"Strap yourselves in!" Kingus shouted.
Saxmund, Aelfbi and Garoidil struggled with the unwieldy straps as they attempted to follow the sorcerer's example. It was hard. The turbulence was increasing.
Kingus glanced out the small circular window. The endless silver expanse of the astral plane had vanished. The view was now that of blue sky but even as Kingus watched, more and more white flashed by from bottom to top. Clouds, no doubt.
Gemblossom, having succeeded in buckling himself into his berth, was now praying, his eyes shut tight.
"Lady of the Golden Heart, do not abandon your faithful, wherever they may stray. Let your love and your protection comfort them always…"
"Warning! Warning!"
The rowbaht, currently secure in its own niche, turned its head from side to side. The horizontal slit that apparently served as the construct's eyes flashed white in an intermittent fashion. Its retractable tentacles now extended and waved around wildly. What looked like a small glass disk the size of a gold coin on the thing's chest now glowed red.
"Malfunction! Malfunction! Communications link offline! Unable to reestablish contact!"
"What in the name of Pandemonium is it saying?" yelled Saxmund, who had just managed to secure her own straps.
"No idea!" Kingus yelled back before glancing over at the fourth member of their party. "Garoidil, by Hades' name, would you hurry up?"
The fighter, however, was still struggling with his straps. They were having difficulty fitting over his plate mail.
"Take it off!" shouted Saxmund.
"There's no time!"
"Transit to Material Plane completed," the rowbaht announced, unconcerned as to whether anyone was listening or not. "Atmospheric descent in progress. Ten seconds to retro fire."
Cursing, the rogue began to unbuckle herself, but stopped at Garoidil's shout.
"No! Don't! There's no time!"
"Hurry up!" Kingus screamed again. The pod was beginning to spin, and the sorcerer had a glimpse of a huge forest beneath them, seemingly stretching to the horizon, before the sphere resumed its former orientation.
Garoidil was still fighting with the straps when there was a sudden roar from below and the pod's descent slowed so dramatically that the fighter was knocked to the floor with such force that only his armor saved him from serious injury. Ignoring the shouts and exhortations of his three friends, the Hellasion warrior, now cursing a blue streak, managed to climb back onto his berth.
He guessed it was perhaps eight or nine seconds from the time he had heard the buckle click as it latched to the time they hit the ground.
Judging by the speed at which darkness took them, Garoidil's last thought was the sphere was still moving a lot faster than he could have imagined.
Aslan opened his eyes.
20th Day of Harvester, 565 CY
Ironstead, Furyondy
The rain was just ending.
It continued to drip off all the trees surrounding the walled hamlet and would continue to do so for some time. The air was brisk; a perfect tonic for the night shift guards who so often battled fatigue brought on by inactivity.
Their attentions were turned outwards towards the Vesve though, as they always were. Everyone inside the thick wooden walls was either asleep or heading for home.
Except one.
Quietly closing the door of guest cabin behind him so as not to wake anyone up, Sir Corvis of Elredd headed towards the northern section of Ironstead.
There was a light fog building as cool air condensed over the damp grass. Corvis was glad for it. He used it to shield his advances from the few people still walking around. He moved in short spurts from behind one building to another.
He soon reached the gaol, a building which was currently as empty of guards as it was of prisoners. Kneeling down by the western wall, Corvis looked around again to make sure no one was watching, then took the miniature chest out from his belt pouch, held it in his outstretched hands, and spoke the phrase that he had been told.
Instantly, the larger chest appeared on the ground in front of him.
A smile spread over Corvis' face. He rapped on the chest's lid three times, then straightened back up and continued to head north.
Soon, he had arrived at the offices of Major Standish.
A lone hooded oil lamp hung from a wooden projection over the door. An infantryman walked slowly back and forth in front of the building. A young man of perhaps twenty, clad in splint mail and carrying a halberd, he looked as if he would dearly like to be anyone else but there at the moment.
Sir Corvis put on his best smile and stepped forward.
"Not a choice assignment?"
The guard spun, halberd coming into position, but he instantly relaxed when he saw who it was. He planted the shaft of the weapon in the dirt as he regarded the knight with a grimace.
"The lousiest, good Sir Corvis. Easy enough, but there's no one to talk to. I've tried convincing Major Standish to assign two guards- there's a lot of valuable items in there, after all- but he says he can't spare another one for now."
"Times are tough," agreed the knight with a commiserating nod.
"What brings you out at this late hour, Sir?" asked the guard.
In response, Sir Corvis spread his arms wide, gesturing with his hands as he spoke.
