THE QUESTERS, PART X

Shortly after we put to sea, Alexander lifted his head, and seemed to concentrate for a moment.

Then his eyes met mine. "It's over," he said.

I wasn't sure what he meant.

"The bells," he explained as he waved at our wake - back in the direction of Berring Island. Alexander, with his keen Blood senses, was hearing something that I couldn't.

Behind us, the bells of the village were ringing. That was traditional. It meant that the old Lord Berring was no more and a new Lord now ruled in his place. The sound of the bells would herald the old lord's spirit into the beyond. The Blood are a savage people, but they have moments of beauty that go along with their barbarity.

A long moment passed, where neither Alexander or I said anything. For our own reasons, we were both deeply disturbed by the passing of the old Lord Berring.

"Jonah, why don't you get some sleep?" Alexander eventually suggested. "I'll be fine."

Like most Blood, Alexander could go a long time without rest. On the other hand, I was exhausted.

I nodded gratefully at Alexander and settled down in the bottom of our boat, using my pack as a pillow.

I dreamt that I was an elderly Blood Lord and that the time had come for me to die. Alexander was the Samurai who would end me. He begged me to remember that I was a Spider, not a Blood. And that since I was a Spider, I could simply walk away from what was coming - a choice that a Blood didn't have.

With a shake of my head, I reminded Alexander that I'd killed someone to become a Lord, and now it was time to balance the scale. I had to exchange my life for the one I'd taken.

Exasperated, Alexander asked me who I'd killed.

I told him it was my great-grandfather.

It seemed as if Alexander was about to say something to me, but then he vanished.

In his place, stood the First Spider.

The First Spider - the progenitor of my people - appeared as a wiry man of average height. His hair is white and short, his face is oddly youthful, and his eyes are a deep brown. He was dressed in a simple manner, although the style was odd.

His eyes met mine. "Stop beating yourself up about your great-grandfather," he told me.

After recovering from my surprise, I made as if to kneel. But my revered ancestor grabbed my shoulder armor and with effortless strength forced me to stay upright.

"What you and Benjamin did had to be done," he said bluntly. "So move on. Your great-grandfather is with me now, and he's grateful for what you and Ben did."

I took a deep breath, and then let it out in a long shudder. I so wanted that to be true.

"And now there's more to do," he continued. "Logan and I both agree - the book is in play and the day is coming. You and Rahne and all the others are the right people at the right time, and a chance is coming won't come around again for a thousand years. Jonah, if you and Rahne get this right, the world will be a far better place."

Then the First Spider paused and peered deep into my eyes. That was... a formidable thing. The First Spider has very human eyes but at the same time they seem without an end.

"Power and responsibility, Jonah," he said mildly, but with steel in his words. "You have the first. Now find the rest."

My eyes snapped open. Water lapped against the hull of our boat. The moon was down and above me, the night sky was blanketed by the swirl of the Milky Way. Mars glared down, red and formidable. Several of the white dots that some say are ships from the stars were in stately motion across the heavens.

"You okay?" Alex said. He was sitting at the tiller and smoking a pipe - something I'd never seen him do before.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Bad dream?" he asked sympathetically.

I hesitated before answering.

"Not really," I replied quietly.

"Not really."

It was well after midnight when Alexander and I arrived back at the village.

Alexander tied us off. With a mighty yawn, I tossed our packs onto the dock and jumped off the boat. A pair of young Blood - teenaged lovers as near as I could tell - were sitting on the edge of the dock with their arms around each other and their bare feet dangling over the side. They were watching us with a mixture of curiousity and impatience, their eyes reflecting lantern light from the village.

I tried not to smile. Alexander and I had interrupted a tryst. It was a good reminder that there was still life in the world.

"Where are you staying tonight?" Alexander asked.

"Priestess Kathryn said I could sleep in one of the Temple's common rooms," I told him.

Alexander nodded. "I'm sure Sooraya wouldn't mind if you stayed with us. We'll take good care of you."

Alexander was offering me more than just a place to sleep and that was a very Blood offer. I responded politely.

"Alex, I'm sure you'd like to spend some time with your lovely wife."

He smiled in appreciation at my courtesy and the two of us headed towards the Temple. As we walked through the village, a group of four armored militia nodded at us. Apparently the village was now keeping some of its warriors up and ready, just in case of trouble. That was a welcome development.

I got a few more hours of sleep and then got up and found Demetrios. He listened to my report thoughtfully.

"I've heard of the mastless ship," he said to me, "but I was never sure what to make of the tale."

