It was hard for Pegador to concentrate while he attended to his morning duties. He went through the motions of the morning drill; discipline being a large part of the life of a paladin. After donning his gleaming ornate armor for special occasions, every buckle and strap polished to a high shine, and ensuring that he appeared clean and well groomed, he met up with his travelling companions outside of the meeting hall. The group of paladins had travelled to Faydwer to meet with sister Orders in the cities of Kaladim and Felwithe, and now appeared before the council to report on how the proceedings had gone. Pegador refrained from mentioning the child in his part of the debriefing.
Following, there was a more formal meeting with all knights currently staying at the Hall to introduce the group of Brell's paladins who accompanied the humans back across the ocean. By the time the ceremony finished, it was time for the noon meal and the council requested that Pegador return afterwards. The food was like sawdust in his mouth and the noisy bustle of the mess hall was a dull roar in the back of his mind, as he was driven to near-distraction with concern for the well-being and fate of the infant.
Finally, the meal was over and the knight soon found himself standing before the council again. This time, the other two Lord Protectors who were unable to attend the previous night were also present: Thelron Rolius, a lean, pale man, and Lanis Herion, a short, sturdy woman who helped teach fighting skills to the healers. The five were stone-faced, giving Pegador no hint as to the future of himself or the girl. Saluting, he waited for the council to speak, his eyes fixed on a broadsword hanging on the opposite wall over the Council's heads.
"I have noticed that you have been showing undo lack of interest in your duties, Sir Pegador Maral. I shall assume that is out of concern for the child?" Valeron looked pointedly at the paladin, who nodded. "While we do not all fully agree," when the headmaster said this, Merko grimaced. "We acknowledge that we follow the path of honor and virtue, valor and love. Thus it is agreed that the child may stay in Freeport on..." Valeron held up a calloused hand, "On the following conditions."
Pegador swallowed and anxiously shifted his weight. "First, we shall meet with the guild masters of the city and the Magistrate, to see if there are any objections to the child being raised here. There is already a Teir'dal living in the Pit, as well as the ogre merchant at the western gate. Not to mention the allowance of thieves and corrupted knights." The last was said with a sneer. "You will also be required to attend the Temple and make offerings and penance. Your soul is important to us, Sir Maral."
Kalatrina raised a finger, "Passing the city council, the child will be boarded at the Temple, where the priests can keep a close eye on her as she grows, to be sure that she shows no signs of following Hate's path."
Lanis politely cleared her throat, "Your pardon, Lady Plossen, but might I also suggest the child be taken to the mystic woman living at the fishing village in the desert?" The two women nodded at each other, then looked to the knight to ensure he caught the suggestion. He had, making a mental note to do so, as well as seek out the drow and ogre living in the city.
Thelron, in charge of new recruits, spoke up, "After five years, we shall see if the mana is manifest in her and if the child is able to be enrolled in the Hall, although we do not know much about elfin or drow development rates. However, it would be quite an accomplishment to get a Teir'dal to wield a holy blade." The pale man chuckled.
Elated and surprised at the decision, Pegador bowed before them, hiding his emotions. "When shall we meet with the council, m'lords and ladies? And when may I start my penance?"
"A letter detailing the events that have transpired is being drafted at this moment to each of the guild masters. You will be leaving tomorrow morning for the desert with the child. You should be back by evening, and the following day the council should meet." Valeron inclined his head. "Make sure the child is back in the Temple by sundown tomorrow. After the meeting, you may begin your penance, along with learning about the care of babies from the priests and taking part in the raising of the girl. Also be advised, you will be responsible for the child in all things. We are also sending a letting to the City of Neriak to inquire about the lost child, she shall be considered dead in our eyes and yours as well, should they come for her."
That settled, Pegador saluted and turned to go when the smooth voice of Kalatrina stopped him, "Sir Pegador, have you thought to name the child?"
The man paused, his mind racing. He had, indeed, thought of it, not wanting to burden her with a name that would cause her to stand out unduly, nor pressure her to be human. "Anerak, a derivation of the type of cloak she was found in." The council nodded as the scribe's quill scratched quickly across the parchment, holding out the contract for Pegador to sign his acknowledgement and compliance of the conditions to being guardian and protector of the dark elf babe, and he was dismissed.
Finding himself with a free afternoon, Pegador went to seek out the ogre merchant, Boomba the Big, a merchant and trader who raised his stall near the western gates of Freeport. It was difficult understanding the ogre's simple and heavily accented words, but the man managed to find out that the ogre did, in fact, enjoy living in the City of Men, and most people, when standing upwind, were tolerable to his presence. The dark elf in the Pit, a dirty and rundown part of the city, was nowhere to be found. Pegador could feel his skin crawl from eyes watching him as the shadows lengthened, his fingers itching to draw his sword.
The following day soon after dawn, Pegador made his way to the Temple, wearing only light mail and carrying a short sword and small buckler. Waiting for a short time, soon the Handmaiden of Erollisi, Serna Tasknon came down, child in her arms. "Your child is a sweet one, Sir Pegador. Whatever the mystic says, know that her path follows closely to that of a healer. She is born with the power, and perhaps one of her parents followed such a path. Take good care of her." She placed a kiss on the dark-skinned forehead, getting a happy gurgling noise in response, and handed Anerak up to him, showing Pegador the sling she had fashioned for him to carry the child while freeing his hands. Nodding his thanks, he road towards the southern gates, making his way through the crowded streets past the shops.
