DDDDD ZZZZZZ // D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE || D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 13 -=========================================================+|) D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 7 DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE || \\ \ ======================================================================== DargonZine Distributed: 7/30/2000 Volume 13, Number 7 Circulation: 760 ======================================================================== Contents Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb Magestorm 2 Mark A. Murray Yuli 1017 Talisman Five 2 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Sy 18-23, 1010 ======================================================================== DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet. We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project. Please address all correspondence to or visit us on the World Wide Web at http://www.dargonzine.org/. Back issues are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon. DargonZine 13-7, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright July, 2000 by the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb , Assistant Editor: Jon Evans . All rights reserved. All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories and artwork appearing herein may not be reproduced or redistributed without the explicit permission of their creators, except in the case of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution. Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden. ======================================================================== Editorial by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb Welcome to DargonZine 13-7! In this issue, we continue two stories that were begun in our last issue: Mark Murray's "Magestorm", and Dafydd's long-running "Talisman" epic. If you've read the Editorials in our last two issues, it won't come as a surprise to you that we've now given you, the reader, the ability to "rate" every Dargon story you read. In our past two issues we piloted this feature, and response was pretty favorable. Now, at the end of the Web version of every story that we print, you'll find a sidebar that gives you the option of telling us whether you liked the story or not. This now appears in all of the back issues that we've converted to HTML, and it will also appear in all future issues! By rating each story, you'll help us learn what you like, so that we can in turn write better stories. Please take the time to check out this new feature, because it's a quick and easy way for you to tell us how our writers can get better at what they do! Finally, since that's all the news I have, I'll end this Editorial with a quick reminder that we need you to help spread the word about DargonZine. While we may be the longest-running zine on the Internet, we're very strictly noncommercial and don't send out spam or spend any money on advertising. Instead, we rely almost entirely on our readers to let other people know about DargonZine. So if you know of someone who would enjoy the huge quantity of great fiction that we provide, please let them know about our site. That's all! ======================================================================== Magestorm Part 2 by Mark A. Murray Yuli 1017 Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 13-6 "Illiena!" It was a scream in the night; a plea to a loving goddess for aid in the dark bells of life. "Merrif," came a sleepy answer, but not from the goddess. The reply came from a creature that was awakened by the scream. "Illiena!" Merrif cried out again. "Wake up, Merrif," Niatha replied, slowly stretching out his legs. "You're having the dream again." "Eh?" Merrif snorted. He rolled over onto his back, pushed some of his long brown hair away from his face and opened his eyes. "Was I screaming again?" He groaned as he rubbed his eyes. "I almost saw her ..." "I fear you'll only see her when you die," Niatha sighed. He curled his tail around his body while he squirmed his way deeper into the blankets. "I'm still tired and the sun has yet to strike my eyes harshly." "I was in a tower," Merrif said, ignoring Niatha. "It wasn't a tower here in Dargon or anywhere close by. I think it was quite a distance away. It was a tower that spiraled upwards. It --" "Do you have to tell me now?" Niatha whined. "Hush and listen! You know I'll forget it when the sun finally shines." Niatha let out a quiet hiss as he turned his head to look at Merrif. "What about the tower?" "There was an energy about it. A malevolent energy that had been sleeping until someone or something woke it. There were others with me. The man we met yesterday at the marketplace was there." "Raphael or Lylle?" Niatha asked. "Raphael." "The day's events always creep into dreams," Niatha replied. "Probably him because he knew of Illiena." "There were others, but they were people I didn't know. Tall skinny men and women. Some were dressed in white and others in black. There was one woman dressed in red. And all sorts of animals were about." "Truly a vivid dream. Is that all?" Niatha yawned. "Nearly so. Only a mene more and you can go back to sleep." "What of the tower?" "Something awoke in it. Something powerful and deadly. I don't remember much of what happened, but we were fighting it. It was winning. The tower shook with the magic inside it. Things were going badly and I cried out to Illiena. A bright light in the form of a person appeared ..." "And?" Niatha asked. "That's when you woke me," Merrif replied. "All that talk yesterday about Illiena can't have helped. You dream about her every night. Maybe one day you should focus on something else?" Niatha turned to settle back into the quilt when he noticed the faint light in the window. "Aah," he sighed with a low resigned voice as his head plopped onto the bed. "No use going to sleep now. The sun is coming." "We have to go back to the marketplace," Merrif told him. "What?" "We're meeting Raphael and Lylle again." "I don't remember agreeing to that." "You were sleeping." "When did you switch from talking about Illiena?" Niatha asked. He stretched out his front legs and rolled over on his back. Squirming into the quilt, he said, "It's so warm, I don't want to move." "You've got to get up sometime." "No, I'll just lay here all day," Niatha replied. At that moment, the sun chose to reflect its rays in through the window to land on the floor. "Not unless you can block out the sun," Merrif said. "It's creeping closer." "I'll just turn my back to it and it will go away," Niatha replied. "I have a better idea," Merrif said, smiling. He threw the quilt off of himself and over Niatha. "There, you won't have to worry about the sun all day." Sitting up, he moved around the lump that was Niatha to get to the edge of the bed. Niatha rolled and shifted until he was out of the quilt. "Merrif!" Niatha hissed. His fur was ruffled and his wings were out away from his body. He flapped his wings a few times and then collapsed them against his body. He used his paw to smooth out his fur. Merrif got dressed and walked over to his table. On it were scrolls, vials of liquids and powders, small empty bags, a couple of books, and a wand. "If we're going to the marketplace again, we might as well try to sell some potions." He sat down and started mixing some powders and liquids. "Why did you bring me here?" Niatha asked. "You won't catch me by surprise," Merrif replied. "I told you that I don't want to talk about it." "You had to have a reason. Something. What were you doing?" "Why do you want to know?" "Don't you think I should know?" "No," Merrif answered in a quick, almost harsh, tone. He stopped mixing and started packing his potions and powders into his pack, slowly and deliberately. His long thin fingers carefully picked up each item and gingerly placed it into the pack. "I won't stop asking." "I know." The room stood frozen in the silence. Even the sun seemed hesitant to strike further inward upon the floor. "Why so silent this day?" Raphael asked as he and Lylle approached Merrif's table in the marketplace. Raphael walked with a small limp and used a straight wooden cane to aid him. Lylle walked with a youthful spring in his step. It was a bright, sunny morning and Merrif was sitting on a stool behind his table while Niatha was lying on the ground. "The day is lazy," Merrif replied. There were not very many people in the marketplace. "You won't talk about magic," Niatha said, flicking the end of his long tail back and forth. "There are things about magic that shouldn't be discussed!" Merrif retorted. "I agree, but I didn't say anything about magic," Raphael said. "I'd like to cast magic," Lylle said. "No, you wouldn't!" Raphael quickly replied, a sharp edge to his voice. He turned, leaned forward a bit, and looked Lylle in the eyes. Lylle couldn't hold his stare. "Not a day to discuss magic," Merrif said. "Yes, it is," Niatha argued. "No, it isn't," Raphael agreed. "Any day would be a good day," Lylle said. "We each have our own world to live in," Merrif said. "Each of us has his own desires and his own fears, his aspirations and his failures. Yet, each of us shares the world." "Yes," Raphael sighed. He relaxed some, shifted his weight and then leaned on his cane. He looked over at Merrif. "Magic has been your life and without magic, I would guess you'd be lost. Magic has been a curse in mine and without it, I imagine I'd be happy. Lylle has lived on the streets all