Hey ho, everyone! Well, I got a clean bill of health from the nuthouse, and my new townhouse is finally shaping up…
Now that I was able to call in a plumber to get the shower running, get the cable guy to turn the Wi-Fi on, scheduled someone to fix the steps out the back door (that my poor father almost broke his neck trying to use), convince the electric company to turn the power back on after the seller failed to inform them the place had a new occupant, and clean up the windows and front door that were caked with dirt…
Yeah, the jerks who sold me this place left it a complete mess, but hey, it could have been worse. I finally moved everything out of the old place, and the deal on that will close on Monday. I managed to get the furniture in without a relapse - barely. I owe a lot to my parents, brother, and sister-in-law for their help and MultiplePersonas for emotional support through this whole ordeal.
So, back to the story. This chapter took a little longer to do than I had intended, because… Well, I'll tell you later. For now, just enjoy the chapter. And if you could, leave a review, that would help a lot.
Onward!
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Shadowchasers
The Demonskar Legacy
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Chapter Six
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The Initiative
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Maddie woke up holding her forehead, the cramped conditions in the jail cell having given her a headache. She could hear the clock tower in the center of Cauldron chiming four times - it was almost dawn.
Most of her allies in the cell block were still asleep. She was relieved to see that Red Feather was deep in trance - she really needed rest. Looking to her side, she saw someone who wasn't asleep. Annah was huddled in the corner of the cell, holding her knees close to her head and sobbing softly.
"You okay?"
"Mind your own business," said the Stormblade, "I'm fine."
"Oh, sure, I know that tone."
"What?" Annah rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, you're going to tell me it's the tone of a woman who's used to being in control and doesn't want anyone to think she feels helpless. Right?"
"Well, actually, I was going to say it was the tone of someone who doesn't want anyone to know she's scared, but close enough. Come here."
"Oh, right, now you're going to give me one of those speeches to boost my confidence? We're enemies, remember?"
"Fine, Annah, when they force us to fight to the death for our freedom, I'll be sure to request you as an opponent, okay?"
"Very funny."
"You want funny? How about I tell you a joke? Would that be better?"
Annah groaned, but truth be told, she did at least appreciate having someone to talk to. She had been a wreck all night, with horrible scenarios going through her mind. The few times she nodded off, she dreamed she was wearing a prison jumpsuit, working on a chain gang, often with Cora beside her, constantly blaming her for it all. Maybe it wasn't likely, but it had always been her worst fear.
She stood up and sat on the bench beside Maddie, almost welcoming someone trying to console her.
"Okay let's see here," started Maddie. "There was this man who lived in Cleveland, I believe, let's call him… Bob."
The "fun" begins, thought Annah, rolling her eyes.
"Bob was the type of person who could be described in one word, and in this case, the word was 'boring'. He had no family, no real friends or social life, and day after day he would go to the same boring job where he worked as an accountant at a company that made toothpaste. One day however, after working at the same place for twenty three years, his boss found out that Bob had never once taken a vacation. Seeing as such was mandated by state law, he told Bob to take a month-long sabbatical. Well, Bob had absolutely no idea where he would go, until a co-worker suggested joining a group that was backpacking through Europe. Sounded like a good idea and a nice change of pace so that's what he decided to do. Nobody in this group was more than half his age, and all of them thought he was going through some sort of midlife crisis, and he probably was, but he actually started to enjoy himself, what with all the fresh air, scenery, and actual companionship. Until he made the mistake of straying from them while hiking in some remote part of Germany and got lost.
"Seems nobody ever told Bob that when you're lost it's much safer to stay in one place, so he started wandering around looking for his group, and just got more and more lost. Then, just as night fell, it started to rain. Bob's nice vacation had suddenly become miserable.
"As fate would have it though, he saw a light up ahead, and found that in this remote area, there was an inhabited enclave, a monastery. So, he went and knocked on the door. Fortunately for him, the monks were a generous, charitable type who were glad to put him up for the night - they simply told him politely to stay away from a certain part of the complex, a tower in the center that had no entrance."
Again, Annah rolled her eyes - she could see where this was going. She assumed.
"The room he was given wasn't very fancy or comfortable, but at least it was warm and dry. As he settled down for the night, he suddenly heard a noise coming from the tower the monk mentioned, an eerie, ominous sound, like a cross between howling and screaming. But it only lasted a minute, and then stopped. It had unnerved him, but eventually, he fell asleep. The next morning, he awoke refreshed, and asked his hosts just what was in the tower. All they told him, however, was that it was a secret all of them had sworn to conceal, and that only members of their religious order who resided in this particular monastery were allowed to even know what it was.
"Well, Bob was disappointed, but he thanked the monks for their hospitality and went on his way. Soon after, he found his group, and his trip finished without any further incident.
"Bob went home, went back to his old job, his old routine. But that eerie sound haunted his dreams every night, and curiosity started to turn into obsession.
