2nd day of Ransalacue, 5571A Dromdal Manor, Swan Street
Talantier, The Divided Lands
Barnsworth went to answer the door and came back to the dining room after a few moments, accompanied by two humans.
"Lady Nina Guesenholt and her nephew, Ned Guesenholt," the hobbit announced in a voice so thoroughly weak and unimpressive that Lumen, if she had not already met Lady Dromdal, would have wondered why he even bothered doing it.
The Lady Guesenholt seemed to be about Auralana's age; the two obvious differences between the two aristocratic women being that Nina's hair was white and undyed and that she still had use of her legs, although she walked slowly, arm in arm with Ned.
The younger Guesenholt looked to be in his early fifties. He had a broad, somewhat flabby face but smiled genially at everyone present while Nina hobbled over to Auralana and made as much of a curtsy that her advanced age would permit.
"Lady Dromdal," she said, taking Auralana's bony hand in hers. "Thank you for your invitation. Such a grand honor!"
Sebastian looked around the room at this as if he was expecting someone to let him in on the joke any moment now. Oliver caught his friend's eye and gave him a warning shake of his head.
The party was introduced curtly and only collectively to the guests by Auralana as "The Light in the Darkness," which set Takahashi's teeth to grinding.
Another knock sounded at the front door. Barnsworth hobbled off, returning with another human that he introduced as "Jebediah Stewardsfield."
Lumen took an instant dislike to this man, who seemed to ooze a greasy dishonesty that belied the obvious wealth that his clothes indicated. Jebediah greeted Auralana, Nina and Ned with simple politeness and gave none of the party (except Lumen and Sebastian) a second glance but his greetings to Ceseli were replete with elaborate flattery, complete with a kiss to her hand that Ceseli had not offered until a loud throat-clearing from her mother made her comply.
Bjorn poured the wine, saving the palsied Barnsworth the chore of trying to do it. After this task was accomplished and the guests had all toasted to the health and good fortune of their hostess, the cleric felt a nudge on his right side and looked over to see Caffrine standing next to him.
"Save some of that," the teenager said quietly. "I'm gonna need it before the night's out."
The conversation soon evolved (or devolved, depending on one's point of view) to small talk and gossip. The party more-or-less circled the room as the guests finished their drinks and then sat down at the dining room table. Occasionally one of them would sneak off to the kitchen and grab a quick bite of their traveling rations from their backpacks currently stored in the pantry.
Lumen and Dark, both being bards, were the two group members paying the closest attention to the actual content of the conversation. This was an ingrained and unconscious habit of any bard, as it often provided clues to help ingratiate oneself to the speaker.
The two elves quickly pegged Nina Guesenholt as the sort of sycophant that Auralana Dromdal cherished. Nina kept her conversation squarely centered on Lady Dromdal or more specifically, what Lady Dromdal thought about the various goings-on here in Talantier. Auralana being who she was, topics such as the current machinations of the town council or the sewer worker's strike netted nothing more than a dismissive wave of her hand but the various plays and performances going on elicited more elaborate replies, although the common theme of them was that none of today's entertainers (in particular the singers) could match the glory of Auralana Dromdal when she had been in her prime.
"Even today," the mistress of Dromdal House said imperiously, "I could make any of these so-called singers weep with envy at the sound of my voice."
"I can believe that," Sebastian, who had caught that last remark, muttered underneath his breath to the two elves as he passed behind them. "Old crone's voice makes me want to cry out every time I hear it."
Illumenatta and Qidarchios did not laugh at the jibe.
Jebediah had snagged a seat for himself directly opposite Ceseli Dromdal-Andronovich and was attempting non-stop to engage her in conversation, which for her end consisted of one-syllable replies and looking around at any other face in the room.
Barnsworth served the stew and turnips. The Guesenholts offered profuse thanks to their hostess for the meal but it was obvious even to the least interested observer that Stewardsfield was used to much better fare as a matter of course. His statement of thanks was barely audible through tight lips.