his life without magic, and he thinks that with it, his life would be easy and rich." "Magic is my life," Niatha said. "Or what I remember of it." He got up, shifted his weight onto his back legs and in a smooth leap, hopped onto the table. "Magic, in its own way, brought us together," Merrif said. "Huh?" Lylle said. "What's that mean?" "Yes," Niatha agreed. "I can understand us and Raphael, but not him. Raphael can see me as I am. Lylle can't. He thinks I'm a cat." "I was wondering how you included us?" Raphael asked. "Because of magic and dreams. I can't explain it, but since the two of you showed up, something has started stirring. It's like a storm brewing on the horizon, gaining strength before its assault." "What's that got to do with us?" Lylle asked. "I don't know. I don't know what the storm will bring. I don't know if the storm is really for us, but my dreams give me cause to believe we're in for some troubling times." "Why don't you use your magic to find out?" "It doesn't work that way." "You aren't going to tell them the truth about your magic, are you?" Niatha asked. Merrif ignored him. "You were in my dream last night," Merrif told Raphael, changing the subject. "And what was I doing?" Raphael asked. "What about me?" Lylle asked. "You were fighting. There were two other groups there: men dressed in all white and men dressed in all black. You were fighting both of them." "How many were there?" "Too many to remember. They seemed to flood into the room from outside." "What happened?" "I don't know. Niatha woke me before I could find out. There were other things going on, though. I thought I saw Illiena as a bright white light. And there was a woman there dressed all in red with green eyes." "Describe her more," Raphael ordered. He stopped breathing and focused his attention on Merrif. His lips were closed tightly together and his brows were creased. "That's it. She looked like most other women, except she was dressed in red. She had green eyes ... and maybe red hair. Yes, red hair. That was what made her stand out. She was all red with just green eyes." "Megan," Lylle whispered. "We don't know that for sure," Raphael retorted. "Where was this place you dreamt of?" "I don't know. Who is Megan?" "You both were there," Lylle said. "Maybe there's still hope?" "It was just a dream," Raphael hissed. His fist hit the table, causing vials to shift and rattle. A fire lit in his eyes as he stared at Lylle. Lylle stepped back away from him, a questioning look in his eyes. "I went through living without her," Raphael said, "and hoping she'd come back. I don't want to go through that again." His tone was hard and edged. "You and Megan," Merrif mumbled, putting pieces of knowledge together. Raphael turned his head slowly to look in disbelief at Merrif, but Merrif continued on, "She's gone, but I dreamed of both of you." "She's *gone*," Raphael stated, his voice deep and rough. Muscles strained in his neck and a vein bulged in his forehead. "You wouldn't try to get her back if you had the chance?" Merrif asked. "I am not like one of these people who come to you for potions," Raphael spat out, his eyes full of anger. "Your magic won't work on me. I've been through worse. I said she's gone!" He turned and started to walk away. "What if she's in danger?" Merrif asked quietly. Raphael stopped and turned around. He pursed his lips as if to say something, but instead walked slowly back to the table. No emotion showed on his face, but the air around him seemed to swirl and swish. "By Illiena's whoring life," he said, each word emphasized strongly. "She is gone." Merrif's eyes went wide and his lips moved but only spittle bubbled out. Both men stared at each other. Merrif leaned back and pushed his hands outward. "No!" Niatha yelled, but it was too late. Before he could move, Merrif's magic spiraled outward and struck Raphael in the chest. Raphael staggered back, his breath flying out of him in one big huff. "Ah," Raphael groaned as he took staggering steps to regain his balance. A green light flowed around him, draping him in an eerie glow. "Oh," he moaned, reaching out to grasp something. "Megan?" "What did you do?" Lylle asked, stepping towards Raphael. He reached out to grab Raphael but the light sparked and burnt his hand. "Ouch," he yelped and jumped back. Traces of green light faded from around his hand. "Stop it!" he ordered Merrif. "I can't," Merrif replied. "I don't know what it is." "You caused it!" Lylle yelled. "Get rid of it." Raphael's eyes turned green to match the light around him. "I don't know what I did!" Merrif yelled, staring at Raphael. "He brought it upon himself, anyway!" "You used magic," Niatha said, staring at Raphael also. "You know your magic never does what you want it to do." "Megan!" Raphael screamed as he fell forward, his knees striking the earth solidly. His cane clattered to the ground as he held his arms out, reaching for something only he could see. Pain and grief etched deep lines across his face. The green light slowly faded away. His green eyes retained their color, as if holding on to the last vestige of magic, not wanting to let go. But it was not enough. His eye color returned to brown. "Raphael?" Lylle asked, tentatively stepping forward. "Wha-- " Raphael stammered. "What did ... did you do ... to me?" His arm went out, trying to reach Merrif, trying to touch. "I don't know," Merrif answered, his voice breaking up. "Whatever it was, I'm sorry." He started to reach out to Raphael. "Cold," Raphael said, wrapping his arms around himself. Shivers ran up and down his body. He stumbled to his feet and swayed there, gently, like a small breeze was blowing him. "Your dream ... I was there." "You shouldn't have used magic," Niatha said. "He's going to want to go there, now." Niatha huffed and flapped his wings once before settling them back down against his body. "He's right," Raphael replied. "We have to go there." "Ol's piss!" Lylle yelled, looking at Niatha. "It isn't a cat!" "One can hear me and the other can see me now," Niatha sighed. "Just what did you do?" "I don't know," Merrif whispered. "But I think I've bound us all together for the storm to come." "Merrif?" Niatha called sleepily. He stretched his four paws out as he yawned. Opening his eyes, he looked around slowly, almost lazily. He saw Merrif hunched over a book at his table. Above the table, there was a piece of cloth hung over the window. The cloth wasn't thick enough to block out all of the light, but it did stop the sun's rays from reaching the bed. "Merrif?" "Eh?" Merrif muttered, lifting his head. "You're awake?" "You blocked the window." "You always yell about the sun waking you up. You want me to unblock it?" "Why?" Niatha asked. He rolled over and sat up. Tilting his head down, he used both front paws to rub his face. "I thought for sure I woke you up again, but you were sleeping sound. I got out of bed and lit the lamp and you still didn't wake up. I thought you needed the sleep, so I put the cloth over the window." "You didn't dream about Illiena?" Niatha got up and walked over to the edge of the bed. He hopped down, padded across the floor, and jumped up onto the stool. He stood on his back legs and looked at the top of the table. Sighing, he sat back down. "You've got the table all covered again." "I did dream about her," Merrif replied. "That's why I thought I woke you." "Did you dream of the tower?" "Yes. And of Raphael and Megan and Lylle and the other men. And of Illiena. That's why the table is so messy. I've been going over everything I have about her. I saw her as a bright light in the form of a person." "And?" Niatha yawned. He twirled around a couple of times on the stool before settling down, laying on his side. "Everything says that she manifests herself as a beautiful woman. Why a figure of light?" "It's a dream," Niatha replied. "Dreams are always twisted from reality." "Perhaps," Merrif mused. "Perhaps. But these dreams may hold the key to our trip." "What?" Niatha asked, sitting up quickly. "Trip?" "Yes," Merrif replied. "I think it would be good to get out and travel again. It's been too long since I was out of Dargon. I remember --" Merrif stopped as he saw Niatha's ears and nose twitch. "What?" Niatha slowly moved his head to the left and his eyes narrowed. His nose twitched again. Merrif slowly turned his head to see what held Niatha's attention. A rat had crawled in under the door and was sitting there. Niatha used his strong back legs and launched himself upward, leaving the stool sitting there motionless. In his apex, he quietly opened his wings wide. As he descended, he glided towards the rat. Suddenly, he pulled his wings in halfway and swept them back; his descent angled steeply and rapidly towards the rat. The rat sat unaware. Niatha's front paws reached out and his claws extended just as he hit it. The rat squealed in a high pitch as claws sank into its body. Niatha tucked his head down, bit hard, and rolled. He held the rat firmly as he rolled once and landed on top of it. The rat was dead. "Ugh," Merrif squeamishly said, turning his head. "Did you really have to do that? You couldn't just chase it outside and then kill it?" "I can't eat it here?" Niatha asked, still holding the rat in his claws. "No!" Merrif yelled. "Take it outside. I don't want to clean up the mess you'd make." "You've got the window blocked." "No! Don't come near my books with that thing. I'll open the door." Merrif got up and walked over to the door, carefully not looking at Niatha or the rat. He opened the