5th Day of Fireseek, 565 CY
The Prison, Willip, Furyondy
The iron door opened slowly, emitting the loud groan that the sextet expected it would. That fact made the noise no less unsettling. The old jailor leading them did not appear to notice it in the least. He looped his key ring back over his belt and motioned them on with the torch he held in his left hand.
"Stay close," he said through cracked, yellowing teeth. "Deh stairs been crumblin' sum time now." He led the way down a steep spiral staircase.
The pale-skinned, elderly man had not seemed happy when Elrohir and his companions had presented him with the Lord Mayor's letter. After staring at Elrohir in amazement for what seemed like a very impolite amount of time, he had peered at the letter very closely, his bent, beaklike nose almost brushing the parchment. Finally, he had handed it to an assistant with a scowl.
"Tawt the Mayor wanted dis kept quiet. Ah well, why tell me? Come on," he had said, and after dispatching the assistant to notify the Lord Mayor, had started a sporadic series of low mumblings and complaints directed at no one in particular as he began leading them below the Baronial Residence.
Elrohir, Aslan, Argo, Cygnus, Tojo and Talass followed as close behind as they could, using their hands for guidance along the wall as they descended.
The stairs ended after about thirty feet, as best they could estimate, and headed off down a short corridor. After about twenty feet, a side passage, only five feet wide, led off to their right. Their guide took it.
"You know what's sad?" Argo spoke up, taking in the nearing smell of urine and the squealing of rats. "This is probably the cleanest prison I've ever been in, and it's still a cesspool."
"Been in many?" Aslan queried with a slight grin.
Bigfellow turned to eye him, but without his trademark pained smile.
"One."
Argo turned back and quickened his pace to keep up with the jailor. Aslan was silent.
"According to my mother, one of the tribes in Samseed Wood had a prison. I never saw it, but she said it was beautiful," Elrohir spoke almost wistfully.
The others regarded him with some surprise. Elrohir almost never spoke of his youth. Argo, up ahead, turned around again, a frown on his face.
"Forgive me, Elrohir, but did she ever say what is was about any prison, even an elven one, that could possibly make it beautiful?"
His fellow ranger shrugged. "The fact that it was empty."
Argo considered this, nodded and again turned back to the front.
The party could see another torch-bearing figure approaching them. Everyone flattened up against the wall so that the individual could squeeze past them. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in a reddish-brown robe. He had a long, almost egg-shaped head. He was bald, but he sported a mustache and thick eyebrows. He said "Done" to the jailor as he passed, but he did not look at him, or any of the party, until he was directly opposite Cygnus. He immediately stopped and stared into his eyes.
"Cygnus?" he asked in a patently false questioning tone.
The Aardian mage stared right back. "Yes?"
The man put on a smile so fake, Cygnus thought he should be arrested for forgery.
"Thormord. Been to our guild yet?" the man asked in the same tone.
"No."
"You must drop by." With that, Thormord moved quickly on. Cygnus stared at his' retreating back, then shook his head and moved on with his companions.
The corridor widened out again. Alongside the right wall were benches, narrow tables and torch sconces with unlit torches in them. There were three, spaced twenty feet apart. The jailor lit them with his torch, and then slowly sat down on one of the wooden benches. Whether the creaking sound came from his bones or from the rotting wood was subject to debate, but he groaned audibly, and then glared at the party. "There dey are," he waved at the row of cells opposite him.
There were four cells, each one about ten feet square. Each sported a stone bench with a tin cup and plate resting on it, a chamber pot, and what looked like a small trough carved into the floor that led out through what looked like a large and ragged mouse hole in the back wall.
In the first cell sat Mendoleer. The second and fourth cells were empty, but the third contained Talat.
Elrohir, Aslan, Argo and Cygnus walked up to the bars of Mendoleer's cell, while Talass walked over to her sister's cell. After a moment's hesitation, Tojo followed the cleric, but stood against the wall opposite the cell.
Mendoleer stood up and walked to the bars of his cell and grasped them. He stared in amazement at Elrohir, who returned his gaze with equal astonishment.
I'm glad I don't have a counterpart, thought Argo. I don't think I'd like to have to look into my own face like that.
