Defenders of Daybreak, The Early Years.

[Sialia]

Dylrath stared at his holiness the Outgrabe. If the Outgrabe wasn't already priceless to him, he was sitting on a fortune. An actual item blessed by Saint Velendo. Best not make too much noise about that feature--likely it'd get confiscated the next time he went anywhere near a cathedral.

Wonder if it'll do the trick? he thought. Will it let me chaperone Teliaz and stay me? How do I hang with him without murdering someone? How? How?

By remebering that if you actually screw up and murder someone, Claris is gonna find out about it. Ok? That thought oughta keep you on the straight and narrow.

Where the hell do I find Teliaz a Claris? It always took me AND Claris, or me AND Arcade to keep Alix in balance. He always needed an authority figure as well as an apprentice.

And how do I keep track of whether I'm staying me, or drifting?

Dylrath looked up, and stared into Htarlyd.


Htarlyd stared back.

-------------------------------------------------
Dyl visits Tomtom
____________________________________________________


Ordinarily, finding Tomtom with the mirror was cake. Dylrath knew his former master well, and Tomtom's soul signature was profoundly unique.

On the other hand, just because Htarlyd couldn't find Tomtom this morning wasn't necessarily cause for concern. There were plenty of reasons the wily little psion might suddenly go cloaked or hidden. Even if there were no standard school of psionics that shielded folks from Dylrath's unique talent, there were plenty of things that could be pressed into service if Tomtom really didn't want to be found. Even Alix had managed to come up with a way to hide from Dylrath, and he wasn't psionic. Just wily and paranoid. Once he'd learned about Dylrath's wish, it hadn't taken him but a few hours to come up with a way to evade it.

Dylrath never did find out just how he'd managed that trick.

Anyway, Dylrath the Diviner never worried about failing at first attempts anymore.

Well, truth, failure had never really been much of a problem for Dylrath. He had always had a sort of a talent for it. He failed cheerfully at every opportunity. But the point is, Dylrath knew a lot more about finding people these days. The trick was, you didn't need to know where someone was, you just needed to know where someone who knew where he was was.

Nolin acted put upon as usual at being used for this sort of thing, but he told Dylrath where to go look.

Colorfully.

Nolin had never been a morning person.

Anyway, it was a short gondola ride and walk to Tomtom's workshop from there. Dylrath climbed the stone steps, wheedled his way past several House Clearwater guards easily with "message for Master Tomtom from Master Benholm" and finally arrived at the door to Tomtom's new Eversink workshop.

It was locked.

Dylrath considered the lock. Apparently, it was the lock the room had come with. Which meant it was either trapped to all nine layers of hell or this door now opened on to a blank wall. Or both.

Tomtom liked building locks in the same way that dragons liked building little piles of change to sleep on. Tricky locks. The kind you needed extradimensional tools to pick. The kind you could only build with psionic metal bending powers because even dwarves couldn't get metals to hop through that many hoops and still tap dance. Dylrath had expected the real door to have so much fancy jewelry on it that he suspected the guards had shown him to the privvy out of spite.

Dylrath casually considered the alternative points of entry to the room. Perhaps there was no passable entrance for non-psions whatsover and Tomtom did all his entry and exit via funky mental powers, but that would make sending out for lunch a nusiance. Tomtom liked lunch. And he'd have had to protect the psychic door from other psions and dimensional travellers, like Dylrath, which would have been a pain. It made more sense to shield the whole room from that sort of thing in a blanket way--which would be why Htarlyd couldn't open a window there--and leave the main entrance as one for noisy people on foot. And there'd be a back way out as well . . .

Reminiscing about his days as Tomtom's apprentice, Dylrath considered the puzzle for the sheer joy of the thing for a few moments. And then he shrugged, and chose the Diviner's path instead. The right name, the right gesture, and the right question would soon reveal all things.

He raised his hand, struck the door three times, and bellowed "Tomtom, you in there? It's me, Dylrath!"

It took a couple of repetitions, and the addition of the magic words "Tomtom, breakfast!" and, as a last resort "from Anatha's!" but eventually a door to Dylrath's right slid open and a tired looking halfling in multi-colored striped pajamas peered out. Tomtom was also not a morning person.