door, stepped back, and turned to look the other way. "There isn't a lot of blood," Niatha remarked. "It isn't the blood," Merrif said. "I don't like to see something dead. Now get it out of here." "Things die so that others may live," Niatha said before picking up the rat with his mouth. He took it out the door and walked around the house. Merrif was just about to shut the door when he heard Raphael's voice. "Does Merrif live here?" Raphael inquired. Merrif poked his head out the door and looked up the alley. He didn't see anyone, so he turned his head and looked the other way. He saw Raphael and Lylle a few houses down. "Raphael," he called. "I live here." Raphael and Lylle turned, saw him, and started walking his way. Niatha returned before they reached the door. "I'm not going to like this, am I?" Niatha asked. "I'm comfortable here in our home. I don't want to go anywhere." "A good morn to you, Merrif," Lylle greeted him. "And to Niatha," he added. "May Illiena smile upon you all your life," Merrif replied. "If you teach me magic, I'm sure she will," Lylle said with a grin spread wide across his face. "Oh, that's just what Dargon needs," Niatha moaned. "Two mages who can't control their magic." "What's he mean by that?" Raphael asked, leaning on his cane. He was standing beside Lylle and looking down at Niatha. He lifted his face and looked at Merrif. "I forgot," Niatha apologized. "He can hear me." Niatha turned and entered the house. Merrif gestured for Raphael and Lylle to follow. "Welcome and good health," Merrif greeted them as they entered his home. Raphael and Lylle stepped into the small room. "Not many places to sit," Merrif explained. "I don't normally have company. There are two stools and the bed. Feel free to sit on any of them, but please don't bother anything on the table." Lylle walked over, sat on a stool, and looked at what was on the table. He saw scrolls, books, powders, a mortar and pestle, empty bags, vials, and a couple of mugs. Looking around the room, he saw herbs hanging on the wall to the left of the fireplace and clothes on the right. There was also a stack of wood next to the small fireplace. A bed was opposite him, against the wall. Niatha was sitting on the bed. Merrif was hanging herbs on the wall to dry. Raphael sat on the bed next to Niatha. Instead of looking around the room, he watched Niatha. "What are you?" he asked. Merrif moaned as he tied a bundle of herbs together. "That's the question I've been asking Merrif and he doesn't want to answer it," Niatha replied. His face seemed to compact some and the fur around his eyes puffed out. He looked over at Merrif, waiting for the response he knew would be there. "I did answer that question," Merrif stated. "I told you I don't know what you are. A creature of magic, most likely." "How did I get here?" Niatha asked, then turned to Raphael. "He won't answer that one, either," Niatha whispered. "I heard that!" Merrif replied. "And no, I won't answer it. Why do you want to know?" Merrif asked. Lylle seemed to be concentrating hard on the contents of the table. "I didn't mean to start a fight," Raphael said. "We go through this almost every day," Merrif said. He had finished hanging the herbs and turned around. "I'm not ready to give him that answer." "Why not?!" Niatha pleaded, his claws digging into the quilt. "I don't know what I am, who I am, where I came from. I don't know anything." "Neither do I!" Merrif spat out as he turned. "Neither do most men. We stumble about searching for answers to who we are and why we are here. We know our name and we know where we live, but we don't know much else. Why should you be any different?" He ran both hands through his hair as he waited for an answer. "Because I don't even remember my parents," Niatha said. "Lylle doesn't remember his parents," Raphael said. "And my father died in the war." Lylle looked up confused. He was only hearing part of the conversation. "Mine died of the Red Plague," Merrif said. "Something I wouldn't want anyone to go through. Niatha," Merrif sighed. "We're all searching for something. That's why I think we should find this tower in my dream. It may hold the answers to many of our questions." "Even if it doesn't, will you tell me how I got here?" Niatha asked. "Yes, whether or not the tower holds our answers, I will tell you how you came to be with me," Merrif promised. "I know where the tower is," Raphael said. All three turned and looked at him. "How?" Lylle asked. "When I was struck with Merrif's magic, I floated out and above Dargon. Then I flew straight to the tower. I know where it is." "Where is it?" Merrif asked. "Somewhat south of here, near Valdasly." "How far is that?" Niatha asked. "You're really going?" Lylle asked. He had returned to staring at the top of the table. "It's about a month or so of travel," Raphael answered Niatha, then turned towards Lylle. "I'm going only if you go too." Lylle looked up from the table and over to Raphael. "That's asking a lot," Lylle said. "Why?" Raphael asked. "What do you have here? You don't even have a place to call home." "I'm a shadow boy," Lylle replied as if that would answer everything. "Maybe it's time to be something else," Raphael said. He stood up, walked over and sat on the stool opposite Lylle. "How long can you live on the streets? Avoid the guard?" "I'll go," Lylle said softly. "How are we going to get there?" Niatha asked. "The best way would be to travel with a caravan," Merrif said. "It's expensive though." "I might be able to hire on as a guard," Raphael said. "That leaves you and Lylle." "I can get money," Lylle said, smiling. "Not a lot, but some." "I could sell a couple of my scrolls and a book to Corambis. He's had an interest in them for some time," Merrif said. "Not the Illiena ones?" Niatha asked. "No, not those," Merrif replied. "Never those." "You're going to take all this?" Raphael asked, looking at the top of the table. "Most of it," Merrif said. "I'll need it and the herbs on the wall." "And clothes," Niatha said. "Don't forget them." "What?" Lylle asked, knowing that he wasn't getting all of the conversation. "Niatha told Merrif not to forget clothes," Raphael explained. "I don't suppose you can use your magic again so I can hear him, can you?" Lylle asked Merrif. "No!" Niatha yelled. "No, I can't," Merrif said. "At least you can see him," Raphael said. "Something only the three of us can do." "He might burn your tail," Niatha said. "If you had one, that is." Raphael looked at Niatha with a confused look on his face, but didn't press the issue. "Hush," Merrif told Niatha. "We're really going to go?" Lylle asked. "Really leaving Dargon?" "Yes," Raphael replied. "I believe in Merrif's dream. I've talked to May and she said Megan went towards Valdasly. I didn't think Merrif's dream was anything important until he hit me with his magic. And Megan's too important ..." "She is special," Lylle said, staring at the fireplace. "I couldn't change her mind when she left. She was so angry at you and so frustrated." He looked up and saw Merrif's tilted head and questioning look. "It's a long story. Maybe Raphael can tell it to you on the way to Valdasly." "It'll be a long trip and there will be time for all of our stories," Merrif agreed. "First, we have to find a caravan that will take us there." "I can ask around about what caravans are leaving, but I don't know if it'll help," Lylle said. "May might know," Raphael volunteered. "She's the owner of Spirit's Haven," he explained. "It's a very nice inn that all sorts of people stop at. May knows a lot of different people from merchants to nobles. If she doesn't know, she might know who would." "Might as well go now," Lylle said. "If we're going, let's go as soon as we can." Lylle stood and headed for the door. "I'll gather some potions and herbs and take them to Corambis today," Merrif said. "Can you find your way back here?" "I can now. Your directions yesterday were clear up to the alley. After that, I started guessing," Raphael replied. He laughed and said, "Not very good guesses." "Come back tomorrow morning and let me know how you've fared." "Tomorrow, then," Raphael agreed. He left to catch up with Lylle. "Are you going to tell them everything?" Niatha asked. Merrif walked over to the bed and sat down. "I don't know. Do you think they'll change their mind if I tell them about the dreams?" "No," Niatha replied. "Raphael wants to find this Megan. He'll go with or without us." "I'll tell them, then." "Why do you trust them?" "I don't trust them fully, but to meet Illiena, I would travel with a band of thieves." "Would you invade Beinison?" Niatha asked. "There was a time when I would have said yes. That I would have burned Beinison to the ground, salted the earth, and killed every man, woman, and child to meet Illiena." Niatha sucked in a large breath and hissed it back out. "When was that?" he asked, shock covering his face. "A long time ago. A very long time ago." The morning breeze blew with a slight chill. The sun shone brightly, though, giving a warmth for all to enjoy. Merrif was sitting on the doorstep of his house, watching the alley and the few people who traveled it. This was his last day in Dargon. "Thinking about changing your mind?" Niatha asked as he brushed by Merrif. "No," Merrif answered. His face was tilted up to let the sun strike it. "I won't change my mind. We are going to the tower and we are going to find Illiena." "You are going to find Illiena," Niatha specified as he sat on the street in front of Merrif. "The rest of us