Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 250
“We’re friends, don’t attack,” Zenna said, turning to see who had threatened them.
It was a dwarf, a powerfully built woman clad in a simple robe of soft homespun. The plain garment was that of a religious petitioner, an appearance reinforced by the symbol of Helm stitched in black threads across the chest, but no one would have mistaken this figure for a humble pilgrim. Her arms were corded with muscle, and she held a bastard sword one-handed with the point toward them, and the blade did not quiver in the slightest.
Arun did not flinch at the sword whose point was held a mere two hands from his face. “Adamantine, impressive,” he said, eying the long shaft.
“This ain’t a smithy, and these ain’t working hours,” she said. “What is your business here?”
“We’re here to see Jenya,” Dannel said.
“High Priestess didn’t say anything about no visitors.”
“Look, lady,” Hodge said, sidling forward toward her, until the blade shifted expertly, its point about an inch shy of plunging into his beard. “Um... that is...” His hand tightened around the haft of his axe, and flickers of flame began to appear around its head.
“Hodge!” Dannel said. “We mean no disrespect, madam,” the elf said. “I can assure you, we are long-standing friends of the High Priestess. I can only assume that you are a recent arrival, or you would know who we are.”
“Oh, I know who you are,” the dwarf said, with a wry grin. The sword came up with a snap to lay against her broad shoulder. “Come on then, into the church with you, enough of this damned sneaking around. I’ll go see if the High Priestess is still awake, but if she’d not, damned if you’re not coming back in the morning, no matter how urgent your business is.”
They followed her instructions, even Mole caught short of a snappy comeback by the abrupt nature of the dwarven woman.
* * * * * *
“And so we came here,” Dannel concluded, his voice echoing slightly off of the cavernous interior of the temple.
“The woman escaped,” Mole said.
Jenya Urikas paced across the floor in front of the great altar of Helm, her slippers padding silently on the huge blocks of white marble. She wore a troubled expression, and looked tired.
“And the woman was a cleric, you said?”
Zenna nodded. “She wore a skull icon, although I could not see more details.”
Jenya nodded. “Probably Cyric or Vesharoon. Either one introduces a new level of trouble for us, I fear.”
“I think that they were just hired assassins,” Dannel said. “And at least two of them won’t be giving us any more trouble, at least.”
“And the guard took away the bodies?”
“Yes. Though they weren’t much help, otherwise.”
“Stupid,” the dwarven woman—Beorna, she’d been introduced as—spat. She stood behind the High Priestess almost protectively, her arms folded in front of her chest. “If we still had access to them, we might have been able to figure out who sent them. Given how this town’s run, I’d not be surprised if they haven’t already been fed to that damned Watch of theirs.”
“Well, given that we’d just fought a major battle, we figured that picking a fight with the city authorities might be a bit much,” the elf replied dryly.
“And we might have an idea of who sent them,” Zenna said. She quickly summarized what they’d learned from Annah Taskerhill.
“The church of Kelemvor?” Jenya said, ceasing her pacing and sitting down on one of the pews in the front of the church.
“You don’t seem surprised at the suggestion,” Arun said.
“Over the last year, we’ve had... difficulties... with the clergy of the Lord of the Dead.”
“Difficulties?” Dannel asked.
“Embril Aloustinai—the leader of Kelemvor’s church here in Cauldron—“
“I’ve heard of her,” Zenna interrupted. By all reports, she was a mystic theurge like Zenna, one of the rare spellcasters who combined the arcane and divine paths.
Jenya nodded, not disturbed at the interruption, although Beorna frowned. “She’s always been an elusive figure,” the high priestess went on. “But in the last year, the higher ranks of the church have gotten more secretive, while at the same time gaining a larger share of influence over the city government. My sources suggest that Aloustinai is a key figure in the higher circles of power in Cauldron, and that she has the ear of the Lord Mayor.”