"Breakfast, sir!" Dylrath said cheerily. Tomtom nodded and let Dylrath live. Actually, he even looked pleased to see him, once his nose assured him that Dylrath was telling the truth for a change. Anatha's cinnamon rolls were legendary. Nolin had mugged six from Dylrath's pouch before he'd given anything out about Tomtom's whereabouts, but there were plenty left in the bag. And they were still warm.

And there was coffee from Oursk, and fresh fruit from Corsai, and a bottle of exotic hooch from some tropical island that Dylrath didn't know by name. Yet.

He threw a swig of booze into a mug of coffee along with a hefty amount of sugar and cream, shook some powdered cinnamon over the top and handed it to Tomtom. You didn't apprentice to somebody for ten levels and not know how to make his coffee.

Tomtom yawned and ate breakfast.

Dylrath knew better than to pester Tomtom with questions while he was eating. Come to think of it, he knew better than to ring him up in the wee hours of the mid to late morning, really almost noonish, and ask him for favors. He'd just forgotten about knowing that in his eagerness to get on with the project.

Stalling, Dylrath gazed around the room.

A lot of nearly assembled projects were scattered around. Half assembled holy symbols of various friendly gods. Standard alchemical glassware and tubes, presumably full of alchemical liquids. (Although from the smell of things, at least one was likely full of Badgerbite, Tomtom's personal homebrewed hooch.) There were a lot of storage bins stacked all the way up to the ceiling, and no ladders or stepstools. Short as he was, that halfling never needed ladders.

There was a curtain blocking off one corner of the room, and the edges of some brightly colored tasselled pillows sticking out from under it. Probably the sleeping area.

On the low workbench were lots of strange objects with glowing doodads and gems. Equally strange were the tools lying beside them. Coruscating strips of purple and orange skin were stretched taut in several devices, and Dylrath couldn't figure whether the devices or just the skins were the objects being created. Shards of glowing crystal and powdery glowing sawdust covered most of the floor and tabletops. Tomtom's hair was full of the stuff. So was Dylrath's nose within a few moments. The stuff itched terribly, and what was worse, when he sneezed, it made his boogers glow with soft internal lights.

He stared at his hankerchief, fascinated and appalled. This has got to be good for something, he thought.

There was small talk, of course, and dessert, and then, at last Dylrath felt brave enough to get to the point. "I need to upgrade to Outgrabe," he said. "Can you empower it for me, so it would have a real personality? So it could come when I called, if it felt like it? So I could find it using Htarlyd if it went missing--I mean, it would really have to have a sort of a soul for that sort of thing--can you do that?"

Tomtom looked intrigued, and Dylrath went on.

"Like TMoSaT. Well, no, not like TMoSaT. I want the personality to be like me, the only way it should be like TMoSat is that it'd be an intelligent object, of course."

Tomtom nodded and waived his hand at the quibble. Everyone knew what an arrogant, stubborn, conceited, pain-in-the-butt Arcade Deltarion's staff, The Master of Space and Time, was. "Does Htarlyd need to focus on soul, or intelligence?" Tomtom asked. "Have you ever asked him to focus on an intelligent item before?"

"I think I've used him to find TMoSaT before, yes? It's, uh, personality that counts?"

"Hmmm," Tomtom said, considering. "That would make sense. I wonder if you could locate my new psi-stone, Tee. He has a splinter personality from me, but has no soul or great intelligence.”

"Happy to check for you when I get back, sir."

"Tee can 'see' though. Tell me, when Tee looks at you, do you 'see' him? I imagine if so, then it can be done."

Dylrath considered. “Sure. It’s a small soul, but it’s a soul, and it’s looking at me. That’s about all it takes for me to get a lock on someone. Now that you mention it, for my top notch scrying, the person has to see me. We should give the Outgrabe some rudimentary visual capabilities. So I'd really know it, the way I know a person."

"I'll need gems for the eyes, and Flowstone to edge the Outgrabe," Tomtom said. "It should also help harden it, but it will be needed to hold the psi-essence and gems."

"I'm not sure off the top of my head what gems I've got." Dylrath replied. "I've got one whomping huge green emerald, but I'd have to break it in two, and it seems like such a pity to break up such a fine big gem."