"Hello, dear old friend
I don't know what you don't know
Let us both converse."
The guard blinked at him.
Corvis walked up to the soldier and addressed him quietly. His head turned left and right as they spoke, as if making sure they would not be overhead.
"I am on an urgent mission, my friend, and I fear now only you can aid me. Traitors within these very walls, whom we once thought of as allies- and most still do- have designs upon the very same valuables you spoke of. Major Standish himself confided this to me."
The guard looked astonished and then confused, as if part of his brain readily accepted the knight's words, but the other half could not.
"Traitors! Our own people?"
"No." Corvis shook his head. "They are visitors. I dare not say names, but I wager you are clever enough to divine who I mean."
The soldier's expression grew thoughtful. "Yes," he murmured. "I believe I can."
"We must act quickly," Sir Corvis said. "Standish does not have the proof to act openly, but these thieves mean to strike tonight! These villains have already stationed some of their number outside the major's house to prevent anyone from warning him- I have just come from that area. It is up to us two, my friend, to thwart them."
"What shall we do?"
"I shall go inside, pack up the valuables and move them to another location. Stand guard here. I shan't be long."
Corvis made as if to head inside the building, then turned and stopped.
"I need the password to bypass the glyph upon the door."
A flicker of suspicion crossed the guard's face. "Did not Major Standish give it to you?"
"I was due to receive it tonight," the knight replied, "but the enemy surrounds his house! I dare not tip them off that we know of their foul plans. You must give it to me!"
The young man looked torn. "The Major made me swear an oath that I would never reveal the password to anyone."
Corvis flushed red for a moment, but then sighed and nodded wearily, placing his hand on the soldier's shoulder and giving it a squeeze.
"I understand, my good man. You are a man of honor, and that is to your credit. However, I believe I have a solution that will satisfy us both. I will step away, and you have but to merely whisper the password and open the door yourself. Then I can proceed."
The guard took a few moments to process this idea, and apparently found it acceptable for he nodded.
"Stout lad," said Sir Corvis, backing up. "Make haste, now!"
The soldier did as instructed. The knight then moved quickly forward, into the open doorway.
"Hearken. I will knock on the door when I need you to open it again. If any of the enemy come before then; if they try to gain access by either force of arms or trickery-"
Corvis' face twisted into a snarl.
"Kill them."
The office interior was plunged into blackness as Sir Corvis shut the door behind him.
Undaunted, the man who called himself a knight reached into his belt pouch. His hand came out holding a piece of phosphorescent moss and a small piece of string.
"Darkness passing through
I can count on you for light
Since your love, it shines."
At his words, the moss vanished, and a white glow emanated from the string, which Corvis tied around his finger. He then removed a small glass vial containing a bubbling green liquid. He pierced the wax coating with the tip of his dagger and then drained it in one gulp, shivering as a tingling sensation coursed through his entire body.
Ignoring the room's contents, he swiftly moved to the other door and tried the knob. As he had expected, it was locked.
"A closed door opens
The darkness slowly lengthens
Into slick fingers."
There was a soft click. Corvis turned the handle and opened the door.
The workshop looked much as he had last seen it. There was no sign of the metal hawk; Golbi, or whatever that blasted gnome had called it. Moving among the long tables and stretching his hand out for the light it provided, Corvis quickly found what he was looking for.
The torso of the rowbaht was still relatively intact. Corvis hefted it up and grunted. The damn thing had to weigh at least seventy pounds, if not more. He wished he'd thought to secure a strength potion or two, but it didn't matter.
He wasn't going to have to carry it very far. His escape route should be all set up and waiting for him by now.
Holding the torso to his chest with his left arm, Corvis turned around and began to make his way out of the workshop when he heard a faint hissing sound.
The Elredd native spun around to see Fenlun's oil lamp sputter to life on a table about ten feet away from his position.
But it wasn't the gnome who had lit it.
Standing in the yellow glow of the lantern were Cygnus, Aslan and Yanigasawa Tojo.
Corvis gaped.
The samurai raised an eyebrow.
"You not have haiku to detect invisibirity, Corvis-san?"
Aslan drew his sword.
"Give up, Corvis," the paladin announced. "We're more powerful than you are."
The false knight's face became a sneer.
"But you're not faster."
With the blinding speed his haste potion had granted him, Corvis drew what looked like a silver chicken's egg from his belt pouch and hurled it at the lantern, which was knocked off the table and shattered on the floor.
The egg broke apart when it hit and sticky white webs exploded outwards. The mage, paladin and samurai were instantly entangled in the strands.
