Chapter 32 Bishop Agonistes*
Usual disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except a bear-lovin' ranger and an occasional NPC.
*Yes, I know some will think the title of this chapter is pretentious, but it seems to fit where Bishop finds himself in this chapter (unless you've never had the pleasure of reading Milton and you don't recognize the reference to his closet drama about the last days of Sampson anyway. And if you don't know who Sampson or Milton are, good gods, take a few lit classes;-).
While Dee and her companions were facing unexpected battles with dragons and giants, Bishop was back at Crossroads Keep fulfilling Black Garius's instructions, but only until he could find a way to free himself of the Geas placed upon him. He understood now why animals trapped in a snare will chew their paw off to escape. Bishop had been ordered to find ways to turn members of their company against the Shard-bearer, and to the King of Shadow's side if possible, and provide him with information about the preparations at the Keep. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on her too, but he didn't need to be with them to do that. He had his own spy, Qara, to tell him what happened while they were away, and he had satisfied himself that she was too stupid to realize he was only using her whenever he lent her a sympathetic ear to vent her many grievances or agreed with her once again that she was as great and powerful as she thought she was.
So he chatted up people around the Keep while he could before they returned and before his next arranged meeting with Black Garius. He had always found people were more willing to talk about someone if he or she wasn't around. People just loved to gossip (though few were honest about it), especially if there was no chance they would be overheard by the subject of their gossip. But it was never them that gossiped, oh no. They were just stating the facts. He found his disgust with humanity growing daily, but he took advantage of the time he had. And since most of the circus the Knight Captain surrounded herself with was gone on the mission other than himself, the half-man, and the Gith, he had his run of the Keep. But he had to make sure he wasn't caught being where he shouldn't be, such as in her privy chambers going through her things, or wasn't overheard asking too many questions by the wrong person.
So once they were gone, he had struck up casual conversations with the Greycloaks about her and about the mission either at the inn or festhall over drinks, or out on the archery range, where he continued to help train them. He found the most of the Greycloaks were loyal to a fault, and why not? He knew she made sure they had the best weapons and armor she could afford, and the best training to go along with it. No fodder for her; she set the highest standards for her new recruits. So while her troop numbers were small, they were a force to reckon with. He also found that no one loved her as much as Jacoby and Edario, who were so busy they each had taken on three apprentices to meet the demand for arms and armor. If they survived this war, they should both walk away rich men.
If anything, it occurred to him as he shook his head in disgust at the Greycloaks' unwavering faith in their precious Knight Captain that Lord Nasher was the one who should be concerned about the small but elite and very loyal army she was building here. The Knight Captain was gaining quite a cult following, in his opinion. It went beyond mere loyalty, however. One of the Greycloaks told him glumly while they were drinking the last evening that Kana had confiscated all the swords made by the Knight Captain after learning that some of the Greycloaks were gambling for them or selling them for much more than they were worth, especially her silver blades. Some of the Greycloaks had convinced themselves she was blessed, and by extension, so were the swords she had made. And since she hadn't had much time to forge any more weapons lately, being rare made them even more sought-after.
He thought for awhile about how he could use this knowledge before he decided he should find a way to get it to Sir Nevalle, who would doubtless take his poisoned intelligence directly to Lord Nasher. It was known among her inner circle (he heard it from Neeshka) that she declined Nasher's offer of a position among his Nine, and it wouldn't take much to make him think she wanted more than just this Keep and her future ambitions didn't also include taking his throne. She sure couldn't sleep her way there, though Bishop supposed he might be attracted by her boyish figure if he took her from behind. Generals and warlords had lost their heads for showing less ambition, or worse, had been stationed out on some gods-forsaken frontier outpost like Old Owl Well to rot or to let the orcs finish them off, eliminating them while leaving their Lord's hands clean.
