Shadows 9 - Complete
Jun. 3rd, 2007 12:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
measured_wordsTah dah! I've only been trying to get this far for months now. Well, here it is. I might wind up taking a break from Shadows for a bit. This seems like a good spot for it. I'd like to see if I can get another original stiory done this summer, and maybe pick up Pieces again, and alternate the serials. If anyone even cares ;)
Shadows 9
Leo was pleased with himself. The Swift-as-a-Fox had anchored the day before, and Captain Triskin had allowed a bit of shore leave while she and the other officers squared things with the locals. It was nice going onto a Southern port. Between the government and the yaks there was always at least a day delay before any of their cargo could get moved. His watch had drawn the lot for first leave, and that was when his luck had started to improve.
He’d lost his pay gambling with Mr. Hallock – the captain’s mate as he was called when the quarterdeck crew was out of earshot. Despite the fact that he always won, there was always a place at the table for him, be it cards, dice, or anything else. Losing to Mr. Hallock was no shame. He rarely sat in for more than a few rounds and was generally pretty generous with his access to the liquor cabinet. It was all in good fun, except Leo hadn’t managed to win anything back of his mates this time, and found himself bumming around the waterfront with no coin and nothing worth doing.
Now, in a twist of fate, he just might get to be the luckiest man on the crew. It was a clear sunny day and there’d been a deep red sunset the night before. His prospects looked good. Leo approached the cabin, hat in hand, and knocked.
The door snatched open in a second and there she stood, frowning slightly. Her clothing was airy – a wispy skirt of white and yellow silk and a midriff-baring top to match that was all flowing sleeves and décolletage. Her blonde hair spilled across her shoulders as she tossed her head. She smiled then, unconcerned or unaware of the effect this had on the flustered sailor who stood before her door.
“Ooh!” she chirped, “a present already?”
“Um,” managed Leo. He was first – that was good news. Everyone on the crew brought her offerings even if it wasn’t exactly encouraged. She was their luck: their personal goddess. But Leo didn’t have anything concrete to give her. “No. I, that is, I don’t have… I saw something?”
“What?” Piove blinked in confusion. Leo shuffled his feet, feeling a flush spread across his face and preying his weathered skin wouldn’t expose his embarrassment.
“I heard something. Something for you to hear.”
“Then why did *you* hear it?”
He crumpled his hat in his hands. How suave! “I mean… I think you’d like it.”
“Oh?” She rested a finger on her chin, curious. Leo floundered on.
“There’s this cripple who plays music. At the dock markets. Elf songs, they say. Everyone knows you don’t much like the South…”
“I don’t like Southern*ers*,” she corrected, pouting beautifully. “They’re stuffy and mean!”
“Um… right. The songs though. I though you’d like ‘em. Maybe you could dance?”
“Southerners don’t like dancing.” The breeze picked up around them, and she cocked her head as if listening to something.
He ducked his head. This wasn’t going as well as he hoped. “Well… lots of folk here aren’t Southern. We like your dancing plenty! And if the Elf music has caught on, maybe the dancing will go better?” Leo wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get that all out with those butterflies churning around in his gut, but Piove smiled sunnily after brief consideration.
“Okay! They’ll like my dancing…. Or else!” She punched the air. Leo froze, wondering if he hadn’t gotten himself into too much trouble with this proposition.
Matteo almost hadn’t found the energy to make it out for the morning crowd. The market-goers weren’t always as generous as the sailors who rambled through drunkenly on their way to and from their ships at night, but they were also less likely to harass him. He mightn’t have bothered, except that there had been fresh rumors circulating that some Northern ships had come in late the night before.
His presence was mostly tolerated by the market regulars, except when he attracted too large a crowd and it slowed down traffic. He set up on a low stool, just off the crossroads upwind of the fish stalls. This area got the most passers-through, but he couldn’t stand to be any closer. The smell was too overwhelming, especially since he still couldn’t manage solid food and went hungry much of the time.
Chiyo had gotten him help form her Order once they’d reached cities with larger eta populations. By that point, he’d barely been conscious an hour or two a day, and counted himself lucky not to have been dumped in a ditch somewhere along the road. The clerics of the Order of Repose had used spells to break his addiction and helped restore some of his lost strength, but he was still crippled, malnourished, and weak. He barely recognized his own reflection – a dirty, disfigured, rail thin man blinked back at him with one dull green eye. The other, when not covered to keep out the light, was a cloudy yellowish brow. His skin was also an unhealthy sallow colour. His hair and nails were brittle and dull.
His body was covered in small scars, the worst of which were on his hands where Geron had passed the bolts through flesh and bone to hang him from a tree. He couldn’t even wear gloves to hide the damage – the empty fingers just drew attention. At least the mess on his right leg was easy to cover up. He was lucky his fact hadn’t scarred worse, but Geron had used a sharp knife there. Chiyo’s spells had helped ensure that there was nothing but a network of thin nearly invisible lines. He’d learned to live with the wheezing and mysterious chest pain that sometimes seized him.
