Part V
Cooked Rabbits and a Cooked Goose?

Warriv sat back under the awning and belched out loud. The late luncheon of savory sage rabbit stew they'd just enjoyed as the sun worked its way down toward the horizon had been well seasoned by his footman, Cervik, yet the true spice to the meal had been Biondi's news. And news indeed, overshadowing the ominous presence of the deadly looking female companion he had fallen in with and the usual rot gut smell emanating from Geglash's every pore.

Biondi's tale was almost beyond belief. Were it not for the caravan master's own first hand knowledge of the Westerner's prowess with sword and pike, he would have written off the tale as the stretching of truth typical of the sell swords hired by Greiz. Of course, Greiz never had been able to recruit Biondi, and strangely enough, had not bothered to recruit Geglash, a veteran whose own fighting reputation was well established in Lut Gholein -- as was the knowledge that his nerve had been broken out in the desert in some horrific battle with demonspawn. All the wine in Atma's cellars did not appear to have mended his backbone. Warriv stopped his musing and returned his attention to Biondi's tale.

"The three Druids of Scosglen convinced me that we needed to travel to Kurast in order to stamp out the corrupted priesthood, a Theocracy that had laid that noble kingdom to waste from within. So Ashef and I headed south with them, away from where I felt Tal Rasha would more likely have gone. And let me tell you, if the jungles of Kurast were filled with horror, Kurast itself was filled with nothing but death and destruction." He shook his head, shuddering as he wiped a last heel of bread on his plate, soaking up a small puddle of savory rabbit gravy. His audience of three waited as he chewed this mouthful and chased it down with the last swallow of wine in his cup.

"The priests of Zakarum have fallen from the Light, and have taken to drinking the blood of their own people. Beyond that, my only memories of the two days we spent battling in Kurast is of lightning storms lashing down on me, flashing scythes, and swarms of demon driven bugs drinking our blood. I am loath to describe what we found during such a pleasant meal as this, and so will summarize: we cleansed Kurast by sword and fire."

Rusti spoke up as he paused, her voice low and tight.

"What of Natalya, our agent whom you mentioned meeting? Why no news of her exploits? She it was who trained me when I first joined the Sisterhood." Her tone almost implied that she did not want to hear the answer.

Biondi shook his head, scratched his beard, and leaned back a bit as he put his plate down.

"Natalya met us on the Causeway to Travincal. She was insistent that we go to the capital and eliminate the High Council. The Druids agreed, as their position was that an abomination on such a grand scale needed to be rooted out and burned. So we parted company, they on their mission and I on mine." He shook his head grimly.
"I knew they were trolling for a red viperfish, so I turned north, as the Druids should have." He turned to look at Rusti, then back to Warriv. "The root of the problem lies not in Hell, nor in old religions. It lies in the North, under Mount Arreat." He looked soberly at Warriv, and then again at Geglash and Rusti, seeing an unasked question forming on the woman's face. "It is wild, undisciplined magic that we must defeat, not some demon who can live in Hell for eternity. As I traveled North, I found that Terror and Destruction left an unmistakable trail toward the Highlands and Harrogath, a trail that stunk of magic and foul sorcery."

Rusti started to speak, but paused as a young boy came scampering up to the group and approached Warriv. The caravan master nodded permission so the boy stepped forward, crouched down, and whispered intently into Warriv's ear. Warriv listened briefly, smiled to the boy and then pulled a silver coin out of his belt. He patted the boy on the head and pressed the coin into his hand. With a yelp of glee, the lad went tearing down the street to the east, his overpayment apparently burning a hole in his palm.

With a sigh, Warriv arose and bade his guests do likewise.

"Biondi, Drognan sends for you. He has news." He stepped forward, pulled the large man to his feet, embraced him, and then took a half step back and look frankly at him.

"This meeting has been all too brief. I wish we could sit and chat the hours away until the moon rises and falls. I am still trading, thanks to your sword, Warrior. As I told you before, you are always welcome in my camp." He cupped both hands together and offered them forward in the manner of the desert nomads, then bowed slightly. Biondi returned the gesture gravely, bowed in return, and thanked him for his hospitality. Turning to Rusti, he motioned his head east, hoping that Geglash would take the hint to disappear. Geglash remained obtuse, and simply followed the Warrior and the leather clad woman into the dusty street. The were once again silent as they strolled purposefully down the streets of Lut Gholein, and negotiated the late afternoon pedestrian traffic and the occasional patrol of Greiz' sellswords.

