Spaden
Sendel ordered another mug of the black mead and sat brooding, staring into his half finished meal. He didn't notice another slim figure approaching until Norrik's chair was again occupied. Abruptly he looked up, annoyed at the interruption.
Within the folds of the dark cloth hood, beauty stared back at him with a cautious smile. She had fine porcelain skin, high cheek bones and large blue eyes. Sendel could not see the ears, but judging by the face and the slim shoulders, it was a jevani that shared his table. He'd met and spoke with several jevani ambassadors in is father's barony. But to have one sitting across a table, at this moment, in a tavern half a continent from his father's barony was a quite a shock.
After a short while, Sendel found his tongue.
"Uh... to... what do I owe the honor, m'lady?" he began.
"Professional courtesy." she said. Her voice was like silk.
"Professional?"
"You have the look of wealth about you, this evening. Now, whose wealth would that be? Are you a lord of the city or a servant out spending his lord's money?"
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Sendel of Normidia, heir to the duchy of Fashad, cousin to the throne and assistant to Lord Galen Dar, the Normidian Ambassador to Kitar." He smiled roguishly. "And you are?"
"Spaden." she said with a smile. She pulled her hood off and shook her mane free. Her hair was honey and sunlight.
"Well... Spaden, it is a pleasure to meet you. I don't see many jevani this far east." he said. "Are you from Cyrell or the distant Ethara."
"Cyrell. I am only recently come to this eastern empire."
"Well, allow me to welcome you to the empire and perhaps I could buy you dinner as well." He motioned to the barkeep and a glass of Cyrellian emerald wine was brought out. Spaden smiled and nodded in appreciation.
"I would be pleased to help you spend some of your hard earned wealth. I suppose being an ambassador's assistant pays quite well."
"There are, uh, fringe benefits."
"I can imagine. Working late each night must have its rewards."
"Actually the work is little. The Normidian Ambassador is rarely called to court and so I have a great deal of free time on my hands."
"And do you fill your empty evenings with social calls?"
"I do what I can to ease tension between my master and the other ambassadors. There are those that feel a Normidian ambassador is unneeded since our two kingdoms are so far apart and have such little contact."
"And yet your steal into their hearts like a thief in the night burgling a house."
Silk paused and search her eyes looking for some hidden meaning. Was she aware of his night time hobby? Could she be a guard? But she returned his gaze with innocence.
"You must have many jeweled secrets and golden wisdoms pryed from their hands," she continued. "Share your treasures with me."
"I am privy to much which is not publicly known. Information is my most valuable tool amoung the noble circles."
"Of course, there are probably many who wish to protect their... state secrets."
"Some are defensive... yes," he said cautiously.
"Defensive, playing games with words, laying traps. Tell me, have you ever come upon one unwilling to give up a state secret, unable to share. Like a locked door barring passage to treasures rare and wondrous. Even though you think you've whittled down their resistant and disarmed the locks to their souls, the doors won't budge."
Silk paused. He had had enough of this trickery.
"It is not politicians you speak of. Be plain with your words. Who are you? A city guard?"
"No. I am one like you," she said quietly. "One who loves the solace of the shadows and embraces the night."
"That doesn't explain you're cryptic words. Out with it."
"I watched you tonight. Over the wall, through the garden and into the house. Baubles and trinkets aplenty. But the trophy room..." she paused as if searching for words that would not offend, "...was your undoing."
"You saw me," he said straining to keep his voice down, noticing several bar patrons turn his way. "And you witnessed my failure at the door as well?"
"Not directly, but I deduced what happened within the house. And that is precisely why I have sought you out. You see," she again paused and looked about to make sure that none were listening," you didn't fail."
"I beg your pardon."
"The lock. You didn't fail. You disarmed it."
"What are you talking about. You just admitted that you didn't directly witness my actions. I was there. Even though I am loathe to admit it, I tell you I failed. I worked on the mechanism and was sure that I had disarmed it, but the door didn't budge."
"That's because the door wasn't a door."
"Now you speak in riddles."
"Allow me to explain. I have stolen into that house twice before and once again tonight."
"In three visits I would think you would have cleaned the house bare, but when I was there last night, I found plenty worth stuffing in my sack."
"I'm not interested in the common baubles. You can have them. I'm only interested in the trophy room."