On his more optimistic days, he liked to think he wasn’t doing too badly for an ugly mute bard. He’d definitely gotten better with the lute, and had learned to compensate for his own physical limitations and the idiosyncrasies of instrument at his disposal. If his communication with Volaris was more sporadic of late, it was because the Court Wizard was more convinced that he would be alright. The Loyalists would get him back and take care of him. He just had other business requiring his attention and energies. That was all. They hadn’t forgotten him.
His Local support was growing a little thin as well. With no contact from the Loyalists he couldn’t follow through on his promises of money for getting him safely to the coast. There was a huge eta mura outside the capital, but Genming in particular seemed keen to get away from Shiroeki. With limited ability to communicate, tensions were unsurprisingly mounting. Qiu and Minsheng kept talking about trying to stow away on a ship bound for Nampung where social prejudice was at least nominally outlawed. Chiyo seemed unsure of the prospect, but Genming insisted that whether or not they would be accepted there, they’d still need money if they wanted their lives to be any better. And then he’d look to Matteo.
There wasn’t much else he could be doing. He’d tried to leave messages at the Inn Volaris had indicated, but the owners didn’t seem too impressed with his presence and he had no confidence that anything he left would get passed along. It was a bright and sunny day, at least. If nothing else, he might have a chance to learn something about the newly arrived ships. He laid down his staff, unslung lute and stool, and set up for another day of earning his dinner.
It took a while to get down to the markets where Leo had heard the performer the night before. The strains of music drifting their way told him he was on the right track. The difficulty was maintaining Piove’s interest. He’d almost given up. If he wanted her regard it would be easier just to save his coins and stay away from the card tables until he could shell out for something really special. Her favour was fleeting anyway. She couldn’t even bother to remember the names of people she’d sword were her best friends – or worst enemies – the day before. Only a select few seemed capable of making any lasting impression. But even a day of her attention…. Now, for instance, she smiled like spring sunshine, and Leo felt his heart melt into a puddle.
“I know this song!” She hummed along, tracing out the melody in Elven when the market sounds drowned out the distant lute.
~Depuis l’aurore du jour je l’attends, celui que j’aime, que mon coeur aime…~
Leo led her around the long way, avoiding the louder and smelly areas close to the fishmongers. He didn’t want to spoil her mood with anything unpleasant. She had such a forceful presence and radiated such an innocent joy that those they passed couldn’t help but stop and smile. Some of them even smiled at Leo. He basked in her presence.
There was a small crowd gathered at the crossroads. He’d switched to a song Piove was less familiar with, but she still skipped and spun as the mood struck her, humming harmonies she made up as she went along. Soon there were as many people watching her impromptu performance as gathered to listen to the music. Someone in the crowd threw her some flowers.
“Make him play something dancey-er!” she commanded.
Leo stepped up to comply, shouldering his way through to the minstrel. There were a few others, all men, who’d come up to relay her demand, and he frowned. She was with him. Sort of, anyway. The crippled lutist was peering curiously into the throng before him to catch sight of the excitement. Leo cleared his throat, interrupting the others. “Piove wants you to play something with a better beat for dancing.”
The man’s eye was on him I an instant, an unreadable expression on his dirty face. He nodded, striking a new chord as he stood carefully. The crowd let him pass, limping forward with furrowed brow to a spot where he could see. Leo didn’t recognize the song he played, but the melody seemed to be made for her. She sang along, her clear Elven voice ringing through the street as she danced. One song blended into the next as the crowd grew. People threw coins and other favours at both artists. Someone had brought over the cripple’s stool, and he was sitting again, seemingly as enthralled by Piove as everyone else. Leo beamed. It was a beautiful thing, and he’d had no small part in making it happen. Even Sir Valentine might be jealous!
It couldn’t last.
The song changed for the third or fourth time and she hesitated after a few bars, stepping towards her accompanist.
“Hey! How do you know that song?”
He looked at her with an almost desperate expression, and reached out to take Piove’s hand.
She snatched it back, then slapped him. “Ew. Don’t touch me, you’re gross!” She stepped back, fists on her hips. He started to open his mouth, but she turned her head and wrinkled her nose. The crowd, Leo included, shifted uneasily. “And didn’t your mother tell you that it’s rude to stare?”
He had the grace to look away briefly, and Piove snatched up a copper piece, repeating a few short arcane words. Leo held his breath, but she only frowned more. There was a definite chill in the air.
“You’re creepy. And ugly. And a jerk.” She scanned the crowed and pushed a finger towards Leo. “Come on, sailor. We’re leaving.”
Minsheng had been giving him worried looks ever since he’d returned to the shack early that afternoon, but his mood wasn’t something he could convey in a few hand gestures and grunts. The youth probably just thought he was ill again, which at least allowed him some dignity. What he was actually doing was moping –useless self-indulgent behaviour. He knew he should have gone after Piove and tracked down her ship, or should be writing out some kind of explanation that he could try to pass along. Right now he just didn’t have the mental energy. He couldn’t think of how to start. At least the others were likely to be pleased with the extra coin he’d brought home.
