Session 13 (Part Two)
Another Pit
Awareness came to Rowan, Lew and Rosë as they banged off doorways and against stonewalls. Each had their hands manacled behind their backs and heads covered with a rough burlap sack. Four pairs of strong hands carried each and it seemed like they were going down.
Rosë cautiously flexed his arms, testing the strength of his bonds. “This one’s awake!” A raspy voice called out.
“Quiet!” A retort echoed from ahead of the barbarian.
The Brigante felt the hands holding him tighten their grip and his shoulders sagged in despair. Ahead, Rowan thought he heard the sound of running water. Lew offered up a silent prayer of deliverance to Osirian and Sextus did nothing but hang limply between his captors, blood seeping from an angry raised welt on the back of his head.
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In the back room of the Lusty Whale, Quintus eyed the three cloaked figures cautiously. The one closest to him rose and walked towards him, while doffing its hood. Quintus saw lustrous dark hair, lightly touched with gray, framing an older, but still beautiful, female face. The striking woman extended her hand in greeting and Quintus noted deep blue robes beneath her cloak.
“I am Andrimia. I must apologize for our mean surroundings and the secrecy of this meeting. The reason for our caution will hopefully soon be made clear,” she swept her free hand towards the table and one of the other hoods feel away, “this is my associate, Casian.”
An older man with a fringe of gray hair surrounding his balding pate inclined his head in greeting. The man was unremarkable save for his prominent Adam’s apple and tufts of hair sprouting from his ears. The third figure remained immobile. Quintus nodded to Casian and looked Andrimia square in the face. “It is customary for those calling a meeting to reveal themselves,” the sorcerer purred.
Slender hands rose to push back the remaining cowl, revealing the auburn locks and deep green eyes of Drusilla. Half-a-dozen emotions played across the face of the last of the Cassuvius daughters for a few grains, then she leapt from her seat and ran to embrace Quintus. After a few awkward moments, the blushing sorcerer disengaged from Drusilla, who quickly regained her composure and demurely returned to her seat.
“Now that we are all acquainted, won’t you please join us?” Andrimia indicated the open chair. “Wine?”
Quintus moved to the proffered chair while declining the offer of wine politely. “Why am I here?”
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Damp, humid air and the stench of offal and worse assaulted Rowan’s nose. He considered the dockside air to be foul, but the smells wafting by him now were much worse! He heard several hastily whispered words, the grinding of metal on metal and the creak of seldom-oiled hinges. The quality of the air improved slightly, but the aroma of wood smoke was prominent. He thought he caught the sound of several other doors being opened then almost jumped from his skin when a loud metallic clang reverberated beside him.
He heard a muffled laugh, and then found himself flying through the air or falling. He hit a hard stone floor with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs and spent the next few grains gagging and coughing. He felt another heavy body roll across his legs and several groans. ‘Great,’ he thought to himself, ‘another pit!’
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Quintus listened carefully as Andrimia discussed her relationship to Drusilla and the current state of affairs in Oar. She and her compatriots represented a loosely knit coalition of independent merchants known as the “Reds”. They preferred trade with low tariffs and few restrictions from governmental bodies or guilds. They were opposed on the Merchant’s Council in Oar by the “Greens”, headed by Antoinine Sestius. Quintus stiffened slightly at the name, but did not interrupt.
The “Greens”, Andrimia explained, wanted to place all manner of restrictions on trade – the proper permits, inspections of cargo and warehouses, registered carriers and guild authority over most industries. “It will be akin to the old days of the Imperial Bureaucracy. The halfling trade houses haven’t yet staked out a position in this argument, but I fear that if Antoinine Sestius is able to gain additional seats for his followers on the Merchant’s Council, he will grow strong enough to exert his will upon everyone in town.”
Quintus nodded politely, but countered, “This sounds like a local trade dispute, what does this have to do with Drusilla, me and my companions?”
“As you know, Antoinine’s daughter Domita married Drusilla’s father. It is Drusilla’s belief, which I happen to share, that Antoinine’s aim was to secure the ore and livestock trade in Glynden by murdering Drusilla and her sisters, followed by Calian, thereby ensuring Domita’s – and by extension – Antoinine’s control of the Cassuvius fortune. Domita’s first husband died under suspicious circumstances and I feel the pattern fits.” Andrimia paused for a moment and looked at Drusilla, who nodded her head.
“In addition, we have reason to believe that Antoinine Sestius is either directly or indirectly involved with criminal element’s in and around Oar. The presence of his grandson, under magical disguise, with the forces of the Bandit King, Skilorn, is cause for great concern. We feel that Antoinine Sestius may in fact control or actually be Maythrax, head of Oar’s underworld element, the Shadow Blades.”
The discussion continued for sometime, with Quintus asking astute questions about the various factions. He felt that Andrimia was being honest with him as far as her answers went, but that she might be leaving out some key elements. He allowed her to finish and thanked her for her time and concern. “You have given me much to think about. I will share this information with my companions and see what they make of it. I am glad to see that Drusilla is safe. How do I contact you to speak further?”
Andrimia gave him the name of several shops in town where he could use the “Lady in Blue” codeword. “If there is an emergency, seek out Captain Rook of the Sea Eagle, he will know how to find me.”
Quintus nodded and rose to leave.
“Before you go, there is one last item.” She reached into her robes and pulled out a rolled parchment. “These were posted around the town this morning.”
Quintus unfurled the parchment and read. He finished and looked at the others, who regarded him intently. The parchment held general descriptions of Quintus and his companions – though no names - along with the promise of a 10,000 denarii reward for their capture. The Merchant Council of Oar was accusing them of the murder of Acrius Sestius!
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Lew, Rosë, Rowan and the groggy Sextus sat in the dank pit, their backs against the rough stone wall and pain shooting through their cramped arms, still held immobile by the manacles. Despite their best efforts, they could not even get the burlap sacks pulled from their heads, although Rosë was doing his best to chew his way free!
They heard muffled talking above them, then silence. Drag - thump, drag - thump, drag-thump. The heavy footsteps of someone did not walk properly halted above them, then echoed into silence. A soft, raspy voice - dripping with venom – wheezed, “So here they are…where is the last?”
“We should have him shortly, Master!” Came a reply.
“Know that I have not yet decided what your fate is. Perhaps it will be the mines of Beryl or the gladiator pits of Agate. Perhaps you will be a galley slave for Opal or become food for the gnolls. Know this, vermin, whatever your fate is, you will curse you miserable existence until it is snuffed out! Sweet dreams…”
Harsh laughter followed the shuffling gait of the anonymous speaker, then silence returned to the pit, broken only by the ragged breathing of the four companions.
To Be Continued…
Next: Session 13 (Part Three) – Captains Courageous
~ Old One
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