"Ah, the supposedly "thief proof" trophy room of Myranor. So it's a reputation you're looking for."
"Actually, I'd just as soon remain anonymous. It's the actual treasures of the room that interest me. I'm in it for the profit, pure and simple. And curiosity. I'm dying to know what's in there. I've heard stories of fabulous wealth."
"I can tell you what's there," said Silk casually. He picked up his knife and fork and began working on his meat again. "Besides coffers overflowing with copper and silver, there is the Heart of Alykor, a magnificent firestone said to be as large as child's fist and without flaw. There's also a hundred prizes taken from various quests and hunting expedtions along with a large collection of fabulous weaponry. Not surprising considering the owner."
"Who do know all this? Who is the owner?"
"Why, that's my speciality. Like I said, information is my most effective tool. I like to research a place before I rob it. And the owner of this magnificent estate is none other than Belisar, the Lord of the War Hall and Commander of the Kitaran Military Forces. That's one reason why there are no magical defenses anywhere in the house. Lord Belisar considers it unmanly to use magic in any capacity."
"I wasn't aware of that," the young elfling admitted with a small pout.
"So I take it in three visits you also failed to get pass the door that is not a door."
"Yes, but in three visits I have divined the nature of the lock and the door." She leaned forward and whispered. "I know how we can get past the door and into the trophy room."
"We?"
She nodded.
"Go on."
"I tell you what I know now only because I know you will not able to use this knowledge against me or without me." She ignored his frown and continued. "The door which houses the locking mechanism is not the true door into the trophy room. It's a fake. The true door is concealed and fitted into the east wall made to look exactly like the book shelves. One of those bookshelves, the middle one, can be pushed back. It rolls up a ramp, probably a steep one, and locks in place at the top. It can be pushed only when the mechanism is unlocked.
"And how, exactly, do you know this?" asked Sendel, a little annoyed that she had information he didn't.
"The mechanism was designed by Murrok, a Kalimuran Technomancer. I once visited Kalimura and had the opportunity to study some of his work. I believe this mechanism to be of Murrok's design."
"You seem to be quite versed in the more technical aspects of our night time trade."
"I've studied."
Silk smiled.
"Anyway," she continued, "I believe the mechanism is designed such that the key has to remain in the lock for the wall to be pushed back. If the key is removed, the rollers would snap back into place if weight were applied against the moving section of wall. This particular feature makes the mechanism quite formidable."
"You seem to admire it."
"I do."
"Well, there's no way we can get the key. There's only one copy and Belisar keeps it on a leather thong around his neck." Silk took another bite and chewed slowly, thoughtfully. "So, in order to open the door without the key, one person would have to push the wall back and lock in it place while another holds the locking mechanism in check."
"Exactly."
"Why couldn't an industrious thief just unlock the mechanism and just jam it open with a longtooth," Sendel said, smoothly pulling out a long smooth file shaped tool with a hook on the end.
She smiled an easy smile, now completely in her element, speaking with a fellow practicer of the trade, enveloping herself in the beautiful intricacies of the perfect "job", all the parts moving like a well oiled lock.
"Several things, actually. The central piston rotates as the wall is pushed back. That might dislodge the tool. And if it did, the mechanism would snap shut, possibly destroying the tool and the locking mechanism for good. Too risky."
Sendel grunted in agreement. He had once had that happen to him. He'd lost a fine longtooth and had had to give up on a lucrative job. The lock had been mangled to the point that he could no longer manipulate it.
"More importantly," Spaden continued, "there are two rollers in this mechanism, one on either side and they rotate positions as the wall is pushed back. They must both be held in the unlocked position through the entire motion."
Sendel whistled long and low. "That would be almost impossible... to keep them balanced and apart. I don't think I'd ever be able to do that."
Spaden smiled. "And I know that I'm not strong enough to push the wall back."
"Are you proposing a joint venture?"
"I am. This lock is the most advanced design I've ever seen. A lock that can only be defeated by two thieves."
"Why me? Why not hire some street thug to do your pushing?"
"Warriors are clumsy, noisy and can't climb. You've already proven that you can get in and out without leaving a single blade of grass disturbed. Besides, I'd rather work with a fellow thief. I'd trust a burglar more than a warrior anyday. I had to atleast see if you were interested. Professional courtesy", she said with a shrug.
