Chapter 86: Heralding News
Anomen slumped in his chair at the table the four remaining party members sat around, chin leaning heavily on his elbow, eyes half-closed as he fairly dozed off in the face of the discussion that surrounded him. Across the table from him, Haer'Dalis and Imoen pored intently over a scrap of parchment the bard had procured, and were forming a list so full of arcane terms it made his head spin.
"…so we'd be looking at a teleportation spell, which would mean either conjuration or evocation, depending on just what we'd need… and finding a specialist in either field in Athkatla, of all places, is going to be rather trying, 'specially since most mages have to ally themselves with the Shadow Thieves if they want to survive," Imoen was saying to the tiefling, leaning close to him so as to better read the parchment in a way that made Anomen's stomach settle uneasily.
"True, my wildflower, but I am sure that the most skilled amongst them will have their loyalties ruled by gold, rather than any less materialistic means. We only need to gather the funding necessary to pay them," Haer'Dalis commented lightly, making notes in a neat script with a rather exotic quill pen.
"I do not see how we are going to find what we need here. Travelling to the Underdark… it is not something you can do by just reading a scroll, not something where you just mumble the words and it happens. We are speaking of a teleportation spell to the deepest, darkest depths of the world, not coming up with a magic missile," Anomen mumbled, somehow managing to snap even through his weariness and mild boredom.
The bard and the mage stared at him blankly, as if they had not expected him to intervene in their conversation. Haer'Dalis raised a delicate eyebrow archly, his expression imperious. "My good hound, much as I appreciate the moral support your mere presence offers, I do not believe you are qualified to give your own opinion. You know full well that you have no magical talent to speak of." As was expected, the tiefling's scathing words were masked with a tone of what sounded like complete sincerity, which did little other than irk Anomen yet more.
Imoen raised a hand slowly. "He's right, though, but he doesn't realise that we know this full well." Seeing the mildly outraged expression on the cleric's face which came from being addressed in the third person when he was sitting right there, the pink-haired mage grimaced slightly. "Sorry, Ano, but this really isn't what you do. There isn't really anything for you to do now."
He smiled mirthlessly, his eyes somehow devoid of any kind of warmth or kindness. "So I suppose I shall be sitting here idly until the pair of you find a mage who can then find a spell which can take us to the Underdark to find Irenicus," he commented blandly, frowning slightly.
The pink-haired mage seemed exasperated for a long moment, and opened her mouth to speak just as the door to the tavern was thrown opened noisily, interrupting her before she could even start.
A tall, elegant man strode in, dressed in the finery of a servant of the Council of Six. Imperiously ignoring the surprised stares that met him, he scanned the room quickly, his gaze eventually settling upon the four adventurers, and he swept towards them dramatically.
As he reached the table, he gave an ostentatious bow, then whipped a scroll from under his arm and passed it to Anomen. "My Lord Delryn, sir, I am Irjaed DeLancie, and have been sent by Judge Bylanna Iaunulin to deliver you this message."
Anomen frowned deeply as he took the scroll tentatively and slowly opened it. "There must be some mistake – Lord Delryn is my father, and he has disowned me; that title is one I shall never hold."
DeLancie smiled as patronisingly as a man would dare at his superior, then nodded slowly. "Yes, milord. I know, milord. But if you would read the message, then everything should become clear, milord."
Anomen raised an eyebrow, then cast a confused glance at the others. Imoen, who looked immensely curious, gestured a little wildly that he should read it. Smiling nervously, he glanced down at the scroll and started to read aloud.
"My Lord Delryn," he read quietly. "The news this letter bears is both good and bad, on several counts. On the good side, the City Guard have, following new information offered by an anonymous source, identified and arrested the man responsible for the murder of your sister Moira. However, I regret to tell you that the culprit is none other than your father, Cor Delryn… By Helm!"
The colour drained from Anomen's face, and he stared, stunned, at the scroll. After a long silence, Imoen reached forwards to pull the message from the cleric's unresisting fingers, and continued the narration.
"The evidence suggested that it was he that had hired the men who had killed your sister, and when accused he confessed. He is currently in prison, awaiting trial, and has been stripped of his title and lands. Upon investigation, it was revealed that he never took the full legal steps to disown you, and thus you have inherited all that has been taken from Mister Delryn. Sincerely, Judge Iaunulin."
Imoen looked slowly at Anomen, who was gazing into the distance with a vacant expression on his face, seeming very pale. "Ano? You okay?" she asked slowly, reaching forwards and squeezing his shoulder lightly.
Her touch seemed to jerk him back to reality, and he looked at her blankly. "Hmm? Erm, yes, yes, I'm fine," he mumbled, blinking slightly, then he turned to the messenger. "When did this take place?" he asked numbly.
DeLancie shrugged slowly. "As far as I know, Lord Delryn, some time yesterday night. The authorities were searching quite intently for you, as you went missing for a time following your leaving of the Order. It is only luck that led us to tracing you here, at the Five Flagons once again."
"The Council conspires to keep tabs on each and every one of us. Aren't we the popular adventurers who are no longer quite as secretive as our esteemed leader once fancied us to be," Haer'Dalis murmured melodramatically under his breath.
Anomen ignored him bluntly. "Is there any particular reason I was informed, other than my need to know, of course?" he asked lightly, a little more in control now. "Is there any official action I need to take, any officials I need to see?"
DeLancie shook his head. "No, my lord. Judge Iaunulin is taking care of the bureaucracy of the matter, milord, and my job is simply to inform you of what has transpired. The Delryn lands and title are, as the letter says, yours, milord. As is the family business."
The cleric stared at him for a long moment, visibly attempting to gather his wits about him desperately. "My father is being detained at the Athkatlan gaol, in the Government District, correct?" he asked lightly.
DeLancie nodded. "Indeed, milord. His sentencing shall come soon, for his confession should herald a simple 'guilty' plea. The magistrates shall decide upon his doom within the next few weeks, have no worries."
"I am not worried," Anomen replied firmly, waving a hand a little absently. He then turned to the others. "I need to go. I shall return in some time… do not worry yourselves. Get back to your research, find some good news for Harrian upon his return."
Imoen stood slowly, and stepped up next to him. "Absolutely. Haer'Dalis, keep on with the hunt. Ask around to see if you can find a mage who can help us. Check the Docks District; that's usually the good place, and have a hunt for Tellis. I doubt we'll be long." She looked innocently at Anomen. "Ready?"
Anomen looked at her, even more stunned, and a little lost for words. He sputtered for a moment, searching for whatever retort was necessary, but could merely come up with a simple, weak, "Don't…"
Imoen raised a finger firmly. "No. This is not a time for us, any of us, to be facing these things alone. I'm coming with you."