15th Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY
The Aerie, The Pomarj
Elrohir looked outside again, and then turned around impatiently.
"The sun's going down; they're going to close the gates soon. Where the hell are they?"
If the ranger's wife was worried, she was doing a fine job at keeping any traces of it from her voice. "I'm sure High Priest Heldenster would have contacted us via sending if there had been any real trouble, dearest. Perhaps Aslan was able to secure additional materials for us."
"Or perhaps they're having more trouble curing Tojo than we anticipated."
Zantac's comment forced a sigh from Talass, but the cleric never had the opportunity to reply.
Aslan and Tojo suddenly reappeared, close enough to the priestess that she was forced to step back and nearly lose her balance in the process. The expected recriminations never materialized however, as she and everyone else instantly zeroed in on the samurai's face.
These clear, violet orbs regarded them calmly over a hint of a smile.
Elrohir was the first to regain his composure. He even remembered to bow.
"It's good to see you again, Tojo-sama."
"It is good to see you as werr, Errohir-san," the samurai responded while returning all of the bows that now came his way. Tojo's smile increased ever-so-slightly. "Of course, is good to be aber to see anyone again."
"Oh, hi, Aslan. Had you left as well?" Argo asked, yawning as he did so. Aslan looked like he had a retort ready to fire, but Talass cut him off.
"He certainly has- and over four hours later than scheduled!" She finished by turning to the paladin with obvious expectations.
Aslan favored her with a thin smile. "My apologies, but I wound up having a little chat with our good friend Chic."
This ignited a barrage of questions, which the paladin only abated by relating the full story. Afterwards, there was a silence while the party digested this new information.
"I wish we knew who this squashed spider is," Elrohir pondered, and then looked to his teammates. "Any ideas, people?"
"Can't be Iuz; he's certainly not squashed," muttered Cygnus darkly.
"The same goes for Nodyath," said Aslan.
"Or the Emerald Serpent," added Nesco.
"I'm thinking it's Valente," Talass put in. "Consider: we may have banished him back to the Lower Planes, but he's still alive. Chic is his minion; one of his hordling children, and so was Chams, whose set of magical clothing we're still tracing."
"But according to Chic, our destruction from this 'spider' is imminent," Elrohir said. "If Valente is behind this, we're woefully ignorant about whatever method he's going to use to destroy us."
Talass nodded in reluctant agreement, then turned to Argo, who was standing quietly apart some distance. "Well, Bigfellow? Any thoughts? Relevant ones?" the cleric quickly amended.
She wasn't sure if the big ranger had heard her. Argo almost seemed to be lost in some kind of reverie, but before Talass could repeat herself, he looked over at Aslan. The lightheartedness had left his face again.
"You did say Monsrek reported that Caroline was all right?"
Aslan, expecting a different type of question, blinked in surprise, but even as the paladin then nodded in the affirmative, Elrohir felt compelled to speak up.
"Oh, come on, Argo- we're not going to go through that again, are we? If nothing has happened to her all this time, why do you think it might now? By Odin, not only is the Dorbin party still at the Brass Dragon, but now Wainold and his allies are, as well! What more do you want? If you're that damn worried, I'd suggest you-"
Argo, seemingly unaffected by this outburst, held up a hand to silence his friend. His face retained its neutrality, and the ranger's auburn eyes continued to look inwards, rather than at any one of his teammates.
"Do any of you ever feel like we've left something undone?"
That brought a thoughtful pause.
"In what way?" asked Cygnus quietly.
Argo's pained smile made an appearance, but only for a moment. "I couldn't say. I'm not speaking of myself- I'm legendary for my lack of sensitivity- but Caroline has mentioned it once or twice to me recently. Nothing she could put a finger on, but it's been in the back of my head ever since."
Elrohir rolled the idea around. Nothing came to mind- yet the notion seemed, if not attractive, at least inclined to linger.
"We'll have to follow up on this quickly when we return," the group leader decided, "but we have to get our minds back to our current situation. Our opportunities for entering the city may be limited."
Aslan glanced over at the ranger. "Explain."
"It's hard to be sure from this distance, but we think permits of some kind are needed to gain entry into the city." The ranger motioned the paladin to look outside, and he and Tojo did so. "There's the far side of the lake; a good half league. There's a small mountain pass that I'm guessing is the only aboveground route to this island. Even then, you have to take a ferry over. There's no way an army could assault this place."
"Well, we're not here to take the city by storm, unless the situation has changed more than I know," Aslan stated.
