19th Day of Ready'reat, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy
Aslan sat in his chair in the Tall Tales Room, turning the great helm over in his hands.
Alone of all Nodyath's possessions, the helm of telepathy had miraculously survived the fire blasts that Cygnus had unleashed. It hadn't emerged unscathed; the insectile antenna were now just mere stumps, and part of the faceplate had melted slightly, the metal running down like wet paint underneath the crossbar of the T-shaped slit. If you looked at it in just the right light, it almost looked like the wearer of the helm was crying; shedding metal tears.
How appropriate, the paladin thought.
The idea of taking the helm for himself had not occurred to him previously. It was- big surprise- Cygnus who had first suggested it. The wizard had stated it was no different, really, from Aslan's ability to detect evil; just another tool to keep them safe.
Aslan of course knew better, and what's more he knew Cygnus knew it as well. When Aslan had first begun testing the helm's abilities, he needed someone to be a willing target, and Cygnus had been conspicuously absent from the short list of people who had volunteered; Elrohir, Argo, Zantac and Laertes.
The paladin had made it clear that he would only use this helm as a last resort to extract information, and even then only in dire need. He considered it a vile intrusion to peek into another's mind, and in fact had only agreed to keep it when Argo pointed out that if the party sold it, they would have no control over where it might eventually wind up.
The first thing Aslan noted about the helm was that it didn't always work. A strong will served as a good defense, but not an invulnerable one. The second thing was that it took a while for information to start coming in. You had to be facing the person you were trying to read. When Zantac turned, on a test, invisible in front of Aslan, the paladin could still tell that there was an active mind there but could not pinpoint its location.
The last thing he had discovered was that he could engage in telepathic communication with a willing subject, but only one at a time. This ability was universally regarded as extraordinarily useful, although Aslan groaned inwardly whenever he pictured Argo Bigfellow bombarding his mind during a crucial mission with bad jokes and ribald suggestions.
He had used his discipline of object reading on the helm to see if that might uncover any additional useful information, but he had received only images of a very rotund, strangely-dressed man whom Aslan assumed was a wizard, casting spells on the helm, and then a brief scene of Nodyath paying this man. It appeared that the helm was a commission, and not something Nodyath acquired through his long life of villainy.
Aslan sighed and set the helm down on the nearby end table, next to an ivory scroll case. He picked up a glass of wine, looked at it, and then set it back down.
"Having second thoughts?"
The paladin turned. Arms folded across his chest, Sir Dorbin stood leaning against the door, studying him.
Aslan put on a smile he didn't feel and addressed his visitor. "I've already had them."
Dorbin nodded, an expression Aslan took to mean the knight conceded the issue of the helm to Aslan without agreeing to it. Although the church of Heironeous had refused to pay for the helm, Dorbin had suggested it be given to them free of charge. This irked Aslan, who felt he was at least as trustworthy as the Valorous Church, which in his mind had failed to contain Nodyath or stop his plans.
Still, Aslan had to admit he was grateful to Sir Dorbin for the additional healing he, Monsrek and Sitdale had provided. True, while their victory over the true Runt and the remainder of the Outlaws had not been nearly as ferocious and perilous as their own battle, Dorbin's party had still all sustained at least some injuries. Sir Dorbin, however, had immediately teleported his healers to the Brass Dragon and gave all their healing to Aslan, Elrohir and the others, and this had been appreciated all around.
"Are you about ready to leave?" Aslan asked.
"Just about." Dorbin nodded again, looking somber. "With the money from this new quest Lancoastes has given us, we should finally have enough gold to return home to Aarde."
Although not to your, or our, own time. Aslan kept the thought to himself as he stood up and grasped Dorbin's arm and shoulder. "You and your company have been true and stalwart friends, Sir Dorbin. We shall never forget your kindness and aid."
"Nor we yours," the knight replied. "Best of fortune and valor to you."
Sir Dorbin turned and left the room. Aslan stared after him for a moment, and then sat down again, idly examining the helm. It was less than a minute later when Elrohir entered and sat down facing his paladin friend.
"So," the ranger said after a moment. "Where do we stand now?"
"That depends," Aslan said. "Have you spoken with Cygnus?"
Elrohir nodded. "Yes, and he still hasn't changed his mind. Nodyath was always ever a minor threat in his mind ever since we found out about the Hierarchs' plan to resurrect Kar-Vermin."
"So he's still planning to retrieve Thorin and flee?"
