9 Rova, 4716 - 11 Rova, 4716: Endings and Beginnings
The Frosthamar put out to sea once more the following morning. They were now well north of the Watch Wall, and Odenkirk estimated that they would reach the headwaters of the River Taiga by the next day. About noon, one of the sailors spotted a group of small boats hugging the coast headed towards the ship. Closer inspection revealed three one-man kayaks and a larger, open, seal-skinned canoe with four men rowing. As they drew near, one of the men in the larger boat hailed them in broken Common.
"Yutak," Odenkirk said as he stood at the rail watching the smaller vessels approach. "Native northern tribesman. They hold no love for the Talireans. Probably looking to trade."
"Hail travelers!" an older man in the large canoe called. "I Joseph Calls-Fire-From-Water! This White Tusk, Chief!"
He indicated a younger, muscular man seated beside him.
"We trade!" Joseph continued. "We have much ivory, and this!"
He made a gesture and one of the oarsmen unwound a tarp from around a large bundle, revealing a gleaming, spiraled ivory horn at least eight-feet in length.
"She's a beauty," Odenkirk whistled. "What do you take in trade?"
"Metal spears," Joseph replied, "and Talirean clothing. Fine clothing. White Tusk like."
"Sister," Kelvin leaned close to Tardaesha and whispered in Shadowtongue, "can you tell if any of these primitives are of a goodly bent?"
Tardaesha smiled and concentrated for a moment.
"Negative," she replied.
"Pity," the wizard shrugged.
"Tell me, Captain," Dorian, standing near Odenkirk, addressed the man in his native tongue, "how would you feel if we just slaughtered these people and took all that they had?"
Odenkirk looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed.
"The Yutak are famous for their family loyalty," he replied, "and infamous for their vendettas. They hold grudges for a long time. Me and my crew won't take any part in that, but we won't stand in your way either."
Dorian looked to his siblings, and Kelvin shook his head.
"Very well," the priest muttered. "Best not to raise suspicion, I suppose. Send them on their way, Captain. We have no interest in local trinkets."
Odenkirk thanked the Yutak, but told them they had nothing to trade at this point. The tribesman looked disappointed, but turned their boats around and headed back to shore.
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Roger and Lemmy drew fire watch again that night as the ship lay at anchor, and were more miserable than usual. A cold snap had come in and the temperature had plummeted well below freezing. Ice rime had begun to form on the rigging, and intermittent snow flurries had given way to fat flakes and biting winds. The crew had lit several torches to provide both light and warmth in the freezing darkness. Lemmy didn't think it helped. As he stood contemplating the misery of his existence, the cold night was split by the sound of inhuman laughter coming from somewhere near the top of the mast. Lemmy looked up and saw a small creature perched in the crow's nest. It was thin, with leathery wings, small horns and a cruel smile.
"You shouldn't be here, mortals!" the creature called down. "You shouldn't interfere with beautiful, glorious cold!"
The little beast flung out one bluish/white hand and pointed at Lemmy. Instantly, a glaze of ice began to form on the dwarf's armor, causing the metal to become painfully cold where it touched his flesh.
"You ain't seen interferin' yet!" Lemmy snarled back through chattering teeth.
He pointed his own hand back up at the little fiend and sent a blast of rocky debris at it. The barrage struck the creature, almost knocking it from its perch.
"What's going on now?" Dorian asked testily and groggily from where he'd been bundled in his bedroll, back to back with Katarina to preserve body heat.
"No idea," Kat mumbled, climbing to her feet and rubbing her eyes. "Dwarf's yelling about something again."
Just then, one of the sailors on duty pointed towards the far side of the deck, his eyes wide.
"Ice devils! he shouted, and began fleeing towards the bow in blind panic.
Kat looked to see what had frightened the man so, and saw what appeared to be bipedal blocks of ice climbing over the rails, at least four of them. The other sailors tried to scrabble away from them, but as they did so, the creatures slammed club-like arms into them, leaving frost-bitten flesh wherever they connected.