Matteo heard someone hurrying up to the door flap of their shack – probably Qiu returning from some new adventure in the mura. Minsheng looked up from his work also – he was practicing the cobbling Genming was teaching him on a pair of worn sandals Chiyo had scavenged for him. His sister burst into the tiny room, looking around excitedly.
“You are here! Traveler-san, there are *Elves* looking for you!”
He sat up, looking curious. Her brother was surprised.
“Elves?”
“Yes,” she nodded to Minsheng and turned back to Matteo. “Two of them – a very handsome man, and a pregnant lady. I told them I might bring them to you…. If you wanted to go.”
He was already standing. Perhaps today’s earlier encounter hadn’t been so disastrous after all. He made his farewell to Minsheng carefully, in case he might not be back that way, and followed after Qiu.
Hadyn looked in surprised past the servant to the man standing behind. Sterling grinned his knowing sharkish grin.
“I figured I’ve never seen the inside of the Imperial City before. And, of course, once I explained my pressing need for a conference with yourself, the fine dedicated gentlemen waiting at the gates up and offered me an escort.”
“I see.” Only Sterling could have talked his way past the guards at the gates of Shiroeki. Hadyn wondered what he’d told them. “Then I suppose you’d better come in.”
“Ahh, well. That’s the trick see. My exceedingly generous but perhaps somewhat less patient escort is attending on our joint return, specifically. Grab your things, and I’ll explain along the way.”
“My things?”
“You know – the things you never travel anywhere without.”
“Travel is it.”
Sterling held up his hands placatingly. “Nowhere exotic, I promise. Just a spot of official business.” He winked. The gall!
~We’re going.~ Teah slipped up behind him, leaning into him slightly. ~We need out of here.~
“Fine.” There was no sense arguing with both of them. The guards likely considered him, and by extension his hostess, responsible for Sterling, and it would be best to steer him away from any potential trouble. He turned back inside to retrieve his travel pack. It contained all the essential things he might need if forced to flee at a moment’s notice. ~But I haven’t agreed to anything.~
Valentine looked up from his conversation with Triskin as the door of Suo Hu opened cautiously.
“That must be him,” he whispered. The dirty stranger did have an Elven look about him, just as Piove had described. He headed directly towards them. The eta girl they’d sent to fetch him poked her head in nervously and scurried after him in response to Triskin’s encouraging smile. “Do you recognize him?”
Triskin shrugged, turning to address the stranger. “Hi there… have a seat.”
He smiled guardedly in return, bowing politely before complying. His gaze flicked between the two of them, and he kept his head turned perpendicular to the small table to keep them both inside the peripheral vision of his one eye.
He was quite an off-putting sight – no wonder Piove had reacted so strongly. It was rare to see anyone, let alone an Elf, so disfigured. It remained to be seen if he was the rake she had described. That she hadn’t been able to read his thoughts was certainly curious. He didn’t know much about magic, but his lady was a formidable practitioner. If Sterling was successful in tracking down Hadyn perhaps he could shed some light on that situation – he was better at understanding how these things worked. For Piove it was just part of her nature that she rarely gave much thought.
Triskin continued, sticking with Southern for the girl’s benefit. “I’m sorry this is a little awkward, but a friend of ours ran into you earlier today and Yeoh-san told us you’ve tried to leave messages for another of our friends here. We thought we should try and figure out what this is about.”
“Yes,” Valentine interjected, though the cripple was already nodding. It wasn’t as though he could interrupt! “We went looking down at the markets and ran into your friend here.” He smiled at Qiu, hoping to put her at ease. She looked away, almost prostrating herself in front of the low table. Her companion reached over and patted her on the shoulder. She sat back up, eyes averted, remaining silent. Valentine disliked the Southern caste system, especially the tremendous sway it had over the eta. She did seem to respond a little better to Triskin – she was probably unused to the kindness of attractive men.
The stranger flashed the girl a closed-lipped smile, then turned back to his hosts. He pointed at himself, tapped his temple, and then indicated the two of them with a twirl of his index finger.
“I’m sorry,” Triskin apologized again, adjusting herself on the low cushions where she’d spread out to relieve the extra weight of her belly. “You do look a bit familiar, but should we know who you are?”
He smiled ruefully, waggling his hand back and forth.
“Un peu?”
He nodded, and Qiu made a quiet sound in the back of her throat.
“If you know any more, chérie, please tell us.”
She still avoided looking at him directly, but continued with a nod from Triskin. “When we found him months ago, in the west, he was very sick and Chiyo said his scars and wounds were very fresh.”
“Well, that might do it.”
He shrugged to Triskin, and made a scribbling gesture.
“Oh of course!” She turned to look through her pouch.
Valentine frowned sympathetically. “It seems you have suffered much, friend. I hope we will be able to help you.” It was a fairly banal thing to say – how could anyone not pity such a creature?
