4th Day of Planting, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy

The Adventurer's Guild is back in business, thought Elrohir wryly.

The Elrohir and Sir Dorbin parties were sitting together again in the main room of the inn. As many tables as needed had been crammed in close so that all nineteen individuals could have dinner together. Separate conversations were flying across the tables like stray arrows, some more pointed than others. Some people were staying apart from the general fray, occasionally dipping a toe into a nearby discussion before deciding whether or not to join the melee.

Elrohir smiled at Dudraug as his faithful cooshee, his eyes nearly level with his master's now that he was sitting down, licked his face repeatedly, eager for attention after their long time apart. The ranger rubbed the elven hound's head between his perpetually upright ears but couldn't keep his mind off the subtle change in the Sir Dorbin party since he had last seen them. In general, they seemed just a little less optimistic and less cohesive than they had been earlier. On the other hand, Elrohir mused, if the fantastic tale he had heard from Aslan and Cygnus weeks ago was true, their home was now 600 years in the past. That could forgive a lot.

That was Elrohir's home too, as well as that of Aslan, Cygnus and Tojo, but the former two had indicated to him that they had suffered no sleepless nights over it. Like their party leader, they now considered the Brass Dragon their home.

Tojo, on the other hand, had refused all attempts to talk about it.

The ranger ran his hand through his hair, took another swig of ale (his second for the evening) and refocused his attention on Sir Dorbin. The knight was looking at him patiently. Elrohir gave him a weak grin.

"Forgive me, Sir Dorbin. It's been a long day. I didn't quite catch that."

The fighter smiled patiently. His first glass of wine remained mostly full. "You were talking about Jinella. The information she had given you before you left Willip."

"Ah." Elrohir shook his head, trying to make the requested memories fall back into place. They did so, albeit a bit shakily.

"Before we left Willip, Jinella told us that she had discovered that the two elves who came to the Temple of Heironeous were named Keasten and Ehlissa. They were visiting an older sister of theirs named Kina, who is a member of the Elven Tribal House in Willip. When Jinella tracked down Kina, the elf told said that her siblings had left Willip immediately after delivering their message. She said that they were from Welkwood, but that they live alone by themselves, elsewhere in the forest. She said that she thought Kina was holding back something, especially when she claimed not to know exactly where her siblings lived, but Kina gave her no leave to cast any truth-detecting spells."

"Foiled by morals again," smirked Aiclesis. "It's too bad. Several of us just returned here from Willip yesterday. We just missed meeting you. We could have been of help."

The elf frowned into his cup. "Corellon knows we're not much help to ourselves these days."

Sir Dorbin scowled as Aiclesis downed his second glass of Celene Ruby but said nothing. He then turned to Aslan. "And this other elf you mentioned- Sohar? Kina said that he was actually the Emerald Serpent himself?"

The paladin nodded. "Jinella states that Kina said she received this information from others in the chapterhouse but did not elaborate. She surmises that Tadoa was, however briefly, in the Tribal House sometime last week. Sohar has not been seen since then, so it is likely he knows his cover has been breached. Jinella says that the members of the Emerald Serpent are all rumored to be masters of disguise. He'll probably show up somewhere else, with a new name and face." Aslan looked thoughtful. "If we survive all this, perhaps the use of my Talent in Willip may lead to some clues."

"But you said Tad was no longer being held by them," put in Fee Hal.

Aslan frowned at the squire. "An evil organization remains thriving in a city of good people," he stated slowly, as if he considered this self-evident. "Are we to withhold action against them merely because one of our own is no longer imperiled?"

Fee Hal's eyes narrowed. He had clearly drawn offense at the statement, but a quick glance at his master's stern eyes told the youth there would be no support for any harsh words on his part, so he sullenly let the matter drop and picked at his chicken stew.

"So, Aiclesis," asked Talass. "You've been to the Tribal House. Is there anything you can add to all this?"

The elf, currently accepting a third refill of Celene Ruby from a serving girl, yawned and then smiled at the cleric.

"That Kina sure is a cutie. I think she has her eye on me. We Aarde elves are something special, you know."

"Indeed. Extra full of yourselves." The comment came from Monsrek, who had extracted himself momentarily from a conversation he was having across the table.

Aiclesis gave him a hard smile, then returned his attention to Talass. "And what do you suggest, my good lady? Should I seduce poor Kina just for information?"

"No!" retorted both Talass and Aslan.

"Yes!" replied Argo and Unru.

Caroline stared at her husband, who merely shrugged at her. "It's not like they both wouldn't be getting something extra out of it."

Lady Bigfellow shook her head. She didn't like Argo's flippant acceptance of such a notion, but there were just too many other things in her head swirling for attention. She returned to her study of Cygnus.

