Apologies for the huge nature of this chapter. Damn plot...

Across the square stood the only shrine to Coreillien Levethien in the entire town. It was a dilapidated hut thrown together from materials discarded from other people's buildings. The Cleric was very proud of it. Squalid as it was it represented visible progress for his cult - for the first three years he'd been here he'd lived down a hole with a leather awning thrown over it, which had flooded with every summer rainstorm.

The Necromancer squatted on the dirt floor and listened carefully. Eventually there was a polite cough from outside the door, which swung open, letting in a blast of hot air as the Reverend Krup gingerly stepped in. He wasn't very used to people demanding sanctuary in the shrine. In his experience it was usually the opposite - they fled away from the building. However it wasn't his place to question the mage's sudden rediscovery of the joys of religion, and her very generous donation to the church roof fund inclined him to look upon it as a spontaneous response to environmental pressures like near-death experiences.

As it was, since leaving the wizard there he'd been out again. It hadn't been difficult to spot the procession of back-clad Hobbits stalking through the deserted streets, and he had noted with care the complex that they had disappeared into. Yaggis House. Even Ronald knew that name. He sucked his teeth is dismay briefly, then turned around and scurried away before the sentries noticed him. Arriving at the church, he knocked twice to give the all clear to its only occupant, then let himself in.

The Unknown Necromancer meanwhile had used her time crouched behind altar where she'd been bundled to think. A number of facts presented themselves for her assessment. Firstly she was relatively safe here. She'd been missed in the sweep that had picked up the others, and while the Hobbits might keep an idle eye out for her in her usual haunts they certainly weren't going to look here. Secondly her friends had been kidnapped for reasons unknown by a bunch of brutal Hobbit Mafioso and could even now be being tortured or worse. Thirdly, if she were to escape the same fate herself she would have to flee Lower Wyrmling- not difficult in itself, but she would be left alone in the dangerous wilderness, two or three days distance from the nearest friendly village, with nothing but the clothes on her back and what she was carrying with her to see her through. She couldn't run and leave her friends to their fate either. She needed a plan then... and then abruptly she had one. A beautiful, bright thing slowly flowering in her mind. She analysed it carefully as it took on shape, testing it for flaws. It was desperate she knew, but with a bit of luck it might just work...

So it was that when the Cleric entered she immediately stood up, brushing herself down and drew in a deep breath.

"Reverend-,"

"Slightly Reverend actually. Careful ma'am-,"

"Miz-,"

"-Ma'am, you don't want to go calling people things they're not, they might take offence you know."

The Necromancer paused and glared at the Half-Elf's earnest face.

"They won't be the only the only ones taking offence round here if you don't watch it! Shut up and let me finish!"

Barely registering his astonishment she swept on imperiously.

"Look, the people who took my friends are probably still looking out for me too. They'll be expecting me to turn up at my rooms in the Naked Elf, and they'll be watching my kidnapped friends' places to make sure I can't go to ground there either. They'll also probably follow anybody who shows up there in case they lead them back to me."

"That's not very fair is it now?" complained Ronald.

The Necromancer smiled for the first time since this afternoon's hurried flight.

"Yes, it is a pain in the neck when your enemies don't follow Villainy for Dummies. These Hobbits use their brains. But, I have a card or two to play they don't know about yet. Ronald, I'd like you to meet Smokey here."

Ron looked down at his feet to see the large black cat that had slunk in after the Necromancer. By way of greeting it extended it's claws and clambered agonisingly up his body until it was around his shoulders, where they glared at each other.

"It's a moggy," said Ron coldly, one of nature's cat haters.

"He's not a moggy, he's my familiar," said the wizard indignantly "In any case we can use him as an unobtrusive spy for us. Can't we my little one?" she crooned, scratching the cat under his chin.

"If there's a fish in it."

"We? Who's we?" objected the startled Cleric.

"Look, just hear me out okay?" the Necromancer said, her tone placatory, "Just let me tell you my plan, and then I'll hear your objections, right?"

The Cleric subsided under her gaze, muttering sullenly. He crossed his arms and nodded at her to make her bid.