Elrohir shook his head. "That's not what I meant. They're paranoid about security here. If we just let you teleport us inside, we'd be in deep trouble the first time some patrol asked for our papers, and I daresay we'd stick out here."
"We may have an option, though," Bigfellow took over. "An idea Cygnus and Zantac have come up with. The guards opened the gates at sunrise, so I'm guessing they shut them at sunset. Look over there."
Aslan and Tojo followed the ranger's pointing figure towards the slums outside of the city walls. A little black smoke was still rising from what seemed to be the remains of a fire.
"That broke out earlier this morning when the tremor hit-"
"A tremor?" interrupted Aslan.
Argo nodded. "Scared the plate off me, I'm not ashamed to say. Dust and rocks falling from the ceiling." the big ranger shook his head in reminiscence. "Anyway, it looks like one of those rickety shacks fell down in a heap and caught fire. They put it out but look…" and again he pointed towards the scene.
"What am I supposed to be looking at, Argo?' Aslan eventually asked.
"That shack was right in front of the main route that people coming in off the boats use to get to the north gate of the city," Elrohir took the reins of the conversation back. "They've rerouted it, so for now new arrivals are passing in back of that long, low building," he explained, indicating the largest structure in the slums.
Aslan couldn't see where this was leading. "So?"
"So," the ranger explained with a smug grin, "anyone heading towards the gate will be out of sight of everyone for about thirty seconds, except for the peasants farming in the fields."
"And they should be heading in with the sunset," Nesco added.
The paladin turned what they were saying over in his head.
"You're suggesting that an incoming party is due for replacement?"
"I knew you weren't as thick as everyone says," said Argo. "We've already seen several small parties of merchants, each with a retinue of bodyguards, go past."
Aslan fixed Bigfellow with a cold stare. "You've forgotten something, oh brilliant one. Our targets will see us coming a long way off, even if no one else will. What's to prevent them from shouting out for aid before we even have them in bowshot?"
"My prayer of silence."
Aslan considered Talass' pronouncement. "I'd hoped not to have to fight in those conditions again."
"Tell us about it," groused Zantac and Cygnus simultaneously.
"We'll have to do this quickly," Aslan commented, as much for everyone else's benefit as for his own. "We won't choose any group that looks too tough, but even one slip-up could doom us all."
Tojo suddenly spoke out.
"This pran not work. It have fatar fraw."
The others looked at the samurai for elaboration. He raised an eyebrow in response. "Where are we to hide bodies of those we sray? I see no hiding spaces in area. Even with much time, this difficurt. With onry seconds, impossible."
Elrohir, Argo, Talass and Nesco looked at each other in alarm, and then over at their wizardly contingent. "You two hatched this seed," Elrohir warned. "I hope you have some spell that will save it."
Zantac shook his head. "I don't."
Cygnus followed suit. "Me neither."
Talass had to fight to keep from shouting. "Then why are you two grinning like fools?"
By way of reply, Cygnus held aloft a tome that they all recognized.
"Because ol' Wimpy does."
Alomovar did his best to hold his breath as he and his men skirted the scene of this morning's fire. "By Zilchus- what burned here? Smells like cabbage gone bad a month!"
Lieutenant Serkim threw a sour eye on his employer.
"We'll be inside soon enough."
Unmollified, Alomovar scowled. "Barely made it on time, too! It's sundown! That ferry captain took so long to get going; we might as well have swum across!"
Serkim tried and failed to suppress a grin at the thought of the fat merchant trying to swim across in the lake, his expensive but too-tight fitting silken clothes quickly becoming waterlogged and soiled. Alomovar saw the smile and guessed its cause.
"No cheek from you! I want you and your men to be on your best- I don't want to have to drag your drunken asses out of that place again!"
"Is that how it went down? I seem to recall you getting tossed out on your rear and us picking you up."
"Like you'd remember," the merchant grumbled as the sextet headed around the back of the large building used for the storage of ship parts.
Serkim and the four men under his command exchanged quick smiles at the thought of the revelry to come. For such a claustrophobic, militaristic town, Suderham did have some mighty fine-
The sellsword abruptly stopped and frowned. His men did as well, but it took Alomovar a few seconds to realize that he was complaining to thin air. The merchant looked back and strained to see whatever it was Serkim was looking at.
Eight people were coming down the dirt path that led into the cave on the hill. Alomovar knew that the cave led to an underground tunnel that went beneath the lake. Some slavers used that route, but he never had. Alomovar was only here to negotiate contracts on behalf of third parties. It had been a long time since he had gotten his hands dirty himself. He looked again and tried to determine which of the approaching eight were the flesh peddlers.