“During the crisis last year, with Sarcem’s murder and the theft of the wands of control water, Aloustinai offered nothing in the way of aid, despite the fact that she was then one of the only clerics in the town capable of creating the devices. And since then there’s been a clash between her order and Kristof Jurgenson, prior of the small church of Lathander located near the Hall of the Dead. The Kelemvorites have been constructing a great new spire atop their already-considerable cathedral, and Kristof charged that Aloustinai had deliberately designed her spire to block the rays of the morning sun from the House of the Morninglord.”
Beorna’s scowl deepened. “Sounds pretty petty, if you ask me,” she snorted.
“So what happened?” Mole asked.
“Nothing; Kristof’s tiny congregation lacks both wealth and power, and Aloustinai runs in the noble circles with the powerful. But the whole affair helped confirm the impression of arrogance and heedlessness of the leadership of the church of Kelemvor.”
“Although perhaps,” Dannel said softly, “some are dissatisfied at the increase of their position, as their own power and prestige has suffered... some setbacks recently.”
As his words provoked a momentary silence, Beorna stepped forward with a menacing look. “I don’t think I favor your implication, elf,” she began, her arms coming down to her sides, her hands tightening into fists.
Jenya forstalled her with a firm sweep of her hand. “No, he has the right to speak his mind,” she said. Turning to Dannel, she said, “It is true that there is some history here, and it may be clouding my judgment. But given what you’ve told me, it would be reasonable to seek out more information, and find your own answers.”
“We’d hoped you could assist us in that effort,” Zenna said. “Perhaps a commune...”
Jenya nodded, although it seemed that the gesture was accompanied with some reluctance. “I attempted such a communion with Helm shortly after I rose to this position, and had granted the power needed for such an act. I received little in the way of helpful information...”
“Maybe you did not know the proper questions to ask,” Zenna suggested.
“I will seek again, but I will need time to prepare for the ritual, at least a full day. In the meantime, you should stay here, under the protection of the church. I will have quarters prepared in the acolytes’ quarters in the rectory; goodness knows we’ve not been able to gain new recruits in recent months. ”
“And tomorrow, we’ll go pay a visit to the Temple of Kelemvor,” Arun said.
“From what I hear, Aloustinai has been away from Cauldron for the last tenday,” Jenya said. “But Ike Iverson, her second, should be there. I will send Beorna with you, as my representative.”
The dwarven woman shifted. “High Priestess...”
“I know your concern,” Jenya said. “But I think that this errand may be consistent with your mandate.” The dwarf woman nodded.
“It’s settled, then,” Jenya went on. “Come, I will see to your quarters.”
But Arun forestalled her. “There’s one other matter I wanted to speak to you about, priestess.”
The others turned to face him. “Yes, Arun?” Jenya asked.
Arun turned to Mole, who nodded, withdrawing a long, slender object wrapped in soft cloth from her bag of holding. Arun took the weapon from the gnome and held it out before him. Jenya, curious, drew back the cloth to reveal a weathered hilt—the hilt of the holy bastard sword they’d found on the Plain of Cysts on Occipitus.
“Morgan used this blade,” Arun said, “But he urged us to bring it back with us... he believed that we would have greater need of it than he.”
Jenya took the blade, a bit awkwardly, for it was nearly as tall as she was, and heavy for a sword of its size. The sword slid easily from the fine leather scabbard they’d had made for it in Saradush, revealing a blade that blazed with a pure white radiance.
“It’s... beautiful,” Jenya said.
Arun cleared his throat. “It is a holy sword, priestess. We have the weapons we need, and you have given much to defend this town from shadow... I grant it to you, to use as you see fit.”
Jenya looked surprised, and even Beorna was taken aback, although her eyes remained fixed on the impressive sword. But the dwarf woman finally realized that Jenya had turned to face her, and she lowered her head in deference.
“Templar... I bestow this gift upon you, then, that you might wield it in the service of your mandate.”
Beorna’s head came up. “I accept, and swear to wield this blade with honor in the service of the Vigilant One.”
