  "I understand completely, Colonel," he sympathized.

  She continued to stand before him, her eyes darting about as she shifted positions several more times. She had no misconceptions. There were only a few items to inspect. He was obviously enjoying her agony. "Without me, they would have seen right through the tampered body count. You can't kill me. You need me!"

  "Please, calm yourself, milady. If I were going to kill you, you'd already be dead."

  At this, Clawtorn seemed to relax a bit.

  "I despise your entire race, Colonel, and you are certainly not excluded from that hatred. Unfortunately, compromises are often unavoidable when one undertakes such dark business as is necessary in times like these. As such, it is imperative that the promises made to traitors such as yourself be honored. In this way, the Empire's integrity to future traitors will be considered worthy."

  "I am not a traitor!" intoned the Colonel defensively."

  "Really? Then what would you call it?" he asked with a smirk.

  "I have been a good soldier for many seasons, and still I have not attained the respect or position due me. Time after time I have been passed over, while people like Krue continue to climb the ladder. It was only a matter of time before he would have been promoted to Colonel. In another five summers he would have outranked me. Can you imagine it? He, as my superior!"

  "Your point, milady?"

  "My point is, it is I who am betrayed!" she flared, and then cringed.

  Crimsin smiled warmly. He loved her fear. She came by it so naturally. If only more Humans were like this one.

  "When Arbitos falls, you will be placed high in the cabinet of leadership that rebuilds the city. As for Krue, well, his head will decorate the wall of your new suite of offices."

  She relaxed once again. She even managed a faint smile as she considered the prospect.

  "But what do we do now?" she asked.

  "I can do nothing," he clarified. "I cannot leave the aqueducts until the time comes."

  "What shall I do, then?"

  "With Krue still in command, there is only one thing to do. We must buy more time. The Ambassador to Spurious must not be allowed to survive. Neither can his counterpart. If their forces combine, then we will have lost before we can even begin. You shall be my eyes and ears. You will let me know when the time is right. In return, you will have secured your position within the Empire."

  "I understand," she said while dropping her hands, palms forward, in the official military salute of the Empire's army.

  "Here," he said, ignoring her gesture of respect while handing her a slip of parchment. "Take this to the other agent."

  "Milord?" The Colonel asked, with a bewildered expression.

  "Make certain that she knows my rank and class."

  "I really don't know anything about…" she began, in attempt to refute any such involvement with other agents, and then thought better of it when she caught sight of the darkening auras about his hands.

  "As you wish, milord."

  ***

  Borin had turned as pale as a ghost. "You can't possibly be serious!"

  "This is quite an opportunity for you."

  "You don't really expect me to accept this, do you?"

  "I expect you to accept your orders, just as any soldier would!" Reginald intoned authoritatively.

  Borin's resolve was shaken, but only for a moment. "No! A soldier may be ordered to undertake any form of military task. This however, is not a military task!"

  "As a matter of fact, it is a military operation," Reginald responded while glancing sidelong at Borin to observe his reaction.

  "How so?"

  "As a matter of fact, it's, ahh…"

  "It's ahh what?" queried Borin in a tone illustrating his realization of his father's inept perjury skills.

  "There could be further assassination attempts. Yes, that's it," he announced as the joke on Jesterwolf came to mind.

  "Oh, spare me."

  "Yes…we require a Warrior to hold the position until we can verify that the situation has been defused…and just you be watchful of your impertinence, young man!"

  "First of all, the only remaining Dark-elf is locked up. The others are all dead. And even if there were some remote danger, it wouldn't be a job for a Warrior. This sounds more like a covert police action, which should fall to the Paladin Guild. Give the Quest to Marc or Selina. They both love this type of drivel."

  "It should be enough for you to understand that your superior has given you an official command! You shall do your duty in the name of preserving the peoples of Arbitos, and the impending Alliance to Spurious! Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, milord," Borin returned with a total lack of enthusiasm.

  "Good. I'll commence preparations to effect your official reassignment."

  As Reginald was leaving, Borin quickly added, "I'll carry out your orders in this matter, because such is my lot, but neither that, nor your authority, makes it right, and you know it!"

  Reginald appeared as if he had not heard. He simply walked out without responding.

  ***

  Kwibee had tried to explain how the filtered link functioned. The man had to be the biggest Nerd she had ever met. He couldn't open his mouth without spouting at least half a dozen ten-dollar words at her, and those were his layman versions.

  Then he undertook to clarify the IBOT thingy, and all its security stuff. [Oh, like when a computer has a firewall up, right?] {No. It's nothing like that.}

  Most of his babble was beyond her, though she had understood enough to realize that their connection was illegitimate, and that if he were to lose their connection, he would not be able to reestablish another without the use of more sophisticated tools-an unlikely prospect, considering that the only such tools existing were in a laboratory to which neither of them had access.