Triskin produced some scraps of parchment and continued looking for something to write with. The stranger nodded again, then turned as the doors swung open again, admitting Hadyn and Sterling. The wizard seemed especially peevish, frowning suspiciously at the assembly. Valentine smiled regardless – it did no good to indulge his sourness. “I see our other companions have arrived. Do you know them as well?”
He nodded, but Hadyn was already answering for him.
“I know who he is.”
“You do? Ah bien!” They’d hardly walked in the door. Sterling sidled around to sit by his lady, who scooched over to make room. Hadyn regarded the stranger critically, affirming his suspicions.
“Matteo Atremi. Missing since the attack in Shinkyo.”
Could it be? He’d thought the other Elf dead after so long with no word. Triskin looked as surprised as he felt, though Sterling was as cool as ever. Likely Hadyn had already filled him in.
“How?” he asked, unable to decide between the many questions in him mind beginning with that word. How did the wizard know? How had Matteo survived? They hadn’t known each other well, but they’d certainly spoken a few times. Rumours of his disappearance and death had flown widely among the Loyalists after the attack and during the relocation.
“I’ve been in touch with Volaris. He wants him brought in as soon as possible.”
Qiu was the only one at the table who looked disappointed. Matteo reached over, slapped her on the shoulder, and nodded.
“When will you leave?” She looked at him imploringly, then glanced nervously beyond into the shadows of Hadyn’s cowl.
“The sooner the better,” he quipped. Matteo was writing something, holding the ink pen Triskin had found very carefully. He pushed the note towards her, and she nodded as she read.
“We can take care of that.”
“Take care of what?”
“Debts.”
Valentine nodded. The prince would certainly reimburse them any necessary expenses.
“Maybe we ought to consider conducting our affairs somewhere more conducive to a private transaction, as accommodating as the Yeoh’s have been.”
“Sterling’s right. Let’s head back to the ship.” Triskin gathered her things, rising with Sterling’s help.
Hadyn nodded his assent curtly, but Matteo looked to Qiu. Valentine offered her his hand as he stood himself. Her eyes went as big as saucers and she flushed again.
“You as well, petite. We will make sure you are taken care of too.”
Matteo rolled his eye behind her, but nodded when she looked to him for assurance. She took the proffered hand, and the group filed out back towards the Swift-as-a-Fox.
Matteo was slower than the others and had naturally fallen to the rear with Qiu. He wasn’t sure is anyone else had seen the spell cast, but they all seemed surprised when Hadyn first spoke in the minds.
~I need to do some tests on him before I ca take him to the compound.~
~What kind of tests?~
~To make sure you won’t compromise security.~ Presumably he meant checking into whatever was keeping him hidden from magical detection.
~Alright.~
~Do you need the rest of us to attend these examinations?~ Sterling asked.
~That depends on what I find. I do need a private place to work.~
~Don’t you have your own place in the city?~ Triskin, this time. She sounded a bit annoyed. Space, especially private space, was probably at a premium, on the ship.
~I can’t take him there.~
~Fine. How long will it take?~
~Not long.~
~Alright then – we’ll be on hand.~ She sounded a little appeased, but the rest of the short trip continued in relative silence. Matteo tried not to think too much about what exactly Hadyn’s tests might reveal – he really had not idea what Geron might have done to him before he escaped. The priest had never seemed too concerned about his escaped. Save for a few attempts to bribe him for information he hadn’t had, he’d never even heard from his captor. There’d never been any real sign that the cult had pursued him either. It was a little worrying.
“Hey, what’s he* doing here?" Piove’s voice drifted down from where he was perched on a yard. Qiu looked nervously to Matteo, not understanding her use of common. He put her hand on her shoulder to offer some reassurance, though he wasn’t exactly certain how this would play out. It was still quite a nice day out, though cooler and windier along the waterfront. As far as he could tell, no one really understood the relationship between Piove’s mood and the weather.
Valentine stepped forward, smiling up into the sky. “Its alright, ma belle, if you come down we will explain everything.”
“I don’t want to come down. It’s *pretty* up here.” She tossed her hair pointedly. “And there are no jerks.”
“Don’t you want to come and see Hadyn?”
“If he’s not being a jerk, he can come up and see me top!”
The wizard grumbled something under his breath, and waved a hand at the rigging. “I don’t have time,” he said more loudly. After a pause he added, “Tell her I’ll see her later. Tell her Teah couldn’t up there.”
“Of course. If you don’t need me…” The knight looked up again.
“Go head.”
Valentine headed off. Piove made a rude gesture in Hadyn and Matteo’s direction, which the former didn’t seem to notice. Matteo tried his best to appear inoffensive as he followed the wizard below to where Sterling was waving them into a cabin.
It was cozy inside – the ceiling was barely high enough that Sterling didn’t have to stoop. Hadyn, slightly taller, quickly seated himself in one of the chairs at the short table. There were cabinets on either side of the bulkheads filled with dishes carefully held in place with wooden bars. A number of charts sat rolled up beside a small pile of books at the other end of the table. “Triskin is just clearing away the rest of her stuff – we weren’t sure how much space you might require”
“This should be fine.” Hadyn turned to Matteo. “Sit down. Take off your shirt to start.”