"Two years later, he resigned his position, and returned - this time alone - to the monastery. He told the monks he wanted to join them. They told him that was an odd request, but one they could fulfill, so long as he was willing to earn it.
"And earn it he did. He started out doing menial tasks, like cleaning up, tending gardens, and feeding livestock. It was as boring as his old job, but at least now he was getting much more exercise. He lost all his baby fat and put on muscle, and the astigmatism he'd had all his life actually cleared up. Eventually, they trusted him more, and he started learning the scriptures of their faith, working as a scribe and doing errands, even helping them recover a holy relic that had been stolen.
"After eight long years, the head monk told him he had proven himself more than he had needed to. The time had come for his true initiation.
"So, after he underwent a ceremony for the occasion, he was given the official vestments of an initiate, and the head monk and his two acolytes told him it was time to finally reveal to him the secret he had sought so long, to finally show him what was hidden in that ominous tower.
"The three monks led the new initiate down into the monastery's cellars, into the catacombs where the deceased members of the order were interred, deeper and deeper until the head monk found and pressed a loose brick. This opened a secret passage leading to a spiral stair, the only way to access the tower. They went up. Up, up, and up. Bob's legs grew tired, but eventually, the head monk opened a trap door leading to a room with ivory pillars surrounded by ivy. They were inside the tower now. All three monks produced a key - no one monk was allowed to have more than one at one time - and unlocked a door with three locks. The two acolytes stayed behind, and Bob followed the head monk up another spiral staircase leading to the room at the very top of the tower. The head monk pulled out another key and unlocked a wooden door, pulling it aside to reveal a rusty iron door. The door creaked as the head monk pulled it open, and behind it was a door made of titanium. The head monk pressed a six digit PIN on a panel and the door slid open. The room was at first too dark to see anything. The head monk flipped a switch and a single lightbulb flickered on.
"Destiny had guided Bob to this very place and time. After his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Bob finally saw it, he saw with his own eyes the source of the mysterious sound, the secret he had spent ten years laboring to discover."
Maddie stopped talking. Annah waited, and about a minute passed.
"WELL?" she shouted.
"Well, what?"
"What was in the room?"
"Eh? Hell, if I know, Annah, only the monks know what it is, remember?"
Then, Annah heard the laughter. The Shadowchasers and Cora had woken up, and all of them except Red Feather and Sonya were laughing. Red was simply looking at Annah with a playful smirk, while Sonya was looking at Maddie with a snarky look of bemusement.
"What?" said Maddie. "I learned that joke from you 'Bianca', remember?"
Annah covered her eyes and leaned against the wall with a groan. She he got the joke… She also "got" that she has been the butt of it. As she looked at Maddie, that "fight to the death for her freedom" idea sounded appealing.
"Okay, you all, quiet down!"
Annah quickly remembered why she had been so scared. Three sentries entered the cell block - what was going to happen? Were they going to be transferred to the larger prison? Would they be brought before a judge or magistrate first? Maybe she could make a deal with them, a shorter sentence if she cooperated… Maybe they wanted to pin something on these mainlanders, and she would… She'd have to… "rat" on them? I don't want to be a rat! she thought.
But to her complete and utter shock, the head sentry unlocked the door to her cell and said, "You all are free to go."
Every horrible scenario she had been dreading the whole miserable night had scared her for nothing. But now, curiosity took the place of fear. Before she could ask the question though, Nichole asked it for her.
"Not that I'm ungrateful, but why?"
"No idea," he said with a shrug, "Lord Governor's orders, charges are dropped for everyone who was brought in last night. Want to know why, go to the town hall courtyard at eight o'clock."
He wouldn't say more. The most information they could get from anyone else in the city jail was that the Lord Governor would be making a brief speech in two hours. That gave them enough time to have a short breakfast and freshen up. It was definitely a speech they were going to listen to.
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"Settle down everyone, settle down."
The courtyard in front of the town hall was still a complete mess, with vandalism and graffiti still not cleaned up or repaired. It was, fortunately, under much heavier guard, with no Alleybashers around this time, and the crowd was smaller and more orderly. The small group of Shadowchasers were trying their best to remain incognito, having no intent other than to hear the Lord Governor out.
Lord Governor Sevven Lamour stood on a podium that had replaced the one Dorison had used, surrounded by several guards and other officials, including Zhent; while he still had a few bruises, he had mostly recovered due to Jenya's healing magic. Lieutenant Reynaldo was there too.
"Settle down!" he repeated, loudly. "I intend to make this as brief as possible. As everyone here no doubt knows, we had an… altercation yesterday. Due to… the circumstances, everyone present has been pardoned."
There was some energetic chatter among the crowd in response, but he quickly added something more. "Except Mr. Dorisan Arlintal. He has been found guilty in absentia of conspiracy, sabotage, and rabble-rousing. There is a generous reward for information leading to his arrest."
The crowd didn't seem to react as well to that. Francis was puzzled - Lamour was acting very serious and professionally now, not at all like the jovial attitude he had the last time they had spoken.