Auralana fed tiny portions of her chicken to Sachi, who remained in her lap. Meanwhile Ceseli, who seemed to have little appetite, motioned for Baron to come over and to Lumen's surprise, fed him most of her chicken, which the mastiff accepted gratefully. The moon elf watched as the younger Dromdal fondly, if half-heartedly, scratched Baron behind the ears, which the large black dog seemed to enjoy before he trotted back to Auralana and sat down again beside her.
Well, Lumen thought to herself sourly, so much for the "Ceseli is terrorized by Baron theory." I wonder why Lord Dromdal referred to him as he did in that letter. Maybe he was the one being terrorized by that dog.
Alone among the dinner guests, Ned Guesenholt seemed to find the Light in The Darkness fascinating and spoke freely with whichever member of the party happened to be closest at the moment. However, it quickly became apparent that for all his geniality, the younger Guesenholt seemed to have had his sense of tact surgically removed at some past in the past.
If indeed, he had ever possessed one.
"And you, sir," he intoned to Sanders just after receiving a refill of wine from Bjorn, "exactly what sort of creature are you?"
Sebastian's slit-pupiled eyes widened at that but Oliver, who always stuck close to his friend when he had the opportunity to do so, quickly interceded.
"We're not quite sure, Lord Guesenholt," the mage quipped, pasting a carefree smile on his face and putting a warning hand on Seb's shoulder, "but we suspect a dragon may have been involved at some point."
"Lord Guesenholt is my father," Ned replied, still smiling and apparently taking little notice of Athraite's explanation. "I'm just plain old Ned."
"And where is your father, plain old Ned?" asked Sebastian, who apparently felt that the best allowable revenge against a tasteless question in these circumstances was to respond with another one.
Although the smile faded from Ned's face, he still shrugged indifferently. "He said he couldn't be bothered with the likes of this kind of party."
Seven heads pivoted as one towards Lady Auralana Dromdal, whose hearing had indeed picked up that comment even through Nina's non-stop chatter.
Before Auralana could respond, however, another voice interceded.
"Lady Ceseli," Jebediah Stewardsfield announced officiously, "while I am course horror-stricken and disconsolate at the terrible tragedy which has befallen you," he cleared his throat, "your mother in her learned wisdom has pointed out that time ceases for no mortal, man or woman, and we must not compound our grief by closing our eyes to whatever opportunities might lay before us."
Ceseli looked as if there was nothing more in the world that she would have rather done at that particular moment than in fact to close her eyes (and ears as well), although Lumen and Dark saw her mother turn her fury from Ned and nod approvingly at Jebediah's words.
Stewardsfield stood up.
"Lady Ceseli," he repeated, "while I am, regrettably, not of noble birth, my hard-earned position and status as one of the Directors of the Bank of Talantier has given me not only the means to live comfortably as a bachelor-"
Sometimes, the moon elf thought, a lack of tact can actually go a long way.
"Pardon, good sir," Illumenatta cut across Jebediah, "but I am from Evistar, and know little of human culture, having heard only rumors of these institutions you humans call banks. What exactly are they again?"
In fact, Lumen knew what banks were, although it would be the truth to say that she couldn't understand why such things existed. Elvish communities held no stock in money except with what could be purchased with it and looked in bewilderment at any race such as humans or dwarves deciding to collect and hoard it in one spot as a gigantic and unnecessary temptation for the forces of evil.
Through gritted teeth, Jebediah stammered out a few words about why banks were needed and about they were the hallmark of any truly civilized race while Auralana's face again contorted in fury. Ceseli had motioned frantically for another glass of wine from Barnsworth and was now gulping it furiously, as if hoping to go from sobriety to a passed-out drunken state within the next few seconds.
"You will apologize this instant to Mr. Stewardsfield, elf," Auralana seethed at Lumen, "and then you will not speak another word for the remainder of this evening, or I shall report your complete and utter insubordination to Talantier nobility at once to the city council!"
Someone started clapping.