Lemmy tried to leap aside as the nasty little imp sent a burst of the same kind of little missiles that Kelvin was so fond of streaking towards him, but they still hit him head on, sending him tumbling head over heels. Growling deep in his chest, he rolled to his feet and unleashed another geokinetic blast. The creature shrieked, and this time it did lose its hold and tumbled bonelessly down to the deck where it struck with a sickening thud and lay unmoving.
Though she'd just woken up, Kat still moved with the quickness and grace of her namesake. She somersaulted behind one of the ice things and drove her knife into what she hoped was a vital spot. The damned thing didn't have any sort of normal anatomy for her to judge by. Nearby, Dorian had managed to gather his wits about him enough to send a spray of flames from his fingertips at another of the beasts, melting off a significant portion of its body. It gave a totally alien scream, and lumbered into the priest in a pain-filled rage, shouldering him aside. On the far side of the deck, Roger sparred with a third elemental, trying to keep it away from the sailors (he needed them to sail the ship, after all), but it managed to duck under his swinging blade and drive a fist into his belly. The air whooshed out of his lungs and he staggered back, dropping his defenses. The ice creature advanced on him, raising both arms, but before it could strike, it suddenly exploded into a thousand pieces. Roger looked up and saw Lemmy standing in the midst of the ruined thing, his fingers smoking. The dwarf just grinned and reached down a hand to help his friend to his feet.
Kelvin had taken a few moments longer than his siblings to come fully awake, but now the he was, he didn't waste any time. He sent magic missiles at the pair of elementals Kat and Dorian had already injured, shattering them on impact. Then, after Kat threw one of her daggers and impaled the last one, he fired another salvo into that one, destroying it as well. A moment later Odenkirk emerged from the hold, once again naked, with Tardaesha and Dakota following closely behind, still rubbing sleep from their eyes.
"What's all this, then?" the captain asked, looking around at the mess.
"Nothing to concern yourself with," Kelvin smiled humorlessly. "Seems like our fires attracted the attention of an ice mephit and its elemental friends. No more than we could handle."
Odenkirk nodded and grunted.
"Strong work," he said, and then slipped an arm around the waist of each of the ladies and disappeared below once more.
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By mid-morning of the following day, the Frosthamar finally arrived at the ice-choked entrance to the Rive Taiga. Kargeld proved himself a worthy captain as he nimbly sailed the heavily-laden ship through fields of floating, jagged bergs. He barked orders in Skald, and his sailors scrambled to comply. Again and again he turned the boat at just the right moment to pass between the broken shards calved from ancient glaciers. After several nerve-wracking hours of this, the boat pushed through the dangerous headwaters and into the clear flow of the almost-uncharted mighty river. The Taiga wound through a land of savage wonder, a great northern forest that, to the best of anyone's knowledge, had no name. After many miles of picturesque pine trees frosted with new-fallen snow, the ship came to a great mountain range. The river flowed through a large rift in the mountains that looked as if some impossibly huge primordial giant had smashed a pass through the grey slate. The Frosthamar was headed due south at that point, though that had no effect on lessening the intense cold. They eventually arrived at the great interior sea of Talingarde, Lake Tarik. South of that sat the Watch Wall, while on the northern banks, in a wide wooded valley, was their destination...the camp of Sakkarot Fire-Axe.
Thousands of bugbears were already assembled there, but worse, there were more than just bugbears in the camp. The occasional polar bear lumbered around the camp untended, while fur-clad goblins scampered here and there, laughing with frenetic glee, and even a few giants gathered at the camp's fringes. There was only one place to dock the boat, a crudely made pier that jutted out into the river. Standing on the pier as the Froshamar pulled in were four hulking bugbears who seemed none-to-pleased to see the ship. As the crew tied off the mooring lines, the big brutes yammered among themselves in their own tongue...a tongue Lemmy just happened to speak.
"They ain't the friendly sort," the dwarf muttered to his companions. "Seems they're thinkin' 'bout eatin' us soft, squishy sorts before the Fire-Axe gets here to claim all the tasty bits."
"Well, let's show them just what sort of heartburn they're in for," Roger grinned.
Lemmy hopped on the rail and cupped his hands to his mouth.