“We’re friends, don’t attack,” Zenna said, turning to see who had threatened them.
It was a dwarf, a powerfully built woman clad in a simple robe of soft homespun. The plain garment was that of a religious petitioner, an appearance reinforced by the symbol of Helm stitched in black threads across the chest, but no one would have mistaken this figure for a humble pilgrim. Her arms were corded with muscle, and she held a bastard sword one-handed with the point toward them, and the blade did not quiver in the slightest.
Arun did not flinch at the sword whose point was held a mere two hands from his face. “Adamantine, impressive,” he said, eying the long shaft.
“This ain’t a smithy, and these ain’t working hours,” she said. “What is your business here?”
“We’re here to see Jenya,” Dannel said.
“High Priestess didn’t say anything about no visitors.”
“Look, lady,” Hodge said, sidling forward toward her, until the blade shifted expertly, its point about an inch shy of plunging into his beard. “Um... that is...” His hand tightened around the haft of his axe, and flickers of flame began to appear around its head.
“Hodge!” Dannel said. “We mean no disrespect, madam,” the elf said. “I can assure you, we are long-standing friends of the High Priestess. I can only assume that you are a recent arrival, or you would know who we are.”
“Oh, I know who you are,” the dwarf said, with a wry grin. The sword came up with a snap to lay against her broad shoulder. “Come on then, into the church with you, enough of this damned sneaking around. I’ll go see if the High Priestess is still awake, but if she’d not, damned if you’re not coming back in the morning, no matter how urgent your business is.”
They followed her instructions, even Mole caught short of a snappy comeback by the abrupt nature of the dwarven woman.
* * * * * *
“And so we came here,” Dannel concluded, his voice echoing slightly off of the cavernous interior of the temple.
“The woman escaped,” Mole said.
Jenya Urikas paced across the floor in front of the great altar of Helm, her slippers padding silently on the huge blocks of white marble. She wore a troubled expression, and looked tired.
“And the woman was a cleric, you said?”
Zenna nodded. “She wore a skull icon, although I could not see more details.”
Jenya nodded. “Probably Cyric or Vesharoon. Either one introduces a new level of trouble for us, I fear.”
“I think that they were just hired assassins,” Dannel said. “And at least two of them won’t be giving us any more trouble, at least.”
“And the guard took away the bodies?”
“Yes. Though they weren’t much help, otherwise.”
“Stupid,” the dwarven woman—Beorna, she’d been introduced as—spat. She stood behind the High Priestess almost protectively, her arms folded in front of her chest. “If we still had access to them, we might have been able to figure out who sent them. Given how this town’s run, I’d not be surprised if they haven’t already been fed to that damned Watch of theirs.”
“Well, given that we’d just fought a major battle, we figured that picking a fight with the city authorities might be a bit much,” the elf replied dryly.
“And we might have an idea of who sent them,” Zenna said. She quickly summarized what they’d learned from Annah Taskerhill.
“The church of Kelemvor?” Jenya said, ceasing her pacing and sitting down on one of the pews in the front of the church.
“You don’t seem surprised at the suggestion,” Arun said.
“Over the last year, we’ve had... difficulties... with the clergy of the Lord of the Dead.”
“Difficulties?” Dannel asked.
“Embril Aloustinai—the leader of Kelemvor’s church here in Cauldron—“
“I’ve heard of her,” Zenna interrupted. By all reports, she was a mystic theurge like Zenna, one of the rare spellcasters who combined the arcane and divine paths.
Jenya nodded, not disturbed at the interruption, although Beorna frowned. “She’s always been an elusive figure,” the high priestess went on. “But in the last year, the higher ranks of the church have gotten more secretive, while at the same time gaining a larger share of influence over the city government. My sources suggest that Aloustinai is a key figure in the higher circles of power in Cauldron, and that she has the ear of the Lord Mayor.”