"Nonetheless, some issues that led to the crisis must be addressed. The new tax collection policies will be suspended for the foreseeable future, pending an investigation."
A loud "SLAM!" was head from above, Zhent looked upward towards a second-floor window of the town hall, but Reynaldo quickly shook his head and ignored it. Lamour himself made an annoyed grunt and continued.
"As I was saying… It has also been brought to our attention that Brother Gregory Tercival of St. Cuthbert's House has issued a challenge via the Old Law of Peers. We have indeed received and reviewed the document, and due to a variety of inconsistencies in the writing, we have adequate reason to believe that Gregor has been manipulated by an infernal tempter when he wrote it. Regrettably, we must for now rule the Old Rule of Peers void."
It was all Nichole could do to resist yelling "bullshit" right then and there.
"A copy of the letter in question will be available later, should anyone request it. There is also a generous reward for information on Brother Gregory's location, hopefully so he can be recovered alive and safe. Now, a few more issues to address…"
Lamour proceeded to summarize instructions for a mandatory curfew that had been imposed and areas and facilities of Cauldron that would be closed off-limits for the next week, finally adding:
"The twice-daily rail shuttle that circumvents the island will be adding a third that leaves Cauldron at noon, but only stopping at Redgorge, Hollowsky, and Kingfisher Hollow, and all shuttles will charge half the regular fare for the next week. However, the shuttles will then stop running after that until further notice. I strongly suggest anyone with business elsewhere do so before then. Good day."
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The crowd started to disperse, the Shadowchasers doing their best to stay close together and remain unseen, which wasn't easy for mainlanders.
"Do you think that was a threat or a warning?" asked Francis.
"Think it may have been a suggestion," replied Maddie. She dug into her jacket pocket, taking a game card from it - Iron Blacksmith Kotetsu, the one that Dorisan had given her. "I mean, Dorisan, he -" She looked around, making sure none of the watch was nearby, and then her voice sank to a whisper. "- I mean, he told us to bring this to Redgorge for… some reason."
"I know," said Sonya, "you think he and Lamour are in cahoots somehow? What's the next move, chief?"
Nichole seemed a little upset by now that everyone seemed to be regarding her as the leader.
"Please don't call me 'chief'. Our first two priorities right now are finding Gregory before he gets himself killed -"
"- or kills someone else," added Francis.
Nichole swallowed hard before slowly nodding. "We also have to find Dorisan and figure out just what his role in this is - I'm really not sure whose side we're on in this mess. The first step to doing that - we're going to have a talk with Jenya."
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In a second story lounge inside the town hall - the window of which the one that had slammed shut, several members of the Cagewrights were gathered. It was hard to pin down just how Bitch Queen Thearynn had gotten her title (which again, was her preferred title) given how much she enjoyed, well, being a bitch, a "talent" she was emphasizing now.
"Splendid!" she ranted, her tone obviously sarcastic. "Just splendid! Stormbringer's men have to pull our sorry ass out of the fire again!"
"Literally this time!" said Aszithef with a laugh.
Thearynn gave the gnome a dirty look. When the master had approved her apprenticeship, he specifically said she was never to be punished for anything she said, making her something of a court jester who could mock and insult one of them for their mistakes without fear of retribution. Supposedly, it encouraged them not to repeat their mistakes. Aszithef knew that, and made ample use of her privilege, Thearynn being one of her favorite targets.
"Will you please calm down? That's your third scotch!" Ghulertas - or rather, Brolly, as they called him now - had never seen anything like this. Being half-dwarf, he was known to enjoy a pint or two after work, but it wasn't even ten AM. "You're drunk, you realize?"
"And you are disgusting, Brolly, I'll be sober later."
"Yeah, right! That I'd like to see!" Aszithef laughed and then turned to Brolly, adding, "She's always drunk. From what I've heard, she's even nastier when she isn't."
That crossed the line for Thearynn, and there was no rule that said she couldn't respond to Aszithef's criticisms with one of her own.
"We wouldn't have needed them to help us if you had been there like we had planned!"
"Oh right," said the gnome, "like I was going to operate that thing by myself. It wasn't exactly a one-person job, and I didn't see any of you folks volunteering."
Then Zarn interrupted, his attitude a lot less flamboyant than it was the previous night - which was understandable, as he had not only lost his favorite robe, he had been badly burned by the elemental's assault.
"I assumed I wouldn't be needing back up, a certain someone assured me I wouldn't."
"Are you blaming me?" snapped Rivaldi.
"That Elemental was far more powerful then you said it would be!"
"I had to cast the spell through the amulet, using a volunteer as the focus. In such cases the potency of the spell is directly proportional to the innate power of the focus."
So then," said Brolly, "uh, what you're saying here is… you screwed up because Jil was… too powerful?"
Rivaldi's head drooped - it was humiliating, that was exactly what she was saying, and the half troll slaver had just wrecked her excuse. The worst part is, she couldn't think of any reasonable way to blame it on Jil.
