Mortal Banshee

by Jonathon Magnus

  “So you read that he died at an old age. That’s how we interpret it.”

  “If Mettleheart were not alive at the time of Wescott, then that would make the prediction meaningless. Even given that Wescott was an exceptional Oracle, even the best ever, it is way too far in the future. There are too many variables. Once you get past a generation, the only meaningful predictions are generalities that depend on long term population trends. Just your asking questions at the paladin hood will alter things. If the Uncreation didn’t already happen, then it probably never will.”

  “I know that, Donnie. But the importance of the message is not the accuracy of a love story. The importance is what it says about Mortal Banshee.”

  “According to the best information Wescott had at the time, this was the most likely way the Mortal Banshee would die. That means she’s immortal.”

  “Ageless, at least. That would be the simplest interpretation, but what precedence do we have for an ageless humanoid? She could be a cloning siren, or perhaps a telepath that passes her experiences to younger hosts. What else?”

  “She understands how predictions work. She wasn’t just lamenting mistakes. She specifically understands that what she said would likely have an effect on actions—which is an odd thing to say since it is only history from her perspective, or rather Wescott’s interpretation of her possible future perspective. She must be a telepath to have figured all that out.”

  “Or just very experienced or well-informed and intelligent. It is likely she had advisors, given her station. But there is a more basic message here. What does it say about Mortal Banshee herself?”

  “Off hand? She probably spoke human since the scribe did not say otherwise. She could not hold an alliance together without Mettleheart. She loved a paladin.”

  Ranie rolled her extended pointer fingers around each other. “And?”

  “Mettleheart loved her.”

  “Exactly—a paladin loved her. She is a good soul.”

  “Unless ‘paladin’ has a different meaning in that future or if he is a fallen paladin.”

  “A fallen paladin that destroyed the Lord of the fourth and formed an ‘orderly and good’ alliance?”

  “‘Orderly and good’ could be her perception.”

  “Possibly, but the basic nature of this message is self-sacrificing. She is a good soul.”

  “Ranie, what are you getting at? This can’t be a case of mistaken identity. Wescott asked about the Mortal Banshee, which by definition is the creature that burned the Silent Hands church.”

  “I know. This is the same person that did some horrible things. But the only written records provide a few views of what happened and no insights as to why they happened. We don’t know much at all about the circumstances of her actions at the Silent Hands. There is almost no information on the victims. What if they weren’t so innocent?”

  “It’s hard to imagine what would justify what she did.”

  “They could have been plague carriers. They could have been part of a cult that sacrificed people or had plans to overthrow Raykez. She could have been compelled or temporarily insane. It might have been an accident. She could have been tricked, brainwashed or drugged. It is typical of the Paragon to have someone else do their dirty work and then use them as a scapegoat. We don’t know, but you must be open to the possibility. Donnie, I believe there is more to the story, and that some injustice has been done. The Dodelige believes the White Heart’s Paragon has something to do with this. And we know that the Paragon hides secrets under the Silent Oratory.”

  Visor gestured at the scroll. “This could change … a great deal.”

  “Yes, the truth could. But in the end, this is a piece of paper. It would be too easily discredited by the Paragon. Anyone can write a scroll. And releasing it would tip off the Paragon to a threat. Many lives would be in danger.”

  “So you’re waiting for something.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re looking for the Ring.”

  “Finding the Ring of Uncreation would put the Dodelige in a much stronger position. The recording of Wescott’s prediction would be indisputable. The lies exposed would cast doubt on everything the White Heart claims.”

  “Men would kill over this.”

  “Men would kill for a pouch of gold coins. And the members of the Paragon, the inner circle of White Heart, are the epitome of evil. This is more in line with mass infanticide.”

  “You didn’t say ‘for instance’.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Ranie, you can’t be serious.”