are going for different reasons. I'm going to get my answer. Raphael is going to find Megan. I don't know why Lylle is going. But you could save all the time and trouble and tell me now how I came to be here. Then I wouldn't have to go." "Not until we get to the tower," Merrif stated. "What if you die before then?" Niatha asked. "What happens then?" "You don't get your answer." "I'll just have to keep you alive, then," Niatha replied. He sat down in front of Merrif and turned to smooth the fur on his back, using his paw and tongue. "I hope we all get our answers," Merrif said. "Raphael won't stop until he finds Megan," Niatha warned. "He's as single-minded about that as you are about seeing Illiena. Should your paths separate ..." He let the thought drift silently away. "They won't," Merrif said. "At least not until we find the tower." "Good day, Merrif," Lylle called from down the alley. He was carrying a bag slung over his shoulder. Lylle was a skinny youth with long, unkempt hair. Although he smiled easily enough, there was a sly manner about him. His eyes darted about, surveying his surroundings, always looking for something. "Illiena's smile upon you," Merrif replied. "A beautiful day today, isn't it? And where is Raphael?" "It is a grand day," Lylle said, smiling. "Raphael will be along soon. He got us on a caravan going to Valdasly. We leave tomorrow morning." He reached Merrif and sat down beside him, dropping the bag on the ground. "You're happy that you're going?" Merrif asked. Niatha turned away from them and walked into the house. "I am happy because I have a family that I never knew cared that much," Lylle answered. Niatha jumped on the bed and clawed at the covers, trying to make a comfortable place to sleep. "A family?" Merrif asked, turning towards Lylle. "I didn't know you had one." "It isn't a family like you're thinking," Lylle answered. He placed his hands behind him and leaned back, tilting his face into the sun. He closed his eyes and said, "I told the other boys that I had to make a decision. They asked me what it was about. I explained the whole thing to them and they threw me out. They told me I was no longer a shadow boy and tossed me and my belongings out in the street." "You're happy about that?" Merrif asked. "No ... I wasn't at first. I was mad. They just threw me out. I beat on the door, but they told me to go away. I picked up my bag and it jingled. After opening it up, I found money in it. That's when the door opened and they all rushed out to say good-bye. Somehow they had found out what I was going to do and had prepared for it. It was their way of blessing my journey." "You're leaving everyone and everything you know behind and that's something to be happy about? I still don't understand." "No," Lylle smiled. "I doubt you would. You've never lived on the street, have you?" "No," Merrif answered. "At times in my life, it came close to that." "I know what it is to stay here. I've lived that all my life. But, now, there's something out there and I'm a part of it. It could be something much better. Most anything would be better than what I've got now. Plus, I'll be with Raphael. I've known him and Megan since they both got to Dargon." "Now we know why he's going," Niatha said from the bed. Half of his body was covered in blankets while the other half was curled tightly against itself. "I thought you were asleep," Merrif called out. "What?" Lylle asked. "Niatha was wondering why you were going and he said now he knows." "I wish I could hear him. Is there any way of getting you to teach me magic on our trip?" Lylle asked, slightly opening his eyes to look at Merrif. "No," Merrif replied. He turned to Lylle. "I haven't ever taught anyone magic." "No one?" Lylle asked, sitting up. "Not ever? In all your life, you haven't had an apprentice?" "No," Merrif whispered. "But why?" "It's a long story," Merrif answered, his voice seemed far off. "Perhaps on our trip," Lylle said. "I doubt it," Niatha replied from the bed. "I've been trying to get him to open up about his past for as long as I've been with him." Niatha huffed and said, "I wish he could hear me, too. I'd know at least one person would be listening to me." "I'm listening," Merrif replied. "It would be better if I could hear him," Lylle said. He turned around to look at Niatha. "He looks asleep." "Heh!" Merrif chuckled. "I believe that's what went through many a rat's mind before it died." "Rat!" Niatha exclaimed. "Is there a rat?" He stretched his neck out and upward in an attempt to see past Merrif and Lylle. He moved his head from side to side, trying to get a better view. "No," Merrif laughed. "There isn't a rat. We were just talking about them." "He eats rats?" Lylle asked. "He thinks I dig up tubers and eat them?" Niatha replied. He smiled and opened his mouth a little before saying, "That's why I have these nice sharp teeth." Merrif laughed harder and rolled backwards on his back. "What did he say?" Lylle asked, shifting his gaze from Merrif to Niatha. "He said he digs up tubers to eat and that's why he has those sharp teeth," Merrif answered, settling down to a giggle. "Those are large fangs," Lylle agreed. "But I would have thought he'd hunt bigger things. Rats seem too small for him." "Huh?" Niatha squeaked, tossing covers and sitting up. "He said you were a bully and picked on little defenseless rats!" Merrif laughed. He was laying half on the floor of the house and half on the steps, gasping for breath between fits of laughter. His hands were on his gut, trying to hold himself still. His legs kicked out every now and then. Lylle watched intently, not understanding the humor. "I am not a bully!" Niatha said, the fur around his face puffing out. His tail was swishing sharply back and forth. "And some of the rats around here are as big as me!" "Is he mad?" Lylle asked. "He looks mad." "He sounds indignant about what you said," Merrif replied between fits of laughter. He turned and started to get up, but caught a glimpse of Niatha's ruffled fur and his laughter knocked him back down. "This is not funny!" Niatha said as more of his fur puffed out, this time around his neck and shoulders. His wings opened and he flapped them once before closing them. "What did he say that was so funny?" Lylle asked, watching Merrif. "Rats have sharp teeth, too," Niatha replied. Merrif laughed harder and started to gasp for breath. Short wheezes of breathing in were accompanied by tears streaming down his face. "Is someone dying?" Raphael called from down the alley. He reached the doorway and looked at Lylle and Merrif. "Is he --" Raphael started to ask about Merrif's health, but realized that it was laughter not death that was afflicting Merrif. "It seems I missed something rather interesting." Raphael stood relaxed, cane resting lightly in his hand, waiting for someone to explain what was going on. "I missed it, too," Lylle said. "Something between Merrif and Niatha." "It was nothing!" Niatha replied. His fur was almost all back in place and he was once again moving the quilt to make a comfortable area. "Nothing?" Raphael asked. "This nothing has Merrif out of breath from laughter." Merrif was still wheezing, trying to breathe, but his laughter had stopped. "Rats ... little rats ..." Merrif huffed. "I hunt rats," Niatha interrupted. "And Lylle thought I was too big to hunt them. There, that was what was so funny." He turned his back on them and settled down onto the quilt. "I don't see the humor in that," Raphael answered. "But I don't see where a rat would have a chance against you. Perhaps you should hunt something bigger." Niatha whirled and stood up, his lips drawn back and his wings open. He started to reply, but saw Raphael's smile and realized he was being teased. "It's going to be a long trip," Niatha sighed, plopping down on the quilt. "We leave tomorrow morning," Raphael said, changing the subject. "I couldn't find anyone hiring or willing to take us. That isn't surprising as I'm a stranger to most here. I asked May if she knew of anyone traveling to Valdasly and she said she would ask around. She found us a small caravan and arranged passage." "Are we going to have to walk all the way?" Lylle asked. "May arranged for one of us to have a seat on a wagon. One of --" Raphael began. "I have a horse," Merrif interrupted. He was sitting, leaning against the doorway. "I don't ride her often, but she's a mellow old girl." "Why didn't you tell me that before?" Raphael asked. He was irritated. "I couldn't arrange for all of us to ride and now you tell me I didn't have to try?" "I kept forgetting to tell you," Merrif explained. "We always got to talking about something and I kept forgetting." "Ol's pi-- " Raphael started, but stopped himself. "Grrrrr," he growled instead. "Not a good start." "It was a good start," Lylle said, grinning. "You just needed to finish it: Ol's piss." Lylle laughed and Merrif chuckled. "I'd finish it, but I'm trying not to cross any gods. I'm going to need all the help I can get to find Megan." "Put your faith in Illiena," Merrif said. There was a groan from the bed. "Hush, Niatha!" "What makes Illiena so special?" Lylle asked. "Why her over all the others?" There was another groan from the bed. "Ahhh," Merrif breathed. "Illiena. She is the defender and the life giver." "There are others in the Manifest," Lylle said. "There is Cydrian and ... Muska-something." "Illiena, Cydrian, Muskadon, and Osiniana," Merrif answered. "Don't forget Eilli-Syk, Balen-Ruk, Kessra-Nik, and Arom-Nok." "Too many to remember," Lylle