"Seems like it. According to him, Zantac is ready to train up, and he intends to stay around until that's accomplished. After that, he's gone."
Aslan frowned. "I assumed that if Cygnus left, Zantac would go with him."
Elrohir's smile was tinged with bitterness. "Cygnus wouldn't say, but I think our two wizards are having a little disagreement on that issue. Remember, Talass wanted all of us to stay together, even if-"
"Don't go there, Elrohir," the paladin warned him. "We've just had one of our biggest victories ever. Don't start second-guessing yourself again. We've got to look forward."
Elrohir snorted but said nothing.
"I hope Zantac has more pull with Cygnus than we do," Aslan commented, trying to keep the conversation going. "Our friendship aside, we're at a serious loss being one mage down, let alone two."
"And even if they do stay?" Elrohir asked, a note of challenge to his voice. "How do you suggest we deal with this problem?"
"Haven't changed my mind on that, Elrohir." Aslan kept his gave level and steady on his friend. "Our only chance is to stop this Schkall's plan is to get to those items he needs for the ceremony before his minions do."
Selling Sbalt's magical greataxe had provided just enough money for two divination spells to be cast by the Valorous Church in Willip. The first, in reference to Kar-Vermin, had provided the phrase Schkall seeks to gather what is needed.
Elrohir shook his head vigorously. "We still don't know what these items are, let alone where they lie. Our only hope is to slay this Schkall at the seat of his power."
"Suicide!" Aslan snapped, more forcefully than he had intended. "We have no chance of defeating a Hierarch on his home ground."
"We defeated the Slave Lords on their home ground."
"Only with the aid of our reinforcements." Aslan punctuated the statement with a nod towards the open door. "Who are no longer available. Besides, we could never use Molag as a base of operations like we did Suderham. We'd be spotted and slain before we even entered the city walls."
Elrohir sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I suppose it doesn't matter either way right now. Not if we're going to act on that second divination first."
Aslan hesitated before replying.
"I think Tojo has waited long enough, don't you, Elrohir?"
The ranger gave him a reasonably good impression of Argo's pained smile.
Aslan returned it in kind.
"Thank you, Elrohir. Strict logic demands that we deal with our Hierarch problem first, but compassion says our true and loyal friend needs to be set free."
The second divination, cast regarding the Pearls of Hamakahara, had said A dwarf in Gradsul buys more than he bargains for.
"You realize we have no way of knowing if the events that divination refers to are recent or ancient," Elrohir cautioned.
"I know," Aslan nodded. "But now is the time to try and find out. You, I and Tojo will leave tomorrow, as soon as I've mindrested."
"Argo said he wants to come along."
Aslan raised an eyebrow.
Elrohir shrugged. "He said it sounds like fun."
"It'll take more time to teleport an additional person," Aslan scowled. "If he had bothered to ask me-"
"He actually asked Tojo first. I'm guessing our samurai friend considered it an honor, because he agreed."
"I'm the damn pack mule! Did anyone bother asking me?" Aslan complained, his voice again rising louder than he intended.
The door to the Tall Tales Room swung open wide. In the doorway stood Yanigasawa Tojo.
The samurai tilted his head.
"Heard roud voices. Is there probrem, Asran-sama? You know you do not have to-"
"No, Tojo-sama," the paladin interrupted, his expression again benign. "No problem at all. You, I, Elrohir and Argo will begin the process of teleportation tomorrow."
Tojo bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Asran-sama."
He straightened up and left. Behind him, Aslan caught a glimpse of Argo Bigfellow Junior. The big ranger smiled, winked and quietly closed the door behind him as he followed Tojo.
"This promises to be a difficult quest as it is," said Aslan, scowling. "Bringing Argo along is a sure recipe for trouble."
Elrohir shrugged. "We're leaving our mages behind, as well as Nesco. If swords start swinging, I for one would be glad Argo's by our side, and- admit it- you are too."
Now it was the paladin's turn to snort.
Elrohir smiled, rose to his feet and left the room.
Aslan drained his wine glass and set the helm of telepathy on his lap. He then picked up the scroll tube and opened it up. He withdrew a map and spread it out on the table. This was the same map of the Flanaess that Sir Rahldent had provided for them eight months ago; or was it a lifetime?
The paladin's finger moved southward from the Kingdom of Furyondy all the way to the Kingdom of Keoland, where it stopped on the port city of Gradsul.