The wizard had a sheet of parchment, now stained with both food and drink, spread out on the table in front of him. With Zantac sitting next to him, he was hunched over, running his finger along the scrawled words written on its surface. Caroline knew this was the copy of Tadoa's last message to them that Jinella had given to them at Cygnus' request. At first, Caroline had merely assumed that Cygnus wanted it as a tribute and memento to their lost member, but the callous way he was using the parchment as a placemat had swiftly destroyed that notion. She frowned as she watched Cygnus' lips moving, silently.

"Cygnus, what-"

The magic-user held up his left hand, cutting her off. A little miffed, Caroline turned back to her dinner, forcing herself to be patient. This was not her best quality. She managed another minute before looking up again to an identical scene. She was about to interrupt again, decorum be damned, when Cygnus finished whatever he was doing with a satisfied grunt and sat back up straight in his chair again.

"Three hundred and ninety-two words!" he pronounced with a rather self-satisfied smile.

Caroline couldn't possibly imagine what the significance of this was, but everyone else seated nearby immediately began doing arithmetic in his or her head.

Zantac was first. "Sixteen sendings."

Torlina whistled. "Can that really be?" She shook her head in wonderment. "Even with a recalling spell or two in place, you'd have to be an astoundingly powerful mage to pull that off!"

Monsrek smiled. "The gift of sending does seem to come a bit easier to us priests than to you arcanists, but still…" He drummed his fingers on the table and took another sip of ale. "Still, that's beyond the faith of anyone I've ever known."

Cygnus and Zantac locked eyes.

"An improved version?" asked Cygnus. Zantac nodded.

"That'd be my guess. In theory, it wouldn't be all that difficult to research, but you'd still have to be an archmagi; a sixth-tier wizard, to manage it. But hell, even the Guildmaster is only fifth-tier." He cast a wry look back at Cygnus. "Have any ultra-powerful friends we should know about?"

Cygnus's eyes strayed back to the parchment. "How about whoever saved us back in Highport?"

The silence that followed was so complete, it even drew the momentary attention of everyone else in the room.

"I know that look, Cygnus," Argo said, while currently fending off Grock's attempt to pilfer his sliced beef. "Let's have it."

Cygnus however, frowned and shook his head. "Nothing that I'm prepared to say out loud right now." He began to roll up the parchment. "Let me think on it."

Yes, he was thinking. Let me think before I make a fool of myself for saying something this outlandish. The wizard looked over at the far side of the mass of tables.

"Aiclesis!" he called out.

The rogue was currently resting his head on the table, facing Cygnus. One bleary eye opened. Cygnus decided to get this in before the elf was any further gone.

"If you do decide to pay a call on Kina, I may have one or two more questions for you to ask her."

The eye closed. There was no other response.

Cygnus sighed. I'll remind him again before we leave, he thought.

The wizard was lost in his own thoughts, so he did not hear the tone of concern in Nesco's voice.

"Brigands?"

Wescene nodded soberly, a fact made easier by the fact that her glass of Ambiere remained untouched. "There is a dilapidated house about a half-mile northwest of here."

"The farmer who owned this land before us had built it for one of his grown children," Argo stated. "It's technically on our land, but we don't use it. What makes you think the tracks you saw there were brigands?"

The elf slowly drew her hands back through her ebony hair while replying. "There's a fair number of them for starters, going back and forth to the north. Their footwear varies, from leather footwear to mailed boots. They're hunting as they go, judging from the bones of local fauna that are piled up in the house."

"But still," Nesco mused, "what makes you think they're bandits?"

"I found a number of solitary tracks that lead away from the house in proscribed routes, then return to it. I'm guessing they were made by sentries or scouts. To me, that says either soldiers or bandits."

Argo frowned. "There's a bit of a ridge in that area, a hundred yards or so southeast of the house. From on top on a good day, you can see the inn from there. Did it look like anyone had been to that ridge?"

Wescene eyed him steadily. "For an extended period of time."

Bigfellow played with his food for a moment, then sighed and set the plate down on the floor, where Grock inhaled it within seconds. When he looked up again, Wescene was still staring at him.

"I think you're being watched." the elf said. Her green eyes seemed to wander for a moment. "When we were in Willip, we heard criers from the Earldom of Farlyow. He's putting out a call for mercenaries. Apparently, he's having problems with caravans through his territory being attacked by bandits. I wonder if there is a connection."

"Not to worry. We'll stay on top of it," announced Sir Menn, with all the confidence produced by downing several large mugs of ale with little to no accompanying food.

Argo smiled benignly. "I don't doubt it, good Sir Menn. And thank you again for your help; past, present and future."

The blonde knight smiled and nodded in response, then grasped his head with his hands to steady it, his neck muscles apparently having forgotten their ability to do this task.

"Now please," Aslan put in after waiting for a suitable lull, "tell us again about the horses' tails."

Sir Menn seemed confused. "Pardon?" he asked, his voice slurring slightly. "I know they can speak, Aslan, but they don't seem to be much for story-telling."