"Hey! Furballs!" he shouted in the bugbear/goblin speech. "You wanna piece of us? Come get it!"
The four brawlers laughed raucously and began stalking forward, great-clubs resting on their shoulders. Just then, Roger leaped over the rail and landed on the pier in front of them. The look in his eyes was pure murder. He raised his great-sword over his head, and then drove its point deep into the planks, leaving it there quivering upright. Then he slowly drew one thumb across his throat in an unmistakable gesture, and pointed towards the bugbears. They looked hesitantly at one another, and then back at the hulking half-orc in his full plate armor. With subdued growls and many backwards glances, they turned and lumbered away, slump-shouldered.
By that time, a crowd of bugbear onlookers had gathered around the far end of the pier, anticipating bloodshed and mayhem. Abruptly, they parted as a great, black-furred bugbear came forward gripping an axe wreathed in flame in one hand. He stopped a dozen feet from Roger and pointed the axe towards him.
"Who sent you?" he demanded in unaccented Common.
"Cardinal Adrastus Thorn," Roger replied. "We come bearing gifts."
The bugbear smiled a toothy grin.
"Then you are welcome here!" he shouted.
He turned to the somewhat stunned throng behind him.
"These humans are my guests!" he growled. "I will deal with anyone who harms them! They are our allies!"
He walked to the boat and ripped open of the crates, revealing finely made axes within. He tossed one to the nearest bugbear warrior.
"Behold!" the Fire-Axe proclaimed to his folk. "They bring us steel!"
This resulted in a terrifying chorus of growls and cheers from the monstrous assembly, after which they set about unloading the boat. The chief's lieutenants saw that each case was distributed, and soon a visible transformation came over the camp. Where once there were a thousand bugbear savages, now there were a thousand bugbear soldiers, each with new weapons and shields adorned with the emblem of the Fire-Axe. What a terror the Knot had helped to create...
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Sakkarot Fire-Axe held a feast in honor of the weapons shipment and their new allies. It was a brutal, savage affair, with bugbears fighting each other, and all manner of monsters in attendance. The highlight of the party was when a great, shaggy dire boar was brought in in shackles. One ton of angry pig was led in by a dozen bugbears, who dragged the beast before Sakkarot. The Fire-Axe proceeded to behead the already wounded animal in one mighty stroke with his weapon. The beast was then spitted and roasted in a great open pit.
Eventually, as the raucous bestial festivities died down, Sakkarot stood from the table and summoned the members of the Knot to follow him to his private quarters. He dismissed his guards as he strode inside the tent, then sat heavily among several cushions, gesturing for his guests to join him.
"You are traitors to your own kind," he began without preamble. "You must know that. When Balentyne falls and my horde pours through its shattered gates, we will slaughter Talireans by the thousands. Yet I see no regret in your eyes. Tell me how this can be?"
"Easy," Lemmy answered, rolling up his sleeve and displaying the brand emblazoned there. "Our own kind left us to rot in prison, sentenced to death for so-called crimes. I say let'em burn."
Sakkarot nodded, and then pulled aside his own great breast-plate, revealing the holy symbol of Asmodeus burned into his chest.
"We all have our scars," he said. "In any event, tomorrow you must depart this camp. It will never by truly safe for you here. Over the next week, more tribes will rally to my banner. I will promise them blood and give them steel. Then, at last I will be ready to march. A week after that I will be poised to strike. I will move my horde to the valley just north of Balentyne. There we will wait for your signal. Fire this rocket into the air. Within the hour, we will attack. Make sure that the way is ready. After we gather, my horde will be idle and start to grow anxious. I can hold them together for another two weeks. After that, I expect desertions and squabbling. Get your work done before then. You have one month to infiltrate and destroy Balentyne"
Sakkarot reached behind him and produced a single carefully wrapped signal rocket. Suddenly, the bugbear warlord became very serious and stern. He stared straight into their eyes.
"Can you do this?" he asked. "In one month can you break the Watch Wall?"
"By Asmodeus, I give you my word," Roger replied grimly. "We will succeed or perish in the attempt."
Sakkarot grunted and nodded.