But only two of them were affected.
Tojo passed through the web as if it weren't there and charged Corvis, his katana clearing its sheathe en route.
Acting on either panic or instinct- he wasn't sure which- with both hands Corvis thrust the rowbaht's torso outwards, using it as a shield. Tojo, aware that Aslan had warned him against harming the item, was forced to adjust the angle of his slash at the last instant. The katana's keen edge still cut across the greaves protecting Corvis' legs, deep enough so blood dripped down both of them. Corvis roared with pain, but still turned and ran, the encumbrance of his load neutralized by his haste. A second strike by the samurai missed by a hair's breadth.
As he ran into the outer office, Corvis could hear the sounds of battle coming from outside.
"Open the door!" he shrieked. "Open the door!"
Once again, Zantac shouted and cursed.
His sleep spell had proven ineffective against the guard, who now moved to the door and yanked it open. Nesco was on him in a moment.
"Don't hurt him! He's charmed!" yelled the mage, now fervently cursing Cygnus, Aslan and Tojo for acting without his knowledge. If the red-robed wizard had not woken up, noticed Cygnus' cot empty beside him, deduced what had happened and roused the others, he'd still be sleeping peacefully.
Without a weapon in hard, it was harder for Lady Cynewine to close with the guard, who kept jabbing at her with his halberd.
"Help!" the soldier shouted. "Thieves! Traitors! To arms!"
Nesco didn't dare turn around, but the pounding of mailed boots coupled with Elrohir and Argo's curses told her what she feared. More guards were entering the fray.
A shape blew past her, moving fast. Corvis.
And he was carrying the section of the rowbaht.
"Not happening!" cried Zantac.
The two rangers were already battling arriving guards, using nothing but their mailed fists.
They didn't dare risk hurting the duped soldiers, but Corvis was another matter entirely.
Zantac incanted and the magic missiles shot from his fingers and unerringly zeroed in on their target.
Corvis screamed in agony and staggered a few steps but did not fall. He began to run again, now heading south.
Zantac uttered another oath and headed off after him.
Corvis was thankfully easy to keep in sight, as his hand was still emitting light from the piece of string tied to it. Zantac's chest burned as the wizard drew great lungfuls of cold air with every breath. The pounding of his feet seemed to merge with the pounding of the blood in his ears. The sounds of battle grew fainter as the two continued to run; hunter and prey.
Then Zantac saw him.
By the western wall of the gaol was Agarth's large chest, the lid flipped open.
Standing next to it was Agarth himself.
The realization cut through the magic-user like a knife.
The chest! Agarth was hiding in his damn chest the whole time! Corvis must have summoned it here with that small chest Elrohir told me about!
And indeed, Corvis was now holding that same small chest in his outstretched right hand, keeping the metal torso clutched tight with his left.
"I've got it!" he screamed to the mercane as he ran. "Get us out of here!"
Agarth looked upon this frantic scene with utter impassivity. It was then that Zantac noticed the mercane holding something in his own hand, but it wasn't his falchion.
Agarth was holding a wand of some kind, and it was aimed directly at Zantac.
Zantac would have shouted in frustration, but he didn't have the wind. He couldn't cast anything while sprinting, and the mercane had the drop on him anyway. He wasn't going to be able to catch up to Corvis in time. That damn knight was going to get-
Someone burst into the radius of Corvis' light from the west.
And Corvis of Elredd went down as the muscular figure of Laertes plowed into him with a flying tackle.
The fake knight and the half-orc hit the ground with a thud and clatter. The rowbaht torso rolled off while the small chest went flying off, landing directly at Agarth's feet.
The mercane, who had pointed his wand at Laertes when he took his human ally down, seemed to reach a decision in an instant. As Zantac pulled up, Agarth reached down, scooped up the small chest and touched it to the larger one, which instantly disappeared.
Zantac pointed at the giant, but before he could begin the incantation for his lightning bolt, the planar merchant vanished into thin air.
Corvis and Laertes were wrestling, rolling around on the ground. The human was faster, but the half-orc stronger and more experienced in hand-to-hand-combat. He pinned Corvis down on the ground, holding the man's arms splayed out and ignoring his wildly kicking legs.
The false knight's panicked expression suddenly gave way to one of calm.
"In the pre-dawn mist
The white blossom sleeps and-"
Laertes' fist smashed into Corvis' mouth with full force.
A tooth flew out and blood welled up.
Zantac, still huffing and puffing, shook his head sadly at Corvis.
"Nothing like a tough poetry critic."