"A rather sharp individual on Berring Island speculated that it's Atlantean," I told Demetrios, "but the same person also gave good arguments why it wasn't. He'd actually seen it and thought its construction was too crude for an Atlantean vessel."

"Could it be Starkian?" Demetrios suggested. That was a reasonable question - the Men of Iron were renowned keepers of the ancient sorcerery they called 'technology' and had a facility in Nyack.

I made a helpless gesture with my hands. "Normally, I'd consider the possibility, but it's hard to see why the Men of Iron would be so secretive - or involved at all. As bizarre as it sounds, the vampire explanation actually makes more sense."

Demetrios shook his head. "A vampire-crewed submergible vessel, secretly transporting victims from Nyack to some hidden lair? That's incredible."

"I agree, but the Queen herself said that the existence of vampires is threatened. Maybe some of them have found new ways to survive? There are supposed to be elder vampires who date all the way back to the time of the Folk Ascendancy. They would know much about the dark magics of that time. There might even be vampires who are skilled in Starkian sorcery and engineering."

"But where does the Hand fit into this?" Demetrios demanded. He was obviously baffled.

So was I.

"Not a clue," I admitted. "The only connection we have is thin at best. The Hand is looking for information about an old ship-wreck. Dracula supposedly appeared on these shores as a result of just such a thing. Then we started investigating and all of a sudden we find what might be a century-old vampiric conspiracy centered around Nyack and a strange submerging ship. You called the situation incredible, and that's a good description, but what else do we have?"

Demetrios scratched his chin. "Perhaps you're going down a false trail?"

I nodded. "That's possible, but I don't think it's time to drop this yet. Remember - we have a Seeker who's also investigating. She seems to think there's something here, and Seekers... well..."

"Seekers have their own ways of knowing things," Demetrios finished for me. He suddenly looked grim.

"Speaking of which, have you heard anything from Rahne and her friends?"

"Not yet, but it's only been a day and a night."

I slid a folded packet of papers across the table to Demetrios. "Here's a written report for Priestess Kathryn. I'd appreciate it if you forwarded it to the Sword Priestess Militant. I'm on my way to Nyack. I'll find Rahne and see if she needs help. If she doesn't, I'll be back as soon as possible."

Demetrios gave me a long and narrow look. "Don't you have reasons to avoid Nyack? Is it a good idea for you to go there?"

"No. But hopefully, I can stay out of trouble for a day or so."

Demetrios nodded. "Take Alexander with you."

Demetrios sent word to Alexander. Meanwhile, I returned to my cell and waited.

After a while, someone called my name. I looked up.

It was Sooraya. She was dressed in her full uniform and politely standing just outside the doorway to my small cell. She was smiling at me and my original thought about her - that Sooraya was a woman of spectacular smiles - was once again proved to be true.

"Alex wants you to know that he's on his way to the boat."

"Thanks," I said. I put my spider-amulet back in my pocket - I'd been praying - and then grabbed my pack and got to my feet.

"You take your devotions seriously," Sooraya observed approvingly. As a temple guard, that sort of thing would be important to her.

"I suppose I do," I replied, "but I admit it's a recent thing."

"May I see your symbol?" she asked politely.

A little puzzled, I pulled the amulet out of my pocket and handed it to her.

She examined it closely, turning it over in her hands. "The detail is impressive. It's a wolf spider, right?"

"Yes, it is," I told her. "It's pretty old and the man who made it was a noted craftsman."

"Did someone give it to you?" Sooraya asked.

Something twisted inside of me, but I tried to hide it. "An elderly relative gave it to me when I was a boy. He died recently and that's when I finally started carrying it."

There must have been something in my manner or voice that Sooraya caught. She gave me a long and thoughtful look.

"Is it intended to be worn around your neck?"

"Yes. It had a chain originally, but I wasn't able to find it. And I haven't got around to replacing it."

Without hesitating, Sooraya pulled a necklace from around her neck. Unhooking a bright sword medallion - the symbol of her devotion to the Lady of Blades - from the chain, she clipped my amulet to it. Then she put the chain over my head and tucked the spider symbol inside my shirt.

I was about to object, but Sooraya forestalled me.

"Forgive me for being so forward," she said, "but your symbol is likely to get lost or damaged if you keep carrying it around in your pocket. And this way it will always be near your heart. That's important and you'll feel better for it."

I paused. And then nodded my head. I could tell that Sooraya was one of those women whom it's wise to heed.

"Thank you," I told her.

"Oh, and try not to get Alex killed while you're off adventuring," Sooraya added sternly. "I finally have him broken in and really don't have the time to train another husband."

It was my turn to smile. "I'll do my best," I promised.