It was dangerous to approach the knight directly though. On the few occasions where he had spoken with Nevalle, he got a strong impression that he didn't like or trust him. He didn't care at all if he liked him, but the lack of trust was dangerous. He thought perhaps he could do it through Torio Claven. He knew from following her that Nevalle dined with her regularly and bedded her on occasion, though he could see the wariness in the Luskan wench's eyes when he had tried to chat her up once before. She didn't know about him spying for them before the trial. That had been Lorne's closely-guarded secret. But it was almost as if she could smell Black Garius's taint on him. No, not her, she was too dangerous to approach. But maybe someone else Nevalle bedded. The knight was as big a slut as he was, and besides the festhall boy, he had spotted one of Aldanon's apprentices visiting Nevalle's tower a few nights at too late in the evening to be making a social call. He decided he would look for a chance to mention his 'concerns' within the man's hearing when he dropped in on Aldanon later.
He had had little success gaining any useful information from the servants in the Keep. He might happily bed the odd serving wench (though he made it very clear to them it was just a tumble and he rarely had one more than once without paying for her services so she knew her place), but he found that they too were fiercely loyal to their Lady. He also had to be careful lest one of them repeat something about their conversations that got to the head housekeeper or head cook, who would doubtless go straight to Kana. While they would gossip about her and the paladin when he prompted them with his own juicy gossip, they would only go so far.
However, he chalked this up to a fear of doing anything to threaten their employment rather than any real loyalty to her. He learned that she paid them as much as they would have made in Blacklake and gave them a day off a tenday instead of one a month, and a credit with the merchants for a set of clothes and shoes at their birthdays and at Midwinter. She insisted that everyone have sturdy shoes, even the brats. But Black Garius wouldn't be pleased to hear that the only thing he had to report about the wench was that she had a fixation with shoes.
He had decided as soon as they left to chat up that old friend of hers who had already received a promotion to sergeant. He would have thought this was proof she had screwed him back in that fetid hellhole of a swamp if he didn't know better. But Sergeant Starling was polite yet very tight-lipped about their former life in West Harbor. He spent much of his off time in the company of the other sergeants anyway, especially Katriona, who obviously wanted to do more than spar with him. Bishop couldn't resist implying one night just how well he had gotten to know the Knight Captain in Neverwinter, and he also enjoyed casually retelling the tale of how she slaughtered his big brother. He loved the looks of shock, horror, and shame on the big oaf's face. But he had to tread carefully here because he didn't know how intimate he was with Katriona. If he upset the big oaf enough that he complained to her, that pinched-faced shrew was likely to go not to Dee, but to the paladin.
Not that he didn't welcome a confrontation with his holiness. He often thought about catching him out in the woods and putting a few poisoned arrows in his back, the kind that would kill him slowly and painfully. He even had a dream a few nights ago in which he was kneeling over his body holding a bloody knife in one hand while he wound his fingers through his hair and pulled him close with his other hand, laughing and whispering in his ear as the light faded from his eyes, "You see your holiness, the way to a man's heart is not through the stomach but between the fourth and fifth ribs." He woke up laughing so hard he was crying. Yeah, he would love seeing the look on her face after he killed that self-righteous fool, especially if he could do it in front of her, but he knew better than to stick around after that. Too bad there was no way that he could make him fall or that the fool could be turned away from her.
Or was there? There was something he recalled that one of the scullery wenches, the dark-eyed skinny one, said about hearing slightly raised voices when she went to the temple early before she started work. Then she saw the paladin leaving Brother Ivarr's office looking flushed. Could it be that he was finally feeling the weight of that yoke that wenches used to turn men into docile beasts of burden settling over his shoulders? Or maybe the priest didn't care for how much time he spent rutting instead of praying. Maybe if he could get him alone when they got back he could share his 'concern' that his relationship with the swamp wench was coming before his relationship with Tyr. He could bring up that whore and tell him he looked like he was about to throw his paladinhood away for a woman. It would only take a suggestion, but that might be just enough poison to kill his interest in her, and safer than actually stabbing him. He chuckled dryly. Yes, that had definite possibilities and gave him something else to report to Black Garius.