"Well-spoken, Lady Dromdal! We will not stand for that kind of chatter here in this house!"
And every single head- even Barnsworth's- turned in astonishment to stare at Bjorn Sigmundson.
Lumen and Dark recovered first. Performing was the bread and butter (sometimes literally) for any performer and bards were nothing if not performers. They knew how to act, and they knew it when they saw it.
And the two saw not a trace of sincerity on the cleric's face beneath his outward haughty expression.
While they might not have instantly grasped what was going on, Caffrine and Oliver were both streetwise enough to spot there was more here than met the eye and seemed content to let things unfold as they might.
Sebastian merely looked curious and perhaps a bit confused. Saito Takahashi seemed taken aback as well, but out of all of them only the samurai looked angry; genuine anger in his case. The loss of decorum in any social setting, even one as perverse as this one, seemed an affront to his sense of order. The wood elf had scowled at Lumen during her interruption and might have applauded the cleric's attempt to restore things if he hadn't been perpetually suspicious of everyone and everything.
"Mr. Stewardsfield here was about to make what I'm sure will be a very significant proclamation," Bjorn continued, "and I think we all owe him the courtesy of our full attention." The priest of Balder finished with a slight bow to Lady Auralana, whose own initial suspicion had given away to a firm nod of confirmation and a smile of satisfaction.
For her part, Ceseli Dromdal-Andronovich was now staring at Bjorn as if he had just reached into her chest and violently extracted her heart. Tears sparkled in the young noblewoman's eyes as she dropped her head and again began to sip listlessly at her wine.
Bjorn smiled and motioned to Jebediah, who nodded in gratitude, took a deep breath and walked over to stand beside Ceseli.
"Lady Ceseli," he tried for the third time," the gods have indeed bestowed their fortunes as much as they can upon any non-noble; with wealth and all the power it brings. These gifts, along with my undying and eternal devotion, are yours for the claiming."
The only sound in the room now was Baron's panting.
Bjorn Sigmundson positioned himself directly behind where Ceseli was sitting and spread his arms wide and made a glance up to the heavens.
The resemblance to someone of his profession about to perform a marriage ceremony was lost on absolutely no one present.
"Speak, Jebediah Stewardsfield," Bjorn said in his most sonorous tone.
The banker nodded again at him, smiled and then bent down to kneel in front of Ceseli, who kept her face hidden in her wine glass.
"Lady Ceseli," Jebediah began.
"Sing," Bjorn said, so softly that no one but the banker and Ceseli could hear the word.
And Jebediah Stewardsfield burst into song.
Badly.
"Wiiiill yooouuu dooo meeee the honorrrr-"
As the dinner party guests looked on with expressions ranging from horror (Auralana and Nina) to amusement (Ned and the Light in the Darkness) Stewardsfield clamped his hand over his mouth and fell silent.
He'd have been better off covering his face, Lumen thought, as the moon elf watched Ceseli's spit-take of wine splatter the banker's face in a shower of purple droplets.
The room exploded into chaos. Bjorn quickly grasped Ceseli's arm and pulled the woman to her feet. The younger Dromdal still couldn't seem to catch her breath and seemed in genuine danger of choking. Lumen thought she heard Oliver Athraite say something, but she couldn't be sure.
"Do not fear!" Sigmundson shouted to the room in general but Lady Dromdal in particular. "I am a healer and by the grace of my god no harm shall come to her! She does need a space to lie down though, and fresh air. By your leave, my Lady…"
Bjorn did not wait for Auralana's reply but fortunately for him, Lady Dromdal seemed more concerned with restoring order than anything else, although there was pure venom in the brief look she shot at Bjorn, or her daughter- or maybe both- as the two vanished through the archway into the living room.
Bjorn had indeed intended to place Ceseli upon the divan that sat across the room from the still-going fireplace. Situated just to the north of the archway, the younger Dromdal could relax there and recover out of the sight of prying eyes from the dining room but with surprising strength, she grasped Bjorn's hand in hers and pulled him along to what looked like a blank section of the northern wall.