"Once more," Major Standish growled. "From the top and try to make more sense this time."
Aslan sighed, but kept his composure. It was their good fortune that they hadn't already all joined Corvis, stripped, bound and gagged under heavy guard in the Ironstead gaol.
Their whole party, plus Saxmund's group, Laertes and even Talat/Hilda were in the main assembly hall of the Ironstead garrison. Two dozen heavily armed soldiers surrounded them all. Their weapons were sheathed, but they were under orders to attack at the first sign of aggression.
"All right," the paladin said. "I told you about the conversation Corvis had with Elrohir the night that we had met up with Nesco's group. When Elrohir recounted that to us, I grew suspicious. Corvis never registered as evil, either to Aelfbi here or myself, but I've had far too much experience to be lulled by that. Many people do what they think is best for themselves, without regard for others. That may or may not be evil as the Fates decide, but it's sure as sunrise not good."
"So? Was Corvis lying to you the whole time?"
"I don't think so, although of course I can't be sure. I'm sure he altered the story of his past that he told to Nesco and the others to cast himself in the best light, but he openly admitted he was after the astralship. I think he mixed just enough truth in to keep himself looking honest."
"And for him, that was easy," added Cygnus, gesturing at Tojo. "we just didn't know how easy."
Aslan however, held a restraining hand up. "I'll get to that Cygnus, but I want to keep things in chronological order as much as possible, for the Major's sake."
"Go on," said Standish, who didn't seem very placated.
"I knew Corvis wasn't going to wait and see if Elrohir would fall in line with his schemes. Especially with a paladin such as myself around. He must have decided to try and go it alone."
"What do you mean, alone?" the major snapped. "I thought he was in league with that damned blue giant!"
"Forgive me," replied Aslan contritely. "You're quite right in that regard, although I'm guessing they only formalized that alliance that last night at the encampment, when Cygnus saw them talking together. They must have decided then that Corvis would smuggle Agarth back to Ironstead using those magical chests. Clearly, Agarth was to profit by this, but as to whether Corvis was planning to keep Agarth on as a silent partner or simply murder us all with the mercane's aid once we had control of the Mary Celestial is a question only he can answer."
"So his story that he saw Agarth with that chest of his inside the crater was a lie?" Standish asked.
Aslan nodded. "Of that I'm sure. What ties all of this together is this so-called summoning device. It was Saxmund here who first told me that Kingus had hypothesized the existence of one onboard the sphere. Certain things Fenlun Herlendal had said about the rowbaht seemed to suggest this as well, and what Corvis related about what Agarth had told him confirmed the issue, at least in my own mind. I was confident that such a device actually did exist."
"Where is that damn gnome anyway?" Elrohir asked.
"He left two days ago," Standish waved the ranger off. "Don't interrupt. I want to hear this whole story before I decide whether to lock you all up or not."
Elrohir growled deep in his chest but held his tongue.
"I had no proof of course and was loathe to involve the others in this. Forgive me major, but Corvis had exceptional ways of getting not only information out of others, but their cooperation as well. You yourself know this first-hand."
Now it was Standish's turn to growl as the memory of his authorizing horses to Corvis came back to mind. He covered up his embarrassment with a grunt.
"Get on with it."
"I even kept my idea from my own group, taking only Cygnus and Tojo into my confidence. I was confident that the three of us would be sufficient to handle whatever Corvis might try."
"Aslan," Elrohir harrumphed. "When you said months ago that you wanted Cygnus to stop acting unilaterally, I didn't know you meant that you and he were going to act unilaterally together!"
The paladin gave his friend a sheepish smile. Nesco looked hurt at the idea of being excluded from Aslan's plans, but the major made another impatient gesture.
"So," Aslan continued, taking the hint. "Tonight, after we had arrived and settled in, I teleported Cygnus and myself into the workshop. Picking the largest piece of the rowbaht, I utilized my Talent."
Here Standish looked confused, but it was Cygnus who explained.
"Those knowledgeable in the study of Talents call it object reading. Aslan has the ability to handle an object and gain flashes of insight, sometimes even actual visions, of its past. Using a different discipline, he can do the same with a given location."
"I don't use these abilities very often," the paladin said. "For some reason I don't understand, those disciplines attract psionic creatures to my vicinity more often than any others, although thankfully they did not do so tonight."
"Aslan told us about what he'd seen," Cygnus added, now looking over at Saxmund. "Your arrival on Oerth and crash-landing in the Vesve."
Saxmund nodded but said nothing. The rogue looked grim and Cygnus guessed he knew who she was thinking about.