Finally, she simply said, "Well I couldn't find any one weaker who was willing to do it."
"Why do we even need to use the Last Laugh and Alleybashers anyway?" The comment came from Alurad, someone who rarely let Aszithef - his apprentice - out of his sight. "I know the type - some are loyal, some are skilled, but the ones who are loyal and skilled are few and far between."
Finally, Ferid, who had been watching the argument with both bemusement and disgust, spoke up. "People, the reason for this unfortunate outcome wasn't due to anyone's lack of courage or ability. It was due to the need for subtlety. In order to maintain the long-term facade, our operatives needed to be indiscreet and beneath suspicion and such underlings are the only…" Then he stopped briefly, and then said, "Oh wait… I see what you mean…"
Then Lord Coll - who was just as angry and annoyed as Thearynn was, but not as belligerent about it - spoke up. "Everyone, let's not focus on whose fault it is here."
"Strong words, Coll, especially seeing as the fault for this fiasco lies with the complete idiot who thought it would be a good idea to begin with."
Everyone turned around as Lord Governor Lamour walked in, his demeanor and attitude neither as jovial as Francis had remembered him nor as formal as it was an hour ago. It was clear from his tone that Coll was the idiot he was referring to.
"Uhm, your Lordship," said Zarn, sounding bitter now, "this 'investigation' you spoke of -"
"Is complete," snapped Lamour. "I want those thugs out of this city by tomorrow."
"Sir, with due respect, we -"
"I don't want to hear it, Zarn! This whole 'wag the dog' stunt could have leveled the city, and your hired mercenaries have proven to be little more than inept bullies pulling an extortion racket."
"Sir," said Coll, "for the project to succeed, we must -"
"Oh yes, the project," said Lamour, interrupting again. "Been hearing that for the past decade Coll, how this project is going to restore Cauldron to its former glory, how pennies will rain from the heavens, how the streets will be paved with gold! All sounds great until you do the math and realize that you've drained our coffers more than once and have no progress to show for it. At the rate this is going, even taxing every citizen 100% won't even come close to covering a small fraction of what you claim we need."
"We are making progress," said Rivaldi, "our alliance with King Rrölfn has -"
"Oh, yes, King Rrölfn, how could I ever forget about him? It's bad enough we have to deal with crooks like Franct the Sheep Eater but Rrölfn? Do you have any idea how Dorisan and his allies would react if they discovered we were working with him? There wouldn't be protests or riots, we'd be dealing with an armed uprising, and I wouldn't blame them!" He cleared his throat, then adjusted his tie as he turned to leave. "If my great-great-grandfather was alive and knew I had even considered working with a fire giant, he'd die of shame."
"Oh right, like conquistadors had any shame."
Lamour stopped. He slowly turned towards Brolly. "What… was… that?"
As he confronted the half-troll, Aszithef, Rivaldi, and Thearynn (who were behind Lamour and thus out of his line of vision) were frantically and silently gesturing in a way that obviously meant "shut up you idiot!" but Brolly was too dense to get the hint.
"Yeah, I know the whole routine," said the slaver. "You get a ship full of brutal mercs, sail to some faraway land, find the first defenseless village, go in there and ransack the place and rob all their… GOLD! Yeah, cause gold gives you orgasms or something. Course, if the place doesn't have gold, you steal the sheep and rape the women - you know, and sometimes get the two mixed up and then -"
Again, Lamour interrupted. This time, however, he did so not with words, but with a fist to Brolly's ugly face. The half-troll was taken completely by surprise by the much shorter Shadow, the blow throwing him across the entire room onto a Martha Washington chair in the corner, that was crushed by the impact, which also upset an end table. A ceramic vase set on it fell onto Brolly's head, smashing to pieces.
Brolly looked up at the Lord Governor, whose eyes were burning with green fire, the same hue of flames that covered his right hand and as the dwarven rune on his forehead.
Lamour calmed down and the fires disappeared. He kissed the knuckles he had just punched Brolly with and muttered, "Damn I kind of liked that chair."
Brolly was about to get up, but Lamour's foot slammed onto his chest, pinning him to the floor.
"You know, Brolly… Way back when, there were three schools of thought regarding conquistadors. One school did indeed view them as greedy thieves and pirates. The second viewed them as wide-eyed idealists and adventurers. The third, well, the third figured there wasn't much difference between the first two views, and a lot of actual conquistadors could live with that. But while unfortunate incidents did occasionally happen, conquistadors had a code of sorts, one which only amateurs or animals strayed from."
He took his foot off of Brolly, who groaned and held his chest. Then the Lord Governor went to a display shelf holding - among other things - a golden goblet. He picked it up as he continued to talk.
"Yes, gold has value - if this goblet were to be stamped with the insignia of the foul goddess Shub-Niggurath and used to hold the blood of sacrificial victims, it would still be gold and would be worth no less than it is now. Some people may have regarded it as cursed or tainted, but what of it? Certainly, you could find someone else who would gladly purchase it. That is the third rule of the code.