He complied, and Hadyn began. They didn’t have any perceptible effects, and weren’t anything he recognized. Triskin returned after a few moments to remove the rest of her paperwork, and winced when she looked his way.
“I’m going to see about getting you a bath and something else to wear at least. What about something to eat?”
He shrugged, and she looked to Qiu.
“He can’t eat solid food,” she supplied. “Or meat broth – it makes him sick.”
“Well, most Elves don’t eat meat. I’ll have the cook come up with something. Anyone else?”
Hadyn shook his head. Sterling also declined. Qiu smiled shyly.
“Why don’t you come with me, Qiu. I can show you around the ship, and leave the boys to do their thing.”
“I would like that…” She looked to Matteo, and he waved her off. Triskin extended her hand to the girl, charts and books tucked under her other arm, and the two made their exit.
“Good,” said Hadyn after they’d left. “I need you to take off the rest of your clothes.”
Sterling raised an eyebrow at that. “What precisely are you looking for?”
“Markings. There have been reports that the cult was able to disguise some of the ritual marks placed on their targets. If he can be used against the Loyalists, we can’t risk brining him in.”
The examination was quick but thorough. No tattoos – Matteo was fairly sure he would have noticed even if ha hadn’t been awake for their administration. The only needles he remembered Geron using were the big long ones the priest stabbed into his chest to revive him. Hadyn made some notes. If the telepathy spell were still active he might have inquired as to their content, but as the wizard chose to ignore his curious looks, he was left to wonder.
A little while later, one of the sailors came down and led him further aft where Triskin had ordered a bath prepared. There were some clean clothes laid out as well – at least cleaner than the rags he’s been wearing for the past few months. He stepped carefully into the tub.
A hot bath and a change of clothes seemed an almost overwhelming luxury. The thought of it all – of going somewhere he wouldn’t have to worry about what he might get to eat, where there were other people who could make sure that he was safe. Safe and well. He might walk and see properly, hold things, swallow – talk. Sing. He felt a little weak, like the end of this great trial was in sight. A wave of relief washed over him as he sank into the water. It was lightly scented.
Matteo closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of the cabin. It was probably Triskin and Sterling’s. He could hear the two of them talking just outside the door but couldn’t make out the words. Hadyn was there too, and possibly valentine. He shut them out. The ship rocked gently on the waves, straining against its mooring lines. He could smell the salt mixed with the dirty scent of algae and other harbour wastes common to large ports. It was nostalgic. He let his mind drift, travelling to home and better times.
It wasn’t long before he was snapped out of his reverie. There was an impatient knock at the door before Piove popped her head inside the cabin.
“Hey you! Hadyn says you have to hurry up.”
Matteo sat up, startled. She was peering at him – at his face – with critical curiosity. It was discomfiting, but he brushed back his wet hair and tried a smile.
She frowned, perplexed. “You’re not hurrying.”
He picked up the soap, lathering it in water that was already looking a little dingy after his short soak. Apparently not quite satisfied, Piove remained. Fine, then. He set to washing, only willing to hurry so much, and determined to feel clean rather than simply rinsed. Piove hovered near the door, carefully not watching. He could feel the little breeze that followed her drifting through the room, and shivered.
“Are you really Matteo?”
He nodded. Maybe she did remember him. Maybe. She seemed uncertain, and snuck another look.
“Maybe Volaris can make you not ugly.” He raised his eyebrows. She tossed her hair. “Hurry faster – they want you to eat before we can go.”
With that she flitted out, leaving him to finish cleaning up in a less self-conscious environment. Along with everything else, he was looking forward to the end of the way people saw him now – pity or disgust marked on their faces.
The clothes he’d been given fit fairly well. They felt great, even the boots that were a size or so too small. It was step one toward rejoining society. Step two might involve a haircut or a proper meal, but for now he was content with what Triskin and Qiu had turned up. The latter was crunching an apple when he limped back into the other room. The others had apparently dispersed to tend to their own errands.
Qiu smiled at him, ad pointed to a bowl and a mug set on the table. “That is for you.”
It smelled good, at least. Even that seemed novel. He sat after a smile of thanks. The bowl held some kind of strained vegetable broth. He could taste, or at least smell, the seasonings. The mug contained a thick mix of fruit pulp and juice. After the rice gruel he’d been surviving on, it may as well have been a five star banquet.
Qiu watched quietly as he ate. It was unlike her to be so silent – she was generally content to chatter constantly unless she was around strangers. Even then she tended to recover quickly from her shyness. Matteo was her ideal companion, unable to rely or interrupt her rambling commentary. He shot her a concerned look.
“These people take very good care of you. It is good that you are going back to them.”
He nodded. Qiu was smart – perceptive.
“The others won’t get a chance to say goodbye, will they? You’ll be leaving very soon, and we’ll never see you again.”
It was a little abrupt, but what could he do? What could he say, even if he had the chance? He trusted Triskin and the others to come through for his traveling companions. He knew Volaris would see them taken care of if they were somehow incapable. But it was better this way. The less they knew the better. Maybe they’d be safer in their ignorance. He reached over and Squeezed Qiu’s hand, wishing he could make a better apology.