Of those inside the Keep, Bishop had discovered that it wasn't very hard at all to get that old fart Aldanon talking about just about anything, and he turned out to be an excellent source of information on their progress. Bishop believed that if Aldanon ever left the library and his work rooms, he would probably be the biggest threat to security in the Keep since the man was indiscreet, sharing what they were doing with anyone who asked. All Bishop had to do was drop by regularly on the pretense of checking their progress, being especially careful to do so when the old fart's apprentices were busy with the actual research and the Gith was away too. He would wait until she was working in the kitchen garden or out in the fields with the farmers, where she spent hours every day now that summer was nearly here, before he approached Aldanon since he didn't trust the green-skinned wench at all.
After a few visits he figured the old fart was used to his regular requests for progress reports, so he avoided Kana and made his way to the library. The apprentice he was looking for wasn't around, but he could drop his gossip for Nevalle next time, and he had more important business here anyway. He wanted to carefully probe Aldanon for information about how a Geas worked and how it could be broken. He had been testing how far he could resist it before he went mad with pain, and he thanked his Luskan training that he could take quite a lot. But sometimes he was sick for hours from the strain, and he feared it was sapping his strength. So it was better to play along for now. He already knew it was simple enough to get the old fool to talk. He just had to think of a way to bring it up in conversation without provoking suspicion. He masked his inquiry with concern for their dear Knight Captain, asking, "I've been thinking about that shard that's stuck in the Knight Captain's chest. Is it possible she might be under a Geas because of it?"
The old fart peered up at him for so long Bishop was sure he was probing his mind then finally chuckled heartily and patted his shoulder as he replied, "That's why magic is best left to the mages, my boy. No, no, no, a Geas doesn't work like that at all. What you're describing would be more a form of possession rather than a Geas." Bishop listened impatiently as he gave a lengthy explanation until one of his apprentices called him away. Aldanon sighed with dismay as he was just getting warmed up. He eyed the bookcase in front of him and pulled a dusty book off one of the shelves and handed it to Bishop. "You can read, I presume? Good, then everything you need to know about a Geas is contained in Chapters Seven through Nine. Now run along, and don't you worry about the Knight Captain, though I do understand why your concern. Now that you mention it, if the blade had been sentient, even broken it might retain enough intelligence that it could try to exert influence over her. I shall have to ask Zhjaeve whether the Sword of Gith was a sentient blade."
Bishop hid his delight that he had unexpectedly planted more doubt about her. He quickly shoved the book into his pack before anyone saw him do it and took it back to read in the privacy of his room at the inn in the time that remained until his meeting, fighting the urge to run. He always claimed to anyone who asked that he stayed at the inn rather than in the Keep proper with the rest of her lackeys because of its proximity to cheap ale and moderately priced whores. But the truth was he kept his own room to send the message to her that he was his own man. He grunted at Karnwyr as the wolf bounded up beside him outside the inn and licked his hand and took the stairs two at a time once he got inside. He didn't even bother getting a tankard to take to his room in his urgency to read the book.
He wanted to howl with rage after he tried to read the first chapter. Rather than being a spell book, it was a book on magical theory. It was tedious going because he didn't understand many of the words used, and what was worse, the first chapter had little information on a Geas, and the second only mentioned in passing that there were two forms of the spell. He was tempted to rip up the book and toss it into the fireplace but slammed it on the floor instead. He paced the room angrily until Karnwyr whimpered nervously and walked up beside him and licked his hand. Bishop ruffed his neck fur absently as he sat back down at his table and picked up the book to read through the last chapter, willing himself to calm down and take his time. He smiled at Karnwyr as the wolf looked up at him, tongue lolling contentedly. The mutt always grounded him. He was the only one he could always rely on. He stood and stretched. "Come on boy, let's get us a couple of bowls of Sal's stew before I get back to this boring shit. But if there's nothing useful in that last chapter, I'm gonna go back to the library and shove this book up that old fart's ass until he sneezes paper!"