"But the first rule is that while gold always has value, life is to be valued above all. Those who place gold at a greater value than life deserves neither.
"The second rule states that it is the duty of a conquistador to take from such men what they do not deserve." He smiled and his pleasant voice returned. "Good thing nowadays we're a lot more civilized, eh?"
"You're honor," said Zam, "if I may?" Lamour turned to him and nodded, so he continued. "I realize your anger at the most recent turn of events is considerable, and the Alleybashers were likely a mistake, but I feel the best way to restore the status quo is to find and apprehend Mr. Dorisan. The 'find' part shouldn't be difficult, the 'apprehend' will be much harder, and I do not believe the limited forces we have will be inadequate, you see -"
"FINE!" shouted Lamour. "You can reallocate the temp work for that. However, Zhent will be leading this mission, and he has the final authority on the matter until it is resolved, is that clear?"
The ruvoka simply nodded and bowed. "Good day, gentlemen," said the Lord Governor.
After he had left the room, slamming the door behind him, Brolly sat up, rubbing his jaw and mouthing obscenities and cuss words under his breath.
"Ow. How the devil did he learn magic?"
"Dwarven Rune magic," said Rivaldi, "something practiced by Spellmason himself. You've lived in Cauldron how long?"
Of course, Brolly had not been the first to be caught by surprise by Lamour or a member of his clan. Dwarves weren't fond of magic, even Rune magic was mostly used by the derro. This was one of many reasons Spellmason was regarded as an oddball by other dwarves, though Cauldron's founders admired his non-conformist attitude.
"That man has gone from annoying to troublesome," growled Thearynn. "He actually thinks he's going to live long enough to see the project's completion."
"He's a dwarf, what do you expect?" said Aszithef. Brolly growled a little, but she ignored her. "Stubborn and self-centered. Once they assume they're right about something, there's no changing their minds."
"But the big problem is," added Ferid, "as naive and cynical as Lamour is, the point he makes is sound. Once the twelfth Shackleborn was located, everything started to fall apart, and it was made worse with Xokiek's asinine stunt nearly giving the whole game away!"
"We cannot accept defeat!" snarled Thearynn. "Not when we are this close!"
"Unfortunately, dearest Thearynn, the whole reason for this string of failures is because you were 'so close'."
Coll had been quiet since Lamour had first entered the room, not having reacted at all to the Lord Governor's initial insult and had been watching the whole thing with a smug look on his face.
"You see, you all were undergoing a lucky streak that brought the project to near completion. The deal made with Rrölfn did indeed cut decades off the crafting time and quite a lot of labor costs. The only thing standing between you all and success was one Shackleborn who needed to be located. A Shackleborn, I might add, who frequented this very room in our presence hundreds of times before we discovered his true heritage and true motivations."
"Eh?" said Brolly to Aszithef.
"Tell you later."
"Thus," continued Coll, "with victory nearly in your grasp, you got excited, enthusiastic, and above all, sloppy. Xokiek most of all, thinking himself invincible. For his ego and overconfidence, he paid a dire price, and the end goal now seems as far out of reach as it was at the start."
"Not as much of one as you may think," said Rivaldi, "you see, it seems the fiasco last night did have one benefit, given someone who I noticed near the bonfire."
That got their attention. "You don't mean -?" exclaimed Thearynn.
"Indeed. Before Jil fled the scene and the link was cut off, I saw him lurking there. Seems he couldn't stay away. The final link in the chain is here."
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"I assure you, Nichole," said Jenya, "it was through no intervention of mine that the charges were dropped. I had not even been told what the official charges were, but it seems the watch was rather indiscriminate last night."
Jenya and Malakar were leading Nichole, Maddie, and Francis down a long stairway into the cellar of the cathedral. The High Priestess had thought long and hard on whether this option was necessary, but when Nichole told her their plans to leave for Redgorge, it was an opportunity that would soon close.
"Jenya, last night you… You were going to tell us something about Dorisan…"
The High Priestess sighed. "Very well," she started. "Dorisan Arlintal is a member of an organization that calls itself 'the Chisel'."
Malakar rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, brother."
"Hush!" said Jenya, "it must be said." She cleared her throat and went on. "The Chisel is a group that was initially organized a long time ago in Redforge by leaders of the craftsman guilds. Their members are now wealthy merchants with vast resources and influence, who often possess other talents as well; much like Dorisan, the founder was a wizard of considerable skill."
"Ah…huh," said France, "and what's their agenda?"
"I cannot say, for certain. The Chisel has historically been an organization shrouded in secrecy, conducting their activities behind closed doors. Only a few of their members are even publicly known, and when they desire to reveal themselves, they wear masks and use pseudonyms to conceal their identities. Supposedly, they do not even reveal their identities to themselves, though that may be simply out of tradition. I do know that they have been critical of the city's current administration, and Dorisan may have orchestrated the protest under their direction."
"Uh, we're here," said Malakar.