Still suffering from what sounded like a combination of sobs, chuckles, coughing and hiccups, Ceseli bent down and pressed her palm flat upon a section of wall about three feet from the floor.
A small doorway, designed perhaps for a child (or a hobbit, thought Bjorn) opened up in the wall and bending down, Ceseli passed through, motioning for the cleric to follow, which he did.
Not, he had to admit, without some misgivings.
He sent a swift prayer to Balder that he had been the sole person in that dining room perpetuating a ruse.
They were in a narrow corridor, about five feet wide and running about fifteen feet eastward and ten feet westward. There was no light here but Ceseli had left the secret door open behind them, so that the fireplace's flames illuminated at least the section they were standing in.
Sigmundson had to admit he was grateful for that. He could still see and if he screamed, everyone in the house would hear him.
The priest cast off those thoughts that he now classified as shameful as he waited for Ceseli to recover herself, which took about a minute or so.
Not knowing what else to say, he asked, "Where are we?"
Her smile was thin but genuine.
"Servant's quarters," she replied, indicating with a nod of her head a door on the corridor's opposite wall at the western end. "That's the back door to the kitchen," she added, pointing to their right.
She abruptly looked directly into his eyes and it suddenly occurred to Bjorn how very close they were to each other.
It also occurred to him that this woman was least twenty years older than he was.
Does she want me to-
"Thank you, Mr. Sigmundson," Ceseli suddenly said after more than a few awkward seconds of silence. "I have to confess; I didn't know what you were doing at first. I thought that I was again without a friend in the.. in the.."
Tears welled up in her brown eyes and she started to sob.
Taking her in his arms didn't feel awkward at all now.
He felt her hand against his chest and drew a sharp intake of breath, but she was merely moving her fingers over his holy symbol of a silver chalice.
"I know little about the Werold. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the god you worship," she said, hesitantly, as if she feared offending him.
He favored her with what he hoped was his most comforting smile. "No need to apologize, Lady Dromdal-Andronovich. The Werold homeland is over a thousand miles to the north. Few here know of us."
"Ceseli," she whispered, her own smile tremulous now. "Please call me Ceseli."
"Ceseli," he repeated, his own voice just above a whisper now. "Call me Bjorn."
"Bjorn," she responded, her own smile a little stronger now, gazing deeply into his eyes.
He felt the need to say something. Anything.
"Balder," he managed, clearing his throat and indicating the chalice attached to the pendant around his neck. "He is the god of beauty."
Ceseli's smile, even with her eyes still bright with tears, was now officially the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
"That," she said softly, "I can believe."
They moved at the same time and when their lips met, Bjorn knew a prayer he'd never even prayed had just been answered.
With a start, both of them abruptly pulled back at the same time.
For Bjorn, this was due to several factors. First, lost in bliss as he had been, the cleric was completely ignorant of how much time had passed, but it was sure to have been long enough to arouse Lady Dromdal's suspicion.
Second, it had just occurred to the priest of Balder that he had just used the power of his god to foil what he viewed as an utterly crass marriage proposal to a vulnerable woman whose husband had been murdered only one month ago.
And that very same use of divine power had conveniently arranged things so that this same widow was now kissing him instead of Jebediah Stewardsfield. Sure, he hadn't charmed her, but he might as well have.
For her part, Ceseli, with far more insight than he would have guessed resided in her- he'd thought that Auralana's omnipresent influence had completely smothered her daughter's personality- seemed to know his thoughts without the aid of any magic at all.
"It's all right, Bjorn," she said, cradling his cheek in her hand. "I know it might not seem it to anyone else, but I still have my own mind. And my own heart."
Tears threatened again in her eyes, but she smiled as she looked what felt like Bjorn into his very soul.
"It's the ultimate irony," Ceseli said, with a wry half-laugh/half-sob, "but that horrid Mr. Stewardsfield was righter than he'll ever know. I did so love my Mikael, Mr. Sigmundson. I loved him heart and soul and even though it sounds like selfishness beyond all decency even to hear myself speak the words aloud now, I can't help but feel that he would want me to be happy- at any cost."