After fortifying himself with a big bowl of Sal's venison stew and a tankard of ale, he went back to reading as Karnwyr curled up on the rug to sleep off his own supper. He had just started when there was a commotion out in the courtyard, and he stood and looked out the window. He figured it might have something to do with the band of lizardmen and farmers who arrived from Highcliff and were camped in tents around the Keep until Kana found them permanent housing. Some of the people here were nervous around the lizardmen and tempers were short, but they were as much refugees with nowhere else to go as the farmers. But they weren't the cause of the commotion.
He recognized two of the Greycloaks who had gone with the circus jumping off their horses and sprinting into the Keep. But only the two, and he didn't see her or any of the others coming. That was interesting, and perhaps something to report tonight. He watched Sal walk over and talk to one of the Greycloaks, his curiosity getting the better of him, which only proved Bishop's point about gossip. He heard something about the Knight Captain sending them for help. He could find out what was happening from him later, and he had enough for tonight's report anyway. For now he returned to the book.
The ninth chapter discussed the reasons certain spells failed, which was usually from some error on the caster's part. He snorted. No surprise there, judging from the mages he had known. He skimmed through the pages until he found the mention of the Geas spell. The old fart had said that the caster needed to be close to the subject but didn't have to be close enough to touch the victim. From what Bishop could make out, the writer of this book thought a Geas was one of the more dangerous spells because of that and because there were no gestures or components required to cast it. No hocus-pocus at all. All the caster had to do was say the words of the command, and the command had to be something the subject was willing to do, and it couldn't lead to the caster's death.
He sighed and closed his eyes while rubbing his temples and remembered how he met Black Garius once not far from here before the trial, having been taken to him by Lorne while he was supposedly away with one of his hunting parties. He had recognized Lorne from years before on the streets of Luskan, though he hadn't known him there other than as a thug for hire with a reputation for a having bad temper who was to be avoided, unless you could get the drop on him. He wanted to know his habits so he could hunt him down and kill him if Dee lost the trial. But that was before he thought better of that plan. It was easy enough to shadow him through the streets of Neverwinter then cross his path one morning, making eye contact and a gesture that marked him as a member of another assassin squad. Lorne looked startled but nodded back, and they slipped into a seedy tavern and talked in the back room then arranged to meet again outside of the city.
He was only trying to cover his bets in case the Luskans won and decided to make an example of all of her companions by demanding they be turned over to stand trial for the slaughter of Ember too. The wench said as much to him herself a few days before the trial, and he knew that Nasher wouldn't make them all squires, not even his holiness. Nasher would likely have turned them over to Luskan justice at once. He hated feeling he wasn't on the winning side either because in this kind of battle, the losers usually died. So he made a pact with them in return for a guarantee of his life and freedom. He snorted at the thought of how little freedom he had now. They hadn't talked for long, but the mage demanded he tell him everything he knew about her. From what this book said, that was the only time Black Garius could have cast the spell on him.
He already knew how fighting the spell weakened him and made him sick, and as Black Garius had threatened, the book promised it would kill him eventually if he continued to resist. It wasn't so much that it bothered him betraying the wench. It did cause him a few regrets, but he could drink those away. Anyway, he told himself over and over she deserved it for the way she had cast him aside like so much trash when his holiness started making her small clothes wet. Not that he wanted her to die for it, but better her than him. Besides, she's the one who wanted to be a martyr. What did bother him was being under anyone's thumb, especially a pansy mage. And what if the Geas wasn't ended if she died? Or what if the battle ended in a stalemate? What if the King of Shadows couldn't cross over to this plane right away and this campaign went on for years? His greatest fear was that he would never be free.
He felt devastated as he continued to read, and he wished he had gotten a bottle of whiskey instead of ale. But he had to keep his wits about him for the meeting later tonight. He had been thinking he might be able to pay a mage to dispel the spell, but this book said it could only be removed by the Wish spell, and he knew how rare those were. He poured through the book for information on that spell anyway and wanted to scream with rage again. He slammed the book closed in frustration and buried his face in his hands fighting tears. Even if he could even find a mage powerful enough to cast that spell, who would be stupid enough to grant him a Wish when it would cost five years of the caster's life? Surely no human mage. An elf possibly, but at what price? What would a mage that powerful want in return? More servitude, at the very least as many years as he would give up for the spell. Probably much more.