In front of them was a locked vault door. The acolyte unlocked the door with a large, iron key, and it slid open with a loud creak.
Jenya clapped her hands, and a minor bit of divine magic lit a series of torches and candles in the small, private chapel, which was dominated by an altar on a low dais, a broad slab of gray marble covered with a pristine cloth of white linen. Atop it, attached to the wall behind the altar, was a box fashioned of dressed stone reinforced with bands of polished steel. Around it burned six white candles in sconces set into the wall, above which hung a standard in blue and gray cloth depicting the cross surrounded by rings, the symbol of St. Cuthbert's order.
Above the altar was a mace, the favored weapon of the order, but clearly this was not just any mace. First off, it seemed to be made of bronze, but was in fact bronzewood, which was oak wood that had been given the metallic hue and texture of bronze - and durability of iron - via divine magic. It was in the shape of an elegant golden scepter topped with a decorative design of four wrought pentagonal frames surrounding an orb patterned with runes. The tip had a second orb with small, sharp spires. The weapon hovered above the altar silently on a diagonal angle.
To someone who did not know the significance of the Star of Justice, it seemed to be worth a fortune, but to the faithful of Cuthbert, it was priceless.
"So that's what it looks like," said Francis. "Jenya, are you sure about this? I mean, I don't think he'll like being bothered again so soon."
"What?" asked Maddie. "It was three months ago."
"Maddie," said Nichole, "to someone like him that was about ten minutes ago."
"I know, my friends, I know," said Jenya. Despite her attempts to hide it, she was nervous. Certainly, Cuthbert might be annoyed - possibly even angered - if he was bothered again so soon, but she believed he was not so petty as to harshly punish those who did, assuming the request was important. But whether he would consider it important - that was the big question.
She slowly reached for the Star with her palm held forward. It glowed brighter. She made a small gasp as the candles and torches blew out - but even so, the room became brighter, the holy like of the artifact flooding the chapel. The same light that now shone in Jenya's eyes.
Maddie instinctively went to help her, but Nichole raised her hand in a warning.
Jenya spoke: "Wise and Generous Cuthbert, I humbly request your aid, as my cause is just, and our plight is dire…" The mace shone even brighter. "I beseech you, what fate has befallen Brother Gregory Tercival?"
Then, she cried out in pain, and collapsed.
"JENYA!" shouted Nichole.
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Back on the ground floor, the other Shadowchasers were engaging in another part of the hasty investigation - namely, searching Gregory's room. Havan - who had custody of the cathedral's master key - was willing to unlock the door to let them in but felt very uncomfortable doing so.
"I don't know what you expect to find in here." said Havan, even though it was a white lie. She knew Gregory did have quite a few secrets, but she still trusted him, and didn't like the idea of invading his privacy. Still, even she was starting to be suspicious as to whether her trust was well-placed.
The door opened, and she added, "Well, there you go."
"This shouldn't take long," said Hank.
Indeed, Gregory's cell was small, smaller than the ones they'd been given, and very plain. There was a bed, a dresser, a desk, and a small bookshelf. The fanciest thing being the symbol of St. Cuthbert on the wall above the bed. Gregory was not big on aesthetics.
Hank was quickly drawn to the bookshelf and was surprised to discover that he recognized some of the authors. It seemed Gregory had quite an interest in Shadowkind archaeology, much like he did, and these books were well read; skimming through one of them showed many dog ears and scribbled notes. The shelf also had some books you would expect him to have - including the well-known St. Cuthbert and Common Sense, a short and concise book on the dogma of the faith - but most of these books seemed to be much like school textbooks, informative but not very interesting.
Red Feather had even less luck searching for the dresser. Just a bunch of average and plain clothing, folded very neatly and tidy. Sonya searched the desk, but the only unusual thing she found there was an incense burner, along with a lot of pens and - unused - notebooks.
"Well, folks," said Sonya, "it seems this was a dead end, Nichole's boyfriend is just a boring neat freak who - hello?"
She noticed it in the trash can beside the bed; somehow, she could swear it had shimmered for a brief second, drawing her eyes to that very spot. A small, crumpled piece of paper.
Of course, her friends noticed, and Hank asked, "What?"
Sonya took out the paper and smoothed it out. At first she assumed it was an old fashioned hand-written receipt. But not for a purchase…
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"Jenya?"
"Yes?"
The High Priestess' eyes snapped open. She had been sort of "not there" for about fifteen minutes, not able to respond to what they said, although clearly conscious and responsive. They were able to lead her up the stairs to the commissary, all while she was whispering something that they could not decipher. Three cups of coffee seemed to have broken her out of the trace, at least enough to speak.
"Jenya, did you - did he…"
Jenya nodded. She drained the last of her coffee and said,
"Late on the path of justice,
Trapped between glass and stone,
He weeps where many can see him,
But he can see only himself."
After about a minute or so, Maddie asked the obvious, "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You got me," said Malakar with a shrug.