"Thorn has faith in you," he said. "If you weren't his best he wouldn't have sent you. Do this and your names will be legend. Now go. Hail Asmodeus!"
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The next day, Captain Odenkirk was more than anxious to leave the bugbear camp. Already he had seen bugbear warriors eyeing his ship, and knew that it was only a matter of time before they built up the courage to attack. He made no secret of his lack of faith in Sakkarot's word.
"Look in that one's eyes," he said to Tardaesha. "He's smart. Always plotting. Bugbears shouldn't be smart. I'm not getting paid enough for this. If you and your lot aren't ready to go by dusk, I'm pulling out without you. Mark my word!"
"Don't worry, love," Tardaesha kissed his cheek. "When all of this is behind us, Cardinal Thorn will see to it that you are justly rewarded with all that you deserve."
As the sun began to set, the Frosthamar set out once more, crossing the mist-shrouded Lake Tarik under cover of darkness. They made the southern shore of the lake a few hours later and dropped anchor.
"Well, I'm afraid this is where we part ways, my beauties," Odenkirk said, his arms around Tardaesha and Dakota. "I must say, I'm sorry to see you go. I always have room on my crew for able bodies such as yours. Don't suppose you'd reconsider whatever nonsense Thorn has you up to?"
Tardaesha smiled. "No so easily done, love. But what say we celebrate our friendship and break open a bottle of those spirits you have stashed below?"
Odenkirk considered this for a moment, and then nodded.
"Why not?" he shrugged. "One for the road, but then I'm off. I want to put as much distance between me and this place as possible. You're no more than a couple of hours walk from the town of Aldencross from here, and it sits not more than a mile or so from Tower Balentyne."
Odenkirk went into the hold and returned a few minutes later bearing a dusty bottle. The crew cheered to see it. He popped the cork and prepared to upend it, when Kat snatched it from his hand.
"Barbarians," she shook her head. "My father employed some of the finest somaliers to stock our wine cellars. You have to let a good vintage breath for a moment first."
The captain glared at her for moment, then waved her off.
"Also," Katarina continued, "it is a poor host who does not first offer a toast to his guests."
She handed the bottle back to Odenkirk, him none-the-wiser of the generous amount of arsenic powder she'd slipped inside.
"A toast then!" He lifted the bottle high. "To wine, women and gold!!"
His men roared their approval. Odenkirk took a long swig, then passed the bottle on to his men. Each member of the Knot put the bottle to their lips as well, but none of them drank. The captain also took no notice of the fact that his passengers had arranged themselves strategically around the deck. By the time the first of the sailors began to vomit violently, it was too late.
Kat got the party started by flicking a palmed dagger into the throat of the nearest sailor. The man sagged, choking on his own blood and vomit. Two other sailors, a little quicker on the uptake than their brethren, saw the knife sticking out of his neck and put two-and-two together. They drew short swords from their belts, but instead of going for Katarina, they rushed at Lemmy and Dorian, having seen the two of them in action before, and knowing how dangerous they could be. Dorian squealed as one of the crewmen struck him a glancing blow, and Lemmy grunted as the second one tagged him, but fortunately his armor deflected the brunt of it. Dorian took several steps away from the men, then spread his hands wide and sent a cone of flames washing over them. They screamed as their clothes caught fire, but Roger quickly put one out of his misery, while Lemmy blasted the other and sent him careening over the railing.
"You bitches!!" Odenkirk screamed, his beard bristling, his face red as a beet.
He rushed forward, his great-axe clenched in his meaty fists. Before he'd taken two steps, however, Kelvin threw a spell, coating the haft of the axe in an oily liquid. It slipped from the captain's hands and clanged to the deck at his feet. Snarling, he bent to retrieve it, but could not get a grip on the greasy wood. Katarina took the opportunity to move up behind him, while Roger stepped in front. Kat slammed a dagger into Odenkirk's back. As he straightened, crying out in pain and rage, Roger grabbed him by the neck with one hand and channeled the dark, corrupting power of his faith into the man's flesh. Furious, Odenkirk broke free of the half-orc's grip and whipped a throwing axe from his belt. Kat rammed her dagger home again, but then cried out as one of the sailors managed to flank her and slashed open her back with his own blade. The captain raised the hand-axe to finish her off, but Roger struck first, cutting down with his great-sword and nearly separating Odenkirk's arm at the shoulder. Stunned and reeling, he turned clumsily, unsteady on his feet.