Anyway, there was only one elvish mage he knew—Sand, who might even have the skill to cast the spell. Bishop sat back in the chair thinking about Sand, but the more he thought about it, the more hopeless it all became. For one thing, there was no way he could think of to get Sand to agree to cast it without telling him the whole story. He couldn't even begin to come up with a plausible lie that would explain how Black Garius was able to cast a Geas on him. And if Sand didn't kill him at once, Bishop knew he would be a dead man as soon as the others found out what he had done. That meant he would have to kill him first as soon as the spell was cast if he agreed to cast it at all, and Sand wasn't stupid like Qara; he would likely anticipate that and cast his own Geas, or worse.
What bothered him most was that hadn't he noticed the effects until now. He thought about the past year and decided it was most likely because he had been fulfilling the terms of the spell. For months they had thought Black Garius was dead and buried in a mass grave with the other Luskan trash outside the walls of the Keep. He should have guessed something was wrong that morning in West Harbor when he tried to leave and Black Garius appeared to him outside the village. He had been so overcome with fear and disgust by the carnage in the village, bringing back memories of Red Fallow's Watch and Ember, that he figured that was what made him feel sick. So he was blissfully unaware of his danger until that morning he decided to head for the hills for good.
He drained the last of his ale and wondered if he had time enough to reread the chapter in the time he had left. He leaned back and wracked his brain to remember what that bastard had said to him that day, but it was all hazy now. At the time he didn't understand why Black Garius had insisted on meeting with him other than not trusting him, and he didn't blame him there. But it was very clear now. He read again that he couldn't be commanded to kill himself or to perform an act that would lead to certain death. For now he was trapped because he was the one who sought out the pact with the Luskans. But if Black Garius ordered him to do something that might result in his own death, that should break the spell.
There was something in that to think about, and he felt the first stirrings of hope he had felt in a long time. If they got wind of what he was doing, Nevalle and the paladin would want to see him hanged for a traitor. That knowledge should break it, but it hadn't. She was too tender-hearted to do have him hung, as she had proven by sparing that Luskan whore Torio and not even locking her up at night or making her wear shackles. Most likely she would let him rot in Nasher's gaol unless Nasher overruled her and ordered his death. He sighed as he realized the problem was that being caught 'might' get him killed. Unless he was ordered to do something that he knew would get him killed for certain, he was still trapped. Besides, she was just as likely to throw him out without telling the others why as to turn him over to Neverwintan justice, and that created another problem, because then he would surely die from not fulfilling the Geas. It was like he was spinning, trapped in a whirlpool and about to be sucked under.
He glanced at the position of the sun to check the time and thought about the last time he met him. It was on the last black moon in a secret room in the dungeons of the Keep Garius told him about, a dungeon within a dungeon. No one else in the Keep knew about it except the devil girl, who had surprised him while he was looking for the room when they got back from West Harbor. But fortunately for him, or more fortunately for her, he wasn't meeting Garius that night and was only scouting out the location. He answered her startled squeal, "Bishop! What are you doing here!" by drawling casually, "Oh I don't know, I expect the same as you, wench. Looking for pickings, but there's not much of anything down here but old bones and torture devices." He wondered at the time if she had followed him there. But she seemed genuinely startled to see him, and his explanation seemed to be good enough for her. She left after she made sure there was nothing of value to be found and he had thoroughly sickened her with descriptions of how some of the instruments of torture were used, not even questioning how he knew that.