Real tears fell now, with no merriment to hide them and a bitter cast entered the noblewoman's voice.
"I certainly wanted that for him."
Bjorn was about to speak when he suddenly realized a sound was coming from the dining room. It was not however, the kind of sound he had been expecting.
It was singing.
Bjorn didn't know elvish, but he recognized the language. He looked back at Ceseli and was surprised to her listening intently to the two voices he now recognized as those of Lumen and Dark.
It makes sense, the priest chided himself. Talantier's pretty much a half-human/half-elven city. You'd have to be a fool to grow up here and not be able to understand half of the population.
"It's beautiful," Ceseli said softly. "It's a love duet between a man and a woman. Possibly from a play, but I don't recognize it."
She fell silent again and it was the entranced expression on her face that made Bjorn realize what was going on.
"A distraction," he said, smiling at her. "Those two are skalds- or bards, as I think they're called down here. Their voices can mesmerize; work magic in the most real way, Ceseli."
To his consternation, she now looked at him with a grim expression.
"They're not the only ones."
While Bjorn was intrigued by that statement, he also felt that his remaining time alone with Ceseli was dwindling down to a close, bardic singing or no, and it would be best for him to utilize that time in the most practical fashion. This was after all the only time any member of the Light in the Darkness had been alone with Lady Dromdal-Andronovich, and he wanted to know if she had any information that might relate to the reason any of them were here in Dromdal Manor in the first place.
"Ceseli," he said, clearing his throat, "forgive me please for changing the subject to less pleasant matters, but is there anything you could tell us about the Swan Street Slicer- this Peck- that might help us? Even a suspicion? Rumors you might have heard?"
She shook her head at him sadly.
"I'm sorry Bjorn, but I know nothing about any of this affair. I think Mother is right when she says that Peck has some sort of private vendetta against the nobility of Talantier, but I couldn't begin to fathom what it might be. I just wonder… why it... why it had to start with… my Mikael!"
Despite her best efforts, she dissolved into tears.
Time remaining be damned, the priest of Balder thought as he took Ceseli in his arms again and held her.
After another minute, Ceseli recovered enough to pull away, although she kept wiping her eyes clear with the back of her arm, as her white blouse had very short sleeves.
"Even with all that's going on," she said, still sniffling occasionally, "it feels good to have people around here. You and all your friends, Bjorn."
She sighed.
"It seems like ages since I've been out of this house. Sometimes I feel like I'm just as much a shut-in as Mother is."
Through no fault of your own, Bjorn wanted to say, but he kept the thought to himself.
Ceseli sighed again and looked around her.
"This house feels different than it did before," she said, her expression darkening.
Bjorn raised an eyebrow. "Has it been that long, Ceseli? Didn't you live here until," he hesitated, "your recent marriage?"
She nodded. "Yes." The noblewoman seemed to be trying to put her thoughts into words, and then gave up with a frustrated shrug.
"Sometimes, I hear sounds coming from downstairs at night. Mother says it's just the foundations settling and Lord knows this house is old enough for that, but-"
She shook her head again.
"I just don't remember hearing it before."
Sigmundson was about to ask Ceseli to elaborate on what the noises she was hearing sounded like when another singing voice abruptly cut into those of Illumenatta and Qidarchios.
It was female; higher in pitch than the other two. It was a bit shrill and wavering at times but it still carried the listener's attention as surely as those of its predecessors.
Then that mesmerizing effect Bjorn had felt earlier abruptly stopped as surely as if a torch had been snuffed out.
Seconds later, Lumen and Dark's singing stopped. After a few more moments, the third voice also stopped.
"I think we'd better get back," Bjorn said but Ceseli was already bending down to pass back through the secret door.
Conversation had resumed by the time the two reentered the dining room. Lady Auralana Dromdal turned her imperious gaze on her daughter and without a word pointed at her chair, which Ceseli silently took.