"The signaling device is inside this rowbaht, but it's broken," the paladin continued. 'That's why it doesn't radiate magic. As to whether it can be repaired, I do not know, but we will try."
"Major Standish." Now Saxmund spoke up.
The officer glanced over sharply at her.
"We have no further interest in the pod itself," the rogue announced, "but that rowbaht was destroyed by us. We claim it as we would the spoils of any orc we slay here in the Vesve."
Standish glared at her for a moment, and then shrugged.
"It's not like it has any value to me. I want my damn conference room back anyway. Take the accursed thing."
Saxmund nodded in gratitude, and Aslan took the opportunity to continue his tale.
"Certain now that Corvis would try to steal it, I teleported back outside and came back with Tojo. However, this depleted my Talent for the evening. I didn't think it was going to be a problem, however. Cygnus turned the three of us invisible, and then all we had to do was wait. Our villain appeared on schedule, but he had a little surprise with him I didn't expect. That egg."
"A gift from his friend Agarth, no doubt," added Zantac wryly.
"Entangled as he was, Cygnus couldn't cast any spells that would help him escape the web, and I could not polymorph into a form that could do so."
"So how did he do it?" Standish asked, jerking a thumb at Tojo. "He cut his way loose with that fancy sword of his?"
Tojo's only response was to hold up his right hand. The light of surrounding lanterns glistened off a silver ring with an almost oily appearance.
"It's called a ring of free action," Cygnus told the officer. "Tojo took it from a gnoll arcanist he'd slain in the subterranean passage we took en route to Suderham. Rather useful, really."
"Meanwhile, I saw Cygnus had gone on a midnight stroll," Zantac broke in. "I knew he was up to no good, so I gathered the others and headed out to the office to see if anything was amiss."
"I notice you didn't alert us," Garoidil commented snidely. "Saxmund, Aelfbi and myself."
Zantac shrugged. "There wasn't time, Garoidil. Besides, if I had, you'd be at the major's tender mercies right now, along with the rest of us."
"Good sir," Aslan addressed Standish directly. "We took every precaution to avoid hurting any of your men unduly."
Some of the soldiers surrounding them muttered at this, rubbing black eyes and clutching bruised ribs, but Standish ignored them.
"Use magic if you wish to confirm it, but you must know I am speaking the truth," Alan said.
Standish considered, biting his lip. Then he looked over to Cygnus.
"How could Corvis have done all that magic? He wore chainmail- he can't be a mage, can he?'
"I believe he knows some of the bardic arts," the wizard said. "Cross-trained as a fighter no doubt, and perhaps even a thief. Odin knows he's sneaky enough."
Saxmund smiled but remained silent.
The major still looked as if he were trying to sort this out. "That poetry he was always spouting? Haiku, or whatever you called it?"
"Most crever." Tojo now spoke for the first time. "Easy way to disguise his powers. It confirm what I hear about ord regend."
"Old what?' asked Standish, but Cygnus, fearing that the samurai would take offense if the officer began to mock Tojo's accent, stepped in.
"While we were waiting, invisible, in your office, Tojo explained it to Aslan and me," the tall mage said. "It seems that back in Tojo's homeland, there was once a minor noble who used a magic item given to him by an oni- a demon- to rise in power in the Imperial Court, and to use this power subtly for wicked ends. It did not bestow the power to charm per se, but it granted the wearer a silver tongue, easily able to sway the viewpoint of others."
"It carred obi of the coutier," Tojo said, and now the samurai held out his left hand, which held the black and yellow sash Corvis had worn ever since they had first seen him.
Major Standish glared at the silk belt as if it had personally done him harm and then rounded on Laertes.
"And what about you? Were you in on this mad scheme as well?"
The young half-orc shook his head. "No. I couldn't thleep tho I was going over to vithit Hilda. I," he shrugged, "I mithed her."
Some of the soldiers sniggered at his speech but fell silent under a glare from their commanding officer.
Talat, who had remained silent, seated on a bench during this entire time, now smiled sadly at the youth.
"I thaw Thir Corvith running and Zantac chathing him and acted without thinking."
"I'm glad you did," said Zantac. "You might just have saved my life, Laertes."
The half-orc smiled at him. "Actually," Laertes said, looking around now at Elrohir, Nesco, Cygnus and the others, "I gueth I kind of mithed all of you."
They all looked at him curiously, which caused some red to mix into the grey of his face. The half-orc dropped his gaze to the wooden floor.
"None of you care how I thound."