“You never told us your name, Matteo. I am sure you could have, but you never did. I don’t understand, but if that si how you want things, I won’t tell the others.”
He considered, nodded, smiled. She smiled too – it was their secret, then. A special gift just for her.
“Your friends said for you to go up when you were ready. And then you will leave.”
Matteo stood. His staff was leaning up against the cabin wall, and he reached out for it. Qiu stood too.
“You won’t forget us, will you?”
He shook his head. Never. Good and bad, he doubted he could ever erase the past few months from his memory. Not in a thousand years. He pulled her in for a close hug, then limped towards the deck to recover his life.
Volaris felt a twinge of guilt, and then suppressed it. He’d just had too many other responsibilities, especially since the problems with the Dragonkin and their masters. Lynel was rubbing off on him too much. He’d satisfied himself that Matteo was safe and relatively stable, and concentrated on other matters. What could a week of a few more days have really mattered? The Elf was recovered now. He’d sent for Jane Lorella and Galawyn, and the three waited in the transport room. There were guard stationed outside to escort them through to the warded room in the laboratory that Kyla was setting up – Hadyn’s brief report hadn’t been very encouraging.
He felt the stirring of magic half a second before they all came into view: Hadyn and Teah, Piove and Valentine, Triskin and Sterling. And Matteo. Hadyn had warned him, but it was still a shock. Volaris inhaled sharply – he was hardly recognizable. They were all given a moment to recover by Piove, springing up on her toes and looking at Valentine imploringly.
“Come outside and see the mountains!?”
Behind her, Volaris nodded to the Espada – he wouldn’t be needed. Piove would just be distracting, especially if she got bored.
“Bien sûr chérie.” He smiled.
“Triskin, I believe His Highness wanted to talk to you about finding some flying mounts for some of our people, if you’d be up for that.” She was very pregnant now, and might not be inclined to set out on anything too tricky when her child was due so soon. The small Elf cocked her head pensively, and nodded.
“I’ll see what the Prince has to say, at least. I might have some ideas.”
“I’ll go as well,” Sterling added – he knew his cues. “If Lynel is going to try and hijack one of my best captains, I might as well go along for the ride.” He turned to Matteo. “Good luck, friend.”
Volaris waited patiently for the others to say their goodbyes and take their leave until Hadyn, Teah, and Matteo were the only newcomers remaining. Hadyn seemed even more on edge than usual, not entirely surprising considering what had happened the last time he’d visited. It was probably for the best that Caena and Reason weren’t around. He hoped the young wizard could hold it together for the time being.
“So.” The others were waiting for his orders. Galawyn looked composed, Jane concerned, and Matteo anxious. Hadyn seemed unsurprisingly peevish and distracted. “Matteo, its good to have you back. Galawyn is gong to take care of you for the moment. I need to talk to Hadyn. Afterwards, I know Lieutenant Lorella is keen to speak to you. I’ll see you shortly – I’m sure you’ll be looking better.” He smiled, glad this loose end was tied up and hopeful that the young Elf would be alright. He might also have valuable information about the Cult and their activities in the South.
“This way.” Galawyn took charge, leading her patient out towards the labs. She’d really grown into her role in the past few months. Matteo nodded to the wizards and limped after her. Jane followed, leaning over to whisper to the Elf.
Once they were gone, Volaris turned to Hadyn. “What have you found, then?”
“Not as much as we would like. Whatever is keeping him hidden works similarly to Nondetection – it mainly blocks discerning magic from the Divination school, but he can still be contacted telepathically. I couldn’t dispel it – it acts like an item, even though he isn’t carrying anything. I haven’t tried a targeted dispel – I wasn’t prepared for this kind of thorough examination today, and I didn’t have access to my scrolls.”
“That’s alright – I don’t know that any of us were expecting this right now. But you didn’t see any evidence of potentially dangerous rituals?”
“Not dangerous to us.”
Typical Hadyn – sometimes he displayed a rather disturbing lack of empathy. “What about to Matteo?”
“He should be alright. Some of his scaring suggested a dedication of some kind, but he was never properly sacrificed and from what you’ve told me, he’s already had the effects of any curses he was under removed.”
“I’ll ask Galawyn if she can look into it anyway.” A dedication ritual was a way for priests to mark the souls they were sending to their Gods. He didn’t like to think about what use the Lich King might have for the cult’s sacrifices, but the fewer he got, the better. “Anything else notable?”
“Nothing your priestess won’t be able to fix, surely. Will you be needing me for anything else? I have my own affairs to tend to in Shiroeki.”
“Actually, yes – if you don’t mind saying at last long enough to ferry some of the others back, there are some other matters I’d like your opinion on.”
Hadyn frowned. “I’ll be in the lab.”