  Ranie began walking. “There are communities in Worthington Estates and Silver Wolf Pack Lands that still practice Dodelige tradition. There are others, such as the vardal communities in the Seat of Clutch, that don’t prescribe to either religion. As it stands now, they are far enough from Raykez proper that the Paragon leaves them alone. A declaration of heresy would be an unnecessary step. But if they knew that the Ring of Uncreation might be found, the risk equation would be shifted. To assure their hold on power, the Paragon can’t have free-thinking communities close to Raykez. You have to realize how ruthless these men are. All they care about is power. The Dodelige has spies within the White Heart, and we know they have performed very real studies concerning community-wide infanticide.”

  “Do you have proof? Can you identify the specific perpetrators? I mean, the legal system is great and all, but if you know who and when, we can’t let that happen.”

  “Obtaining conclusive proof has eluded us. The Paragon is a tight knit group of privileged men. They protect each other.”

  “Whom do you most suspect?”

  “It’s hard to say. It’s difficult to even name the members. But if I were to guess, I’d have to go with Idiamin or Ivan. Their names seem to pop up most often when we get information about the genetic research. Of course, I don’t think much gets done without the approval of Joseph. He has ties to Talon.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  Chapter 51

  Renaurd

  Visor and Ranie came to an array of figures arranged on a grid on a wooden board. It was similar to a chess arrangement, but the pieces were different.

  Ranie said, “It is an Archon set. It is a game described in some Dodelige documents.”

  “Are the rules the same as Chess?”

  “In that it is turn-based, but the pieces have different movement rules. It takes place on a seven-by-seven grid, as you see. Some of the grids sections are designated power squares. Controlling all of the power squares can win you the game. Portions of the board wax or wan with each round. A square’s shade affects the strength of pieces in combat.”

  “Combat?”

  “When pieces meet, there isn’t a preset result. The Dodelige text describes an interactive battle. We assume they had real people duel or spar to represent the battle between the pieces. We’re not so elaborate, of course. We roll dice. You get more or bigger dice depending on the square color, your control of power squares, and the particular combination of pieces. All pieces are unique, and have at least one opponent they are particularly well-suited to battle. There are no pawns.”

  “Did you say ‘bigger’ dice?

  “Yes, bigger dice allow you to pummel your opponent more effectively.” Ranie smirked. “By ‘bigger’, I mean a die with more sides—eight, twelve, or twenty.”

  “No four-sided?”

  “Doch, of course there is.”

  “The Platonic bodies.

  “It sounds like you might have a challenger, Ranie.” A man’s voice came from behind Visor. A figure wearing a matching Dodelige robe approached. He was perhaps in his early fifties. His facial hair was neatly cut to a short-moderate length.

  “How are you tonight, Renaurd?” Ranie took brisk steps to Renaurd and laid her palm on his cheek. “This is Visor. I brought him here to show him some things I�
�ve been working on for you.”

  Renaurd was lost in thought momentarily. “Welcome, Visor. I run this place—or try to.”

  “The Archon board or the Dodelige?”

  Renaurd laughed. “Oh, just the Dodelige. Archon is all Ranie’s.”

  “Is she good?”

  “Good?” Renaurd huffed. “Does the nightingale sing? She never loses, even when she plays the Dodelige.”

  Visor said, “You have tournaments?”

  “Sorry—I wasn’t clear.” Renaurd gestured toward Ranie. “Ranie … plays the Dodelige.” He gestured widely. “She’s played six simultaneous games. In her game against me, it was the most incredible thing. I thought I finally had her with Peace takes Fallen. But then from nowhere—”

  Renaurd and Ranie spoke together. “Rampant Chaosse takes Pale Siren.” She smiled smugly.

  Renaurd looked on wistfully. “That was the first and only time I made a Pale Siren promotion against her. She purposefully stretched out that game. She baited the power squares to get the Rampant Chaosse.”

  “That was the only game with two promotions, at least in live competition.”

  Renaurd said, “Some of the pieces can be promoted under certain circumstances, siren to Pale Siren, Chaosse to Rampant Chaosse, Banshee to—you know, and so on.”

