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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1579533" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 148The man who called himself “the Honest Minstrel” led the companions down a dusty staircase that descended off a narrow side-corridor adjacent to the inn’s kitchens, down to a door of solid-looking oak heavily banded with iron.  The noise from the common room, not more than twenty paces distant, was almost completely muted, and as they descended the only other sound was the sound of Hodge finishing the last of the sausage links he’d purloined from Mikimax’s spread.  The last of the fat links vanished into the dwarf’s beard with a thick slurp.  Zenna turned and shot him a hard look, but the dwarf merely shrugged and belched loudly.  The door opened to reveal a spacious subterranean chamber, with a look more suited to a lord’s hall than an inn cellar.  Great pillars of smooth stone supported the weight of the inn above, and between those bastions was an open space dominated by a great ovoid table around which a dozen high-backed chairs were situated.  Seated at one of those chairs was a man, clad in a workingman’s tunic of clean linen reinforced with leather patches.  He was older than any of them, perhaps fifty, through he still had an air of vitality about him, and his muscled hands seemed as though they needed only tools in them to make them complete.  He looked up and smiled at them as they entered, although there was something in his eyes, hooded.  “Good evening,” he said to them.  “I am Oliron Masht, known in this body as the Foreman.  Please come in, make yourselves comfortable; we will begin once the others arrive.”“What of Alec Tercival?  And the merchant, Maavu?” Arun asked. “All of your questions will be answered as best we are able,” Masht said.  “It will not be long now.”The Honest Minstrel crossed the room and poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter on a sideboard butted up against the far wall of the chamber.  He did not offer any such hospitality to the others, and when he returned to the table to speak to the Foreman, his soft tone and body language indicated that the conversation was not open to outside participants.  An awkward silence resulted at the far end of the table, where the companions gathered.  Mole, typically the catalyst for chatter, was still feeling out of sorts, and Zenna almost laughed at the various scowls on the faces of the men.  What keeps us together? she thought.  Unable to simply sit still and wait, she turned and walked toward the one of the side walls that looked interesting.  Although the lighting was poor, with her darkvision she could clearly discern the artistic displays that had been carved into the wall in relief.  Upon closer examination she could see the quality of the work, depicting a series of scenes in sequence across the wall from left to right.  A tall, robed figure, carved in profile with a noble cast to his features was prominently featured in most of them.  A wizard, Zenna thought, examining one scene where the man was depicted raising the massive walls that shielded Redgorge.  In other scenes, the figure was shown with a winged woman who was offering him a quarterstaff wreathed in symbolic flames; defending the city against a horde of terrible, monstrous creatures; now holding the staff boldly as he faced a huge dog-headed, four-armed demon; and finally vanishing into a mountain that hovered protectively over the town below.  “Surabar Spellmason,” a voice said, interrupting her contemplation of the artwork and drawing her attention back to the table.  It was Masht who had spoken, his eyes aglow with an inner fire as he regarded her.  Belatedly she realized that the far door had opened, and that two newcomers had joined the company; Mikimax the innkeep and a familiar face: Maavu.  Of Alec Tercival, there was no sign.  “The founder of our order,” Masht went on, “who dedicated the Chisel to working for the greater Good of the region.”  The way he said it, there was no mistaking the capital; the word clearly had a greater meaning to the man. And to his listeners.  Maavu looked chagrined for a moment, an expression that he quickly mastered before heading forward toward the table, while Mikimax nodded solemnly, as if acknowledging a blessing. Maavu pulled out a chair and seated himself near the middle of the table, straddling the invisible line that seemed to separate the Foreman and Honest Minstrel at one end, and the adventurers at the other.  Mikimax, true to his role as innkeeper, crossed to the sideboard and secured the decanter there, along with a half-dozen slender glasses for those gathered at the table.  “I am so pleased that you elected to come,” Maavu said with sincerity at the companions.  “I fear that I did not get a chance to adequately thank you for your intervention on my behalf... before.”“Any further news?” the Foreman asked him. “Nothing new,” Maavu said.  “Our foe bides its time, it would seem...”“Perhaps not,” the Honest Minstrel began, but was interrupted as Morgan asked bluntly, “Our foe?”The Foreman sighed.  “A force of chaos and evil stirs in Cauldron,” he said.  “We have been tracking its development for quite some time, although the actual source of danger has remained cloaked in the shadows, not revealing its true nature.  Maavu, by forcing the issue, has not helped matters... you stand to make the Chisel into a scapegoat for the people of Cauldron.”The Honest Minstrel snickered.  “I sense the hand of the Last Laugh at work in that business.  Face it Maavu, they suckered you, nothing else!”Maavu bristled at the comment and turned to face the bard.  “Better dead than slaves!  A wandering strummer like you should know!”“Peddler!  You count lives like money!  No difference to you, eh?”Maavu opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted as the Foreman slammed his palm into the surface of the table.  “Enough!  We have enough difficulties without squabbling like children.  Ekaym, you were about to say something earlier, about events in Cauldron?”The Honest Minstrel grimaced.  “Aye.  My sources tell me that Skellerang has plans to move a force from the city garrison to Redgorge, to secure and search the town.”The companions exchanged a look as the gathered members of the Chisel reacted with incredulity—even Masht’s calm façade betraying more than a hint of anger before he schooled his features to stony control. “This does not bode well,” Mikimax rumbled.  “The people will resist Skellerang’s half-orcs... at least some will.”“I cannot believe that the Lord Mayor would allow such,” Morgan said. “There is much that I likewise would not have believed, a year past,” Masht said wearily.  “But many things have changed.”The wizened craftsman turned to Maavu.  “Alec will have to publicly renounce his challenge, to forestall this action,” he said.  “Agreed,” Maavu said, looking deflated. “Well, that settles that,” Arun said.  “Now be time for the question we brought here: where is the paladin of Helm?”The four members of the Chisel exchanged a meaningful look.  Finally their eyes settled on Maavu.  The wizard-merchant looked stricken.  “We don’t know.”Dannel cleared his throat, drawing their attention to him.  For the first time since the gathering had begun, he spoke.  “I believe that I may have an answer to that question.”</blockquote>

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