said. "Illiena is all that matters," Merrif replied. "She is the light that shines in my day and the star that brightens my night." "Kessra-Nik and who else?" Lylle asked. "I haven't heard of most of those gods." "There are four who guide man and four who wish to destroy man," Raphael said. "That's the way it was explained to me." "There is more to it than that," Merrif said. He got up and walked over to his table. He picked up an old book that had no cover. "This is one of the more detailed books I've found about the Manifest." "If you can read," Lylle added. "Yes," Merrif agreed. "If you can read. Otherwise, you have to rely upon the word of others. That's why I learned to read. I didn't fully trust what I was being told. And being apprenticed to a mage, one must read." "My father had no use for reading," Raphael said. "Learning to fight, learning to farm, learning to sail he said were things men should be doing." "Each man must follow where his soul guides," Merrif said. "Illiena guides mine." "Megan guides mine," Raphael added. "It took her leaving for me to realize that." "Surviving," Lylle said. "Surviving just one more day." "Knowing what I am," Niatha said from the bed. "Knowing where I came from. Where did you summon me from, Merrif?" "When we get to the tower," Merrif answered. "Not before." "Niatha again?" Lylle asked. "Yes," Raphael said. "He asked Merrif where he was summoned from." "Niatha was summoned?" "That's what he asked about," Raphael said. "I told him I'd answer that question when we got to the tower," Merrif explained. "What about the Manifest?" Lylle asked. "Hmmm ... oh, yes," Merrif replied, looking down at the book in his hands. "The Manifest." "What does the book say about the gods?" "As with all things, there is a beginning," Merrif began. "In this beginning, there was only emptiness. Emptiness except for the All Creator. The All Creator looked about and felt loneliness. The All Creator knew all and felt all, but in the emptiness, loneliness and boredom reigned. You see, everything that was and everything that could be was the All Creator. "The All Creator decided to create. He created all that we see: sun, moon, stars, animals, fish, everything including man. Man was created with free will. Man could do whatever his soul guided him to do. The All Creator looked upon man and decided man needed guidance, for man destroyed, killed, and ravaged. "The All Creator did not want to directly guide man, so the All Creator created the eight gods. They were created to show all sides of man, good and bad. Each god was given a specific duty and then the All Creator hid from the creations, to become a watcher. "Arom-Nok is plagues and suffering. Osiniana is healing and bliss. Kessra-Nik is war and fighting. Muskadon is peace and working together. Balen-Ruk is thievery and deceit. Cydrian is honesty and honor. "The last two are Eilli-Syk and Illiena. Eilli-Syk is the taker of life while Illiena is the giver of life. Balen-Ruk, Kessra-Nik, and Arom-Nok follow Eilli-Syk's orders. Cydrian, Muskadon, and Osiniana follow Illiena. So, the eight are divided into two groups. Eilli-Syk wants to destroy man so that all will go back to the All Creator. Illiena wants to guide man since that was the All Creator's wish. So, they struggle against each other, with man caught in between." "Is that all in the book?" Lylle asked. "Yes," Merrif answered. "Do you believe it?" "Not all of it," Merrif said. "It is one man's view of the Manifest. Let me give you another. Illiena is keeping man here because she enjoys being in charge. Eilli-Syk wants to end all things so that everything goes back to the All Creator where it began. Even man would be there and it would be a place where peace and love and happiness reigned in coexistence with the All Creator." "That's completely different," Lylle said. "Who do you believe?" "Exactly," Merrif stated. "Who do *you* believe?" "Straight!" Lylle said, dodging the question. "I believe it is going to be a long trip." "Ha!" Raphael laughed. "I believe that, too. And the day passes on and there are things yet to do. We should be going." "Where do we meet on the morn?" Merrif asked. "Here is fine," Raphael answered. "Just before daybreak." There was a moan from the bed. "Why is it always just before daybreak?" Niatha asked. "Why can't we meet just after?" "Because the caravan will most likely be gone by then," Raphael replied. "Tomorrow morning, then." "Straight," Merrif said. "Straight," Lylle repeated. Raphael and Lylle left and walked down the alley. Merrif walked over to the table and put the book back on it. "Yes, Niatha. I believe it is going to be a long trip." ======================================================================== Talisman Five Part 2 by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Sy 18-23, 1010 Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 13-6 Roharvardenul watched the man walk through the doors into the taproom of the Fighting Unicorns, a tavern on the edges of the unsavory Fifth Quarter of Magnus. The tall, thin, dark-haired man walked purposefully through the sparsely-tabled room directly toward Vard's seat. There were only two other occupied tables in the room, but Vard wasn't surprised that the man had detected him so quickly; they had arranged to meet in one of the privacy booths that lined the back wall of the taproom, and the only one of those occupied was the one he was in. Vard paid close attention to the way Kana, the man he intended to hire, walked. He noted the sureness of the man's steps, the way his body was balanced. Vard also noticed the very small things, like the way Kana's attention included the other two tables, the natural way the man managed to keep his face in as much shadow as possible despite the two large chandeliers that kept the windowless room quite bright. Vard nodded briefly to himself. He had picked a promising prospect. Competent and nondescript had been the only recommendations available for Kana, and Vard had been as thorough as possible. As frustrating as it was not to be able to learn more, Vard knew that if he had been able to uncover more detailed information about the thief he wouldn't have been able to hire him; he would have been in gaol. As Kana sat down across from Vard, the mage noted the fine cut of the man's tunic and cloak, and the quality of the jewelry he wore. He wouldn't have taken the man for a thief upon seeing him in the street, but Vard was certainly aware of the benefits of wearing disguises. At present, he was displaying the illusion of a thin blond man with long hair and a full yellow beard. He seemed to be wearing brown robes and closed-toe sandals. Under the brown-robed illusion were three other illusory people; this kind of public meeting made him even more cautious about his anonymity. "I understand you are looking for a pack horse," said Kana, with a business-like air. Vard replied to the agreed-upon phrase with, "That I am, for a journey to Beinison. You must be Kana, the horse trader I have heard about." As Kana nodded, a server appeared at their table. Vard asked for an ale, while Kana ordered a bottle of the inn's best wine. Vard, knowing he would be paying the bill, lifted an eyebrow at the cheekiness of the thief but decided to allow the impertinence. The man's confidence was another good indication that he had chosen the right person for his task. It had been six months since Vard had found the diary of Tarhela, skaldric of the Fretheod Empire. The diary had revealed the existence of a book called the Tome of the Yrmenweald. That tome chronicled the history of the magical staves which had been the secret of that ancient empire's phenomenal success. It detailed the powers the staves granted to those who had wielded them -- scrying vast distances and predicting the weather, among others -- but it also explained the steps that had been required to create them. The latter information was why Vard had immediately decided to find that tome. It had taken him two months to determine that the tome still existed. Three more months had passed before he had succeeded in tracing it to the College of Bards. The final month had been occupied with locating exactly where within the college it resided and procuring the keys that would be required to enter that specific vault. It galled Vard to have to rely on someone else to carry out the final steps of the acquisition of the tome. He knew that he could have accomplished the theft himself if only the Bardic College was not so well protected both inside and out from magic. Some of the best mages in the kingdom had spent a great deal of effort and energy to ensure that the knowledge and other treasures within the college were protected from others of their kind. The fruit of some of these efforts, Vard knew, was the college's Crystal of Oathes. One of the crystal's many functions was to negate any magic within the college created by anyone not recognized by it, which rendered all of Vard's abilities useless. Fortunately, it was far more difficult to protect against a non-magical thief, especially one with the talents that Kana claimed to have. The drinks arrived, and after an appreciative sip, Kana said, "About this pack horse?" Vard smiled blandly and reached up to draw the privacy curtain across the mouth of their booth. As he did so, he silently and swiftly cast a minor spell to deaden sound, so that they would not be overheard. Then, slipping along the bench seat to the back of the booth, and motioning Kana to follow, he produced a small satchel