As we crossed the river, I found myself rubbing the amulet that was now hanging from my neck. Sooraya was right when she said I would feel better for having it closer to me.

Another guard was steering our boat - it seemed strange that it wasn't Alexander, but Demetrios wanted the boat back after we were delivered to the far bank of the river. We were supposed to return via the Washton Ferry.

Alexander scanned the approaching shore. That part of the island was mostly residences, scattered between large farm-gardens and clusters of docks and small boats. Great mounds of rubble - smoothed by time and hard-work into terraced hills - loomed in the background It was one of those odd places that wasn't quite rural, yet not fully urban.

"Any idea where the Seeker and her friends might be?" Alexander asked.

I snorted. "We should look for trouble," I told him. "Those three will be right in the middle of it."

He grunted in amused agreement.

Ashore, we asked some questions. And we almost immediately heard a confusing tale about how Rahne the Seeker, her two companions, and some Nyack militia had destroyed some kind of slaving ring.

Alexander and I looked at each other. We were eating fish-and-potatoes that we'd purchased from a street-vendor. That had been the price of gathering information, but it turned out that both the food and the information were pretty good. Actually, vendors are a good place to catch up on street-gossip. Especially if you're between meal-hours and the vendor has time to talk.

"Slaving ring? That sounds about right," Alexander said. Then he popped a chunk of greasy potato into his mouth and began chewing.

"Where was the fight?" I asked the vendor. He was a big and pot-bellied Folk.

The vendor shrugged. "On the east side. In the market next to the Bastard part of town."

I was born and raised in Nyack. I knew where that was.

As Alex and I walked northward, we crossed paths with a Spider merchant and her Yojimbo. She was an older woman of the Moon clan. I would have preferred to avoid her, but she surprised us after coming around a corner. Alex almost surely knew someone was coming but didn't know that I wanted to avoid such an encounter.

"Jonah?" the woman gasped in surprise.

"Hello, Cindy," I said resignedly.

Cindy was giving me a worried look. "Jonah - have you been recalled from exile?"

I shook my head.

An unhappy expression appeared on Cindy's face. "Oh, dammit, Jonah..."

She didn't finish the sentence.

"Sorry," I said to her. "I didn't mean to put you into an awkward position. Just do what you have to do and there won't be any hard feelings from me."

By tradition, Cindy really should tell my family that she'd seen me. And it would be awkward for her if she didn't, and that was later discovered.

A wry smile appeared on Cindy's face. "Your father may run the Spider Legion, but he doesn't command the Moon clan. Just... be careful, okay? I love your sister, but I'd rather not have to sit with her as she mourned her little brother and plotted revenge against her father."

"I'll try," I told her.

Then Cindy took my hands in hers and gave them a quick squeeze. After that she continued down the street.

Alex gave me a cross-wise look. "You really are a Parker? I thought Captain Demetrios was kidding when he told me that. Shouldn't you be commanding a sub-Legion or something?"

I shook my head. "I'm too young for that, even if I wasn't exiled. Seniority is a big thing in the Spider clans."

Alex sighed. "Someday, when we have the time, you'll have to tell me what the weaponex happened to you."

I let out a snort. "Alex, trust me when I say that you wouldn't believe it. Hell. I don't believe it."

He chuckled.

"So, when you're not exiled, do you have a big house, fine clothes, and a harem filled with beautiful and eager women?" he asked curiously.

"Nope. I'm an Ensign-Herald in the Legion. That's a junior officer with diplomatic and intelligence duties. Sometimes I run a pack-sized unit of Legionnaires like any other Ensign. But every now-and-than I get ordered to deliver messages - which is a polite way of saying that I'm out spying on someone. Right up until I got exiled, I was working the spying part of my job."

"That sounds like something I would hate," Alex responded wryly. "And what's the point of being high Scatter nobility if you can't have a harem?"

I considered that. "You know... that's a pretty good question."

"Are you married?"

"No."

"A serious girlfriend?"

I thought about Dani - and all the woman I'd taken up with lately in order to forget her.

"No."

Alex cocked his head at me. "That's not quite the truth. Did you lose someone?"

Damn the senses of the Blood. He'd seen something in me.

"I never really had her," I admitted.

Alex nodded sympathetically.

"So no big house?" he continued. "No servants or vassals? No fine clothes or a big carraige?"

"No. Some of my relatives have all of that, but I'm just not on that end of the family business."

Alex gave me a sympathetic look. "Y'know, it sounds like you've got all the responsibilities and troubles of being high-born, but none of the good stuff."

I couldn't argue with that.

As we worked our way into the more populated part of Mahatan, Alex became increasingly tense. Most Blood don't like cities.