Volaris let him go. As valuable as some of Hadyn’s contributions were, the wizard wasn’t an immediate priority. He’d deal with Matteo, and do his best to get back to Hadyn quickly afterwards. For now, the Court Wizard headed out in the direction the others had departed earlier. He was surprised to meet Kyla coming the other way.
“Galawyn’s having some problems.” His apprentice looked a little shaken.
He nodded, directing her back the way she’d come. “What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t know – he’s having trouble breathing.”
Bad, but it could be worse. At least Matteo was in good hands. He followed Kyla back to the lab, though he could hear the commotion before they arrived. The door guard – only one of them – looked worried. She stood aside to admit the mages. Inside, Galawyn was the calm focus of a chaotic scene. A panicked looking second guard held Matteo down as he convulsed, coughing and choking.
“Something is fighting my spell,” the priestess explained.
He didn’t need to hear more – the incantation for Dispel Magic was already on his lips. Matteo’s thrashing stopped soon after, though he continued coughing. The guard – John Cooper – helped him sit up while Galawyn fixed something for him to drink.
Volaris stepped further into the room. “What happened?”
Kyla answered first. “I’m sorry, Volaris. I didn’t have the spell ready. I didn’t expect anything like this today…”
“It’s alright. You can’t be prepared for everything every day.” He looked at the Elf. Galawyn’s spell hadn’t had time to complete, and some of his nastier wounds were only partly rewoven. It looked painful, but Galawyn was already seeing to him.
“Something was interfering with the regeneration – something keeping his lungs from healing properly.”
“What’s wrong with his lungs?”
“I don’t know yet. There is no obvious damage from the outside, but he’s had some magical healing, and any of the small scars could have originally been a lot deeper.” She looked to her patient. “I’m sorry, Matteo. This will help you sleep, and kill the pain.”
Matteo he seemed worn down and resigned as the priestess helped him choke down a vial of some clear liquid. He began to remove his shirt without prompting, no doubt guessing what was coming next.
Volaris turned to his apprentice. “Kyla, you don’t need to stay.” The war had changed her a lot, especially as she became more involved in some of the efforts beyond the relative safety of the lab and library. She’d matured a lot, but he still felt responsible for protecting her from the harshness of the world when he could.
“I’m okay.” She wasn’t, but she wanted to be. He frowned – but it was her choice. Galawyn was directing John on how to secure an already drowsy Matteo. He didn’t need to stay either, but Volaris knew the guard would stay as long as Kyla did.
Galawyn held the Elf’s hand, talking soothingly to him until the drugs took hold. The tension finally eased from his brow and the High Priestess began her examination.
“Hadyn mentioned that he has some kind of ritual scars – they couldn’t have caused anything like this?” Volaris approached to watch more carefully. He hoped Galawyn would be able to handle the problem as long as it was purely medical. Healing, he knew, had been part of her training well before she’d become the High Priestess after Shevan resigned. It was the cult he didn’t trust.
“No,” she answered, frowning. “This is a physical problem, but I see what he meant.” She probed Matteo’s chest carefully with her fingers, circling a cursive mess of thin white lines. Volaris could see the pattern they disguised. “I’m going to need a knife, small and sharp.”
Kyla nodded, fetching an appropriate instrument. She passed it to the priestess then stepped back, looking nervous. She pinched her lips together in a determined frown. Galawyn smiled reassuringly.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.” She closed her eyes, poised over Matteo’s body, knife in hand. “Oh Father of Justice, let me right the wrongs done to this undeserving man, as you have shown me that the war against this foul evil must be won in battles small as well as great. With your blessing, I act for what is good and right.” She lowered the knife, cutting carefully into the flesh. The Elf grimaced in his drugged slumber, but didn’t wake up. Galawyn proceeded with graceful confidence, peeling back skin and muscle, probing into the open cavity.
Volaris leaned closer to watch. He’d never learned healing himself, but had attended some lectures on Anatomy at the University. Now that he thought about it, they had been offered by a priest of Salistrom.
“Here.” She pointed at a sack of tissue pressed up against his lungs. “This isn’t natural.” She loosened it carefully with the tip of her knife. It was only loosely connected by a few blood vessels.
“What is it?” Kyla, standing back a few paces, leaned in towards the operating table.
“I don’t know. It’s hard – I think there is something inside. But it shouldn’t be connected the way it is. And you can see where its damaged the lung.”
Volaris stared at the pouch of skin, concentrating on his ability to discern magical auras granted by his permanent Arcane Sight spell. There was something there, he was sure, but he couldn’t quite pierce through it. “That’s it. Whatever has been hiding him is inside.” He had a sneaking suspicion about what it might be.
Galawyn nodded. She pulled the little pouch out carefully then severed the connecting tissue with one quick cut. It bled quickly and copiously, and the Elf’s lungs spasmed visibly. The priestess cast a simple healing spell to stabilize him, then carefully rolled back the skin and muscle she’d cut away. She used a scroll to cast a second Regeneration spell, and everyone watching waited tensely until it was clear that everything was working properly.
As soon as the tissue was severed, Matteo had become visible to magical detection. While she held the skin wrapped parcel, Galawyn was. It was… It was disturbed. Whoever had thought of this was very devious and even more depraved.