Bjorn didn't know to what extant the elder Lady Dromdal had caught on; this whole plan to rescue Ceseli had been spontaneous and without any communication between the party members beforehand after all, but the glare she gave him clearly indicated that the priest of Balder curried no favor with her anymore.
Jebediah Stewardsfield had returned to his chair, as well. The banker kept his gaze firmly fastened on his empty stew bowl before him. He looked at no one now, not even Ceseli.
Ned Guesenholt smiled at Bjorn and Ceseli.
"We were just talking," he explained with his serene and total lack of self-awareness, "about Vivi Knot. She was a victim of the Swan Street Slicer, you know."
Bjorn frowned.
"Before we took leave of Lieutenant Anderson this morning," he said slowly, "he had given us the names of the four known victims of the Slicer. I don't remember that name as being one of them."
"If you'll recall," Dark said to the cleric, "Anderson did mention at least a dozen other members of Talantier's nobility have disappeared in the last month as well but since no bodies have been found, they're not officially listed as Peck's victims."
"So?" rumbled Sebastian with a shrug. "The four we know about were just the ones where the city guard came by too quickly for the hobbit to dispose of the body."
Caffrine, who Bjorn noticed had somehow managed to obtain a glass of wine, spoke up while looking disdainfully at Sanders.
"And how exactly does a halfling quickly and quietly dispose of a dozen human or elven victims?" she asked. "Most hobbits I know aren't exactly powerhouses of muscle," she finished with a smirk at Barnsworth, who was now clearing dishes away.
"The strength of the mad," Auralana Dromdal cut in, dismissing the teenager's objection with a wave of her hand. "Of course they're all victims of this horrid Peck. Unlike the lower classes, people of the nobility do not simply disappear without explanation."
Caffrine took a big swallow from her wine glass.
"There was a lot of controversy over Lady Knot," Ned said, blithely ignoring the latest direction of the thread of conversation. "The Night Raven Theatre had cast her as Princess Ilumenine in their new production of The Fall of Ilumeninoridan."
"Why would that be a controversial choice?" asked Oliver, frowning.
"Vivi Knot," said Nina Guesenholt, speaking directly to the party for the first time this evening, "was a half-elf."
"And the Princess was a full-blooded moon elf," Lumen stated.
The others looked at her, but Lumen only sighed.
She hadn't wanted to inject herself into this but had hoped her simple but true statement would put the question to rest. Illumenatta was quite familiar with the tale in question, as she herself had been named in honor of said princess. The Kingdom of Ilumeninoridan had lain within the Wildwood, a relatively small patch of woodlands just north of Samseed Forest, but as the tragic events that the play (inaccurately, no doubt) recorded had occurred almost eight hundred years ago, she'd hoped the subject would not have come up again, especially in a city like Talantier, but she supposed she'd have to go further away and amongst fewer elves for that ever to be a possibility.
"What exactly are moon elves?" asked Ned, looking at Lumen and indicating her unnecessarily with his goblet.
Lumen couldn't help but notice that the entire room, even Dark, was looking at her expectantly, using Ned's clueless inquiry as cover for their own curiosity.
She sighed again.
"Every so often," she explained, using a real effort to keep the testiness out of her voice, "a child is born amongst high elves. They have fairer skin than is normal for our kind but are otherwise unremarkable in appearance."
"Some might disagree," interrupted Dark, winking at her.
Caught off-guard, Lumen could only smile back, thinking she must look like a complete fool.
She then took another deep breath and plunged on.
"It is said such children are marked by Sehanine Moonbow, the elven goddess of the moon. They are supposedly destined for great things; their lives being marked for distinction by the Daughter of The Night Skies."
"Supposedly?" asked Dark, with a quizzical tilt of his head.
"I prefer a life of freedom," replied Lumen, the words slipping out before she could stop them, "even a boring and inconsequential one, to being someone else's puppet. Even that of a goddess."
The room went completely silent. Even Baron seemed to have temporarily ceased his endless panting and growling.