  Visor said, “Yeah, I taught her how to do that.”

  “Well maybe you can teach her how to wash the floors.” Renaurd laughed. “The associates are falling behind on their duties.” He pointed out a dirt-smudged section of flooring.

  Visor grunted in uncomfortable agreement.

  Renaurd dug in his pocket. “Say, Visor, I was wondering if you could clear something up for me.” He removed a rounded object and proffered it to Visor.

  Visor held it. It was a stone with the entire surface cut into diamond shaped faces. “It’s a thirty-sided die.”

  “Believe it or not, I’d figured that much out. But I never understood why it wasn’t one of the dice we use for Archon. All of the faces come together evenly at the vertexes, just like the others.”

  “Yeah, the vertices touch the same number of faces so the distribution is similar.”

  “And they’re all the same shape. Why isn’t it a Platonic?”

  “Yeah.” Visor knelt down and rolled the die. “Oh, I remember now. They have to be regular polygons, so diamonds don’t count.”

  “Ah, I didn’t know that.”

  Ranie seemed pleased.

  Renaurd said, “Well, I’ll let you get back to what your tour. If you need anything from me, let me know. I’ll be in my office.”

  Visor said, “Actually, I might. Has Ranie made you aware of the research she has been performing?”

  Renaurd nodded thoughtfully. “Ah. Why don’t we go to my office?” He led Visor down a hallway and into a side room.

  Ranie closed the door and stood just inside.

  Renaurd sat comfortably behind a desk and offered the visitor’s chair to Visor. “Ranie has been invaluable to our effort. Her access to university resources and her tenacity have given us a much better understanding of past events. I haven’t seen this kind of excitement among our parish in my life time.”

  “Yet, you’ve had some setbacks.”

  “Yes, it remains a difficult climb.”

  “The White Heart has you outlawed.”

  “They have many advantages.”

  “Not the least of which is the service of Talon.”

  “You seem to already know what we need.”

  “I am in the same room as the head of the Dodelige an hour after I learned it existed. I have expressed no interest in joining. I don’t see how I present a threat. So it makes sense that I am about to be asked to perform a service.”

  “That would make sense.”

  “You want me to rescue Quenton.”

  “We don’t have the means. I have it on good authority that you do.”

  “I may or may not have the time. I’ll have—would have to study the options.”

  “We do have some funds. We have a collection of artifacts, some of which you might find interesting. Some of them have value in the market. We might have some information you’d be interested in.”

  Visor thought for a bit. “Actually, I have a different payment in mind—an exchange of services. Of course that would be in addition to operating expenses. But before we get into details, I have a question for you.”

  “I will try to answer.”

  “I take it you are up to speed on the Ring of Uncreation and suspicions about the activity of the Paragon?”

  “I try to keep up with the goings-on, though I wouldn’t be surprised if you could teach me something.”

  “The Paragon has done some questionable things.”

  “Yes, they have.”

  “It would be hard to compete with such an opponent while keeping your hands completely clean.”

  “Yes, it would be.”

  “Would it be hard enough, that the Dodelige would, say, have any remote involvement in a plot to harm a member of the Sanctuary?”

  Renaurd let the question sink in. “The sirens are gentle creatures and we would never act to hurt them. We don’t believe they are divinity, but we wouldn’t harm beautiful, moral people.”

  “Did you hire Nicodemous to kill or harm a siren?”

  “I am not familiar with a Nicodemous, but I can guarantee you that no one in the Dodelige would ever do such a thing. Frankly, I don’t know why the White Heart or Paragon would either. They are often at odds with the Sanctuary politically, but killing a siren would be self-defeating, not to mention unthinkable. Perhaps a renegade like Attila, or one who was effectively above law.”

  Ranie asked, “Gaius?”

  Renaurd nodded. “Possibly, but if so, there would be a strong response from other members. We’d probably hear about it. But certainly no one in this parish was involved.”