  [This IBOT sounds like a pretty smart cookie.] {Yes! Now you've got it!} [Huh?]

  It all really boiled down to one thing. If she were ever to get her husband and little brother out of this Mad Hatter machine, then she would have to stick around for the whole show. This meant she might as well get comfortable wearing the Selina suit.

  When she got back to Selina's quarters, she discovered that she was, in fact, just as tired as she had informed Marcus she was. Apparently, Selina had conducted a vigorous six-hour workout before ending her training for the day, only now it was Sarah who was feeling it. She had drifted off almost as fast as her head hit the pillow. Her sleep itself, however, was filled with a mixture of odd and unsettling dreams.

  ***

  "You can go to the mall, but I want you to take Jesse with you," their mother had said.

  "Aww, Mom!"

  "Aww Mom nothing, young lady, and mind you hold his hand when you cross the street!"

  ***

  "Selina! Have you finished your
chores yet?"

  "Papa, they're conducting a fisticuff contest in the Square this evening. If I don't leave now, I will miss the entire…"

  "Mayhap milady should have considered that earlier, while there was yet plenty of time?"

  "Aww, Papa!"

  "Aww Papa me not."

  ***

  "Hey, Twerp! Turn that crap down! Luke's on the verge of asking Laura to marry him!"

  "Jeez! How can you watch that garbage!"

  "Garbage? Have you actually listened to that mess you call music? Cause it sounds like a herd of crippled cats!"

  ***

  "Ouch!"

  "Get up off yer arse, worm!"

  "I yield! You've bested me!"

  "Well, of course I bested you, Dolt. I've got forty circles of experience on you. This isn't about who bested whom. It's about finding some way of drilling a bit of my hard-earned experience into that thick skull of yours, unless of course you would rather abandon your commission. Is that what you want, milady? To give up?"

  "NO!"

  ***

  And so the night went. Their ongoing parade of separate dreams became more and more difficult to define as the boundaries of memory and personality continued to surrender individual cohesion.

  In part, Sarah found herself arguing with Selina's father over enrollment Brochures for the Warrior and Paladin Guilds. In another segment, Selina found herself facing both of Sarah's parents because Jesse had informed them that he had witnessed her entering a drive-in with an older boy. She ended up grounded for six weeks. It wouldn't have been quite so upsetting, if she only knew what a drive-in was.

  ***

  "Good morning, Mistress Bane," offered the Dwarven Counsel for the Prosecution.

  Delphi did not respond. She didn't like Dwarves in general, and this particular Dwarf was obviously offering pleasantries in hopes that she might drop her guard.

  After a long moment of silence, wherein her expected response to his greeting was finally determined to be intentionally absent, he continued. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, mistress," he began dryly while thumbing his suspenders. "Before I do, I need for you to affirm the sincerity of all your forthcoming answers."

  She nodded curtly.

  "I need to hear you affirm this to your Deity, if you please."

  Delphi looked to Jester, who simply gazed back with no inflection. She could not understand his manner of late. He had been true to his word. She had been transferred away from the little pest. Her new quarters were very accommodating. There were bars on the window, but the door was just that, a door. It wasn't even made of iron. There were two guards outside, but both were very pleasant, making sure she wanted for nothing. Still, Jesterwolf had never returned as he had offered. Perhaps he had important matters to attend to, or perhaps they wouldn't tell him where they had moved her.

  She returned her attention to the matters at hand. She stood and raised both hands above her head as a sign of fealty to The Lord of Thieves. "I am Delphi Bane of the Azure line of Bane, First born of Field Marshal Draken Bane and Duchess Ashrha Vamporen. I am…was…Thieves' Acolyte to Grand Master Stelthris Batsight of The Last Order to Lore. I stand within the fifty-third circle of ice that it may provide testimony to my own heart of cold fire. As such, I do affirm to be forthcoming and true in all matters here today."

  "Thank you, mistress," crooned the Dwarf. "A most impressive accounting, though I must admit, most of the thieves I have met were liars to boot," he smiled.

  At this, much of the audience looked to Jester, expecting him to object. This included the Dwarf himself. But Jester simply continued to sit and stare, or perhaps glare, at the Defendant.

  Delphi herself made no sign of disagreement.

  After a moment, the Dwarf continued. "We have a full accounting of all the Wognix who died in Wiccaris, as well as those who were sacrificed by your Baron Heartrot in the War room of Howling Cavern."

  Again, a number of people turned to Jesterwolf, expecting an objection to the term, Wognix. Still, he remained silent.

  "So," continued the Prosecutor. "There were no actual witnesses to this obvious crime of Murder, other than perhaps yourself, my dear. Oh, yes, there were of course the most convincing forensic testimonies of Elder Ironwood and the young Squire Rainswalker. Their findings would appear to be most conclusive, in that the puncture found in Elder Pinewood's temple bore the same crafting signatures as were found on the darts and blow tube you were carrying at the time of your surrender to authorities in the Wiccaris territories."