"No, you are better off with multiple, smaller eyes. Preferrably
matched. Why limit it to two? I'd place 6 or 7 around the edge..."

"Cool!” Dylrath considered the ornate decorative inlay his father had added to the top surface in a pattern of shooting stars and coruscating flames. He flipped over the Outgrabe and looked at the frequently gouged and re-sanded bottom. He checked the tooled leather footstrap and the back heel brace. "Here," he said at last, "where the front strap mounts are. We could put in some eyes here as part of the bolt mounts and they'd be out of the way of most wipe outs and have a clear view of where the Outgrabe is headed. Let's pick out some gems for the eyes that aren't too different in color from the rest of the board. They need to be enchantable quality and they need to see, but they don't have to look especially flashy."

"Enchantable quality is flashy by definition."

"Let's set 'em in deep then. It'll help protect 'em from getting scuffed and gouged anyway." Dylrath held up the board to imagine how it would look with a row of glittering eyes. "Actually," he added, "eyes are not a bad idea from the point of view of possible steering enhancements."

An intriguing thought crossed Tomtom's mind. "I could implant combat
precognition. I think anything that hurtles down mountains should have
the ability to see a 1/2 second into the future."

"Too cool. I didn't even know that was possible." Dylrath considered
for a moment. "I always meant to do something about braking. Is there
anything that would help control a stop?"

"Catfall, or perhaps Feather Fall. I don't want to get more powerful
than that or we will never accomplish it in time."

Dylrath shrugged. "So who really needs brakes anyway? Done without 'em
this long. Brakes are for wimps."

Tomtom narrowed his eyes. "Ok, though how will it stop itself?

"Same as ever, I suppose. Ride it out, drag a foot, or bail out. Gravity and momentum have always been the thing. When I run out of those, it stops."

Tomtom shook his head, disappointed with his dense pupil.

"Oh, you mean, when it's smart enough to know it is careening far down the mountain away from the dumped rider and doesn't want to go on without him? Hmm. Without a propulsion system, I don't see a way to do it. Can't think how many times I've wished for Word of Recall on it. Been some long climbs to find it over the years."

"Beyond my abilities," Tomtom said. "Sorry."

"Maybe next upgrade."

Tomtom smiled.

"So," Dylrath said, summarizing, "the thing hovers naturally, and
would have the added in ability to know where it was going and have some plusses to avoid obstacles or at least hit them correctly, and it would have a personality?"

"Yup."

"That doesn't sound too complicated a portfolio to live with. And it
wouldn't be immediately obvious that the Outgrabe had changed, unless you knew it really, really well, right?"

"Except for the ring of sparkling crystal that glows with internal
lights and the gems," Tomtom added.

"Well, yeah." Dylrath screwed up his face, thinking. "Subtlety is fairly important here. Would the flowstone still be able to do its stuff if it was obscured from plain view in some way, such as by insetting it into the wood instead of leaving it on the bare edge? Not a bad idea anyway, since the edges of the Outgrabe tend to get pretty scuffed up."

"It could be done. We'll have to be careful not to damage the integrity of the item."

Dylrath shrugged. "It'll need a voice, or the personality isn't going
to get to express itself. Does that come automatically with the psi
stuff, or do we need to give it a mechanism?”

"It will have its own voice/personality based on what it pulls from you
when you infuse it. We don't really have a choice - we'll just have
to see how it responds. I could include Lesser Mind Link so it can talk to you mentally in short distances."

"Mind link would be cool. 'Sgotta have a voice of some sort, and for the subtlety of the change it would be cool if the rest of the world didn't hear it start talking all of a sudden."

Dylrath paused. "But would it be linked to me personally, or to whoever is riding it? “

"Whoever is riding it," Tomtom replied. "I can't link it just to one person. Besides, what would happen if you decided to give it to someone?"

Dylrath hesitated a moment before answering, and looked at Tomtom suspiciously. "If anyone other than me is idiot enough to get up on the thing, they ought to be able to hear it hollering instructions at them. If it's in the mood to be helpful, that is. 'Left, left! Lean left you moron, we're gonna hiiiiiiiit . . . .'"