  Visor leaned forward. “I would like to hear the head of the Dodelige swear on that.”

  “Okay, I swear upon the existence of this parish and the life of my family that I have no knowledge of plots to harm sirens, and that I would do whatever I could to prevent one if I had knowledge of it. Is that good enough?”

  “The words are right, but I would like to hear the head of the Dodelige swear on that.”

  Renaurd leaned back and folded his hands in his lap.

  Ranie walked up behind Visor. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned over so that her hair tickled his neck. “I swear.”

  Chapter 52

  Serene Knight Gwendolyn

  Visor woke up about noon and worked on arrangements for water transport to Eurydice and Quenton’s rescue. It was late afternoon before he got by the Sanctuary to pick up Rapture. Sister Mary invited him for a walk in the zoo while he waited. He brought her up to speed on the situation with Nicodemous.

  Mary gripped Visor’s arm, indicating she was ready to move on. “I thank you for bringing this matter to us. I’m sure the Knights of the Moon will look into it.”

  “We will.” The fully armored Serene Knight Gwendolyn walked behind them. She appeared a powerful woman in the full plate suit. “Murder conspiracy is no small matter. If you should find out any more information, we would use it. You can contact any Moon Knight. Word will reach me.”

  Visor guided the trio to the mountain lion exhibit. “Gwendolyn, that is a unique style of armor. It’s real, functional full plate, yet decorated and shaped to flatter.”

  “It was shaped for me. It is harmonic metal, composed and forged by Yngvie. It’s effective enough, but it’s thin in areas.” She tapped her breastplate just below her sternum. It made a hollow sound. “He was too interested in the art.”

  “Yngvie?”

  Mary said, “A master vardal smithy, seen by some as the greatest composer of his era. He also happened to be a great concert master. His compositions were
skewed to highlight the concert master role. The overall quality of his works suffered. The quality of metal is remarkable, but the proportions are sometimes lacking.”

  “That’s right, the vardal smithy process requires a team.”

  Mary said, “An ensemble is a vardal group that forges metallic gear. An ensemble has at least a composer, concert master and intonist.”

  “It’s too bad there wasn’t an intonist he got along with.”

  Mary said, “That has been a point of scholarly debate more than once.”

  Gwendolyn said, “The Bright Steen.”

  Mary said, “The intonist Sara Brightsteen was a capable contemporary of Yngvie. Given her style, some argue that had the two collaborated, they could have brought us into the symphonic era decades earlier. As it was, she ended up floating between ensembles, never fully dedicating herself to the art.”

  Gwendolyn said, “There were dedicated intoists.”

  Mary said, “Liza Gerard, for one. But with scrutiny, some conclude the style and personalities would have conflicted.”

  Visor stopped at the exhibit wall. There were a number of mountain lions out. “I don’t understand—is he still forging or not?”

  Mary held out a hand for a mountain lion to sniff. “Long dead, I would assume.”

  Visor addressed Gwendolyn. “But you said the armor was made for you. Did you just mean that by chance it happened to fit very well?”

  Gwendolyn looked to Mary.

  Mary nodded.

  “It was made for one of my ancestors.” Gwendolyn removed her helm. Her skin was naturally tan and her eyes dark brown, but her hair was bleached white, except near the root. Her lips had a natural gloss. Despite her femininity, her musculature was apparent in her neck and cheek structure. She was Visor’s height. She stepped up to him, put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close.

  Visor inhaled deeply. A sense of well-being washed over him. “You’re sirenic.”

  “Yep.” Gwendolyn stepped back and replaced her helm.

  “I haven’t seen your strain.”

  “We’re a split strain. Not allowed in Xandria.”

  “Rap mentioned that before. I forgot exactly what it means.”

  “In the Fracture, some strains split between banshee and siren. The splits aren’t allowed in Xandria. We’re mostly in Seven Angels.”