"These sorts of divine revelations are usually like that," said Nichole. "When Francis and I first came to Cauldron, to help find those kidnapped children, Gregory had used the Star and gotten another verse. It seemed like nonsense at first, but it all made sense in hindsight."
"I do not know either," Jenya said. "But I think it is clear that Brother Gregory is in great danger. Whatever you can do to find him..."
"We are already in your debt, Jenya," Francis said. "We will do what we can."
"Well," said Maddie, "it seems that if we want to get to the bottom of this, we should go to Redgorge and look up those Chisel folks. I mean, after all, we were invited."
"Definitely," said Nichole. "If it will help us identify the source of the darkness growing in this town, so that we can uncloak and eradicate it."
"Godspeed then," said Jenya. "Brother Malakar will accompany you."
"Wait, I will?" asked the acolyte. "Why?"
"Because, you were born and raised there, you know the ways of Redgorge better than anyone else here."
Malakar grumbled a little, and then simply said, "Yes, ma'am, I will prepare to depart." Though as he left the room, he said under his breath, "That's the biggest reason I left…"
Nichole looked at her watch. "Well, if we're lucky, we might be able to catch the noon shuttle."
"Maybe we should wait for the next one."
"Hank?"
The other three members of the team came in with Havan. "You'll never guess what we found," said Sonya. "Take a look at this."
She handed Nichole the small note she had found in the trash in Gregory's cell. It was, in fact, a pawn reclaim ticket.
Most believe that a pawn shop is a place where you can simply sell unwanted belongings for cash, and to many, they are. Truthfully, however, pawnbrokers are loaners, their clients giving them the items as a collateral. The pawnbroker holds the item for a specified amount of time, and should the debtor be unable or unwilling to pay the loan back, was free to sell the collateral for profit. Of course, many folks never intend to recover the collateral, but in order to be recognized as a legitimate dealer (and not some fence) the reclaim ticket was a required part of the exchange.
But what truly surprised Nichole was the amount on the receipt. "Whoa, 3,000 Sovereigns from one deposited lot?"
"Sadly, that does make sense," said Jenya.
She didn't need to repeat herself, of course. The acolyte had told them about Gregory's donations to the chapel, how he would often disappear for several days at a time, come back in a foul mood (where he said things he'd regret later) and a hefty cash donation. It seemed clear now how he was getting the money, even if they didn't know what he was trading for it.
The name of the pawn shop was naturally listed on the ticket. "Hmm," said Nichole, "Tygot's Things…"
"Oh, I know where that place is," said Havan. "It's just a few blocks away."
"Well…," said Nichole. "Guess we can at least check it out."
They quickly decided that Hank, Red, and Francis would secure the tickets and wait for them and Malakar at the train depot outside of town, while Nichole, Maddie, and Sonya would investigate the pawn shop.
In their distraction, none of them noticed the cloaked figure who intently watched their going from the depths of a nearby alley.
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Tygot's Things looked like a cheerful place on the surface, a three-floor edifice with the name on the storefront, along with a hanging decoration consisting of three golden balls suspended from a bar, the traditional pawnbroker's symbol. It had a door with a bell that chimed when it was opened, and the smell of scented vanilla candles came from within.
Inside the entrance room were cluttered shelves full of odd items - musical instruments, lamps, clocks (including an odd one with three hands), a ship in a bottle, a taxidermy-mounted fish - things that, like most stuff in a pawn shop, nobody wanted, though they assumed more valuable wares were on the upper floors.
"Greetings!" said a voice. "How may I help -" Then, the shopkeeper's eyes fell on Sonya. "- YOU? Aw crap, NO!"
The shopkeeper looked weird even by Shadowkind standards. He (they assumed a "he" due to the voice) was a humanoid figure swathed head to toe in bandages, like a mummy, but many of them were loose, ripped, and tattered. Over the bandages he wore cargo shorts and a vest.
Sonya was just as surprised - and annoyed. While this fellow was odd even by Shadowkind standards, she recognized him at once.
"Nice," she said, "of all the pawn shops in the world, I just have to walk into this one. Hello Goeb."
Goeb was an ethereal, a strange being who was literally made of magic - there was nothing tangible underneath those wrappings. Curiously, according to legend, they were not a Shadowkind race onto themselves, but a variety of them, a group of merchants who had traded their physical forms for… something they wouldn't tell others. One of the few things everyone knew about them was they had a lot of secrets that they would die to keep hidden, though because it was very hard for them to die, it may have been worth it.
"Wait, wait, Sonya," started Maddie, "this is Goeb?"
"How many of you are there?" The ethereal's tone - and attitude - reminded them of a New York cabbie with a bad attitude.
"Goeb, I only busted you twice."
"Oh, and I suppose that woman who was stalking me in Poughkeepsie was your evil twin?"
"You think I'd be collaborating with her? She has her own life and I'm not her keeper, Goeb."
"You have an evil twin?" asked Nichole.