Tomtom chuckled, and reminded Dylrath of the length of time it took him to get used to it, and the number of tumbles he took. "Perhaps I can work a "Catfall" in for the rider...."

"But there's the time," Dylrath reminded him, "and of course, the expense. We haven't talked expenses yet. Although the combat avoidance and brakes and recall and the catfall would be cool, the personality and the voice are the first priority."

Dylrath leaned forward, trying to make sure he had Tomtom's full attention, wishing he dared tell him what he was really up to. The young Dylrath Tomtom trained would have given propulsion and maneuverability top priority. He wanted to make sure Tomtom knew what he really wanted now, even if he couldn't tell him the real reason he wanted it.

"I want to model the Outgrabe on me while I'm still young and crazy enough to use it. I get stodgier every year--I'm slowing down, I can feel it. Too damn much time in the mirror room watching the world instead of being out there horsing around in it. I want to keep the Outgrabe full of me the way I am before I give in to Htarlyd altogether. When I'm as old as Arcade, I want it to annoy me about how I ever got that way. "

"And uh, I need it to be like me, but not enough me that if the Academy of Flamecraft got their hands on it they could use it to work Htarlyd, or get dirt on the Defenders. It'd be best if it had my personality, but not my memories. I don't want it to know everything I know. Arcade has enough trouble keeping on top of TMOSaT. I don't need an Outgrabe that's got a shot at outwitting me if it comes to that."

"Ok, we'll start there." Tomtom agreed. "I'm more than willing to help, Dylrath, but there is the matter of time," Tomtom said. "I'm pretty busy just now, and the Defenders are waiting for me to finish up their gear. I could probably buy another week, if you'll take care of catching me up with them if they hit the road in the meantime."

"Done," Dylrath said. "But it has to be a secret from them that we're working on this. From everyone, really."

"Sounds like we have worked out as much as possible right now. Go get me the gems. Let’s get started."

 

[Sialia]

Dyl & Tea & Anice

The two priestesses walked down the dim corridor holding hands.

It was late, and the Temple of Alianna, Goddess of Beauty, was still, apart from the sound of their silk slippers on the smooth marble floor, and the swish of their skirts.

Anice carried a small scented oil lamp. Tea held the bundle of sweaty scarves and fans from their dance rehearsal. Both priestesses were lost in faraway thoughts. Anice was deciding whether to wear her blue dress to the Festival, or the green one. Tea wondered how the merciless old crone who reigned over the dance rehearsals managed to remain limber enough to shame every one of the younger priestesses.

And then, suddenly, "Hi, guys!" A voice appeared behind them.

Startled, Anice shrieked and dropped the lamp. It went out as it fell, and the corridor went dark.

"Master Birdhouse," Tea said. "A surprise, as usual."

"Especially considering that worship hours ended some time ago, while the sun was still up." Anice added, peering around in the darkness. "And that you are several months in arrears for your tithes."

"I'm sorry, Anice, Tea, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Manticore poo. You always do." Dylrath could tell Anice's pretty face was pouting, even though he couldn't see her. And then, after a pause, she added, "Where are you?"

"Here," Dylrath said placing a hand gently on her shoulder and a foot into the spilled lamp oil. At least she presumed that was what happened from the speed, force and direction with which the hand was removed from her shoulder.

There was a thump and then a long scraping noise in the darkness.

"Whoa," he said.

And then, another thump from somewhere further down the corridor, and then a muffled "I'm all right."

"Careful. There's lamp oil on the floor," Tea commented.

"Ah. I'll bear that in mind." Dylrath replied, sounding closer. "Here, which one of you is this?"

An oily, leather-gloved hand clumsily gripped the side of Tea's face and then her shoulder, trapping one of her braids and pulling uncomfortably. "You are getting lamp oil in my hair," she said.

"Ah. I'm really not getting any points for style here, am I?"

"None whatsoever."

"Is it a bad time for me to ask a Favor, then?" he said, removing his hand.

"Probably." There was a long pause while they waited for him to proceed anyway. When he didn't, they began to wonder if he had left as suddenly as he had arrived.

"I might perhaps entertain a petition, if you were very abject and
humbly apologetic for the proper things," Anice volunteered.

"Such as my existence?"

"That would be an acceptable place to start," Tea said encouragingly.