Mendoleer, dressed in a ragged prison smock, was about fifteen pounds lighter than Elrohir. His skin was a bit ruddier; his face had more wrinkles. Still, it was an eerie sight to all involved. Slowly, the identical expressions on both faces returned to differing ones- a stony glare for Elrohir and a sneer from Mendoleer. The prisoner spoke first.
"I expected more from me."
Elrohir snorted. "Who's the one who got caught?"
His counterpart's eyes blazed. "Come in here and say that."
Aslan stepped forward. "Where's Nodyath?"
Mendoleer gazed at Aslan with an expression that was half wonder, and half- what? Aslan was puzzled, and then thought he almost detected a pleading look in the prisoner's eyes.
He's hoping I'm Nodyath, the paladin realized. He briefly considered a deception, but quickly dismissed the idea as dishonorable. He adopted a body language that he hoped would get his point across.
Apparently, it did. Mendoleer turned back to his counterpart. "I don't know. He could be anywhere, but I'll tell you this. He'll be back for us."
"How can you be so sure?" asked Cygnus.
"We've been together for a while, and he's a man of his word."
Aslan raised an eyebrow. "He is?"
That's right, you stinking paladin!" Mendoleer spat. "You think you've got a monopoly on honor? Nodyath can afford to keep his word. After all, it's not like anybody can stop him."
"I look forward to the attempt," Aslan stated.
Mendoleer smirked.
"Power unused is power wasted. You've got nothing on him, paladin. By the way, Aslan, what's your real name? I'm curious."
"None of your business," Aslan said, looking grim.
"So how'd you get caught, anyway?" asked Elrohir.
Mendoleer seemed about to retort, then shrugged. "We were staying at Ye Bitten Dog, that dockside inn. Me and Talat were having breakfast in the common room; a bunch of guards burst in, end of story."
"What accident put you on this world?" asked Argo.
The prisoner stared back hard. "Who said it was an accident?" He apparently liked the effect this had on his audience, so he continued. "Nodyath paid this wizard to take us to the astral plane. We wandered there- I think it was a long while, but who can say?"
Elrohir, familiar with the timeless nature of the astral, nodded.
"Anyway," Mendoleer continued. "Finally, we saw it. An astralship. Made of solid metal, it was. It-"
"The Mary Celestial?" Cygnus asked.
Mendoleer was caught back for a moment, and then nodded.
"Yeah, that's the one. We boarded her. Silent, except for those weird clicks and hums. And those metal golems. Didn't like us snooping around, I guess, but we showed 'em." He smiled at the memory. "Then, we found her-" and here a jerked a thumb towards his left, "locked up in a room. Nodyath freed her, and we left the ship in one of those steelspheres. That was quite a ride, all the way from the clouds to the sea." He shrugged again. "You know the rest, I suppose."
Argo was silent. He doesn't like Talat. That's interesting. He kept away from that topic, however. "Why did Nodyath take you into the astral in the first place?"
Mendoleer grinned. Somehow, it looked decidedly less appealing on him than Elrohir. "We'd been to this outpost, overlooking the Wostjorn Desert…"
"Jailor?" came Talass' voice from the right.
The old man looked sleepily over.
"Can you let me into her cell? I promise there won't be a problem."
The old man shook his head. "Can't. Magic wards. Dey'd go off."
Talass sighed and turned back to the cell, shrugging her shoulders. Her sister grimly smiled at her.
"All right dear sister, you've told me of your life since I left, now I'll tell you my story. But be warned, I won't say anything to betray Nodyath." She sat down again on her bench and twisted her fingers together, uncomfortable without her unholy symbol of Hextor.
"You remember Nitch Redarm?"
"The priest of Hextor who seduced you and led you to blasphemy? Yes, that name does sound familiar."
Her sister jumped to her feet and flung her tin cup at Talass. It bounced off the iron bars back into the cell.
"You bitch!" she shrieked. "How dare you? You don't know the first thing about love! At least I lived my own life, the way I wanted to!"
Talass looked down at the stone floor beneath her. She was surprised that Talat's outburst had affected her. After all these years, she honestly hadn't thought she still cared at all about her younger sister. Certainly, their own father had branded Talat a traitor.
But she'd been wrong. There was still something there, although she didn't know what it might be. After a moment, Talass looked up again.
"I'm sorry. Please continue. I promise not to interrupt again."
Talat glared at her for what seemed like a very long time, and then continued.