"Well, in that case, I would be delighted to accept your gracious invitation." He raised his glass and she raised hers.
"To professional courtesy," he said touching his glass to hers.
"And to our success."
Gathering Gloom
[This scene hasn't been written yet. But it will be a short scene and here's basically what happens :
The guards come and take Valdemar, the mage, away. The other prisoners are left alone in the dark with nasty feelings. Are they each to be taken away one by one and tortured? As is what happened to the Prince and Tyrus, the bodyguard - shortly after Valdemar is taken, the prisoners here screams which last only a minute and then suddenly cease.
Other stuff which might appear in this scene :
1. Hogarth and Kelverin will become more dominant "central" characters. They are stronger and keep the group's spirits up. Kelverin because of his faith and he's a compassionate healer. Hogarth because he's stubborn, tough, refuses to give in to despair. Also, Hogarth starts poking around the cell looking for a weakness and a way out.
2. The others prisoners are each given a bit more detail. Some character interaction. More detail on the dungeon and their immediate environment.]
Kelverin peered out his crack. The stars and blackness of night were beginning to give way to a brightening of the blue sky. Had it been two days or three in this cell? He couldn’t remember.
Hogarth goes poking around the bricks
door opens
guards come
prisoners on their feet
guards order prisoners to the back of the cell
they order Jerrik to come forward
guard gets impatient and grabs Jerrik
Hogarth grabs guard and holds knife to his throat
drop you weapons or he’s dead
Ellison takes crossbow from other guard
shoots hostage guard
I don’t negotiate
Drag Jerrik away.
Kelverin plugs his ears so as not to hear the screams
Untitled
Slowly walking through the dark corridors of the castle, Alfax payed little heed to the soft jingle of armor or heavy boots that sounded behind him. He had grown quite used to Kaellor's presence and all but ignored him except when circumstances demanded otherwise. The soft swish swish of Alfax's robes brushed the floor as he hobbled along. The gentle thud of his staff came to a stop. Instantly, Kaellor's visor came down and his sword was out. Alfax looked up from his thoughts and peered into the darkness. A soft gibbering caressed the shadows. Alfax probed the shadows with his mind even as Kaellor swept through them with his gaze, vision enhanced by the magical visor. Slowly, a short, humanoid hobbled into view. Disproportionately long arms and short legs made the creature seem almost crippled. Its long nose, bulbous black eyes and rubbery leather hide only added to its strange appearance. Kaellor relaxed his guard slightly.
"Ah, Skrung," said Alfax, beckoning with a hand. "Walk with me." The small creature fell into step with Alfax, limping along as best it could.
"Are you not the most faithful of my servants?"
"Truly Lord", came the reply. Skrung's voice was as twisted as his small body. A buzzing, raspy voice that bubbled up from his small chest.
"Tell me... how fares my small realm? The prisoners?"
"Restless... like caged rats, my Lord"
"And my 'faithful' followers."
"Eager to wage war."
A grumble of agreement sounded from Kaellor.
"Patience, my young friends. All is unfolding as it should."
"You suspect something, Lord" asked Skrung.
"Vigilance, Skrung. We risk much with our current activities and ally with unreliable neighbors. I will tolerate no laxes in security. Especially Ellison. That fat fool is not worth the food we feed him. Watch them all. Coordinate with Bastyrr. Now go".
Skrung vanished back into the shadows that were his home. Alfax and Kaellor continued on to the end of the corridor and paused before a great set of mahogany doors which slowly and silently swung inward with a gesture of Alfax's gnarled hand.
Inside, a vast and lush chamber awaited the archmage. Surroundings comfortably familiar to the ancient man. The hearth erupted in a cozy fire at a glance from him. Instruments in the corner rose from their resting places on satin cushions to float in the air and play gentle music which floated through the chamber. Kaellor moved to help Alfax with his staff and robe, which were placed on their respective hooks. Alfax went through the motions mechanically, his mind on his next project. He did not relish the task. Following his thoughts, his glance strayed across the room to the large basin of water that stood at the far end of the chamber. It's silvery surface shimmered with spectral colors, but reflected nothing back.