"Goodbye, Captain," Kelvin said as he pumped magic missiles into his chest. "Nothing personal. It's just business."
Odenkirk fell, as did the sailor who'd attacked Kat when Dorian sent a bolt of fire through his chest. The remaining two sailors threw down their weapons and fell to their knees, begging for mercy. Roger and Lemmy granted it to them by giving them swift deaths. The Knot then proceeded to loot the Frosthamar, taking Odenkirk's sea chest and the 6,000 gold coins it held, as well as the seal furs he'd collected, before putting the ship to the torch with the bodies of its captain and crew still aboard.
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They were close now. Just a few miles away lay the small market town of Aldencross, and less than a mile from there was the watchtower Balentyne...their ultimate goal. Already Sakkarot's horde gathered and prepared to move. Within two weeks, they would be in a small valley north of the lake awaiting the signal. Firing the rocket into the air at just the right moment, and the members of the Ninth Knot would take the first step towards claiming vengeance against Talingarde. Destiny had brought them there. Destiny had given them a mission. There was no doubt that the future of that green and pleasant land lay in their hands. They could go to that town right then and warn them of the plots of the sinister Cardinal Thorn. They could give themselves up and face the justice they deserved. They could turn back from the horror and slaughter they were going to inflict upon those Iomedean sheep. That was the moment. That was the turning point. After that, there was no going back. Was there one of them eager for redemption?
No. Of course not. And so off they went. They had work to do. They must burn Balentyne.
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The journey to Aldencross from the lake shore was a short and uneventful one. It was almost midnight when they arrived, and the small town was quiet, its inhabitants mostly asleep for the night. Still, there was a single inn in the village, and its lights blazed, the sounds of laughter and music coming from within. So it was that a band of road-weary travelers entered the Lord's Dalliance.
The innkeeper looked up from the bar when the door opened. Aldencross was a market town, and it was not rare for traders to come from all over to peddle their goods there. Even the odd adventurer bound for the savage north was not unknown. So when Bellam Barhold saw the band composed of a robed elf, a smiling dwarf, three comely women, a priest and a human sell-sword, he thought little of it.
"Evening strangers!" he called out. "What can I do you for?"
"We're in need of rooms," the elf replied in a smooth, cultured voice.
"How long are you in town for?" Barhold asked.
"Until our business is complete," Kelvin, the elf, replied with a smile.
"Oh?" the barkeep asked curiously. "What sort of business you in?"
"We're scouting new trade routes in this area for a small merchant consortium," said Kelvin. "We may be staying a couple of weeks."
"Excellent!" Barhold grinned. "Glad to have you. Always good to have new business in town. Rooms are 2 gold per night, and that includes two meals a day."
"Two gold?" Katarina asked in disbelief. "You could stay in one of the finer inns in Daveryn for that!"
"Aye," Barhold smiled, "but this ain't Daveryn, and in case you haven't noticed, spare rooms are hard to come by out here on the frontier. Costs money to have supplies shipped here from the larger cities. A man's got to make a living."
"My associate is just weary from the road," Kelvin soothed. "Your price is a fair one."
"I see you serve quite a few soldiers here," Kat observed, ignoring Kelvin, who shot her an annoyed glance.
"That we do, little lady," Barhold nodded. "Balentyne Tower's close by. Lots of military folk rely on the town for good and...er...services."
"Indeed," Kat threw him a wink. "It so happens that I have some small talent in dancing, and I even perform a bit of sleight of hand."
She reached out and pulled a silver piece from behind the innkeeper's ear. Barhold smiled broadly.
"So you can!" he laughed. "If your dancing's as entertaining, then I might can knock my price down a bit for you. Ha! You might even consider joining up with Ye Merry Men when they hit town in a few days."
"Ye Merry Men?" Kat asked.