"Ah, sorry. Too short on time. I figure I've only got about 80 years
left to live, and if I start apologizing now, I'll never make it in time. Can't I just sum up? Or can we skip to the part where I give you nice presents and you forgive me?"

"What kind of presents?" Anice said, sounding happier.

"Cool ones -- souvenirs from my most recent trip." Anice felt something being placed around her neck and fervently hoped it was a piece of jewelry. With Dylrath, it was hard to be certain.

"I fervently hope this is a piece of jewelry," she said.

"Could be," he replied cheerfully, sounding pleased with himself.

Now she was really worried about what was wrapped around her neck. It was slightly heavy and warm. She considered putting up a hand up to feel what it was, and then paused. A snake would not be beyond the man's sense of humor. A pretty little green garden snake, he'd assure her, completely harmless. Or worse, a . . . she decided she didn't want to speculate anymore.

Maybe it really is a nice gold rope that's just warm from being in his pocket. He did come to ask a favor, so a nice present
would be in order. She reached her hand up again, and then paused, again. Definitely a snake, she thought.

Dylrath would think a pet snake is a terrific gift.

She stood very still.

"Here, Tea, where are you? I have one for you, too."

"One what?"

"A present, silly."

"How about some light, first?" Tea's voice had moved a few feet to the left, and then a few feet to the right, evasively. And then there was a gasp as she hit the lamp oil and a small slapping noise as her hands caught the wall of the corridor. Tea was perfectly graceful on bright winter afternoon on a frozen pond, but in the dark it was hard to remember just where the slick spot was.

"Right. Right on it." There was another noise and some murmuring and then, at last, they could see him.

"Alianna's tangled tresses, what is that?" Anice blurted, startled into forgetting about the present.

"That has got to be the stupidest suit of leather armor I have ever seen," Tea added.

From a tactical point of view, it was.

A normal suit of leather armor protected a man's privates and stomach and chest and throat. This suit had ordinary soft leather over most of that territory, although the codpiece was, at least, respectable. Even optimistic, according to their recollection. But the rest of the reinforcing and padding was all bulged up around his limbs in odd places.

"Right. That was what I wanted to ask you about. Whatdyathink? Is it cool looking?"

"You are expecting an assault by elbow eating monsters," Tea said.

"Perhaps a league of very short goblins?" Anice inquired, looking at his knees.

"Something like that," he said. "But is it cool looking?"

"It doesn't fit," Tea said. "Your tailor, quite apart from being
insane, needs a new tape."

"It wasn't built for me. The guy it was built for's taller and wider."

"Apparently."

"But is it cool?" Dylrath repeated. And he seemed very concerned about the answer. He wasn't looking for a reassurance about whether he looked good. He was asking their professional opinion.

"May as well show us the hat, so we get the full effect," Tea sighed.

Dylrath put on the helmet and secured the chin strap. And then he lowered the face shield.

An odd design, that.

It had no noseguard. It was made of soft leather, with breathing holes punctured in the usual spots. A small slab of some sort of transparent crystal covered his eyes.

Fully dressed, nothing of Dylrath was exposed. And the effect was, well, it would have been a little creepy if it wasn't Dylrath's familiar gawky frame and bashful slouch under all that.

"Stand up straight," Anice said, and tipped her head to the side,
considering. Apart from the tailoring, and the body inside the suit, and the unusual purpose of the suit -- Dylrath's purposes were always unusual - was the armor, overall, aesthetically pleasing?

Nope.

Was there any redeeming feature to begin the critique with?

The leather was nice quality and didn't look as though it had seen much wear. Whoever the suit's former owner was, Dylrath hadn't damaged the suit getting him out of it.

It was basic black, which avoided most of the usual stylistic problems Dylrath had learned from his sartorial tutors, Tomtom Badgerclaw and Alix Loial. There wasn't a hint of motley or
cloth of gold about the thing. No ruby buttons, no plaid whatsoever. A relief.

"The fringe has got to go," Tea announced. Anice nodded agreement.

"But it moves when I'm on the Outgrabe," he said."Like wings." He lifted his arms and waggled them about as if he were flying. The fringe flapped from his wrists to his shoulders.

"You asked my opinion. The fringe lacks coolth."