Sir Dorbin leaned forward. "Call it a night, my friend." He then turned his attention to the paladin. "Aslan, you've told me that your Talent confirms our suspicions that it was Nodyath who-"

"But- I am a knight!" protested Sir Menn loudly.

Several loud groans from the assemblage preceded Sitdale getting up and gently but firmly leading Sir Menn away from the table. Sir Dorbin, after a look at Fee Hal that made his squire roll his eyes, continued the conversation.

"…that it was Nodyath who was responsible, but I have little else to add other than I know he continues to spy on us. Do you have any idea why he would switch from trying to kill your steeds to lopping off their tails?"

"Sympathetic magic."

Numerous heads turned. Flond, who even sitting at a full square table managed to give the impression of being all alone, spoke dully, not looking at anyone in particular. The wizard rested both elbows on the table, and his rather weak chin sat nestled in his connected hands.

He shrugged. "Creates a link between the item stolen and a spell cast using it as a material component. Mind control perhaps, or maybe a type of scrying, like you said their previous owner once had over them."

Aslan shuddered inwardly. Their previous owner.

He glanced over at his companions, but none of them seemed to have any obvious reactions to that statement.

Except for Caroline. Aslan had a brief glimpse of the young woman's face going ghost-white, before she saw the paladin watching her and turned her face away. When she turned it back, her expression was as normal as she could make it. Her husband, still talking to Wescene, had not noticed.

"Well then," said Sir Dorbin with what he hoped was a concluding tone, "You will all be leaving tomorrow for Chendl?"

Elrohir nodded. "Yes. And considering that we have at least some knowledge that Tadoa, wherever he is, is safe and sound," the ranger looked around at his friends, looking unsuccessfully for dissent, before continuing, "we expect King Belvor to order, or at least request, our return to The Pomarj. We have decided that we will comply."

Dorbin smiled. "We will of course continue to look after The Brass Dragon in your absence."

"We cannot thank you and your allies enough, Sir Dorbin," Elrohir replied. "You have aided us, and continue to do so, more than we warrant."

The knight waved a hand dismissingly. "You give us a base of operations and your full hospitality. You incur no debt to us. If anything, it is the other way around. Besides, now we have another quest to fulfill before our departure besides the death of Nodyath. We seek a way to return to our own time in our own world."

Elrohir could only nod sympathetically, and shrug helplessly. "I wish you every success in that, Sir Dorbin."

Zantac shook his head and smiled bitterly. "I'm sure that at least is a subject that the Guild library could assist you in, good sir. I would utilize it for you, but I'm sure Zelhile has probably revoked my membership by now."

"He hasn't," Torlina said quietly.

Both of Zantac's eyebrows rose skyward. "How would you know that?"

Torlina's expression was set in a tense mask.

"Because he told me."

The red-robed wizard seemed momentarily at a loss. "Err... forgive me, Torlina, but why in the world would Zelhile even talk to you about that?"

"Because I joined yesterday."

Now everyone's attention was riveted on the two wizards.

"What?" Zantac whispered, slowly rising to his feet.

Torlina seemed equal parts embarrassed and defensive. "Actually, it doesn't take effect for two weeks. That's when I move to Willip, into my quarters in the tower. The Guildmaster knows I still intend to return to Aarde, but I guess he thinks that will take long enough that he considered it worthwhile to take me on."

"Torlina, are you insane?" Zantac's voice was rising rapidly in volume.

"Why? You joined!" Torlina had also stood up now and having apparently found her courage, was glaring back at the Willip wizard.

"I was an idiot! What's your excuse?"

Sir Dorbin shot to his feet, as did Cygnus.

"Torlina can take full care of herself, Zantac!" The knight's commanding voice seem to actually point itself straight at its target, whom Cygnus had grabbed by the shoulder from behind. Both stimuli seemed to have the desired effect. Zantac raised his hands, indicating he would not pursue the matter further. He pulled himself free of Cygnus and headed towards the upstairs, muttering about turning in for the night.

"Zantac."

Torlina's voice was again quiet and unassuming. It was only that fact that turned Zantac around at the foot of the stairway. He gazed at her without speaking.

She took a deep breath and continued; her voice still mild.

"When I was at the guild, I saw your friend Martan. He was speaking with that woman, you know," she snapped her fingers, "the one with the hair?"

"Aimee," replied Zantac dully.

"Aimee," Torlina nodded. "That's the one." Her nose wrinkled. "That one, I don't like. But anyway, he came rushing over to me and said he had some important news he wanted to tell you."

Zantac's curiosity overrode his anger. "Did he give you any details at all?"

Torlina shook her head. "No. But he seemed to think it was very important. When I go back, I'll see if he'll tell me. May I have your permission to say that I speak for you?"

The mage hesitated, and then nodded.

"Thank you, Zantac." She tried on a shaky smile. "So, any advice for me?"

"Yeah," Zantac replied, as he turned around and headed up the stairs. His voice trailed down behind him.

"If Zelhile asks you to shampoo the rug, don't do it."