Lumen noticed Bjorn frowning at her.
"The Knots," said Ned Guesenholt, who seemed to have no trouble filling awkward silences, "don't like the Dromdals very much."
Now every head turned his way, which seemed to bother the nobleman not at all.
"My father says the Knots think the Dromdals are way past their prime," he added, as if this explained everything.
"So does he," he added, nodding importantly to himself.
"Ned!" shouted his aunt Nina as loudly as her throat would allow. "That was unforgivably rude! How dare you speak thus about our hostess and her family, you ungrateful wretch! You will apologize to Lady Dromdal this instant, you horrid man, or I will..."
She choked off, spluttering and turned to Auralana with a grief-stricken expression but Lady Dromdal held up a hand to silence her.
With a voice so unexpectedly calm and even that it captivated every single person in the dining room, Auralana turned to face her fellow noblewoman.
"That's quite all right, Nina."
She then adjusted her wheeled chair so that she was directly facing Ned Guesenholt.
"The Knots," she announced with as much formality and (as Lumen and Dark could tell) with as little sincerity as Bjorn Sigmundson had done earlier, "are entitled to their opinion."
Ten bells had sounded- the last of the night for the bells of Talantier. The dinner guests had departed. After cleaning up but before turning in himself, Barnsworth had deposited the party's bedrolls and blankets in the living room, where those not standing guard would be sleeping.
The Light in the Darkness watched as Lady Dromdal wheeled herself over to an identical set of doors to those Lumen and Caffrine had seen in her room upstairs and with some effort pulled down on a lever set off to the side.
There came the growing sound of groaning of metal, creaking of wood and the sound of gears clanking and turning. Then the doors abruptly slid apart to reveal a wooden chamber; a space five feet in width by ten feet in length by ten feet in height. Clutching her keyring in one hand and motioning Baron on ahead of her, Auralana wheeled herself into the room and turned herself around. Although they couldn't see it from their angle, the party was certain that there was a keyhole in the chamber wall facing them that somehow allowed this chamber to rise and descend.
"Lady Dromdal," Takahashi announced, stepping forward and bowing slightly.
While it was obvious that the Light in the Darkness had exhausted whatever feeble goodwill Auralana may have had for them during the course of this evening, the samurai still seemed to elicit a better response from her than any other party member did.
"Yes?" she said, politely enough but with gritted teeth.
"I am sure it is your normal habit to lock your door at night, my Lady," Takahashi stated, again bowing just a little, "but I humbly request you do not do so tonight. With such strength and cunning as this mad halfling surely possesses, locked doors will not prevail against him, and we may need to gain rapid entry into either your room or that of your daughter."
Illumenatta was certain Auralana would flatly refuse this request but to her surprise Lady Dromdal seemed to consider this and then nod to the samurai.
"Very well," she said, inserting the largest key on her keyring into the keyhole. The doors slid shut again, and the clinking and clattering resumed, then grew fainter as the chamber ascended.
"Well," Lady Ceseli Dromdal-Andronovich said after a few seconds, "I had best be off to bed as well. Thank you," she said, turning to look at all of them. "Thank all of you for what you're doing for us."
Lumen (and not only herself, she'd wager) noticed as they all murmured their appreciation that Ceseli's gaze lingered last, and longest, on Bjorn.
"Remember my Lady," the cleric said. "Keep your door unlocked."
As Sigmundson watched Ceseli ascend the staircase, he knew all eyes were on him (how had he managed to make that simple tactical request sound so very wrong?) but felt one person move up to stand right next to him.
He turned to see Caffrine, still holding a glass of wine, with a wicked smirk on her face.
"So," the teenager asked in a mock casual voice, "did you, uh… heal her?"
"Shut up," Bjorn snarled and snatched her goblet but when he tried to down the contents discovered that the half-elf had already done so. He thrust it back into Caffrine's hands and glared at the rogue.
She shrugged indifferently.