The countryside is overwhelmingly Blood. Villages and towns are mostly Blood, but with a higher percentage of the other peoples. However, the truly large cities are dominated by Folk, Scatter, and Wilder. Urban Blood exist, but most Blood make no secret of not particularly liking the cities. A polite Blood - they do exist - will say that Blood simply prefer to be with their own kind. An honest Blood will tell you that he thinks Folk, Scatter, and Wilder screw up everything they try to run. An extremely honest Blood will tell you that Folk, Scatter, and Wilder stink to high heaven when they're gathered together in large numbers.

Alexander was rather cosmopolitan for a Blood, but putting him in the Green part of town was a bit too much. He was doing a good job of keeping his attitude to himself, but it was obvious that he was on edge. When we got into the Green district, a few Green youngsters who thought they were tough had taken to glaring at him. Alexander seemed to be ignoring them, but I could tell he was actually calculating the most efficient way to kill them all.

"Let's do this without murdering anyone," I told him.

Alexander glanced at me and nodded grudgingly. "I won't start anything. I'll just finish it."

I nodded. That was probably the best I could hope for.

The part of the market where we eventually found ourselves was a mess. An old and rickety tenement building was half-collapsed from the stress of a fight. Nearby buildings were damaged. Debris was scattered up and down the street and there was dust hanging in the air. Some local people were picking through the rubble. A cadre of Nyack militia was on hand to keep the salvaging from turning into looting.

As we approached, a militia mule-cart filled with bodies and body-parts began trundling away. Blood was oozing from the sides of the cart.

"Hold it!" someone yelled. The cart paused and a member of the militia used an underhanded throw to toss a Green head into the cart. It landed with a thump.

"Okay!" the blue-jacketed private yelled. The cart began moving once again.

"Jonah!" I heard a familiar voice call.

It was Faye. She was walking towards us. And she was wearing nothing but a blanket that was wrapped around her torso. She sometimes loses her clothes when she gets into a fight.

"Is everyone okay?" I asked.

Faye gave me a hug. "We're fine. The other guys are mostly dead."

"They smell wrong," Alex called out to me. He'd found a calf with an attached boot and was sniffing at the torn-off end. The militia-private - now exasperated-looking - walked up to Alex and took the leg away from him. Alex complied without complaint. The private then began running after the donkey-cart. Alex looked after him, with a faintly puzzled look on his face. Something was obviously bothering him.

"Rahne says that too," Faye told me as Alex walked towards us. "And I've heard the Blood militia say much the same."

"They probably picked this place for that reason," Alex grumbled. He was glaring with something like personal enmity at the length of trash-filled canal that was visible to us. "Without that canal, every Blood in the city would have been wondering what the blazes was going on here."

"What was going on here?" I asked Faye.

"We tracked down some guys who were maybe slavers - or maybe collectors for vampires," Faye told me. "They'd stash prisoners here and then haul 'em out in boats. We rescued ten prisoners - all that were here. We killed eight slavers and captured two more. Rahne and a militia psychic are talking to them right now."

Alex looked around at the nearby buildings suspiciously. "And nobody here knew what was going on? There must be a hundred people living within a stone's throw."

I shrugged. "These guys were dangerous, so the locals steered clear of them and probably didn't know the details of what was going on. Actually, the only thing they needed to know is that they'd live longer if they kept their mouths shut."

After letting out a long sigh, Alex shook his head. Like most Blood, he found that kind of thinking almost incomprehensible. The Blood are notoriously combative.

Rahne and two militia were talking to a pair of shackled prisoners. The two militia were a blocky-looking Wilder corporal and a skinny Blood private. The private seemed oddly twitchy.

The two prisoners included a non-descript man who was probably Folk. He looked pretty beat-up, but he was able to walk. Judging by his clothes, he was a boatman. The other prisoner was a hard-faced Wilder woman.

I looked at Rahne and raised an eyebrow.

"These two are slavers," she told me. Then she gestured towards the militia-corporal "Beck here is a psychic and she's tried to interrogate them, but they seem to be resistant to psychic powers. So they're probably Hand, or ghouls, or something else just as damned."

Alex and the Blood militia-private were examining each other in a way that should have alarmed any reasonable person. I don't know what they were seeing in each other, but it was enough that the First Spider was whispering warnings to me. They weren't too far from erupting into a fight.

However, Rahne's words seem to snap Alex out of his hostile reverie. He grabbed the male prisoner by the hair and dragged him off the rubble where he was seated. After giving the prisoner a sniff, he snikted open a claw. The prisoner didn't react as Alex slashed open a cut on his cheek. Alex took some blood between his finger and thumb, rubbed them together, and then sniffed the residue.