“During the crisis last year, with Sarcem’s murder and the theft of the wands of control water, Aloustinai offered nothing in the way of aid, despite the fact that she was then one of the only clerics in the town capable of creating the devices. And since then there’s been a clash between her order and Kristof Jurgenson, prior of the small church of Lathander located near the Hall of the Dead. The Kelemvorites have been constructing a great new spire atop their already-considerable cathedral, and Kristof charged that Aloustinai had deliberately designed her spire to block the rays of the morning sun from the House of the Morninglord.”
Beorna’s scowl deepened. “Sounds pretty petty, if you ask me,” she snorted.
“So what happened?” Mole asked.
“Nothing; Kristof’s tiny congregation lacks both wealth and power, and Aloustinai runs in the noble circles with the powerful. But the whole affair helped confirm the impression of arrogance and heedlessness of the leadership of the church of Kelemvor.”
“Although perhaps,” Dannel said softly, “some are dissatisfied at the increase of their position, as their own power and prestige has suffered... some setbacks recently.”
As his words provoked a momentary silence, Beorna stepped forward with a menacing look. “I don’t think I favor your implication, elf,” she began, her arms coming down to her sides, her hands tightening into fists.
Jenya forstalled her with a firm sweep of her hand. “No, he has the right to speak his mind,” she said. Turning to Dannel, she said, “It is true that there is some history here, and it may be clouding my judgment. But given what you’ve told me, it would be reasonable to seek out more information, and find your own answers.”
“We’d hoped you could assist us in that effort,” Zenna said. “Perhaps a commune...”
Jenya nodded, although it seemed that the gesture was accompanied with some reluctance. “I attempted such a communion with Helm shortly after I rose to this position, and had granted the power needed for such an act. I received little in the way of helpful information...”
“Maybe you did not know the proper questions to ask,” Zenna suggested.
“I will seek again, but I will need time to prepare for the ritual, at least a full day. In the meantime, you should stay here, under the protection of the church. I will have quarters prepared in the acolytes’ quarters in the rectory; goodness knows we’ve not been able to gain new recruits in recent months. ”
“And tomorrow, we’ll go pay a visit to the Temple of Kelemvor,” Arun said.
“From what I hear, Aloustinai has been away from Cauldron for the last tenday,” Jenya said. “But Ike Iverson, her second, should be there. I will send Beorna with you, as my representative.”
The dwarven woman shifted. “High Priestess...”
“I know your concern,” Jenya said. “But I think that this errand may be consistent with your mandate.” The dwarf woman nodded.
“It’s settled, then,” Jenya went on. “Come, I will see to your quarters.”
But Arun forestalled her. “There’s one other matter I wanted to speak to you about, priestess.”
The others turned to face him. “Yes, Arun?” Jenya asked.
Arun turned to Mole, who nodded, withdrawing a long, slender object wrapped in soft cloth from her bag of holding. Arun took the weapon from the gnome and held it out before him. Jenya, curious, drew back the cloth to reveal a weathered hilt—the hilt of the holy bastard sword they’d found on the Plain of Cysts on Occipitus.
“Morgan used this blade,” Arun said, “But he urged us to bring it back with us... he believed that we would have greater need of it than he.”
Jenya took the blade, a bit awkwardly, for it was nearly as tall as she was, and heavy for a sword of its size. The sword slid easily from the fine leather scabbard they’d had made for it in Saradush, revealing a blade that blazed with a pure white radiance.
“It’s... beautiful,” Jenya said.
Arun cleared his throat. “It is a holy sword, priestess. We have the weapons we need, and you have given much to defend this town from shadow... I grant it to you, to use as you see fit.”
Jenya looked surprised, and even Beorna was taken aback, although her eyes remained fixed on the impressive sword. But the dwarf woman finally realized that Jenya had turned to face her, and she lowered her head in deference.
“Templar... I bestow this gift upon you, then, that you might wield it in the service of your mandate.”
Beorna’s head came up. “I accept, and swear to wield this blade with honor in the service of the Vigilant One.”