The sun was starting to take on an orange hue when they arrived at Drognan's door. With an abrupt knock, Biondi called out the sage's name.

"Hail Drognan, 'tis I, Biondi, with two companions. May we enter?"

There was no answer for several moments. Rusti looked quizzically at Biondi, and then glanced at Geglash, curious as to why neither seemed put out by the apparent slight. Biondi stood calmly and looked straight at the entrance, as if waiting for some sign. After what seemed an inordinately long pause, he nodded his head imperceptibly and pushed gently on the hinged side of the wooden door, which swung open, apparently suspended by nothing more than thin air on the other side. Geglash muttered an incomprehensible oath, then made a quick gesture with his fingers that Rusti recognized as a ward against magic. Her own senses, though heightened, sensed little danger and only a slight presence of mana.

They entered a large room cluttered with books, scrolls, tables and beakers, half of which were empty. At the large table in the right hand corner of the room, nearly hidden by a pile of parchment, the top of a man's head was visible, suddenly accompanied by a wrinkled, long nailed, waving hand.

"A moment," croaked an old man's voice from behind the pile, "Please sit down, I almost have this done." A slight scratching sound indicated that the speaker was inscribing something with a quill.

Biondi remained standing, then smiled slightly as he noticed his two companions looking fruitlessly about for chairs, a piece of furniture conspicuously absent from the room. Rusti put her hands on her hips, her puzzlement plain on her face, while Geglash wandered over to the left, cleared a table of its piles of books, and then sat on the table, his face a study in impatience. The old man eventually stood up to reveal a slight frame covered in a red robe and topped with a lined face, two dark black eyes, and a well trimmed gray and white beard.

"Welcome, Biondi, I received word from Cain that you were coming, however, Lord Jehryn continues to make serious demands on my time." He paused, and looked directly at Rusti. "The visit your companion made to Lut Gholein last time is still much on his mind, and her shadow still stalks the streets at night." This last elicited a gasp from the leather clad woman, who immediately dropped into a fighting crouch, her blade talons appearing on her hands faster than the eye could follow. Her jaw muscles clenched, her weight perfectly balanced on he balls of her feet, she moved her dark eyes rapidly, seeking a hidden enemy.

It was Biondi's turn to be surprised. He gazed more closely at his companion and realized that she did not cast a shadow from the lamplight, nor from the orange sunlight coming in from the window to his right. He stepped away from her and looked at Drognan, his puzzlement plain on his face.

"Her shadow?"

Rusti had none of the tell tale signs of a vampire, even though her fair complexion, slightly redder than normal lips, and fondness for black clothing might be used by the superstitious as evidence that wearing garlic would be good jewelry in her presence. "Pray, Drognan, what riddle is this?"

Surprisingly, it was Geglash who answered from slightly behind him and to his left.

"Rusti never hurt anyone, Biondi. Well, sure, she got into a few scuffles in a couple of the taverns. But Jehryn had her arrested for things she never did. It was her shadow that did all the dirty work. Of course," he continued with bitterness creeping into his tone, "Jehryn doesn't believe me, and Greiz doesn't believe me; nor does anyone else when I tell them that mistress Rusti was asleep safely at my house when the riot broke out at Fassid's Bar and the three mercenaries repainted the floor with their own blood." He looked back at Biondi as the Warrior stared at him in utter disbelief. So he continued, his speech only slightly slurred by his habitual liquid diet.

"She had been thrown out of two different taverns two nights in a row. She gave me seven gold pieces to let her sleep in my loft and keep a low profile." He shook his head. "I never saw her come or go, and no one knows she did, a fact she is pretty sure to wish I did not just mention to you." He looked warily at Rusti, who had backed up toward the door in her fighting crouch and was feeling for the handle behind her with her right hand.

Drognan nodded and looked across the short distance to meet Rusti's eyes, his expression calm, his voice quiet yet forceful.