Alex shoved the prisoner away. After that, he leaned over and held some of the captive woman's hair up to his nose. She stared straight ahead, ignooring him as best she could.

"He's Hand," Alex told me with flat finality. "I'm not sure about the woman, but she has the trace scent of undead about her. She's not undead herself, but she's rubbed up against one."

I nodded. "She's probably a ghoul - living servants of vampires. They're allowed a taste of vampiric blood and that makes them into loyal addicts."

The nearby militia were stirring in surprise.

Rahne looked at me and nodded. She'd already figured that out.

"Damn," Alex said to me as he slowly shook his head. "The things they must teach in Spider school."

The Blood militia-private looked at his corporal and said petulantly, "I told you there was something wrong with them." Then he opened the claws of his right hand. His intentions were clearly deadly.

Alex also had the fixed look of a Blood who thought it was time to kill someone. But he was waiting for word from either Rahne or I.

"Easy," I said softly to Alex. Meanwhile, the female militia-corporal put a hand on the shoulder of her comrade.

Rahne looked from one Blood to the other. "We need these two alive," she told them calmly.

Looking frustrated, the two Blood males acquiesced. It was fascinating to see the deference that Rahne effortlessly commanded from her fellow Blood. Rahne was a Seeker who was on a path set for her by the Old One. Seekers are always respected by the Blood, but when they are walking with the Old One they are treated with vast regard.

Meanwhile, the woman prisoner was staring at me. "What will it take to get me out of this?" she asked. The other prisoner gave her a hard look.

I shook my head. "You're a ghoul and you also work with the Hand. And you've fallen into the hands of a Seeker, the Temple, and the Nyack militia. Executing you is now just a jurisdictional argument. All you can really hope for is a quick end."

The woman glanced at Rahne and then looked back at me, "You can do better than that. I have information you want."

The male prisoner barked something to the woman in a language I didn't know. Alex casually leaned over and broke his nose. The prisoner hissed in anger and then subsided as oddly dark blood seeped around his mouth and down his chin.

"There's no delusion like self-delusion," I muttered mostly to himself. Alex was giving me a look that suggested it was time to stop talking and start carving parts off of uncooperative bodies. I held up a hand to keep him from doing something drastic.

The woman shook her head at me. "I don't feel pain the way other people do. So torture won't work. Mind-reading hasn't worked. But you obviously need what I know. It's time to make a deal, Spider. Talk to the Seeker-woman. Make her see sense."

The psychic militia-corporal spoke up, "She'll give us information about the Hand, but she'll never betray her real masters."

I didn't like our options. I gave Rahne a look, hoping she would have an idea.

Rahne turned her head and yelled, "Hey! Rose! I need you to carry a message downtown!"

About a half-hour later, a disk of white light appeared in the middle of the street. Then it began to rise. Underneath the disk, from the feet up, two forms took shape.

Everyone was staring.

When the disk eventually vanished, Rose and another woman were standing in the street. Rose was doing a poor job of trying not to look nervous. The woman with Rose had white hair and was wearing a red cloak with golden trim. A huge sword was slung over her back. She was an elegant beauty, but her eyes were... wrong. Deadly and wrong.

The militia shifted uneasily. The workers and the curious crowd just turned-tail and vanished.

Faye, standing not that far away from me, let out a sigh and shook her head. "The things we do," she grumbled to me.

With a smile, Rahne walked over to Rose and the newcomer.

Illyana, the Sorceress Supreme, opened her arms and then she and the Seeker embraced like old friends. It only ended after Illyana gave Rahne a sisterly kiss on the forehead.

Then Illyana's gaze settled on the two prisoners. "Are these the two who are being difficult?" she asked mildly.

Illyana was gone. And a lot of people were thanking whoever or whatever they worshipped for that fact.

The two prisoners were now hot, reddish, dust. The glowing cinders of their mortal remains were blowing across town and everyone was making a point of keeping out of its way.

"Well that was all kinds of horrible," Faye said to Rose.

Rose nodded her head grimly. "They brought it on themselves."

Rahne had a pair of tiny glass bottles in one hand. If you stood too close to Rahne, you could hear tiny screams coming from the bottles.

Then Rahne held one of the bottles up to the sun and gazed into it.

"Of course I'll let you go," Rahne said to the bottle.

"Just tell me what I want to know," she added gently.

Something that sounded like a sob of gratitude came from the bottle.

By the way, if you're wondering, "Wait a minute... when did Rahne and Illyana meet?" The answer is, "In a story that I haven't written yet."

Nyack obviously isn't as a big a place as you might think.