and set it on the table. Keeping his voice low, he said, "I would like to hire you to steal a book from the vaults of the College of Bards here in Magnus." Kana's eyes widened, and he asked, "Why? What kind of book?" "Would the contents of the book affect your performance of the theft? Then you do not need to know." Vard lifted two items from the satchel: a small bag that clinked dully when he set it down, and a tightly rolled scroll. "In this bag are the keys you will need to open the vault and the trunk that the book rests in. This scroll provides all of the details you will need: where the vault is, how to use the keys, which chest the book is in, and how to find the book within that chest." Vard knew that Kana could read, since some of their communication had been written. The instructions he needed to convey were very complex, and he had decided to write everything down rather than dictate them to the thief and count on Kana's memory. Nevertheless, the move made him nervous. Kana opened the scroll and glanced over the instructions. Reaching the end of the document, he grinned and said, "This is what will be on the cover of the book? It looks like two rats ... ah ..." He looked up at Vard, suddenly embarrassed, and continued, "Well, copulating. Almost. Is that what the book is about?" He seemed to have recovered from his embarrassment, and leered suggestively at his prospective employer. Vard wondered whether Kana was trying to provoke him, or making an overture of friendship. He chose to ignore the thief's tone and instead replied, "No that's not what it is about. Those are the formal runes of an ancient civilization, and they translate to 'The Tome of the Yrmenweald'." Kana was silent as he looked at the image Vard had provided of the writing on the cover of the book, tracing the flowing lines with a finger, mouthing the syllables of the title and trying to fit them to the runes. He gave a shrug, started rolling the scroll up, and said, "Pardon my asking, but if you know so much about where this book is, and even have the keys to get it, why don't you retrieve it yourself?" Vard had anticipated the question, and had an answer ready. "That's simple, my boy. Would you ask a mason to build you a wooden table? Would you ask a blacksmith to sew you a new set of clothes? I am not a thief. I am simply engaging the services of the correct tradesman for the job." Kana's eyes narrowed when Vard mentioned "thief" but he didn't object to the use of the word. He was silent again, seemingly thinking, and finally said, "This will not be a simple undertaking. You may think that the difficult part has already been accomplished, with your details and your keys. But I will still need to enter the college unnoticed, and then get away again. How much do you offer for my services?" Vard pulled out a third item from the satchel, and it clinked much more brightly than the key-bag had when he set it down. "This in advance, and another just like it when I have the correct book in my hands. Agreed?" Kana boldly dragged the new bag towards himself, opened it, and looked inside. Vard noticed the widening of Kana's eyes, even though the thief tried to hide his surprise. Kana reached into the bag and, after a glance at the closed privacy curtains, drew out one of the gold Crowns that filled the bag. He hefted it in his palm, then tried to bend it, unsuccessfully. After scratching at the surface briefly, Kana looked up and said, "I accept. Is there anything more that I need to know? How soon do you expect this to be done?" Vard, amused by the thief's attempts to verify that the coin was real, said, "The scroll is thorough and complete, but only temporary. It will burn up in approximately three bells, so you shall need to recopy, or perhaps memorize, its contents." The scroll represented the biggest risk Vard was taking. Money was money, with many, many owners, and the keys had also passed through enough hands to muddle any possible trace to him. The scroll, however, could be traced, given a powerful enough magician with the right knowledge. Vard wasn't sure that he could have tracked the faint traces that his servant, Qrun, would have left in the ink and on the scroll as he penned it from Vard's words, but he wanted to leave nothing to chance. The document was spelled to destroy itself, leaving no traces. Vard continued answering the thief's questions. "The college has no plans to move the book. I do understand that your task will be difficult, so I am allowing you to set your own pace. Do not delay overlong, however; I intend to receive a service for the money you have so far been paid." Kana still seemed somewhat stunned by the amount of Crowns in the bag. He finally said, "Ah, how will I get in touch with you again, when I have the book? I don't even know your name." "And you do not need to know it. Use the means by which we initially contacted each other; they will suffice. "If you have no further questions, then I suggest you get busy. And you can take the wine; I won't even deduct its price from your fee." Vard pushed the satchel toward Kana, and the thief placed his things into it, including the wine bottle. He watched Kana slide to the other end of the booth and open the privacy curtain. The thief walked out of the taproom alertly, his composure having returned. Vard knew that he had hired the right thief for the job. Soon enough, he would have the "Tome of the Yrmenweald" in his hands. Four days later, Ka'lochra'en was wandering through the Syloris Market, mulling over his tentative plan for infiltrating the College of Bards. He walked slowly, at a pace befitting the role he usually played as he walked the streets of Magnus: Baron Kanning, one of the apartment-barons that populated the royal court, owed fealty by none, owing fealty directly to the king, living on a royal stipend and any other business ventures he cared to undertake. Ka'en, who was known by many other names, one among them being Kana, posed as Kanning very well. The cut of his clothes, the jewelry, his bearing, his cultured accent: everything about him spoke of high nobility, which only demonstrated his accomplished acting. Ka'lochra'en was no more a noble of the Baranurian court than he was a master magician. As a young man, he had ventured from his native Kimmeron looking for the adventure that his land-owning family couldn't provide. He had found adventure in Baranur once his money had run out; turning to thievery to survive, he had discovered an aptitude within himself for the occupation. He had used his new skills to propel himself out of the ranks of the trail-side bandit and alleyway cutthroat, becoming something of a specialist in his field. After fifteen years of very hard, very delicate work, he had achieved just the right amount of fame: enough to enable him to get assignments like the one he had received from the man in brown robes, yet not enough to be subject to the constant scrutiny of the law. He liked to think that the complex set of identities he maintained helped in that regard. Ka'en had studied the scroll his employer had given him and copied over the relevant parts before the parchment had destroyed itself, first smoking, then crawling with little snakes of glowing red fire that left only ash in their wake. The information had been thorough and detailed, but had only concerned breaching the particular vault and chest wherein the book lay. It was important information -- information without which he could not have even begun his assignment -- but there were still a great many particulars that would have to be covered before he could put his employer's information to use, such as the fundamental item of gaining entry to the Bardic College in the first place. As Ka'en wandered through the Syloris, pretending to survey the merchandise for sale, his mind was more profitably occupied with fleshing out his only viable idea so far for accomplishing that. He had decided to become one of the servants, either getting himself hired or substituting himself for one of the staff. He knew that servants were usually unnoticed by those who employed them, and a new face would be of no consequence if even remarked. Then, once the inhabitants of the college were asleep, he would slip into the cellars and accomplish his mission. His trip to the Syloris had a purpose other than being seen as Baron Kanning. In one corner of the market, against the walls of the old plaza, was a wooden stall occupied by an old man who seemed to sell rocks. Most who saw the stall with its shelves of oddly-shaped stones simply thought the old man was losing his wits, and humored him. The rest understood that the old man and his nephew were not dealing in rocks. Information was the merchandise being vended there. Ka'en's actual destination was that stall. He needed information on the serving staff of the Bardic College, and Deemis was the one to get it for him. Ka'en had no real interest in anything in the market but his destination, but as intent as he was on his plans he was still aware of his surroundings. There were all sorts of dangers in the crowds of the market, and he had no intention of falling prey to an amateur pick-pocket or worse. As he scanned the crowds, he noticed an object on one of the tables of merchandise. His attention was riveted by the strange sculpture: a half-circle of stone with a jagged edge, as if it was only part of a larger whole, the flat top covered with interlaced lines of gold, silver and glass, and three stylized creatures -- two birds and a cat -- around