"Aye," Barhold nodded. "An acting troupe. Led by the Bard of Barrington himself! They're playing the Great Hall of Balentyne."
"Fascinating," Kat smiled again. "Perhaps I'll audition. Until then, I think I can keep your patrons entertained."
Barhold was correct. Though there were a few locals in the common room, there were more off-duty soldiers present, gambling, drinking, and enjoying the attention of the barmaids. Kelvin stood casually behind a group who were dicing, nodding approvingly at each victory.
"Your pardon, gentlemen," he cleared his throat at a pause in the game.
The soldiers looked up at him, smirking slightly at the foppish elf dressed in clean, white robes.
"My companions and I are new in town," he said.
"You don't say!" one of the soldiers laughed, and his friends joined in.
"Yes, well," Kelvin smiled indulgently, "as it just so happens, we have an acquaintance stationed at your garrison. Are you familiar with a young squire named Timeon?"
The soldiers glanced among themselves, sobering a bit.
"Yeah," one of them nodded. "We know Timeon. He's one of Captain Eddarly's men. Just returned from an assignment that went bad. Nasty business."
"Yes, I had heard something of the sort," Kelvin tsked sympathetically. "We are friends of his family, and we thought that it might help him to see some friendly faces. Would you kindly pass a message on to him? Tell him that the twins are in town, and staying at the inn. An old inside joke. He'll get the reference."
"Sure we will," the soldier said. "Say...is that dwarf with you a new recruit for the engineers?"
Kelvin cocked his head. "Now that you mention it, he did say something about that, but I wasn't sure what he was talking about."
"Yeah," the soldier elaborated, "Master Eisenbauch's had a crew of ten dwarves up at the Tower every day for months now. They're working on refurbishing the gatehouse. Says it might take years!"
"You don't say," Kelvin nodded. "I'll let my friend know. Are they staying at the Tower?"
"Nah," the soldier said. "They're staying here in the inn. Surprised they're not down here. They can drink any of us under the table. Must have had a long day."
The members of the Knot fanned out among the patrons, joining in on conversations here and there, but doing more listening than talking. As was their wont, soldier's liked to gossip, worse than old women in a knitting circle. So it was that the Nessians gathered several useful bits of information..
"They say bugbears are massing up north," one particularly boisterous guard declared. "I wonder what they're up to? Well, it doesn't matter! We'll be ready for'em! You'd think those shaggy walking carpets would have learned by now that the Watch Wall is unbreakable!"
"Do you know how the Lord's Dalliance got it's name?" another soldier asked Kat, who was seated upon his knee. "It was once a brothel! I hear there used to be a secret passage in the basement that allowed the Lord of the Watchtower to sneak in here and have a good time. Of course it must have been sealed up years ago."
"That Mad Martin is a strange one!" opined one old-timer deep in his cups. "He tends the rookery at the Watchtower, you know? They say he never leaves except for necessities. He talks to the birds like people and has named every one!"
"I've heard that Father Donnagin was sent here after the church demoted him from bishop," one lad whispered conspiratorially to Dorian. "He got into some sort of trouble...serious trouble I'd wager to be banished to the Watch Wall."
"Soldiers today!" a churlish local complained to Roger. "A worthless, shiftless lot! Balentyne is in total disarray. Soldiers today are too lazy. Not like in my day."
Ah yes, it proved to be a very lucrative and fruitful evening.
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The following morning, Timeon arrived at the inn bright and early. Tardaesha and Dakota made a show of greeting him and making over him in the common room, eliciting quite a few sly winks and smirks from the patrons. He blushed appropriately and offered to show the ladies around town. They accepted and strolled out with him, one on each arm.
"What are you doing here!?" he asked when they were out of earshot of curious listeners.
"It's quite the tale," Tardaesha smiled. "What a coincidence that our current business should bring us to your posting!"
"Yes...," Timeon said uncertainly.
"Suffice it to say that great things are happening in this isolated corner of the kingdom," Dakota said. "We need you to be our eyes and ears inside Balentyne. We have already gathered some intelligence from local nattering, but we need more. Much more."
"In two weeks time," Tardaesha took up the narrative, "Balentyne Tower will fall."