The sun was reaching its apex when the grass gave away to sand and the smell of the ocean was on the air. He paused under the shade of a struggling tree to give horse and babe something to drink. The heat was making the child sleepy, which he was thankful for. A couple of hours later, he rode into the Northmen's encampment on the shores, where a girl of about fifteen summers met him. Several men and a woman stood in the water, kilts belted higher to stay dry while they fished along the shallows.
She nodded her head in greeting, "I am Rhonwynn, apprentice to the mystic. She told me you were coming. Puntar will take your horse. Follow me." The young woman was as tall as his horse, he noted as he dismounted, handing his reigns over to the boy. Trying not to stumble as he walked in the sand, he followed Rhonwynn to a hut, a string of fish drying in the desert sun hanging against the wall. He stepped through the portal as the girl held back the hide that substituted as a door, his eyes straining as they adjusted from the daylight to the darkness. "Mama Marsali, the paladin and babe are here."
The sound of waves lapping at the sand was hardly muted inside the flimsy-seeming structure. Dust motes danced in the air as the sunlight filtered through cracks in the bamboo walls. Candles sat on shelves around the larger room, causing strange-shaped shadows to dance feebly on the walls. Off to the side was a fur hanging haphazardly over a doorway, most likely hiding the sleeping area. Under the shelves were trunks and piles of what could have been bones, and leaning in the corner was a gnarled walking stick and straw broom. There was a mat of dried reeds on the floor, letting sand carried indoors to fall beneath it. Rhonwynn gestured for Pegador sit before the fire, which he did.
One of the dark masses opposite him began to move, "Welcome, young one." The voice was dry and raspy, but definitely female: the mystic.
"In the name of Mithaniel and by order of my superiors, I come before thee, wise one." He bowed in his seat.
The shape leaned forward so her face was bathed in light; skin wrinkled from many years of being outdoors, in cold weather and reflected sunlight, tanned like leather, though many faint tattoos could still be seen. The eyes were milky white where there should be pupils. "Let me see her." Across the fire, two steady hands reached, bracelets of bone and seeds clacking, her skin smooth and soft. He paused at her words, but gave the child up when she chuckled at her own joke.
Anerak woke, and gurgled up at the new face that made cooing noises back. Giving the child a smooth ivory bracelet to play with, the old woman turned back to her guest. "What would you know of her?"
Without thinking, he shrugged, only to be nudged by Rhonwynn's toe. "My pardon," he cleared his throat, "I wish to know what became of her parents, and my masters would know of her future...to see if she is safe to keep in the city..."
His voice trailed off as the old woman chuckled again. "She is but a babe, what can a child do to scare an entire city of warriors and knights and sorcerers?" He shifted uncomfortably, unsure.
"Ah, Rhonwynn, have you ever seen one so stiff?" The girl smiled behind her hand. Angered, Pegador started to rise, when the old woman raised her hand to stop him, "Now, now, holy warrior, sit. Stay. Forgive an old woman her humors." Taking a breath, she began humming and rocking back and forth. Her bracelets began to rattle as she shook a hand, scattering some runed bones onto a cloth before her. Charcoal scratching furiously against the scraped hide, Rhonwynn began to write down the placements of the bones and the sigils showing, ready to record what her mistress saw and spoke of.
"The child has no ties to the world now, other than you. She was loved, though. As for the future...mmm..." Pegador leaned forward as she frowned. "Much love, much violence, but I cannot see far. I can assure you, she is no threat to your city, though there will be some who will never believe aught but other. You must be watchful of yourself."
"Myself?"
"There is nothing more. That is all I can say. The spirits have spoken." With that, the shamaness placed a blue dot of woad on the babe's forehead, barely visible against her dark blue skin, blessing her.
Holding out the child to her guest, he rose, bowing deeply, before taking Anerak back, his face showing his bewilderment. "My thanks, wise woman."
The sun was beginning its descent behind the distant hills when he emerged from the hut; he hadn't realized how much time had passed. The young barbarian boy, Putar, was waiting with the horse. Rhonwynn held the infant as Pegador as he mounted, then handed up the child and sling. She patted his leg, "I hope her answers will guide you. Ride safe before the cutthroats emerge with the dusk." He nodded his thanks and turned his steed north to the distant gates, intent on making it back to the Temple before sunset.
The following day, Freeport was just waking when the guild representatives filed into the red-painted Office of the People. Magistrate Saffio watched over the room. Envoys from cities across Norrath were also present, more to keep in touch with the changes within Freeport than to have opinions regarding specific citizens. Pegador stood in the back of the room, listening as each member shared their opinion. He was asked to share his reasons to want to keep her and what the wise woman Marsali had said, which he did, though when it came to the part of her warning to him, something strange compelled him to refrain from sharing it. The babe was passed to each person, and either by chance, her intuition, or divine intervention, she warmed most hearts towards her.
The representative from the Freeport Militia was against it, having lost family members in a battle against the dark elves; the Merchants Guild was very reluctant, having only unflattering assumptions about the dark elves, similar to what the dwarves spoke on the ship. Tholius Quey, the head priest of Marr, and the Handmaiden stood up to promise they would watch over closely and board the child until her fifth year. Then would be the determination of her following, if any, and Pegador was to be her guardian in all things, the contract shown to all. In the end, a vote was cast and the child was allowed to remain in the city, the entire proceedings of which had been recorded by scribes.