"The fringe goes. What else?"

"The gauntlets are all right." Anice said. They were bulky around the wrists, but again, had soft thin leather over the fingertips. "Fold the cuffs back over the bulky part. Like that."

"The boots are . . . interesting . . ." Tea said in a noncommittal way.

"Stuck with the boots, I'm afraid. I need the reinforced soles and toes for stopping. I'm tired of ripping holes in my other pair."

"Ah," Tea said. "I imagined it might be something like that. The outfit is for riding, then, not combat?"

"Exactly."

Anice and Tea looked at each other and shook their heads as the pieces fell into place. The outfit was not designed to protect Dylrath from anyone other than himself. In that light, it sort of made sense and maybe wasn't quite as goofy looking.

"The facemask is to keep flying debris out of your eyes and nose?" Tea said.

"Naturally," Dylrath said, sounded muffled but proud.

Sidestepping the puddle, Anice took a few steps towards Dylrath and placed a hand on his chest, feeling the quality of the leather. It was buttery soft, and, apart from the bulky padding at the shoulder, fairly thin. "And why now, after years of careening around on that bedpost, do you suddenly need a cool looking outfit that protects you from colliding with things?"

"Got a bet on," he replied, putting up the face shield. "Anything
else?"

"Anything else what?"

"Anything else I can do to make it look cool? I sussed out the crash protection myself, but I'm guessing I didn't get the cool part quite right."

Anice picked up his arm and examined the bulky elbow protector as if it were a dead fish.

"Add a normal breastplate to draw attention away from the knobbly knees?" Tea suggested.

He shook his head. "I need the flexibility."

"Puffy sleeves, then." Anice said. "Add some bulk above the elbow that goes smoothly into the shoulder, here. And a high collar would help smooth out the line."

"No," Tea corrected, "Bring the puff to just below the elbow, that'll disguise the lump better. Bring the boot cuff over the knee padding and that won't show so awfully either. Mid-thigh would be about right."

"Mmm," Anice agreed. "When the tailor changes the sleeve, pick one color to inset in the slashing. Just one, mind you, something bright, but not garish. Line the inside of the collar with it, too."

"And the plume. The helmet needs a plume, same color as the slashing." Tea added. "That should about do it."

"Got it. You two are the best." He gave Anice a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"We aim to please," she replied, and rotated her head to catch his lips full on her mouth. Damned if he didn't sound like after three months absence he was about to ask them one stupid question and then take off without having even properly apologized for being gone.

She was determined to make him rethink that. She closed her eyes and leaned in close.

The leather felt nice, she decided. Not like armor at all, really. Just
soft leather clothes with some extra details worked in. Like cuddling a lizardman, she imagined.

A really clumsy lizardman standing on a marble floor in an oil slick, she corrected herself as she fell.

For the second time, the corridor was plunged into darkness.

At least he was soft when she landed on him. "Oops," he said, giving her a hand up.

She was grateful for the darkness, actually, because her oil soaked slippers didn't give her much purchase on the slick marble. After three unladylike scrambles, even with his assistance, and some groping around that they both suspected was spurious, she couldn't seem to get upright
and stay upright. She thought she heard Tea chuckling.

"Lose the slippers," he said at last. "Tea, where are you? I never
gave you your gift."

"Same as Anice's?" she asked.

"Nope, something else."

"Here," she said reaching down a hand, losing her footing and landing on top of Dylrath and Anice.

And then he sighed, "If Nolin ever hears about this, I'm never going to hear the end of it. Two oiled Aliannite priestesses in the temple in the dark trumps Arcade's dryad any day."

Anice giggled and disentangled herself, bending over to pull off her slippers and hose. "Alright. Give me a hand again," she called when they were off.

The smooth tiles were cold under her bare feet, and the corridor was quiet again.

"Dylrath?" she called, "Dylrath?" And then, "Tea?"

There was no reply.

"Manticore poo," she said, blowing her hair out her face. "I just hate it when they do that."

 

[Sialia]

"Tea, where are you? I never gave you your gift."

"Same as Anice's?" she asked.

"Nope, something else."

"Here," she said reaching down a hand, losing her footing and landing on top of Dylrath and Anice.