Timeon gasped aloud.
"Now, now, my dear," Tardaesha chided, "you must keep up appearances. War is coming to Talingarde, and we shall be its fomenters. What can you tell us of the garrison and its defenses, in generalities?"
It took the squire a moment to regain his composure.
"Well," he said at length, "our garrison consists of one-hundred soldiers, broken down into four companies, each under the charge of a captain."
"Who are these captains?" Dakota asked.
"Varning, Barhold, Mott and Eddarly," Timeon said. "I'm in Captain Eddarly's company."
"Barhold?" Tardaesha asked. "Like the innkeeper?"
"His brother," Timeon nodded, "though I don't think they're close."
"What else?" Dakota prodded.
"Lord Commander Havelyn is over all," Timeon continued. "Then there's the magsiter, Tacitus, and Father Donnagin. He has six acolytes working under him as well."
"I'll bet he does," Dakota grinned wickedly.
"What's this we hear about the raven keeper?" Tardaesha asked.
"Oh him," Timeon smiled. "Martin Rayard. We call him 'Mad' Martin."
"These ravens," Tardaesha asked. "What are they used for?"
"Delivering messages long distance," Timeon explained. "They're vital for communications."
"Is that so?" Dakota asked. "Interesting."
"Very much so," Tardaesha agreed. "Well, I realize we cannot keep your from your duties for long, nor can you be seen spending over much time with us, but rest assured, we will be in touch. Be ready at all times."
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That evening, the common room of the Lord's Dalliance was even more raucous, thanks largely to the band of dwarves hammering back pint after pint at a large corner table. Lemmy was delighted. He wasted no time in sauntering over and introducing himself.
"Smith's the name," he said, slamming his own pint down, "Leonard Smith. Which one of you's Eisenbauch?"
"That'd be me," a burly, gray-bearded dwarf stood.
"Damn glad to meet'cha!" Lemmy stuck out his hand. "Heard you an' your crew was doin' some repairs up the Tower."
"Yeah," Eisenbauch replied, his eyes narrowed, "what of it?"
"Just so happens I got me a knack for engineerin' work," Lemmy grinned. "Gonna be in town fer a spell an' thought I might pick up some side work with your boys."
"Depends," Eisenbauch said. "What can you tell me 'bout the theorem of Pythagorus?"
Lemmy's grin broadened and he rubbed his hands together, warming to his audience.
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Kat came awake with a start in the darkness of the room she was sharing with Dakota and Tardaesha. For a change, it wasn't the moans of her sisters that roused her this time. No, this was something else. She'd heard a noise from somewhere downstairs. Stealthily, she crept from her bed, out into the hall and down the stairs to the common room. Peering around, she caught movement from behind the bar. She crouched down further into the shadows and let her eyes adjust to the dim moonlight spilling through the windows. The shadow behind the counter resolved itself into Barhold. He held a small candle and he moved furtively through the door to the kitchen. Intrigued, Katarina followed. She waited a moment until she heard no noise from beyond the door, then pushed through. The kitchen was empty, but the door to the cellar was slightly ajar. She pushed it open as well and tiptoed down the stairs. There, in the cramped and musty space, was Barhold, standing before a blank wall. As Kat watched, he reached out and touched a spot there, and that section swung aside.
"Well, well," Kat whispered to herself.
Barhold stepped through. Kat waited again, then followed. Unfortunately, this time the secret door squeaked slightly as she pulled it aside.
"Who's there?" Barhold yelped, spinning around and holding up his light, revealing Kat.
"It's just me," she said, stepping forward, her hands upraised, non-threatening. "I heard a noise that woke me. I came down to investigate."
"Oh," Barhold was sweating now, obviously nervous. "Sorry to disturb, Miss. Nothing amiss at all. Just...just putting up some stores for winter. Nothing to concern yourself with. In fact, now that I think of it, I may have been a bit unfair in our negotiations last night. If you're willing to do your act, you can stay here free of charge for as long as you like. How does that sound?"
Kat smile knowingly.
"That sounds quite agreeable," she said. "This is a nice little hidey-hole you have here. Perhaps we can meet again here some time..."