"Not 'twin', it was more like mitosis. I wouldn't call her 'evil' either, she's… eh, what's the word here… wildly misunderstood, that's it."
"Look, I'm just running this place now," said Goeb. "Don't even own it really, and I don't want any trouble."
"Then you won't get any." Nichole slapped the claim ticket on the counter.
Goeb looked at the ticket and then at Nichole, his "eyes" falling on the St. Cuthbert's cross she wore as a pendant. "Ugh, figures. One minute." The ethereal turned and walked (well, drifted) into the room behind the counter.
"Gotta admit, never expected him to want his lot back. He always hawks a bunch of weird things that look like stuff Indiana Jones would dig up. Always figured he'd be better finding a collector to sell it all to, but I ain't judgin'."
"He's a pretty weird guy," said Maddie.
"Yeah, yeah." He returned with a cardboard box, placing it on the counter. "Feel free to look it all over, I got nowhere to go."
Nichole peered inside. There were a few odd items inside, a small idol shaped like a moai, two earthenware pots, a wooden smoking pipe with the bowl carved in the shape of an old man's head and…
"Hello?" She lifted the largest item out of the box. It was the stele. The strange rectangular stele, the one that, unbeknownst to her, Gregory had found in the hill giant's hovel.
"Whoa, Nichole," said Maddie, "that's the same -"
"Way ahead of you, Maddie." Nichole dug through her satchel and found the strange disk-shaped stele that Gregory had left for her alongside the grimoire. Not only did both have the same strange six-armed, spindly humanoid etched on them, they were made of the same stuff, a silvery lightweight metal.
"You want that back, gonna cost you fifteen-hundred Sovereigns."
"Say WHAT?" shouted Nichole. "That's highway robbery!"
Obviously, they didn't have that much money at their disposal, most of their funds having been spent on the new townhouse that they had yet to even move into. Still, that hardly mattered to the pawnbroker, who just shook his head.
"Standard policy, lady, price to reclaim equals the amount paid upon deposit plus 50%, it's right there on the ticket. Your friend agreed to that when he dropped the stuff off. Gonna be honest here, if I was going to rip you off here, I'd have sold it already, there's someone who comes by on Fridays who'd pay triple that much for it."
"It's… really worth that much?"
"Don't know, don't exactly care, I don't ask questions, just like I never ask your friend where he gets the stuff. This fellow just tells me to keep an eye out for spellweaver artifacts."
"Spellweaver?"
Despite the lack of a face, Nichole could tell that Goeb had realized he had just said too much.
"Uh, yeah, the, uh… That six armed thing, that's what he called it, and -" Then his voice turned more formal, but no less irked. "I'm not at liberty to discuss my interactions with another customer, confidentiality and all. If you do not want the item, I am afraid I must ask you to -"
"How much would this customer pay to complete the set?"
"Sonya?"
"You can still duel, I assume?" Sonya smirked at Goeb with a crafty look in her eye. "Four-thousand five hundred, you say? If would pay the same for that one, it comes out to -"
"Nine-thousand…"
"That would be a full nine times what you gave Greg. What do you say, Goeb, for old time's sake? We'll ante our stele against yours."
Nichole wasn't sure this was a good idea - on one hand, she had no idea what these strange steles did, but on the other hand, Gregory's note to her told her that if he hadn't come back in two months from that date, to take the disk stele "as far from Cauldron as possible". He seemed to imply someone he didn't trust was after it.
"That is… tempting," said Goeb. He looked long and hard at Nichole's stele. "But I'm not dueling you again, Clarkson!"
"Well, fine." Sonya took a step back and then gestured at Nichole and Maddie. "Pick your poison."
"Wait a minute!" started Maddie.
"Calm down, folks, this guy is all talk. The last duel we had was almost laughable."
Sonya started to explain as quickly as she could. The second time he had challenged her (his legal right, under the terms of the Great Treaty) he was using a Tele-DAD deck, a potent strategy when used right. For a turn, he had stalled against Grapha and Goldd by defending with Spirit Reaper, but then managed to summon Dark Armed Dragon, a monster that was able to destroy Grapha via its effect and Goldd via its attack, but decided he wanted to attack directly with Spirit Reaper after doing so.
"Ooh, ouch," said Maddie.
"Not only did he know I was using Dark World, he knew the only card I had in my hand then was Beiige, I'd used it the previous round to summon Grapha. Which I was able to do again, I might add."
"You know…" Goeb seemed angry now, or rather, pissed. "I admit I'm a little rusty, but… I have managed to acquire a new deck that I'm just itching to try out…"
"Is that a yes?"
"Damn straight! You're on, Clarkson!"
"Thought you'd never ask."
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Well, seems we can end there. Yes, I said I would "tell you later" about why this chapter took longer, but due to that being a small spoiler, I'll save that until next time.
So then, assuming there are no other unforeseen problems at my new townhouse, I will again promise to post again soon. Oh, and the next chapter of "BLOCKBUSTER" should be out there soon too.
Until then, Ciao!