"So what say you, major?" Elrohir asked, facing the officer with his arms crossed across his chest.
Major Standish stared at them all for what the ranger and party leader was sure was an unnecessarily long time, and then inclined his head towards the front door.
"Go," he said.
"Well, that was an exciting, if completely pointless, three weeks spent," Elrohir griped as everyone gathered outside the garrison building in the chilly, foggy hours of the early morning.
"I don't know," said Argo Bigfellow, frowning as he looked around him. "Something's missing here, but I don't quite know what it is."
"We've still got some loose ends to tie up," announced Garoidil, as he struggled with the weight of the rowbaht torso. "For instance, how in Hades did I get stuck toting around this stupid thing?"
"Knowredge is arways heavy burden, Garoidir-san," Tojo said without the slightest hint of a smile.
The Hellasian warrior gaped at the samurai. "Are you-"
But Aslan shook his head. "Don't even try asking, Garoidil. He'll never admit it."
"Admit what, Asran-sama?" Tojo inquired, but Zantac cut across the samurai to address Saxmund.
"I don't begrudge your claiming ownership of this hunk of scrap, Saxmund, but I think it's clear that a proper examination, let alone repair, of this thing is beyond our capacity. As much as I'd like to trod him underfoot, that gnome Fenlun was more knowledgeable in this area than any of us, and even he couldn't fully understand it. I think we need to bring this thing back to the Brass Dragon for safekeeping while we discreetly search for someone who can crack its secrets."
"I agree completely," said Saxmund, stepping forward as she replied. The rogue's gaze shifted from Zantac to his team leader.
"That's why I'm entrusting it to you and your people, Elrohir."
The ranger frowned. "You're not coming back with us, Saxmund? That doesn't make sense. If we're unable to have this thing repaired- and despite all our hopes, I think that's the most realistic outcome- you can still get back to Rolex by going to Lancoastes in Willip."
Saxmund hesitated before replying. "We can't do that, Elrohir."
"Why not?"
Before the rogue could reply, Elrohir felt a hand tap his left shoulder. He turned around to see Argo Bigfellow Junior, looking uncharacteristically somber.
"You've forgotten someone, Elrohir," the big ranger reminded his friend. "Sir Stuck-Up and his Merry Band."
"Dorbin will kill Talat on sight," Cygnus added, "in order to slay her unborn child."
"I won't permit that," Elrohir snapped back.
Aslan raised an eyebrow.
"Are you prepared to go up against yet another Talent, Elrohir- and all nine of his friends?"
Elrohir stared at the paladin. What Aslan was saying seemed too incredible to be true.
"You really think it would come to that?" he asked. "After all we've been through with Sir Menn, Sitdale and Unru? After all we've done for them?"
Aslan looked troubled.
"In this one matter, I don't think Sir Dorbin can be reasoned with, Elrohir. I believe he considers it a holy undertaking."
Elrohir turned away to stare up at a darkened sky. Thoughts collided in his brain like rain clouds; ideas churned like thunder.
Could they possibly wind up in battle against the Aardian knight and his companions over this? It seemed impossible, despite what the ranger's friends were saying. Even Nodyath professed not to want to hurt his child.
How could Sir Dorbin, a worshipper of the Archpaladin, consider so horrific an act? Was he so bound to hold onto what he considered his sacred duty that he would commit murder upon the most innocent of all?
The words of Corvis came back to Elrohir.
The necessity of possession may make even honorable men do questionable deeds.
Aslan, Argo, Cygnus, Nesco, Caroline, Tojo and Zantac waited patiently.
It didn't feel like much of a decision to Elrohir.
Always, he felt inadequate, as if he were merely delaying the inevitable. He looked again at Talat.
She was staring back at him now, but her face was now as hard to read as his wife's had ever been. He knew only that, like the others, she was waiting.
Waiting for Elrohir, the man who always knew what to do but never what to say.
The ranger wrested his gaze back to the waiting woman from Rolex.
"Saxmund," he said quietly. "Keep Talat with you. Get out of Furyondy; there's too much risk of her secret being exposed here. We'll find a way to get in contact with you once we know if we'll be able to summon the Celestial."
The red-haired rogue nodded. She said nothing, but Elrohir thought he saw satisfaction in those green eyes.
The quartet made to leave, but Elrohir made sure he caught Talat's eye.
"I still have questions for you."
"I know, Elrohir," she replied softly. "I hope to be able to answer them, but more so, I hope you'll have the opportunity to ask them."
The ranger frowned, but what felt like a stone suddenly plunging into his stomach gave Elrohir a stark realization of what Talat meant.