He was distracted by more noise outside. He stood and stretched and strode over to the window to look out. A squad of Greycloaks was quickly assembling with field packs around a couple of wagons. There were burlap sacks being loaded into the front wagon, and one of the priests of Tyr came running with a small chest that was marked with a healer's insignia. Healing potions and bags. That meant only one thing to him. Someone was injured or dead, possibly all of them. He wanted to find out, but this should be enough knowledge to keep Black Garius happy for now. Always wise to leave something in reserve in case he had nothing to report next time. One word floated up to him from below as he watched—dragon! The thought made his blood run cold, and he was glad he stayed behind. They fought a dragon and were too injured to get back even with the horses. Black Garius should be very pleased to hear that.
The sun began to sink behind the mountain in the distance. It was almost time. He cursed and went to the door reluctantly. Karnwyr stretched and looked at him expectantly. "No mutt, you're not coming with me. You can go run around outside until I get back." He couldn't take a chance that the druid might talk to Karnwyr and learn of his meetings. Slim as that chance seemed, it was better to play it safe. He quickly left the inn by the back door and went out the eastern gate avoiding getting close enough to talk to anyone. He was prepared with a story ready that he was doing some night hunting if anyone challenged him, but the guards recognized him as part of the Knight Captain's company and were all used to his excursions by now. He got out past the fields making sure none of the farm folk saw him then set Karnwyr out into the forest to wait until he whistled for him to come back and found the exit of that hidden tunnel that they used when they took the Keep from Garius.
She had never bothered to have guards set around it because it was very well hidden just inside the tree line, and she said she didn't want to advertise its existence so that it would remain an emergency escape tunnel. He took a torch and made his way down the tunnel then into the main basement level. There was door leading to a stairway leading down into the lowest levels not too far into the basement, so he didn't have to worry about avoiding the half-man, the spider, or one of the brats who ran with Wolf who always seemed to be underfoot. Sal said the Lizardmen were going to be moved into the lower levels of the Keep, but they hadn't settled in yet, and he couldn't see Kana giving them the torture rooms to live in. He crept down the stairs then past the room and doubled back to make sure he wasn't followed before he pressed on a certain stone in the wall that triggered the latch and slipped inside after taking a last look around to make sure he was alone.
Black Garius appeared as arranged in a mirror brought here for that purpose. The devil-girl had looked behind it and even examined it for anything hidden in the frame, but she had never questioned its presence in a torture chamber. The shadow reaver stared at him silently, his pale face a mask of calm as Bishop gave his report on the Shard Bearer, including his own ideas for undermining her standing with Nasher. He summed it up with, "But it may not be a problem. Just before I came over here two Greycloaks rode up in a hurry. She sent them back to bring them a couple of wagons, and I saw the Greycloaks loading burlap sacks into one of them. Body bags I'd guess. Then a priest got in with a chest of healing potions." Bishop didn't see this, only the priest bring out the chest, but he assumed that was what happened. Why send potions without sending a healer too?
Garius broke his silence, scowling at Bishop. "You don't know her fate for certain? Why did you not find that out before you came?"
Bishop growled, "Yeah, and then I get tortured because I'm late meeting you. I'm no fool. She's alive, I told you that. The wench really does seem to be charmed, just like her cult here thinks she is. The wench sent them to get help. One of them said they got attacked by a dragon. She's still alive if she sent them for help, but I'm guessing a few of the others aren't. Probably the paladin she's bedding. He's the type who would throw away his life for a wench, always jumping in to shield her in a fight. I've even heard them argue about it. But I have my own ideas about how to remove him if he's still alive." He related his thoughts about playing on the paladin's insecurities.
Black Garius nodded. "That should serve to drive a wedge between them and remove the blessing of Tyr from her. Proceed, but be careful."
Bishop cursed under his breath. "If I wasn't being careful, I'd be far from the Sword Coast by now. Just as long as you keep your part of our bargain. I get out of here with my life and..." he paused and studied the image before him. "I get out with the reward you promised me."
Black Garius folded his arms and frowned. "You said then you didn't care for gold, but I assume you've rethought that so you have something to pay for your escape. We also have many artifacts of power brought from Luskan that might interest you as long as you fulfill your part of the bargain."