He sighed, "If Nolin ever hears about this, I'm never going to hear the end of it. Two oiled Aliannite priestesses in the temple in the dark trumps Arcade's dryad any day."

Tea considered. The story about how High Mage Deltarion had preserved his virtue against a dryad in her glade in the spring was legendary. Dylrath's virute was not at issue, however, and she wondered what he was really up to.

Anice disentangled herself and bent over to pull off her slippers and hose.

Tea felt Dylrath's hand steal ever so gently over her mouth. One finger touched her lips, and then he wrapped his other arm around her waist and rolled to the left, pulling her with him. They hit a small bump as they rolled.

He let her go.

She stood up blinking in the sudden light.

She was in Dylrath's room.

More precisely, she was in Htarlyd's room.

The scrying mirror that Dylrath used for his transportation was anchored in a dimesional pocket at the intersection of several planes. The mages who had built the room had constructed it of solid stone, but Dylrath's alterations had included parquet flooring, bookcases, and, at her suggestion, some potted plants.

Light from the portals to the Elemental Planes of Fire, Magma and Smoke illuminated the room perpetually.

She looked back through the doorway they had come through from the Temple of Alianna, and saw her own reflection, with Dylrath's behind her. "Howdy!" the reflected Dylrath said cheerfully.

"Good evening, Hytarlyd," she replied. "You flatter me."

"I shows 'em as I sees 'em," said the mirror. Having spent the last several hours in front of the dance practice room mirrors, Tea had a pretty good idea that her reflection, while technically accurate, was ever so slightly generous. . . well perhaps it was a trick of the diffuse lighting. Alianna's mirrors were never so forgiving.

"Anice is going to love the necklace," she said. "Very pretty."

"I sure hope so," said Dylrath.

"Apart from the roach in the clasp on the back of her neck."

"Not a roach. Beetle. In Kanach Hur, those beetles are good luck."

"In Anice's bedroom, bugs are very bad luck. For the bug. Probably also for you."

"Er. She's not likely to notice it for a while, right? It being on the
back and all?"

"If she weren't heading to the baths. Which we were."

"Ah, I see what you mean. No point in hurrying back then, is there? Probably too late already."

"Was there something you wanted my attention for, Master Birdhouse?"

"Oh, that. Yes. Definitely. There's something I wanted to show you. Htarlyd, Madjar?"

The mirror gave Dylrath a grin and a thumbs up gesture, and the image of Dylrath and Tea vanished, to be replaced by an image of an old man surf-fishing in turquoise waters. Oddly, the beach was in full daylight.

"Come on," Dylrath said, pulling her through the picture and onto a high dune above a white sand beach. He waved at the man in the surf, who waved back, and then ignored them.

Tea blinked at the sudden brightness. The room had been bright after the pitch black corridor, but the warm beach was dazzling. How did Dylrath know where there was a beach with the light of noon in the middle of the night?

"Now," Dylrath said to Tea,"What was the hardest thing about learning to Outgrabe?"

"The ground," she replied.

"Right," he said. "Hitting the ground definitely sucks. So I'm
wondering, for the new rider, is water a better thing to land on, or sand? What's your bet?"

She considered. The sand might sting as you hit it, but you weren't likely to drown in it if you knocked yourself silly. "You're thinking sand, I think, which is why you wanted the eyecovering thing to keep the sand out of your eyes, isn't it?"

"First try! I've tried both actually, about every kind of uncontrolled
wipeout I can think of, and I'm pretty sure hitting the sand is less of a shock, as long as you're wearing something to absorb the abrasion. It's warmer anyway, and easier to brush off so you can get up and try again in a hurry."

"As I recall, you taught me on a grassy slope. 'Lovely soft grass' you said. 'Spongy turf with hardly any rocks in it.'"

"And you still haven't forgiven me for it, right? So I've got a new
trainee and I want to get it right this time. So I want your opinion."

"That you could have had back at the temple."

"But you haven't tried a surf wipeout yet. Or sand for that matter. I want your real, honest opinion. In an aesthetic sense. Which is more pleasant?"

Tea blinked at him slowly.

"Least unpleasant, then."

"You had better have brought me more than a good luck beetle for this."

"Naturally," he said, tossing her a small box, and then a knapsack. "The stuff in the bag is on loan. The box is for you to keep."