the edge. He approached the table that the stone fragment rested on and absently noted that there was a gypsy standing behind it. But his focus was on the stone. There was something about it: something compelling, something important ... He reached out and touched the stone, running a finger across the interlaced bands, tracing the outlines of the creatures. There was a humming in his mind that lasted only a moment or so. When it was gone, so was his interest in the stone fragment. He looked up at the gypsy, somewhat bemused at finding himself standing here and not at the information stall. With a curt nod to the proprietor, Ka'en turned and resumed his previous journey. He reached the old man's stall, and picked up one of the more interesting-looking stones. He ran his fingers across one of the rock's flat surfaces, tracing out the shape of a stylized falcon without realizing it. He acknowledged the nods of greeting by Deemis and his nephew; both men knew who he pretended to be and both knew who he really was. He said softly, "I need a rank pendant for a bard. Do you know of one to be had?" Deemis replied, equally softly, "No, but I'll put the word around. What would one be worth, should one be found?" "Five Cues," replied Ka'en, using the slang for Crowns. Five Crowns was a great deal of money, but a bardic rank pendant was a valuable property, and the man in brown had given him a great many Crowns. "Straight," said Deemis. "Check back in, say, three days." "Thank you," Ka'en said. He set down the rock, turned and walked away through the Syloris, mulling over his plan to impersonate a bard as a way to infiltrate the College of Bards. Je'lanthra'en passed through the Syloris Market on her way to an inn on the south side of the city. The tall, fair-haired bard strode like nobility through the noise and bustle of the market, leading her horse. In most cases the crowds made way for her as if she actually was noble, or perhaps even royal; such was the respect normally accorded a bard. Je'en had grown used to that kind of treatment, and took it as a matter of course. She had spent more than fifteen years working herself up to the rank of Eighth-Stave Bard, and she enjoyed the perquisites that came with her position and rank. Je'en was from a small country to the south called Kimmeron, which few people in Baranur had ever heard of and fewer had ever traveled to. She had left at a young age to seek her fortunes as a bard, with a dream of actually studying at the great College of Bards in the far off, fabled city of Magnus. She had reached Magnus, had been accepted into the college due to her musical talent, and had done well for herself ever since. She didn't usually reside in Magnus, preferring to travel throughout Baranur and even into the surrounding countries, though she was seldom able to journey as far as Kimmeron. She had timed her travels to bring her back to Magnus for a meeting of her stave-circle. It was a chance to participate in the workings of the college directly, in that the meeting usually included trials for stave advancement both into the eighth, and out of it. She tried to miss as few as possible. The actual meeting would begin in a few days, and Je'en was looking forward to it. Until then she was keeping herself busy by visiting some of the many inns in the city. In fact she had spent the last six nights in a row out touring the inns, and had intended to stay in this night. But two of her fellow-stavers had only just arrived and had insisted on taking her out. The recommended rendezvous, the Braying Ass, was a gathering place for musicians of all calibers. She was looking forward to spending some time with her friends, but she was also looking forward to the evening's entertainment, of which she intended to be a part. As she passed the selling table of a gypsy, a curiously-carved stone caught her eye. She paused to look at the half-circle of stone that looked as if it was broken off from its other half. She reached out and traced her finger along the gold band as it interlaced with two other bands across the surface of the carving, over and under the silver and glass strands. She noted that the two different animals -- two identically-shaped birds facing each other, and one cat -- on the surface each had one kind of band issuing from its center. The birds seemed to host the glass bands, and the cat the silver band. She wondered what kind of animal the gold bands issued from on the lost portion of the carving. A song drew her attention away from the carving as a troupe of traveling entertainers began their act at the junction of several paths close by the gypsy's table. Je'en listened briefly to the crowd-catching ditty, smiling to herself as she recognized the intent of the bright cadences of the music and the broad rhyme-scheme. When the players had drawn the attention of enough of the passers-by in the market, they began their play. Je'en nodded to them, and continued on her own way to the Braying Ass. The gypsy and his carved stone drifted slowly from her memory, until all she remembered of her passage through the Syloris was the amusing ditty. The applause was nearly deafening, filling the tavern room of the Braying Ass with noise. Je'en joined in, cheering loudly and pounding her fist on the table as her friend Ginlo briefly acknowledged the accolades before walking off of the stage. Ginlo was grinning from ear to ear as she strode calmly to her chair next to Je'en and sat down gracefully. The applause continued even as the next performer took the stage. Je'en leaned over and gave Ginlo a brief hug, congratulating her as best as she could over the noise. Hansek, the other of Je'en's two friends who had invited her out, then did the same, giving his lover Ginlo a hearty hug and a deep kiss. Je'en watched her friends Ginlo and Hansek indulgently; she had introduced them to each other. Both were middle-aged, at least ten years older than she was. Ginlo was dark haired, with brown eyes and a thin face, while Hansek was blond, blue-eyed, and rounder in the face than his lover. Ginlo played a set of minor-pipes, Hansek played a harp, and when they sang together, their harmonies were perfect. Hansek had been an eighth-stave journeyman bard for more than five years, and showed no signs of wanting to move on. Ginlo had just achieved her eighth-stave pendant within the past year, and everyone knew from the struggle she had had that she wasn't going any higher either. Je'en, on the other hand, had plans to be a Master Bard someday. She knew she wasn't ready to take the ninth-stave tests just yet, but she had set her sights on being ready for next year's stave-circle meeting. The lovers separated, smiling satisfied, happy smiles at each other. The audience quieted down finally, and the next performer began. He introduced himself as Bernil, and began strumming the strings of his large-bodied lute. He started singing a familiar, favorite song, and Je'en noticed immediately that his voice was fine enough and steady. As he continued though, she began to notice a few other things: his playing was proficient but not inspired, and there wasn't much heart behind the words he sang. Despite those flaws, Je'en thought that Bernil might have the makings of a bard and she wondered what had kept him out of the college. Bernil's song ended, and the audience again filled the room with the sounds of their approval. Bernil basked in the approbation, bowing again and again. The applause was beginning to sound forced when the lutanist finally exited the stage. No one was waiting to take his place, since the entertainment steward had scheduled a brief rest. Conversations started up as the Braying Ass' waiters began circulating among the tables. The pause had been scheduled at a natural breaking point in the evening: it was approximately the fourth bell of the evening, when the casual revelers picked up and returned home, leaving the dedicated partiers to carry on late into the night. All over the tavern room, patrons were standing, saying their farewells, and heading out the door. Ginlo leaned over to Je'en and said, "Hans and me need to be going, Je'en. We were on the road early; we need our rest. You coming too?" It was the perfect time to leave, and Je'en hadn't even intended to go out that evening in the first place. She was about to say "Yes," but as she blinked, there was a glimmer of gold interlacing with silver and glass behind her eyelids. She paused for a moment like that, eyes closed, trying to remember why that glimmer seemed familiar. When she opened her eyes, Ginlo was saying, "Well, if you're sure. Great evening, straight? Thanks for coming out with us. See you tomorrow!" Ginlo hugged her, and then Hansek dragged her to her feet and hugged her, supplying his own thanks and good wishes, and they were gone. Je'en sat back down, slightly bemused. When had she decided to stay? A waiter came by, and Je'en ordered another ale. The entertainment steward came by, and Je'en put her name down for another set. She decided she'd leave at the next rest break. That would be soon enough. That rest break came and went, and Je'en still sat in the tavern room of the Braying Ass enjoying the entertainment. Another rest break passed, and another and another, but she still didn't leave. Each time she promised herself to take to her saddle and head to her bed that interlacing glimmer appeared behind her eyes, and the moment passed her by. She participated as well. She sang, she played her harp Soft Winds, she joined in with several