"They don't know that you're sheltering me yet. They have no reason to suspect you either. You can travel outside with no questions asked. Ieannia mentioned you go to the Naked Elf sometimes. Quiet! You know behind the bar there, there'll be a scrawny adolescent nerd called Almonds. He serves the drinks occasionally. You go to him and ask him to saddle up seven horses. Tell him he'll be able to collect some gold from my rooms after all the fuss has died down, and that the next time I see him," she shut her eyes, "Tell him I'll give him a kiss."

"You think that'll work?"

"He's a hormonal male teenager! What do you think?"

"Wouldn't know," replied the Cleric gloomily "Can't remember much of my teenage years. I think I spent most of them in solitary at the asylum where I was raised."

"What a truly fascinating childhood you must have had," commented the Unknown Necromancer, "But trust me on this one - he'll think with his thing. You all do," she said pointedly.

"With his brain? I've heard about those. What are they?"

The mage's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Never mind. Just do it," she said. "Anyway," she continued "That'll be one promise I'll never have to keep- this is one town I'm not exactly going to be coming back to if we get out. You must make sure Almond saddles and provisions those horses- we'll need to make a quick getaway. Then you go to Arnie's General Stores and you sell those altar candles- that'll give us some funds to play with. Buy as many knives and swords as you can- they usually have a surplus of those. See if you can pick up some bandages while you're there. If I know Hobbits, they'll be sitting down to eat in two to three hours from now. Most of them will be drowsy, and probably a little drunk at the end. While you're chatting up Almond, I'll try to get a look at that house they went into and find out if the others are still alive. I've got a hooded cloak in my pack, no one will see me. If they aren't alive I'll leave tonight and you can compensate yourself for your trouble from my belongings; here's the key, it's room 11, the Naked Elf. If they are, and I have a way into that complex, then we try for a rescue tonight. Pack anything you want to take with you now - you won't get the chance to come back for it. Clear?"

Ron looked at her unblinkingly. "I'm allowed to object now?" he asked tentatively.

"If you must."

Ron drew a deep breath.

"Let me see if this scheme of yours works out as I understand it. You want me to sell two holy relics, the proceeds of which will then be used to fund the escape of a drug dealer, which you also want my direct participation in as well. If it succeeds, which seems very unlikely as we have no firm plan you then want me to abandon this shrine, that has taken years of effort and sacrifice to built and ride off into the monster filled wilderness. Without informing any of my superiors what in Corellon Larethian's green world I'm doing I might add," he paused, then finished caustically, "I must say I'm open to persuasion on this one."

The Necromancer hesitated. This was one of the most crucial junctures of her master plan. She needed the Cleric on her side for the time being. The question was how to persuade him. Bribing him was out. Firstly she didn't have any more money on her, and secondly he'd only take money for his bloody roof fund, the reason for which she was asking him to abandon. Sleeping with him was also out. The fringe churches where notoriously good at indoctrination and their clerics were trained from birth to put the interests of the Church first. She could tell he didn't like his job, but if she wanted to change his mind, she would have to present her case in a light that would make his interests and those of his Church coincide. As Ron sat waiting patiently she turned her options over in her mind. Finally, she came to a decision.

"Slightly Reverend?" she began.

"Yes?" asked the Cleric frowning warily.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

"By all means," he mummered.

"Reverend, do you like your job here? Are you satisfied with being just a community cleric in a town that doesn't want you? Ieannia says you're quite the frustrated holy warrior most nights at the Naked Elf. It strikes me that in a town full of Hobbits and Humans a Cleric following the Elven pantheon is rather wasting his time. Don't you think you could be doing more for your God elsewhere?"

Ronald smiled dreamily. "Once I had such dreams of glory. I thought I was destined to slaughter my Lord's enemies under a dozen different skies. I joined the Militant Tendency you know. Very full of ourselves we young ones where."

"The who?" queried the wizard.

