Part the Ninety-Second:
In which: Anvil does not win friends and influence people
At over fifty feet in length, lake waders are truly remarkable creatures. The dwarves have harnessed two of the giant reptiles to the prow of the barge, who with slow and steady strokes of their tails draw the craft up the river. Most of the party stands, watching in fascination the spectacle of the animals’ lean muscles bunching and relaxing under slick, blue-gray skins—dappled by shadows beneath the water, and glistening in the winter sunlight when the beasts lift their heads and long, graceful necks to the surface to breathe.
Kiara stares, open-mouthed. “That is so cool.”
Thatch nods wordlessly. Forget cool. These are the most remarkable creatures he has ever seen. He catches the arm of a passing dwarf.
“Excuse me.” Thatch points to the lake waders. “Can you ride them?”
The dwarf looks at Thatch as though he is just a little dim. “Well… I wouldn’t.”
“But is it possible?”
The dwarf squints up at Thatch’s hopeful face. “How long can you hold your breath, son?”
Thatch’s expression falls. “Oh.”
##
Anvil looks up from the churning water and takes a gulp of fresh air. As fascinating as it is to watch a massive barge hauled upriver, through frothing, choppy water… Well, Anvil decides he would prefer to retain his breakfast.
Tearing his eyes off the bright surface of the water, Anvil scans the deck instead. The dwarves are busy at their work, and most of his companions are gathered at the bow to watch the lake waders. The five Sovereignite passengers have broken their circle on the deck, and gradually, Anvil notices that the Inquisitor has fixed him in her gaze.
He makes a respectful nod, and seeing that she has his attention, the woman signals that he should approach.
Anvil does. "Greetings, I am Anvil the Just," he introduces himself, finishing with a deep bow.
The woman returns neither the greeting, nor the bow.
"What are you doing in our lands, Justicar?"
Although this lack of courtesy would normally be considered quite rude, Anvil wisely decides not to make an issue of it.
"We are on a mission of King Orin of Dar Pykos, seeking powerful wizards who might serve as Chancellor of the Mage's Academy. Might I ask what mission you travel on?"
The woman raises an eyebrow. "You may not. Do you carry any proof of this 'mission?'"
"Certainly." Anvil takes his staff, and opens the compartment within, removing letters from King Orin, Bastion the Just, as well as the ones recently received from Lord Agasha. He does not offer the letters from the temples of Alirria Ehkt and Sedellus. The guards flinch as Anvil reaches for the staff, but the woman motions for them to stand down.
She examines the letters carefully.
"And are you merely passing through on this quest, or do you believe one of these archmages whom you seek is within our lands?"
Anvil deliberates for the barest second before answering, "We believe one of these individuals may be found in the place you call The Valley at the Center of the Storm. Once we have delivered our invitation, we will depart."
The woman considers Anvil for a few moments more before handing back the letters.
Anvil takes them with a bow. "If you will excuse me?"
She dismisses him with a gesture. Anvil withdraws having the distinct feeling of having been appraised and found not only wanting, but so far from what is wanted so as to be unmentionable. It isn't a sensation he likes much.
##
In late afternoon, the barge reaches the first of two massive cascades it will have to traverse before reaching the lake that is the party’s ultimate destination. The River of Great Descent, it turns out, is not so named for nothing, as its source, the Lake of Exalted Heights is several thousand feet above sea level, deep in the Ketkath Mountains. In a marvel of engineering, the dwarves have constructed a series of lifts, powered by the waterfall itself to move cargo (along with passengers and crew) from the barge below to the one waiting above and vice versa. In other places, they have actually re-routed the riverbed in order to more easily facilitate travel.
As they rise up beside the waterfall, Eva finds herself swallowing rapidly to clear her ears as they adjust to the new altitude. However, she has to admit that the views down river are absolutely stunning. Once to the top, the find a second barge, nearly identical to the first, waiting for them to board.
Once they are settled again, and after taking the evening meal, Reyu descends to the hold to makes sure Paws is comfortable in his new lodgings. Finding it warm, quiet, and away from prying eyes, she lies down next to his shaggy bulk and settles in for the night.
The rest of the party camps beneath a makeshift tent on deck. Although the wind off the river is cold and they do set their usual watches, the slow motion of the boat helps everyone to sleep soundly.
At midnight, a bell begins to toll.
Those party members not on watch pull themselves out of bed fearing the worst: the ship has run aground, someone has fallen overboard, the lake-waders have broken their harnesses and have turned to demolish the barge.