In all probability, Elrohir and his friends were soon going to cross paths with Nodyath again, and more often than not those who did that wound up dead.
After Saxmund, Aelfbi, Garoidil and Talat had left the rowbaht torso, said their goodbyes and returned to their cabins, Cygnus brought up another point.
"One more loose end to tie up before we all go back to bed. Who winds up with that?"
He pointed at the silk sash in Tojo's hand.
Aslan frowned.
"I'm uneasy with the idea of that thing. I don't think we should even sell it, and keeping it is out of the question. We should destroy it."
"Not so fast," Argo replied. "You're a bit too sword-happy when it comes to destroying magic items, my friend. That obi could be invaluable. Besides, you heard Cygnus. It's not like we'd be charming anyone."
"The ends never justify the means, Argo," replied the paladin.
"If the means is survival, I'd say that yes, sometimes they do," Bigfellow retorted, and Elrohir saw what little was left of the big ranger's ever-present casual attitude rapidly draining away from his face. "You and Dorbin can debate ethics until you're both blue in the face. Meanwhile, your friends are in trouble and about to step in a lot more. We need every edge we can get."
"Well, Elrohir?" Cygnus asked, turning to the team leader with a sad smile. "Are you up to another difficult decision?"
"What did you think of my last one?'
The two men locked eyes. Then slowly, the wizard smiled.
"Not too bad, Elrohir, considering the circumstances. I guess we both changed our viewpoints when push came to shove more than we cared to admit."
"I might not have had I known you'd already done so." Elrohir smiled back at the tall mage, before turning back to Argo and Aslan, who looked ready to lock horns once again.
"Simple decision," Elrohir announced. "Tojo decides."
It was rare indeed for anyone to catch the samurai so off-guard, but Tojo's eyebrows threatened to leap off his forehead.
"Me, Errohir-sama?"
"This belt may not have come from Nippon, Tojo," Elrohir said, "but Kara-Tur is close enough for me. I think you have a better handle on its moral implications than anyone of us. Whatever you decide will stand."
The Yanigasawa samurai clasped his hands behind his back and stared off into the distance for perhaps a minute, and then he turned around to face his tomodachi again.
"Is indeed simper decision," he stated, nodded.
And then as everyone around him gasped, Tojo stepped forward and held out the sash to Laertes.
The half-orc looked as if he'd suddenly forgotten how to breathe. His eyes seemed to double in size, and his mouth hung open as if something had come loose in his jaw.
"Muh… me?" he stammered. "Buh… but why?"
Tojo raised his eyebrows the way he always did when he thought a question had an absurdly simple answer.
"You say we not care how you sound, Raertes-san," the samurai said and then he favored the youth with one of his all too-rare smiles.
"Now, no one wirr care."
Tentatively, as if the silk sash might be hiding a scorpion within its folds, Laertes took the obi from Tojo and gazed at it in wonder.
When he looked up again, six men and two women were smiling at him.
Laertes' trepidation however, suddenly seemed to increase rather than abate. He took deep but ragged breaths and moistened his lips and his tusks. The youth looked like he had words in his head that would explode if they couldn't find their way out of his mouth.
"May," he eventually managed. "May I trade thith?"
"What?" Caroline said, her expression halfway between surprise and anger. "You want to sell that after we just-"
"No! No!" Laertes cried. "That wathn't what I meant!"
Caroline looked doubtful, but her husband held up a restraining hand.
"Let him talk, love. What did you mean, Laertes?"
The young half-orc was still breathing hard. He shook his head violently as if trying to shake off his doubts and start over again.
"You give me a gift I don't detherve." His voice was quieter now. "It maketh me happier than I could ever imagine, but I'd trade it back to you for thomething that would make me happier thill."
"What would that be, Laertes?" asked Cygnus curiously.
By inches, the teenager's eyes slowly jerked in the wizard's direction until they were looking directly into Cygnus' own.
"You'll be going home soon, won't you?"
"Yes," the magic-user replied, his forehead still creased in puzzlement, "but I still don't under-"
"May I come with you?"
Now it was six men and two women who gaped.
Perhaps not Tojo, although Cygnus thought he'd seen it out of the corner of his eye. The mage still couldn't keep his gaze off Laertes' face, remembering how it had seemed to him so close up in his cabin at Laurellinn.
Somehow, even though it sported a fresh cut on his cheek from where Corvis had scratched it, it didn't look quite so hideous now.
"Why?"
"Laertes."