"Oh, just a group of like-minded priests like myself. We wanted to cross into Sindaria and incite the overthrow of our main enemy there, the King. Our elders were far more sensible. They had realised we needed to spread the word and establish bases outside that Elven kingdom if we were ever to hope of returning there in triumph. That's how I ended up here. After my Bishop discovered my membership of the Tendency I was assigned this parish close to the border and told to recruit as many Elves as possible for future action. When I had my cell I was to return to Blairon for reassignment."

The Unknown Necromancer blinked. "But there aren't any Elves living here."

"Yes, that's the rather the point," said Ron with a twisted smile.

Seeing the mage look at him searchingly he hurried on "But it's been good for me. I've had my faith tested living in squalor amongst infidels and come through the stronger for it."

"I take it the answer to my question would be no?" asked the wizard

"I haven't got a congregation, the shrine's a shack and nobody understands my sermons."

"That's a definite no then," confirmed the mage.

"Yes," agreed Ron "But if you think that a vague promise of adventure is going to have me haring off after you in this mad scheme, or get me to pawn valuable Church property either you're very much mistaken. I have my orders to establish a shrine and congregation here..."

"...and that's what I'm going to do," finished the Necromancer for him.

"Look at what this situation offers then!" she cried, "Look, held in that prison at this very moment is a large percentage of the Elven population of Lower Wyrmling. If you rescue them will they not be eternally grateful? Will you not have at last accomplished something tangible that you can report to your Bishop? A success that could get you out of this mud-hole! Imagine it! You'll have saved three souls!"

"There are four of you."

"Four souls? Oh, me? Oh. Of course when I said three I actually meant four souls," sighed the mage.

The Cleric was frowning thoughtfully now, not really tempted, but at least considering.

"How do I know they'll join me, or even if the Church needs them? The only one I know anything about is a philandering pusher!" he objected.

"Ah, but the other two are simple working people Ronald! One's a basher at the Naked Elf, and deeply religious- you'd already have one fellow worshipper there. The other is like me. She doesn't follow any particular God seriously. We're both just waiting for His Light to illuminate our humble little selves." She paused and mopped her brow. Talking all this shit was quite surreal. Mentally she mimed a pray to Wee Jass.

"And the dealer?" quested the Cleric, still deeply sceptical. "I hardly think someone like that is going to come rushing into the arms of Our Lord- and the Church is a family organisation. We don't tolerate dealing by our members. Why, the Bishop would have a fit if I brought him in!"

"Your Bishop spends a lot of time judging other people's lives," observed the Necromancer sourly.

"A most holy and wise man," smirked Ronald.

Personally he hated his Bishop. A natural rebel he loathed the stuffy and hidebound hierarchy of his Church. To him they'd lost the fire to take back Sindaria for his God, and settled into comfortable exile in Blairon.

The Unknown Necromancer paused, her thoughts racing wildly as she tried to find some way to describe the flamboyant, opportunistic and easy going personality of Torfindel in away that would appeal to this dreamy priest.

"Leaving aside His Grace for now I assure you there isn't really a problem with Torfindel," she began cautiously, "You've just completely misunderstood him that's all. Torfindel's not a criminal, it's not in his character. Look, take it from someone who knows him. He was raised a salesman, it's in his lifeblood. And he's brilliant at it. He has a sharp mind, a smooth tongue and charisma by the bucket load. But he's not a God. He can only sell what people will buy, and round here that's mushrooms."

The Cleric started to object but she waved him down again.

"Look, it's just one sideline he has. He even does tricks at children's parties when he can get them for Wee Jass's sake!" she continued emphatically. "We all have to eat, and there's not much 'honest' work round here, even for adventurers. Look at Ieannia- she's a Ranger and she works as a basher in a mob-run bar. All I'm saying is get him somewhere else and he'll do something else."

"And the Bishop?" queried Ronald.

"Need never know. But what the problem there is I don't know," retorted the Necromancer. "After all the Churches love repentant sinners most of all don't they? Also I'm sure Torfindel will find it in his heart to be suitably generous in his penitence."

The Cleric pondered her words before nodding his reluctant acceptance.

"Okay, you've got me an incentive," he said "What about my shrine though? I can't just leave this place unattended to go haring off into the wilderness- this is a sanctified holy place; there are rites and prayers to follow, sacrifices to be made... I can't just leave," he finished lamely.