Alfax sat at his desk and looked through the notes and reports that Rhaemus had so neatly written and carefully organized. Supply requisitions, troop reports and more. In his every gesture, Rhaemus was a model of efficiency and cleanliness. Every line precise, every letter crisp, every column totaled and complete. Alfax smiled at his castellan's efficiency. Despite the fact that Rhaemus could run the castle alone, he could not fend off the more unpleasant duties of its ruler.
With a sigh, Alfax put the notes aside and rose. As he made his way across the chamber toward the basin, he absent mindedly smoothed the wrinkles from his robe. He did not enjoy this communications with the Citadel. Kalek was too smug in his position, too sure of the superiority of the Citadel. His tone often bordered on condescending which made Alfax furious.
Extending his palm flat against the cool, smooth surface of the water, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Reality about him faded and blurred. The silvery water wrapped about his mind into which he slipped, floating down into and through a silvery tunnel of water. Making contact was always difficult, but it had to be done. Sensing a connection, Alfax returned to himself and opened his eyes.
The water of the basin rose up and shaped itself into a humanoid form. As the water rose up to eye level with the wizard, it gained clarity and detail morphing into a male half-org. The image of Kalek folded its arms and cocked its head to one side. Although the water was clear, Alfax recognized the unique robe and armor combination worn by officers of the Citadel which often boasted richly colored silks.
"We have not heard from you in three days. The Council was becoming concerned."
"Capturing an ambassadorial team is not easy thing."
"Report," came the abrupt command.
Alfax's glare darkened.
"I am not some neophyte apprentice to be spoken to in that tone. I am not a citizen of Duthelm nor do I owe any allegiance to the Citadel. I cooperate at my discretion."
"Was the ambush successful?" asked Kalek, ignoring him.
"Completely. I leave nothing up to chance, no contingency unprepared. I prefer to have the upper hand when dealing with such variables."
"And the prisoners?"
"Alive and well."
"What of the spell we provided you?"
"You provided?"Aflax was livid with rage.
"Yes. We went to great lengths to acquire those books. To think, the great mage Alfax Deathchilde relying on the ancient scribbles of some forgotten hedge wizard. If it weren't for the resources of the Citadel...
"If it were not for my mastery of the magic, such a spell would have been impossible! Your grand schemes rest entirely upon my magic. Never forget that! Velthir was a grand mage in his day and a master of such dweomercraft. It took me over a month to translate his notes on the subject. Even then, it is a complex and strenuous spell. I must rest before I can attempt it again."
"How long, then, until all simulants are complete?"
"I can have three ready within a sundrift, but even then they will still be forming."
"That is unacceptable. Our schedule-"
"-which I was not consulted on-" Alfax interjected.
"-does not allow for such delays. King Auric's health fails rapidly. We do not expect him to live to see another sundrift. We will need the other simulants formed and ready for implantation by then."
"Impossible. I will have three, perhaps four, ready for travel by the end of this sundrift. The prince's advisor will be next."
"That will hardly suf-"
"That will have to do!"
"The council will not be pleased with this turn of events. Furthermore-"
With clenched fist, Alfax swung his hand through the watery humanoid figure which exploded into a shower of droplets and collapsed back into the basin. The water, rippling and thick of froth at the sudden disruption, gradually quieted until only the shimmering silver remained.
Gripping the sides of the basin, Alfax seemed to speak to the water. "I am surrounded by fools who do not realize the magnitude of my work. I would hand them Kitar on a spit and yet they make demands of me as of a common footman!"
A quick gesture caused the hanging silver bell next to his desk to ring. Instantly, Alfax's manservant appeared. He was dressed in his usual finery... crushed velvet pantaloons, a silk shirt and an embroidered leather vest. His graying beard was parted into two braids that he thought quite fashionable.
"Heggul, fetch me Commander Drake at once."
"Right away, sir". With a quick bow, Heggul slipped between the parted doors and went on his way to fetch the commander. It was not often that the military commander received a private summons. Something important was happening. Heggul would have much to gossip about when this errand was done. He quickened his pace, turned a corner and was gone.
Inside, Alfax sat down and wondered how long he had before the King finally breathed his last breath.
Untitled
[Back in Kitar, in Myranor, Garamand tends to the King. Despite Garamand's best efforts, the King dies. This will be a short scene. It may show the reader a bit of the inner political machinations of Myranor and give a bit more detail on the other political figures.]
This page last updated Wednesday, December 24, 2008. Copyright 1990-2009 David M. Roomes.