Bishop grunted in reply then added as an afterthought, "Speaking of Luskan, your old friend Sydney Natale's dogsbody has been skulking around the Keep trying for an audience with the Knight Captain since before she got knighted. Don't know if that's something you should be concerned about, but it seems strange to me. So far she hasn't had time for him, but he's a persistent little bugger, and a dog like that wouldn't be so persistent unless he expected a big reward or feared returning to his mistress without talking to her."
If Garius was interested by this news, he didn't betray it in his expression, which was still as bland as rice pudding. "Sydney Natale, indeed. That might bear watching. Report back to me when you learn what Luskan wants with the Shard-bearer. I cannot believe a devious creature like Sydney Natale wants only to form a diplomatic alliance or congratulate her on Luskan's humiliation. It's more likely they're looking for some way to bring her down for embarrassing them. They may still want her death."
"I have to ask, why not just kill her then? You are going through a lot of trouble when it would be so easy to get rid of her," Bishop said with a shrug. He regretted the words as soon as they spilled out of his mouth, but the idea seemed so much more practical than all this sneaking around and plotting. Some people lived to plot and scheme though, in his experience, and he guessed he was looking at one of them.
Black Garius smirked and his expression reminded Bishop of a cat toying with a rat. "That is none of your concern, ranger. We have our reasons. The chief reason is that the King of Shadows thinks the Shard-bearer might be able to be turned to our side as well if her companions and Neverwinter turn against her or abandon her, much as Aribeth de Tylmarande had been turned to fight for Luskan. It has been observed that the Shard Bearer is a natural warrior."
Bishop nodded suppressing a shudder at seeing where this was going. "And if she could be turned, corrupted..."
Black Garius interrupted, "If so, she could become the King of Shadows' general and lead his undead army in his conquest of the Ilefarn lands." He changed the subject. "Enough about the Shard-bearer. Have you made progress with any of her companions besides the sorceress, Bishop? It sounds from what you've told me as if we could have her simply by acknowledging her power. She appears to be another useful little tool, but one that would have to be tightly controlled. But if she can't be controlled, she would join the fodder after her death. Not as a Shadow Reaver, but as one of the lesser undead."
Bishop yawned and looked towards the door as he though how best to respond. "The others? The druid would probably just run off if she turns on the Knight Captain. I don't think it's possible to turn her to your side. Your King is not what she thinks of as natural." He turned back to the mirror and caught the shadow of a smirk as he said that as if Black Garius knew better. It unnerved him, but he continued, wanting desperately to get this over with. "Jerro...he has invested too much of his life in fighting your master to be turned. The same is true of the Gith. She's as much a fanatic as he is."
Garius shrugged dismissively. "Perhaps they only require the right incentive. We could promise to restore Jerro's granddaughter that he murdered to him."
Bishop went through his mental list of their other companions. "The tiefling might run off before the last fight if she loses her nerve, but you'll never get her to turn against her. She's her favorite pet baatezu. The same goes for the dwarf. He doesn't have sense enough to get out. He's only interested in the fight. Sand? He's more of a possibility, I think. He's very close to her, but you know how mages are." Bishop bit his lip to keep from smirking at Black Garius's derisive snort. "I'm just saying...he studied with the Hosttower, didn't he? Maybe you only need to figure out the right incentive to lure him to your side—some of your artifacts of power? There had to be a reason he went to study with the Hosttower. The only other one is the gnome. He's a half-wit...but on the other hand he has managed to reactivate that construct you left behind."
Black Garius raised an eyebrow. "Has he? I suppose that's not surprising for a gnome. Nevertheless, it's only one construct. But I doubt it will respond to the code word we gave it anymore."
Bishop brightened as a new idea occurred to him. "There's a code word to control it? That's something worth pursuing. I'll convince the half-wit that someone else should know what it is in case something happens to him. I think that might work."