Aslan did not seem inclined to wait for the half-orc's reasons. The paladin's face was not unkind, but it had a hard cast to it that Cygnus recognized. It happened when Aslan knew his beliefs as a paladin were about to make him wildly unpopular among his colleagues.
"I think I can speak for all of us when I say I'm flattered by your request, but I think you'd wind up disappointed. You'll find neither riches nor glory with us."
"And adventuring for its own sake is ultimately a hollow pursuit," Elrohir added. "Take it from someone who took decades to learn that."
"Is there something here you're trying to escape from, Laertes?" asked Nesco Cynewine. "You'd be better served by-
"No! It'th none of thothe thingth!" he shouted. A spray of spittle shot from his mouth, but the young half-orc wasn't bothering to choose his words so carefully now. "Pleathe, at leath lithen to me!"
"Go ahead, Laertes," Zantac said, and shot a disapproving glare at the others. "I for one owe you the courtesy of hearing you out. That and a lot more."
The others, chastened, nodded and fell silent again.
"I don't want any of those thingth," Laertes said. The youth looked like he was on the verge of tears, but with a deep breath he cut them off and began haltingly to speak.
"My life here hathn't been a bad one. I know I'm luckier than many of," he swallowed hard, "my kind. But," he still seemed to be struggling for the right words, "thomehow the world theemth to me to be a lot bigger to me than it wath before I met you. Not in termth of being more exciting," he hastily added, seeing the look on several of their faces, "but in termth of there being more important thingth in it that need to be done."
The half-orc stopped; the exasperation of his face evident for what he considered his inability to communicate.
"Go on, Laertes," said Nesco gently.
"You're doing fine," Caroline Bigfellow added.
Heartened, he continued. "I thill don't know much about you people, or the danger that you're in. But I know it'th real, and I can thee the way you rithe to the challenge, not for reward of any kind, but juth for the chanth to help otherth. Thomhow," he paused. "Thomhow when you're conthentrating on otherth more than yourthelvth, it maketh you thronger. Thronger than me, or even an ogre. It'th the thrength of conviction."
Now the youth looked to each face in turn.
"That'th the kind of strength I want! I don't want to be juth another brawny half-orc! I don't care about being rewarded, either!" He shook the obi in his hand for emphasis. "I don't care where I do thith, either. If you were to thay here in the Vethve, that would be fine, but-"
Laertes seemed unsure how to finish.
"I don't care where I am."
Again the tears threatened.
"I juth care who I am."
He made a gesture of helplessness and his head sunk to his chest.
"Did any of that even make thenth?" he mumbled.
"A moment please, Laertes," Elrohir said.
Once they were out of earshot, the ranger turned to address his companions.
Elrohir always felt inadequate with words- and Laertes' speech had slammed home this failing of his even more forcefully than usual.
But somehow, it didn't seem to hurt this time.
And the others seemed just as dumbstruck as he was.
"Well?" It was Aslan who finally spoke first. "Am I right in thinking we're all of one mind here?"
"Agreeing with you so readily goes against my principles," Argo Bigfellow said while flashing his famous pained smile, "But I guess I'll have to make an exception this time."
"Always the martyr," Aslan replied, a thin smile leaking through his lips despite his attempt to stop it.
"All right then," said Elrohir.
Laertes had not moved an inch from the spot where they'd left him. His head was still facing downward, and he did not look up as they approached. Only the clenching of his fists gave an indication that he knew they had returned with news of his fate.
"Laertes," Elrohir took a deep breath and spoke loudly and clearly. "We've decided. You're going to keep the obi."
The boy shuddered. A whimper started and then died in his throat.
"And start making whatever arrangements you need to," the ranger continued. "Aslan is going to start teleporting us later this afternoon. It'll take several days to get us all home to the Brass Dragon."
Laertes' face shot up. His lip trembled as his brown-grey eyes sought first one face and then another and found the same acceptance in each one.
The half-orc looked like he wanted to hug all of them simultaneously. It was Caroline Bigfellow who made the first move, and soon he had hugged most of them, although Cygnus and Tojo deferred, settling instead for a hearty handclasp.
Laertes ran off towards the cabin he was currently staying at, punching the air in joy and yelling at the top of his rather impressive lungs, which pretty much woke up the entire encampment at Ironstead about three hours earlier than planned.
"Shut the hell up!" came a voice from within a darkened building. "We're trying to sleep here, you pack of leprous, mangy, flea-ridden, nasty curs! I hope you all rot in the Abyss for eternity!"
Argo nodded while smiling, satisfied. "The accolades we always receive. That's what was missing. All's right with the world now."