"You will not find the handle, Mistress Rustina, as the door only opens on my command, or if you know the passwords." He opened his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Please relax, Mage Slayer, I am not your enemy, even if I still dabble in the occasional spell or two. You have nothing to fear from me-- particularly if you can help me find your shadow and restore your proper bond with it. If you really are Rustinaille, and not an illusion of Darkness and Terror." Her only reply was to edge away from the door to put the southern corner of the room to her back, and to keep her eyes moving, her fighting crouch a picture of lethal readiness. Her calm expression displayed a lack of tension that is the mark of those truly proficient in the deadly arts.

Biondi looked at Drognan, his neck beginning to turn red. "I came here for news of Azurewrath, not to go chasing shadows all over Lut Gholein." His voice took on a slight edge. "Cain promised me that you had news of the Crystal Blade, yet I find you here expecting this woman, with not a care for me and my mission." A touch of anger crept into his tone as he looked from Drognan to Rusti and back again. "Am I just a lure to bring this Mage Slayer to you? Or to that charming little peacock, Lord Jehryn?" The red on his neck had worked its way into his cheeks.

Drognan simply looked at him, his expression unreadable. His silence seemed to confirm the Warrior's suspicions. Biondi's voice rose with a barely suppressed anger.

"I am a Knight of Westmarch, Drognan, and not any man's tool!" Both of his fists clenched and unclenched, his anger cracking his usual stoicism. "May the Light Blast you to dust and ashes if you have dishonored me so!"

Biondi stepped forward toward the sage, his eyes blazing.

"This woman is my hired bodyguard, legally contracted. Any harm done to her shall be done over my dead body." A sound to his left interrupted his rant, as Geglash got up from the table, a long knife appearing in his hand. Biondi reacted with the speed of a jungle cat.

Without appearing to shift his weight, he spun to his right, pivoting on his left foot, and let fly a roundhouse back kick that caught Geglash in the wrist, sending the knife soaring across the back of the room. Geglash, surprised, recovered himself almost in time, blocking the following backhanded blow, but missing the lightning fast front kick with the left foot that caught him on the chin and snapped his head back, sending him crashing back over the table he had been sitting on. He was unconscious before he hit the floor in a heap amidst a pile of scattered books and papers. Biondi turned on Drognan, comprehension slowly dawning on his face.

Drognan did not move a muscle. He stood calmly as if awaiting something, and then nodded almost imperceptibly. He smiled openly at Biondi, and then spread his hands, palms up.

"Yes, Biondi, Geglash has been in my hire since before you left Lut Gholein. And yes to both of your other questions. I do indeed have news of Azurewrath, and yes I need to solve the riddle of Rusti's shadow. I also have theory on why the blade of Karlan the Quick is now broken, since Cain's last note mentioned that detail as well."

He paused as a shuffling of many booted feet was heard outside his front door. "That will be Kaelen, Biondi, and the rest of the loyal town guards. Won't you be so kind as to accompany me to the Palace with Mistress Rustina? Arresting her for a fourth time need not be necessary. The guards are here for your own safety, and that of the people of Lut Gholein." Something in his voice set off a bright red warning flare in Biondi's mind. Rusti's sharp intake of breath was followed by a sharp metallic snap as she tossed a small metal device to the floor, directly facing the front door. Her voice was barely audible as she chuckled mirthlessly when a second metallic click indicated another device being tossed to the floor next to Drognan's feet.

"You fish smelling sons of alleycats are gonna learn, one of these days, that stepping on a Rusty Nail can kill you." Her voice went down a register, with a deadly undertone. "As soon as that door opens, mage scum, you are going to discover that magic won't protect you from our weapons, and that fried flesh smells just as bad in a magician's shop as it does in a hut full of slaughtered children. But it will be like roses to me." A slight crackling hum began as the device came to life at Drognan's feet. The sage looked down at it and stood as still as if a Vizjeri had turned him to stone, his expression suddenly one of deep concern.

Biondi forced himself to calmness. This mission was getting dirtier by the second. His growing apprehension, and sense that he was on a wagon careening out of control down a mountain road, was not helped in the least when he heard Kaelen's loud and arrogant voice just outside the door to Drognan's shop.

"Drognan, are both of the rabbits in the trap, or just the Rusty Wench?"

Forward to Part VI >>