"We went to the Bone March. He'd led me onto the True Path. We were to marry." Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a moment to compose herself. "He was killed. I joined up with a group of- treasure hunters." She smiled grimly at the euphemism. "I just wanted to get enough money so I could have Nitch raised. We raided a small githyanki outpost in the astral plane, but- there was an argument afterward. I was- left behind when my compatriots returned to Oerth."
Her expression to Talass made it clear that she did not intend to elaborate.
"Eventually, I came across the Mary Celestial, and I boarded her. There was no one aboard. I got locked in one of the staterooms and couldn't get out. Then, he found me." Talass saw her sister's expression lighten, then shift back to stone as she returned her gaze to Talass' face. "I don't expect you to understand, sister." She jerked her head over to the right. "Mendoleer is the most foolish, obnoxious, weasel of a man it's ever been my displeasure to meet. Please tell me Elrohir is nothing like him." She finished with almost a hint of pleading in her voice.
Talass silently regarded her younger sister. Their days as children, when they had shared that special bond- they were gone now, and she knew it would be a foolish waste of time to try to recapture that. Talass hadn't even known Talat was still alive and yet, it seemed to her now that they were even further away from each other than if she had died. She had known about Nitch Redarm, but had never dreamed that Talat would take up the priesthood of a god so violently opposed from the one she had been brought up to serve all of her life. The ultimate youthful rebellion, she supposed.
And now? They were separated by a gulf of gods, and she knew no mortal could bridge that gap. If Forseti demanded that justice require the death of Talat, she knew she would obey without question. Not without remorse, but still without question. There seemed to be nothing that they could give to each other at this point. And yet...
Talass slowly put her face up against the bars. Somewhat warily, Talat did the same.
"Tell me about the man that you love, sister," Talass said quietly, "And I will tell you about mine."
Standing behind them, Yanigasawa Tojo looked on impassively. He had no wish to eavesdrop. The samurai was merely here to give Talass moral support with his presence, chi energy to sustain her in a difficult moment.
A loud "What?" from Elrohir drew Tojo's attention.
"Nodyath knew about the scroll underneath the outpost? How? Amanthius said that-"
Mendoleer interrupted his counterpart with a nasty laugh. "That's right, you don't know, do you?" He regarded all of them with contempt now. He tapped his temple and sneered at Aslan. "You don't have his helmet, do you? The one that allows him to see into your mind?"
The party looked shaken, which only encouraged Mendoleer more. "Oh yes, it's quite a useful item. He can watch you silently, and reach into your mind, and take what he wants, just like picking ripe apples off a tree! Oh yes, he's patient, Nodyath is. He's a brilliant leader, and… he... always... wins!" Mendoleer spaced the words for effect. "Always."
Argo turned to Aslan. "We didn't tell Amanthius we'd found the scroll, did we?"
The paladin looked concerned. "No," he replied carefully. "But if Nodyath knew we had been there before him, he-"
"What is going on here, Elrohir?"
The voice came from their left. The party turned to see LaSalle Main, the Lord Mayor of Willip, standing about ten feet away in the corridor. Standing behind him, holding a torch, was Sir Charlt.
The Lord Mayor gestured with his right hand, which held the letter he'd received. Elrohir could have sworn he almost looked angry. "What is the meaning of this?"
The quartet looked at each other, confused. Elrohir finally managed to say, "I don't understand, your Honor. We came in answer to your message."
Main looked at them somberly. "I did not send this letter, Elrohir. I wanted to keep their capture secret until their trial, which is tomorrow. In light of the fact that Nodyath has not been-"
"Wait a moment!" Elrohir exclaimed. "Your messenger said-"
"I sent you no messenger, Elrohir," said the Lord Mayor quietly.
The party looked at each other. Tojo and Talass had wandered back. Everything was quiet. Only the hissing of the torches could be heard. Aslan was the first, his voice nearly a scream.
"NODYATH!"
Argo thought he was fast, but he was amazed at how quickly Elrohir moved. The ranger shouted out, "The rest of you, get home as fast as you can!" He nearly leaped into the paladin's arms and shouted at him, face-to-face.
"Aslan! The Brass Dragon! Now!"
The two of them disappeared. The remaining four individuals ran back down the corridor, nearly bowling over the Lord Mayor and Sir Charlt in the process. As they fled, Talass could hear Mendoleer laughing hysterically behind them.
It sounded too much like her husband for her to ignore.