She opened the bag. Inside was a black leather helmet with silver wings on the sides and a black silk facemask for keeping the sand out of her nose and eyes. There were matching elbow, wrist and knee protectors, with black silk padding and silver bosses. There was a pair of black leather gloves. And, there was a pair of thigh high, clog-soled, black leather boots with silver bosses down the side.

She opened the box and looked in, and then shut it again.

"I see. All right, I'll give it a try. But no promises about the
wipeouts, whether I'm going to have them or where. Just getting back up on that thing today --tonight--that's as far as I go. You've been away entirely too long, and I'm out of practice. And no--" she said interrupting Dylrath before he could open his mouth, "Don't waste your breath explaining that that make's me the perfect candidate for the job. I've got the picture already."

Dylrath reached behind him into apparently empty space and half
disappeared into the mirror room door. A moment later the Outgrabe slid towards Tea's knees.

The wooden disk bumped into her gently and hung silently in the air a foot above the sand.

"You've redecorated," Tea said, noting the addition of some gems to the inlay and the footstrap mounts. "Subtle, but effective." She looked up. "Who is this woman you're after, Dylrath? You really seem to be going to some lengths to impress her. You're not trying to make it up with Tao Camber are you?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. I . . ." Dylrath took off his helmet and
scratched his hair. "I'm not quite sure who I'm doing it for really. . . I had this idea and it seemed to make sense at the time, but I . . . I keep losing track of it. Something is driving me Tea, and I can't quite see my way through yet, except one detail at a time. I keep thinking, if I spend some time taking care of the details, and Alianna doesn't stop me, and Calphas doesn't stop me and . . . well, I'm giving a bunch of them plenty of notice about what I'm up to. So if it's doomed to fail, they may as well thwart me now, before I really get going. Or bless the effort if they think I should go through with it. Because once I'm in, I don't think there's any way back. And so far, so far,
nada in the way of spanking. Just things falling into place, one after the other. So I guess it's a go. Or it doesn't make any difference because it isn't going to go anywhere at all. Anyway, you ready to give it a try?"

"Give me your -- what do you call that thing? Gambeson," she said. "And I'll need a pair of braies, dyathink?"

After a moment of rummaging around in the mirror room, Dylrath popped back out and obliged. "They're Tao's old spares, but I think they should about fit."

The gambeson looked good on her. What didn't? The hem was long enough to cover her bottom, mostly. The fringe hung a few inches longer than the hem, and despite what she had said about it, Dylrath thought the effect was pretty fine.

Tea unwrapped her dance skirts and pulled the braes and then the boots on over her hose. She tied on the knee protectors. She pulled on the black leather gloves and wrapped the wristguards on. She put on the helmet and tied the facemask. The ends of the black silk ties fluttered down behind her black braids. She cracked her knuckles in a most unladylike way. "Lady, I'm sore after that rehearsal," she said.

"And about to be moreso," Dylrath quipped. "You've got healing prayers on board, right?"

"Always," Tea said. And she stepped on to the Outgrabe with a practiced step, and pushed off down the slope.

 

[blargney]

AWESOME!! Thanks so much, Sialia!
-blarg

 

[Dakkareth]

This is just cool - finally more stories in here and anything with Dylrath in it is bound to be great anyway.

 

[Negative Zero]

i agree totally! Dylrath is just too damned cool for words! LOL

~NegZ

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

I made it through the wilderness...somehow I made it through...

Great stuff all! Now I've got a new thread to subscribe to!

 

[Thomas Hobbes]

Re: Dylrath gives Teliaz The Big Idea

“Oh.” Dylrath said. “Calphas and Alianna in a hotspring. What have I done?”

Best. Line. Ever.

Or at least very good. I'll have to use that sometime, adapted to either a) my campaign's religions, or b) the real world. Although b) might get me shot.

 

[Eridanis]

BRAVO!!!!! WOOT!!!!

Something tells me that when (if) Piratecat ever wraps up this campaign, there will still be a lot of stories left to tell.

You have an excellent gift for characterization and dialogue. Such good stuff. Thank you!

 

[the Jester]

Fantastic as always... thank you!

Gotta love Dylrath!