Garius looked pleased for once. "Yes, it might work at that. For now I want you to haunt the Shard-bearer like her own shadow. I don't want you to remain behind here any longer. Do what it takes to make yourself indispensable to her. You may summon me by calling to me three times through the mirror when you have something else to report. That will be all." He faded from view, summarily dismissing the ranger, who cursed him in his mind with the most vile curses he could think of.
Bishop was afraid to breathe until he was safely out of the room in case he was still being watched. He retraced his steps outside the Keep then found Karnwyr and reentered the Keep through the same gate he had left through. He shrugged at the guard. "No luck tonight. Something's spooked all the game."
He entered the Keep proper and went down the stairs and found Grobnar in the basement polishing one of the many blades protruding from the construct. He looked it over for a while examining the workmanship before asking, "Are you sure this thing is safe? I'd hate to see it rampage through the Keep. It would kill half the 'Cloaks before we brought it down, and think of those brats running around here."
Grobnar paused in his polishing and beamed up at him. "Oh yes, he's quite safe, Sir Bishop. He responds only to whoever has given him the code word. Be a good construct and show Sir Bishop your arm." He tittered at Bishop as the construct thrust his arm in Bishop's direction, who ducked in alarm. Karnwyr growled and backed up. "Wonderful! That's enough for now. Step back against the wall." He smiled sweetly and went back to polishing the construct.
Bishop inched closer to the construct. "Code word, you say? That's a really good idea. But what if something happens to you? What happens to the construct if you get killed or knocked out and can't control it? Won't it go berserk then?"
Grobnar gasped in alarm. "Oh my, I hadn't thought about that, Sir Bishop. You're right, I should make sure the Knight Captain has the code word too."
Bishop nodded sagely. "Good idea, and you should probably give it to me too for safety's sake. I would also change it every tenday too. Unless that's too hard to do?" He gave the gnome his most practiced look of concern.
Grobnar poured some more sweet-smelling oil on the rag he was using. "Ah yes, good thinking! I certainly don't know what we would do without you. Unfortunately, it's extremely difficult to change the word unless we can get the proper spell components again, and I don't know if we can get more wyvern's blood, so we had better be careful. The word is "Whitethistle," but you have to sing it like this." He trilled the word in a falsetto voice. "Do you think you can do it like that, Sir Bishop? Repeat after me." He sang the word again and listened until Bishop repeated it to his satisfaction. He beamed at Bishop and patted him on the leg. "Well done! Now I can rest easy knowing you'll take care of him if anything awful should happen to me."
Bishop smiled benignly down at him. "I'll rest easy too knowing we won't lose control of it. I wouldn't trouble the Knight Captain about it though. She has enough to worry about. Why just this afternoon Aldanon told me she might be possessed by the shard that's in her chest, that is if it's still..." He paused and wrinkled his brow as if trying to remember the word. "Sentient? Anyway, he was pretty alarmed and said he was going to discuss it with Zhjaeve."
Grobnar gasped again and looked very worried. "You don't say! Oh my, that would be a terrible thing to be controlled by a sentient weapon! I found one once that time I had to ride that minotaur!"
Bishop fought to hide a smirk at not only getting control of the construct, but also spreading the rumor he started and suspecting that the story about the Knight Captain's possession would probably be spread around the Keep by the little fool within a day. But Bishop realized he looked as if he was about to begin one of his long, ridiculous stories, so he cut him off. "I better let you get back to your work. I have to take the mutt outside before he pisses on the floor. Sure is a relief to know the Construct is in good hands." He turned and sprinted up the stairs, his ribs aching from holding in his laughter.
Grobnar called over his shoulder, "Yes indeed, quite a relief!"
He began whistling as he worked until the ranger was up the stairs and the door on the landing had closed. He whistled more softly and padded over to the stairwell to make sure he was gone. Satisfied, he walked back to the construct. "Yes indeed," he whispered to the construct as he pushed open a panel and adjusted a few levers. "I'd be quite relieved now that Sir Bishop has your code word...if I was an utter moron. Now what is he up to?"