In the opinion of some of the adventurers, what they find is even worse.
The Lady Inquisitor stands on deck near the stern, flanked by two of her guards, her other companions in attendance. All the dwarves not absolutely necessary for the running of the boat are appearing on deck and forming neat rows in front of her.
The bell is calling a worship service.
Lira bites back her usual oath of "Ehkt's balls." She knows that Anvil prays at midnight, but this looks like more than clerical attendance is expected.
"What should we do?" Benedic whispers in the dark.
Thatch surveys the scene. "The dwarves are going, we probably should too."
Anvil strides confidently to the front of the congregation where he is grudgingly shown a place by the Inquisitor's attendants, while the rest of the party slips as discretely as possible into the last row. Though most of them are putting all of their attention into watching the person in front of them and copying their actions, they can all feel the Inquisitor staring at them.
Thatch, having lived for a time at the Temple of the Justicars in Dar Pykos, has a bit more than a passing familiarity with the rituals of worship. (He may have been Anvil's prisoner at the time, but he certainly had good reason to fervently pray that Ketenek's Justice would be done.) He recognizes similarities to the current service, but the language is much more severe.
Most of the party has some idea what to do, or is skilled at faking their way through things that they don't, but Annika always feels like she is a step behind where she is supposed to be. Eva and Kiara try to help her, but their whispered instructions only make her more confused. If she could just stop and think for a second, she's sure she could get the responses in where they're supposed to be.
She looks up, hoping for some kind of divine guidance, whatever the source. All her eyes find is the disapproving glare of the Inquisitor.
Once the service is finally concluded, the party quickly returns to their beds, but Anvil is waylaid by one of the Inquisitor's guards and brought before the lady herself.
"One of your people was missing tonight." Her tone is even colder than usual.
Anvil realizes for the first time that Reyu did not emerge from the hold, and must still be with Paws below. Anvil makes a perfectly accurate reply. "Yes."
The Inquisitor's eyes narrow. "The elf, she does not honor Kettenek?"
Although he is not frequently called upon to be diplomatic, Anvil is capable in a pinch. "I am sure she does, but she is an elf. Her rituals are her own."
The woman's voice drops another ten degrees. "You will tell your elf that while she is in our lands, she will observe our customs."
"I will tell her." Although Anvil makes the mental note to leave out the "your elf" part of the message.
The Inquisitor does not seem particularly satisfied. "What is your business here?" she demands again.
"I have told you-" Anvil begins.
"I know what you have told me. I wish to know what you have not."
Anvil grits his teeth. "We are on a mission from King Orin and our Temple leaders. We come seeking a powerful wizard."
"Are you going to the Sharpstone Pass?" she abruptly demands.
Anvil blinks. "We have no plans to do so." When pressed further, Anvil gives the Inquisitor a rough itinerary: the group plans to visit the Ironroot mines to redeem promissory notes from the dwarves and then, backtracking to the lake, follow the riverbanks to the Valley at the Center of the Storm.
"If I find you have been less than candid with me, it will go very badly for you." The Inquisitor informs him archly.
"Of that," says Anvil, "I have no doubt."
She turns abruptly away, leaving Anvil alone on deck, dismissed.
###
Although no light penetrates the cargo hold, Reyu instinctively rises at first light and conducts her prayers in seclusion. When she reaches the deck, she finds Anvil waiting for her.
“Greetings Anvil, did you sleep well?”
“We need to talk.”
###
Lira and Benedic have been watching the lake waders all morning, interspersed with Benedic pointing out interesting plants and animals glimpsed on the banks on either side of the barge, in between sneaking glances at each other. Conversation has been pretty thin for a while.
Benedic is just about to make another observation about the local plant life when he is interrupted by a young dwarf.
“Sir. Lady.” The sailor is out of breath, whether from nerves or exhaustion is unclear. “I’m sorry. Madame Inquisitor requests you attend her. Immediately.” With a quick nod over his shoulder in the direction of the Inquisitors’ tent, he is on his way, hurrying over to where Eva is attempting to teach Thatch the finer points of poker.
“Well, guess we’d better attend then,” Benedic observes.
Lira nods.
Soon, the entire party is gathered before the Inquisitor outside her tent (Lira and Benedic arriving a few steps behind following a detour by their packs where Euro hid himself and Lira’s holy symbol in her bedroll).
The Inquisitor looks down at them all and says simply. “You will not resist.”
And the man beside her begins to cast.