"You don't think that Pretzel will leave this place standing if we do this do you?" asked the mage scornfully.

"In that case it's even more important that I don't jeopardise the Church's position here- this building is a registered church asset; the Hierarchy would have my head if it was burnt," replied the Cleric frostily.

"You do know you have very objectionable attitude to saving souls for a priest don't you?"

"Look," said the Cleric spreading his hands out in a calming gesture. "If it was up to me I'd be off like a shot. In my book saving souls is what I'm this business for- that and killing of course. But the Hierarchy has a different agenda- they work on the big picture, all of elvenkind. Their strategy says if we're ever to have a hope of making our voices heard back in Sindaria again we must network out here and grow strong. They... I mean we, have thrown up a string of places like this one across the south, especially near Blairon. We're trying to recruit and fundraise, and any priest who goes against that strategy is putting the whole of Elvenkind's souls at risk from their point of view. After all if the priests won't obey how can we function as a Church? If I abandon my post here and we fail I won't just be dead, I'll be excommunicated - doomed to be cast out from Elvenkind for a thousand years, and reborn a hundred times as an Orc."

He shuddered, plainly terrified at the dreadful threat. The Unknown Necromancer was silent for a moment. Then she looked up at Ron, biting her lip thoughtfully.

"You said that this place was a registered church asset?" she asked slowly.

"Umm, yes..." answered the Cleric, suddenly sweating slightly.

"Pray tell, does the Church insure its assets?"

"Of course," answered the Cleric proudly. "With Deville, Deville & Samsung plc. I contributed every penny out personally to, from my food allowance cash. We've always been careful to meet all our premiums on time."

"Naturally," said the wizard dryly. "What did you register this shack as?" she asked innocently.

The Cleric shuffled his feet, avoiding her gaze.

"I may have enhanced just a few details," he murmured.

"Really. And those were...?"

"Well, I did say that it was stone..."

"And?" asked the mage sarcastically.

"Umm; I registered it as a two storey stone Church, with gold plated altar, oak pews and a bell tower," admitted Ronald, abashed. He gazed loving round the tiny hut, "And one day it will be," he said dreamily, staring at a vision only he could see.

The Unknown Necromancer smiled slightly.

"So in effect the Church in Blairon would suddenly receive a three year lump sum for a completed Church if this... thing got torched," she said softly. "And you'd come out of it with four new converts to the cause and the reputation of a hero. Unbelievable. You'd be untouchable, especially if you were careful to stay out of contact for a few months to let things cool off. It's difficult to hang someone if a hundred people join up because of him. Just hide up here with us. Pretend you're cut off. Word will reach the Church soon enough anyway."

Ronald nodded slowly.

"You…do have a... sort of a plan?" he asked.

"Plan and friends," replied the Necromancer, trying to sound more confident then she was. If they knew about Ysel…

"You've persuaded me," he said. "You must be a sign from Our Lord sent to show me my path. I see now that in the past I was too proud, too reckless. I was not yet ready to face evil. I see that despite my ordination I am still being trained and tested as to my worthiness. I was sent here to learn humility before the Lord. Now my time here is finished. It is His will that I travel with you into the wilderness as His Grace did before us, where I will learn His Wisdom, and hone myself against the ancient enemy."

"The Orcs?"

"No!" hissed the Cleric, his face suddenly contorting hideously. "Pixies! Vile little bastards! I hate them! Especially the way they swirl all around you waggling their stupid little wings and thumbing their pert noses!"

"Ah," said the mage delicately, quietly mouthing another prayer to Wee Jass. "That's very interesting...Um, could you get down to the General Store now?"

Ronald blinked.

"What?" he asked, "Oh yes, certainly."

He stooped to pick up the shrine's two tarnished silver candles. With fresh purpose he stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine, the door swinging shut behind him. Inside, the Unknown Necromancer stood up and brushed herself down, breathing a mental sigh of relief. Offering a brief prayer of thanks to both the Powers involved she reached into her pack and pulled out a nondescript brown cloak, with a deep hood. It was time for phase two.