  Reginald could stand no more. "I object, your Honor! Even if Mistress Bane was the actual Assassin, she would have only been following orders. You can't call that murder!"

  "Captain Krue! You are not Counsel for the Defense, therefore, you shall refrain from any further outbursts in my Court, or I will have you removed. Is that understood?"

  "Yes, your Honor," Reginald agreed while taking his seat again. Jester did not notice his glare.

  "I want the Captain's remarks stricken from the record, and I will not tolerate any further disruptions. Please continue, Counselor," the Judge ordered, shifting to a softer tone while offering Reginald his own glare.

  "As I was saying, considering the prior testimony given, and the evidence found on the defendant's person, there would appear to be very little left to ask. She has already admitted to being a devout follower of a Deity whose very purpose is none other than thievery itself. How could we possibly trust anything she says from this point forward? Does not thievery and falsification go hand in hand?"

  Jester had not intended to partake in these proceedings whatsoever. Both the Captain and his own Council had coerced him into this mess. That didn't mean he had to cooperate. Besides, the little witch had knowingly taken the life of a very old and revered Half-elf, who wouldn't have been able to defend himself even had he been afforded such an opportunity, which he hadn't. He was ancient and feeble. It must have been a very simple task for her to just snuff out his life.

  As he thought about this injustice, he began to recognize certain similarities between the Elder, and Delphi herself, sitting up there with no defense while the Dwarf continued to paint a picture, rather than reveal the truth. Guilty or not, she was as defenseless as a newborn pup, just as the Elder had been. If she were to be pronounced guilty, then it should be done correctly. There shouldn't be such a disregard for procedure.

  "I wonder, Counselor," spoke Jester for the first time. "I wonder, because if what you say is true, do we not also serve to assist in falsification when we fail to explore the truth? How can we condemn, when the purported lies have yet to be heard?"

  "I object, your Honor. Counsel insinuates I would serve to falsify. The Defense would have you believe it is I who am on trial."

  "Counselor Thistle will refrain from inferring innuendo toward the Prosecution," intoned the Judge sternly.

  "Oh, dear! I surely meant no defacement of character toward my esteemed colleague. I do hope he will accept my sincere apology. I also beg the court's patience, as I am an amateur here."

  "Think nothing of it, Counselor, offered the Stately Dwarf magnanimously. "We were all new to courtroom procedures at least once in our lives," he smiled, almost looking sincere.

  "Well, I appreciate that," Jester replied with a fair reproduction of the Dwarf's own demeanor. "I really do. It's so difficult being new. As a matter of fact, it's always difficult when one is in strange surroundings," he said while looking straight at the defendant, as did everyone else who followed his line of sight, and logic.

  "Take me, for example." he continued. "I'm used to the wilds. So I'm sure you can see how strange all this is for me. In fact, I'm finding this entire judicial process a bit odd, in relation to my experiences with Dryadic Law. You see, when someone among my people is accused of a crime, we are always quite careful to hear their side of the story. That way, if we do find them guilty, then no one can say we didn't at least give them an opportunity to defend themselves."
/>
  "Under ordinary circumstances, I would agree with Counselor Thistle," stated the stately Dwarf. "But we aren't dealing with ordinary circumstances, are we?"

  "No. No, we're not," Jester returned. "What we appear to be doing is placing a soldier on trial for following military edict. We appear to be applying laws to an individual who not only doesn't understand them, but so far as I can tell, isn't confined by them. Is this not true, Your Honor?"

  "The Defendant is not on trial," began the Judge. "She has, however, applied for Sanctuary. As such, we must first determine if she is worthy or not. The only way to do that is to clear this issue up first."

  "Ahh, I see. Now, how does restricting this Wognix from offering testimony serve to clear this issue up? As I said, I'm new to all this, so please speak slowly."

  The term Wognix hit home as the Courtroom's attention now shifted toward the Dwarf, who had previously used the derogatory remark while the tide of consensus was yet on his side. Now, as the issue had somehow drifted to defining the process of Justice itself, the remark had come back to haunt him.

  "Perhaps I misspoke myself…"

  "To continue," Jester interjected. "I would like to question the Defendant. I don't suppose there would be any objections since the Prosecution has made it quite clear that he feels that questioning the witness is a waste of time."

  "Are you quite through with the witness?" asked the Judge.

  "Well I…I suppose I am," concluded the Dwarf while casting a most dour look at the Counsel for the defense. To say otherwise at this point would be to contradict himself.

  "Please continue, Counselor Thistle," offered the Judge.

  "Mistress Bane? I'm really very sorry about the Wognix remark. It was most inappropriate of me." In fact, he was not sorry about the remark in the least. It had been a very important weapon, effectively discrediting the Prosecution.