Five of the eight were armored; three in plate and two in chain. That must have cost a pretty copper, thought Alomovar. He'd paid for nothing more than studded leather for his men. Frankly, if he was ever making that much coin that he could afford to buy platemail for mercenary bodyguards, he'd have thought of a better use for it.
The two in chainmail were women. That was a little unusual, as well.
One of the remaining three seemed to fit the bill. The man was about Alomovar's height and perhaps only thirty pounds under his own weight of two hundred forty. He wore a bright yellow tunic, white trousers and white, fur-lined boots, along with a red-and-black diamond design cloak. Those more ignorant might find the effect ostentatious, but to Alomovar it spoke of someone who had money and wasn't afraid to let others know it.
What ruined the effect though, was that most of the man's clothing looked burnt. Now that he looked, most of them, even those in armor, seemed to have been involved in a great conflagration recently. He was about to comment on this to Serkim when he heard saw his lieutenant out of the corner of his eye starting to pull his longsword out of its scabbard.
"Something's wrong, the mercenary said. "That woman; she's casting some kind of-"
Alomovar never heard the rest. In fact, he never heard anything else ever again.
"All right, Scarecrow- don't blow it now!"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Blubber Hulk."
Cygnus took a deep breath. He had never before tried to cast an unknown spell out of another wizard's spellbook. True, he had deciphered the magical writing, but it still wasn't his own. What non-mages found it impossible to understand were the subtle differences that made each arcanist's spellbook unique. The Aardian wizard concentrated, trying to wrap his mind around the sigils that seemed to peer up at him from the book's yellowed pages.
For a long moment, there was nothing.
And then Cygnus smiled to himself as he felt the mana start to flow.
The others looked on in amazement as the six bodies lying on the ground before them suddenly shrunk down to half their previous size, along with all of their clothing and equipment.
I'm glad we never gave Frump the opportunity to use that spell on us, Elrohir thought.
With obvious distaste and some discomfort, Aslan was now laying himself down on the ground.
"That's what I like about you paladins. Your dignity."
"Stuff it, Argo," the paladin replied. "Is that the thanks I get for picking you up a new sling in Chendl?"
The big ranger regarded the strip of shaped leather in his hand, and then over at Alomovar's corpse, which sported a now-miniature sling bullet buried a half-inch deep in his forehead. He then turned back to Aslan, smiling.
"What, you couldn't find a new suit of plate in my size, too?"
"They were all out of Extra Annoying. Come on- hurry up! Pile all of those bodies on top of me! Quickly!"
The paladin disappeared with his load mere seconds before a curious slum resident peered around the corner of the building at them. The party smiled at him, a gesture he did not return. However, he seemed unwilling to question such a formidable-looking group, so he simply withdrew.
"They're going to wonder why we're just standing here." A worried Talass pointed out.
"All of you," Elrohir ordered. "Get in kind of a loose circle around where Aslan was lying. We don't want anyone to see him coming back."
Fortunately, only a few additional seconds elapsed from the time that this was accomplished to the sudden reappearance-
Of Alomovar.
Aslan had not actually stated out loud that he had been planning to polymorph into the dead merchant's likeness, so there was a tense moment of sword-readying before he hissed, "It's me, you fools!"
The paladin was waving around a sheet of parchment in his hand that seemed to have been coated in some kind of clear wax. He immediately starting heading towards the city gate while the others fell into a loose group behind him.
"His name was Alomovar," Aslan explained, indicating the document in his hands. "I have to show this to enter the city. Any group of five or more inside the walls has to present this on demand, as well. None of the sellswords had any such papers on them, so I'm assuming you'll be okay as long as you stick with me."
As he walked, Aslan rubbed his hand over his new face. Alomovar sported a beard as well, but it was much larger and bushier than the paladin's own, not to mention being a red so bright in color it was surely dyed. Aslan didn't like the feel of it- his chin felt itchy.
"I agree. It is an improvement," Argo quipped.
Talass stepped in before the paladin could retort. "Are the bodies out of sight, Aslan?"
"Call me Alomovar from now on," Aslan replied. "And they're about twenty feet back from the cave entrance. I wish I knew how often that passage is used. I don't know if we have minutes, hours or days before they're discovered."
"Think only happy thoughts," Zantac offered, smiling.
Aslan/Alomovar sighed. "I'd have to travel back in time to do that, Zantac."