other musicians a few times during the evening to improvise on favorite melodies and extemporize on famous songs. She acknowledged, but didn't accept, many offers of ale, and she politely rebuffed many offers of company. She was having more than enough fun on her own. Finally, the innkeep cheerfully drove everyone out of his tavern room, either to the rooms upstairs or to their own homes. Je'en found herself upon her horse, contemplating the long path ahead of her. She faced crossing half the city to reach her lodgings in the college before she could slip into her bed. She was exhausted by the excitement of the evening, and was not looking forward to her long, lonely journey. As she rode through the nearly deserted streets of Magnus, she found herself contemplating a change of direction that would substantially shorten her journey. The safest route she could possibly take back to the college would force her to circle around the Fifth Quarter, the slums of the city. Dangerous even in daylight, they were deadly at night. There were, however, three "tunnels" through that quarter where three of the city's major circular avenues lay across its territory. These particular streets -- wide, well-maintained, well-lit, and irregularly patrolled -- were paths of relative safety through the quarter during the day and, perhaps, early evening. Midway between the dark of the night and the first daylight bell, however, there was no safety at all anywhere within the Fifth Quarter. Je'en's first thought upon recalling these "tunnels" was that she would take one and shorten her journey, and caution be hanged. She was a bard, after all; who would attack her? Her green cloak, the silver-embossed harp case on her back, the harp on yellow on green of her horse's trappings, were all the armor she needed. Then good sense tried to change her mind. Alone in the middle of the Fifth Quarter, even one of the legendary heroes of the Shadow Wars would have been at peril of their life. King Haralan himself wouldn't dare venture along Principine Avenue in the utter depths of blackest night. Why should she feel herself exempt from the dangers of everyday life in the city of Magnus? With another flash of interwoven gold, silver, and glass, her bardic fearlessness reasserted itself. She was a bard, and a bard went where she needed, when she needed. Her rank and status would protect her from random violence. What else did she need to fear? Decided, she turned her horse's head toward Principine Avenue and the shortest way home. Bellen was a rogue, and had no need to be anything else. He didn't play dress up and pretend to be nobility. He didn't dream of owning merchant fleets, or rental properties, or even of leading others like himself. He picked pockets. He broke into shops. He snatched-and-ran. He attacked unwise travelers for both profit and fun. Bellen was the first to hear of the offer of five Crowns for a bardic rank pendant because he was just around the corner when the offer was made. Bellen knew that Kane -- the name he knew Ka'en by -- was a thief, but a different kind of thief than he was. There was only one reason Kane would want a rank pendant: he wanted to pretend to be a singer, a bard. That was what Kane did, pretend. Bellen wondered what Kane needed to be a singer for, but he was more interested in the five Cues. As he walked away from Deemis' information-stall, Bellen came across a gypsy selling some things. He noticed a strange sculpture on the table briefly: it looked like a half-circle of stone with interwoven metal and some animals on top. And then he noticed a little girl, almost a toddler, about to cut the purse-strings of the wrong noble. She held a huge knife with some skill, but what she had in dexterity she lacked in common sense. Bellen was a bad man, but he didn't like to see such a promising life of crime cut short so swiftly. As he raced over to save her from her own folly, he was also thinking that it had been some time since he and his friends had set upon an unwary traveler. Perhaps they would find one that night. Bells didn't ring to count time in the Fifth Quarter, but Bellen still knew it was very late. He was tired to his bones, and it was so late that even the chance of mayhem could hardly keep him awake. Skar sat across from him in the alley on the edge of Principine Avenue, well within the Fifth Quarter. Skar was their leader. The rest of Skar's boys were deeper in the alley: Deggr, Han, Morl and Charet, all tough men of the street who'd never done a day's honest work. Bellen was nervous. He'd given Skar the idea to ambush a traveler and somehow convinced him to do it right away, but it looked like they weren't going to get to put Skar's plan into action. They had been waiting so long that none of them were being quiet any more. They all sat ass-flat on the ground, fidgeting, looking bored and mean. Han and Morl were whispering to each other, and Skar hadn't shushed them in a while. Bellen knew he'd catch it from them all for steering them into spending such a dull night unless something happened, and soon. Skar kept looking at Bellen, and every time Bellen just kept reassuring his leader that they should wait just a little longer. Skar was rising, ignoring Bellen's hissed "Wait!", when the sound of hoofbeats echoed by. Skar's quick sideways glance, full of questions, made a shiver run down Bellen's back. Had he known? If so, how? All six men rose to their feet, then crouched in readiness. Deggr, the quickest of them all, took a position in front of Skar and Bellen, ready to do his part. When the rider came into view, however, everyone sighed in disappointment. It was clear that the horseman was a bard. Every piece of tack on the horse had the distinctive yellow-haloed harp on green mark. No one but a singer would wear a cloak of that style and shade of green. Even his utter confidence as he rode slowly down the street pointed up the obvious. Bellen saw, and somehow wasn't surprised. Skar saw, and began to signal Deggr that the ambush was canceled. Bellen hurriedly whispered, "No, wait! 'S just one guy, singer or no. We c'n take 'im! Six ta one, and he don't even got a weapon out. Let's do it, Skar. Think about the braggin' we could do!" Skar looked that look at him again, and Bellen knew there'd be questions later. But the singer was moving, and the decision had to be made. Skar made it. "We go," he said. The horse and rider reached the alley and Deggr leapt, knocking the rider clean off his horse. Morl grabbed the reins of the horse fast and secured it as the rest rushed from the alley, swords out and ready. Bellen saw the rider somehow land on Deggr, then recover very quickly. In the same way he had somehow known that there would be someone coming eventually, Bellen was not shocked when the rider threw back his cloak to draw his sword and revealed that he was actually a woman. They closed around the singer, and the melee began. Soon, Deggr regained his feet and joined in. The fight was fast, but not as one-sided as Bellen expected. Blades flashed and rang together, and first Han fell bloody to the ground, and then Charet joined him. The singer got her share: a bloody scratch to her face, a deep stab to her thigh and finally, Bellen's own blade found its way under her right bracer, cutting deep into her wrist. She dropped her blade and sank to the ground, weak from blood loss and pain. Skar's boys looted the horse, but found almost nothing in the saddlebags. They naturally turned to their victim, and took her cloak and her harp. Deggr picked up her sword, and Bellen removed her jewelry: one ring, an ear dangle, and the rank pendant. Skar was still unhappy; the frown on his face was clear. Bellen caught the gleam in his leader's eye when he stood over their victim and said, "Pretty. A little more money from the slavers, to make up for the trouble we've had wit' you." Bellen shook his head. That wasn't right somehow, not slavers. Then his own eyes gleamed with an idea. He said, "She'll take too much time, be too much trouble, Skar! I know someone'll give us five Cues for this 'ere neck-chain -- 'e needs it for a job 'e's got: 'personatin' a singer, it is. Five Crowns' more'n we'd get fer her and all the rest o' her stuff, plus she killed Han, and probably Charet, too. Let's kill 'er, Skar! Real slow like, too." Bellen watched eagerly as, after a moment to think on it, Skar drew his knife and knelt down beside the woman. He watched red chase silver as his leader slid the blade casually across her neck. The blood spilled down her throat and onto her tunic, and the singer's eyes, blinking open and shut 'til now, closed for good. Morl and Deggr dragged the body partway into one of the alleys on the other side of the avenue, laughing at their victory and making crude comments about what they were going to do to her before she got too cool. Suddenly, the night was filled with the low honking sound of a specific kind of horn. Someone in the Fifth Quarter was warning that one of the rare city patrols was on its way. The rogues scattered, taking their loot with them. As Bellen ran his separate way into the quarter, he thought about how he was going to dispose of the pendant. He thought about taking it right to Kane in the morning, so he wouldn't have to pay Deemis' finder's fee. He also wondered whether Kane might give him six or seven Cues for the pendant; Skar only knew about five, so couldn't ask for a split of more than that, now could he? ========================================================================