"Not like you needed it," she said before strolling away to stand near the barbarian Seb.
"Back to business, please," Saito Takahashi announced, with a growl that sounded not altogether unlike one of Baron's. The samurai pointed at Dark and Oliver.
"You two, along with me, have first watch. The thief and Lover Boy here have second; Lumen and Seb third."
Bjorn's mouth dropped open in astonishment but he wasn't sure if the crimson flush now flooding his cheeks was from surprise or embarrassment.
"Yes, my friend," he somehow heard Dark say. "You were that obvious."
As she stoked the fireplace, Lumen had noticed that Sigmundson had set up his bedroll as far away from the other three people as possible. She smiled to herself at the big deal everyone seemed to be making of the whole affair.
"You're not a moon elf," she'd told the cleric as they'd first entered the living room to settle down, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice completely. "Do as you will. You owe explanations to no one."
He hadn't responded but wasn't trying to defend himself anymore, which was just as well.
"So," said Qidarchios, in a blatantly obvious attempt to introduce a new topic of conversation, "do you really think the Slicer will try to attack tonight?"
"Probably not, but I wish he would," grumbled Sebastian as he lay down on the floor. "I could do with some action."
Lumen turned to the barbarian, her voice and expression uncharacteristically serious.
"We may not be safe even if he doesn't, Seb."
The half-dragon leaned himself up on one shoulder to stare at the bard but said nothing.
Lumen looked around. "I don't think I'm alone in feeling that something is not right here in Dromdal Manor."
"In what way?" Caffrine asked.
Illumenatta turned back towards Sigmundson. "What Bjorn here told us about his conversation with Ceseli- don't start," she warned Caffrine as the smirk began to return to the half-elf's face and the cleric reddened yet again.
"Hearing noises in a house a hundred years old?" the rogue asked. "That's supposed to keep us up at night?" she sneered at her companions. "None of you would last a week on the streets. You quickly learn which noises are worth listening to, and which ones aren't."
"And what about the dog?" Lumen asked her. "The one Lord Dromdal mentioned in his letter?"
Caffrine stared back at the bard and then shrugged, evidently not considering that a matter of importance either.
"We're being paid to protect the Dromdals from the Slicer," she reminded Lumen. "If you want me to fight other evils, pay up. In advance."
"I thought it might be Baron, but it's clearly not," Lumen mused, mostly to herself, ignoring the half-elf's last statement. She shook her head. "I know this sounds like absolute madness, but what if Lord Dromdal wasn't referring to Baron? What if he was referring to the other one; that lapdog, Sachi?"
"It's not, but he wasn't."
Lumen turned around. Oliver Athraite was leaning against the archway, looking at her.
"It was Saito who first suggested it to me," the wizard said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at an out-of-sight figure that Lumen assumed was Takahashi. "He said it might be a disguised demon; something he called an oni." He shrugged. "I was thinking a quasit or imp myself; you know, some sort of fiend, whatever you might call it. That's why I waited for the right time when I could cast a detect or two on the wee beastie," he finished with a nod at Bjorn. "Fortunately, Lover Boy here provided the perfect moment."
Lumen heard Bjorn groan again but paid it no heed. "And?" she demanded.
Oliver seemed to deflate. "No evil. No magic. No nothing. Sorry."
"Why are you harping on so about that dog?" Caffrine asked, looking vindicated as Athraite turned and vanished back into the dining room. "Why do you keep insisting that's relevant?"
"Because," Lumen responded, her own temper and voice now rising for the first time with annoyance at Caffrine, "that letter you read was full of apologies from Lord Dromdal to Ceseli. He pretty much apologized for every single tragedy that's ever occurred to his daughter, including the loss of her new husband and yet he put that damn dog at the very top of his list!"
"What do you think that means, then?"
Lumen turned around again. Bjorn Sigmundson, no longer looking embarrassed but only concerned, was gazing at her.
"I think," the elf responded while trying to calm herself and project a purposefulness that she wasn't sure she felt, "that there are three dogs in this house."