The sun had set, and the ambient light was fading rapidly as the party approached the north gate of Suderham.
A number of heads peered over the city walls down at them.
Two guards in chainmail standing by the gate beckoned the party forward impatiently. They wore unusual helms with a wide T-face design that was capped by gargoyle-like wings. On the brown tabards they wore over their armor was a crest consisting of three forearms grasping each other to form a triangle. Inside was the silhouette of a figure in chains.
I am so not going to like this place, Aslan thought.
The guard nearest them shifted his halberd into his left hand and held out his right. "Your permit," he intoned.
The paladin handed it over to the guard, who glanced at it.
"Suderham welcomes you," he droned, handing it back to Aslan without looking at him. He gestured back down the twenty foot passageway of the guardhouse. The sounds of chains moving on pulleys grated on the party's ears, and the massive portcullis at the far end began to rise.
The group had just started passing under the giant iron bars when the even more grating sound of a screeching metal hinge came back to them. The double iron doors at the front gate were being swung shut. Seconds later, the portcullis began to come down as well, a none-too-subtle sign for the merchant and his guards to keep moving.
"Alomovar" and his retinue stood in the dying echoes of the boom created by the shutting doors.
"I must say," Nesco felt compelled to offer while looking around. "This is quite impressive."
The ranger was referring to the width of the boulevards before them. All of the buildings seemed to be set back at least one hundred feet from the city walls, and the main thoroughfare before them, leading directly into the center of town, was at least as wide. None of them had ever seen anything like it.
Cygnus shook his head disapprovingly. "A massive waste of space, especially for a walled city of this size."
Argo seemed noncommittal. "Write a letter of complaint to the Slave Lords."
Cygnus felt his left hand involuntarily ball into a fist.
"I intend for all my grievances to be made in person. These monsters have-"
"Eta," Tojo suddenly uttered. "Beggar."
The party looked as a wizened old man, perhaps Frump's age, approached them, walking with a pronounced limp.
Most of her friends seemed unconcerned, but Nesco Cynewine felt uneasy in a way that made her feel embarrassed. Beggars were rare in the relatively prosperous Kingdom of Furyondy, and especially so in her home city of Chendl. They always made Nesco feel guilty in some way that she couldn't quite define and that feeling came back to her now.
It didn't help that the old man seemed to be focusing most of his attention on her.
He had a mop of white hair, as unruly as Zantac's or even more so. Despite the wrinkles on his face and his limp, the man seemed unabashed, almost confident, about approaching the heavily-armed group.
"Alms for the poor?" he asked. "The blessing of the Earth Dragon and all your gods be upon you good men and women."
Bigfellow smiled. "Pretty standard approach, my good man," the ranger quipped as he fished a gold piece out of his belt pouch and handed it to the beggar. "Try spicing it up a little. You hurt your leg fighting off an ogre single-handedly for the good of the city; something like that."
Elrohir was about to reprimand Argo for this- he'd had an experience years ago back on Aarde, when rude treatment to a beggar had come back to haunt him- but the man simply smiled back.
"I'll work on it," the old man replied. He gave the coin in his hand a quick glance, and then pointed down the main thoroughfare. "Past the Auction Arena is the only moneychangers still open," he explained. "Foreign money cannot be spent here. After you've done that, may I suggest the nearby White Knight Inn? Unless you have prior accommodations, it's your best choice; even if they do have a marked preference for those who make their living by the sword."
This last was clearly directed at Cygnus and Zantac. Nesco saw the expressions of concern of the mages' faces. She noticed then that Tojo was staring at the beggar with a clear expression of disdain. That troubled her. She didn't think that the samurai was-
The old man suddenly but unobtrusively seemed to slip between Aslan and Elrohir. He thrust his face to within a few feet of Nesco's.
"Tell the barkeep his establishment came recommended," he said calmly.
Without another word, the beggar turned around and slipped off into the twilight.
The group looked at each other for a moment.
"Didn't even thank me for the wheatshaff," Argo harrumphed. "Beggars must do all right here if a gold piece doesn't count for much."
"Not rike that man," Tojo nearly growled.
Talass seemed genuinely interested in this. "Why not?" she asked.
Tojo's eyes wandered. "Not certain, Tarass-san. Something about him seem fawse to me."
And for some reason Nesco couldn't explain, that comment from Yanigasawa Tojo cleared the uneasiness from her mind even as it was replaced by sheer confusion.
"I've seen that beggar before," the ranger uttered softly into the gathering darkness, "but I don't know where."