“Galawyn, can you cut it open? But be careful.”
She nodded, holding the sack of skin in still bloody hands. It was actually quite small, about two inches, round and slightly disc shaped. She ran her fingers over it and frowned.
“There’s two things in here.”
He nodded, casting a Greater Dispel as a precaution. He couldn’t tell if it had any effect, but he felt better.
Galawyn pulled out two discs, both about the same size. The first was an amulet, as he’d suspected. It was probably Nondetection, and fairly powerful. The second was a slim bone disc with arcane sigils on both sides. She passed it to him with a worried look. “A Symbol of Pain.”
“And an Explosive Rune.” He flipped it over, confirming his identification. “Nice little booby trap.”
“It’s sick.”
“Yes. But its over. He’ll be alright?”
“He’ll need rest after the spell finished its work, as his body is quite weak.”
“Let Jane and I know when he is awake. And thank you.” He turned to the others. “John, thank you for your help as well. You’re free to go, but you should keep what you’ve seen here in confidence. Do you understand?” He has several reasons for the order, but the biggest might have been morale. People’s spirits were low enough as it was without rumours of the extent of the cult’s great depravity spreading through the compound.
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. Kyla, come with me, please.” He turned to leave, knowing she would follow. She’d chosen to stay, which was brave. As his apprentice, he felt she also deserved a fuller explanation of what exactly had happened, but it was best done in private. Galawyn could see to arrangements for Matteo on her own, and he could check in on the Elf after he was awake for a full debriefing.
Matteo woke up, whole and comfortable, in a small stone room in the new complex. He still didn’t know exactly where he was, save that this was presumably the new Loyalist headquarters. He did know that he was ravenous. He’d gone hungry for a long time, but his appetite had waned with the rest of his body.
He sat up. He could see, and none of his limbs pained him. He made a fist with each hand – his knuckles cracked in new and interesting ways, and he still bore ugly scars from where he’d been spiked to the tree, but they were whole again.
“Hello?” There wasn’t anyone around to answer, but that wasn’t the point. His voice sounded thin and dry, but it was his voice. He reached up to feel his head – his ears were whole again as well.
He stood. Something was making him dizzy. It could be the hunger, or relief, or even whatever Galawyn had given him to kill the pain – best not to think about that too hard. She’d healed him, and he was exceedingly grateful. He turned slowly to take in the room. It was fairly empty, with only a table, a chair and a chest besides the bed. The chest he recognized as his own. It contained the few things he could call his own, mostly clothing accumulated after the initial flight form Exia.
He wavered. He wasn’t wearing much at the moment, but if he didn’t get something to eat soon, he’d rather at least be close to somewhere he could lie down. He decided to look around and investigate a little, and went to the door. He’d half expected it to be locked, but it wasn’t, and he stuck his head outside.
“Hello?” He tried again, this time a little more forcefully. His voice was still scratchy, but a little better.
“Matteo!” Kurtis Trevyn stepped into view. The larger man seemed greatly relieved. “You’re up! Man, you still look like hell.”
“Thanks…” Before Matteo had much if a chance to respond, his friend gathered him up into a big hug. He could feel his vision narrowing to blackness, but managed to extricate himself with some helpless flailing and a well-timed ‘oof.’ He caught the door frame upon release, steadying himself.
‘Sorry man, it’s just so great to see you, well, alive!” Kurtis grinned. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry. Dizzy.”
“Right. I’m supposed to go tell Volaris when you’re up. Sit tight, my friend. We’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you.”
His friend gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder – more gentle than his earlier hug, and trotted off down the corridor. Matteo stepped back inside the room, closing the door after him, and sat down on the floor in front of his chest. He flipped open the lid and smiled. It spoke volumes about his friends here that packed away on top where he’d left it was his Cloak of Elvenkind. He’d had it for a long time now, well before he’d gone to Exia. He wrapped it around his shoulders now, looking for something else to wear with it. His boots were there also, and he was extra glad he’d decided to go with something flashier the last time he’d gone through his things – dressing for the Spirit Festival, what seemed like a lifetime ago.
He was deliberating between what seemed like an army of clean comfortable shirts when he heard a voice behind him rasp his name – Gordon. The Shadow slid along the wall, profiled strongly but the torchlight that lit the small room.
“Yes?” He felt a twinge of guilt. Since the prospect of his rescued, he hadn’t given his companion much thought.
“Volaris and Lorella are coming. Don’t tell them about me.”
Matteo nodded. He hadn’t planned to.
The Shadow continued. “Lorella might guess. I know she wondered before. She doesn’t need you to tell her – secrets are our strength.”
“I know.”
“Good. I’ve scouted this fort, and I’ll report after they’ve left.”
“Thank you.” His throat still felt scratchy, and he swallowed. Something to drink would be nice too. Gordon withdrew, and Matteo returned to dressing, turning his thoughts away from his responsibilities again. He eventually settled on an outfit that most would probably consider a bit much for someone who was probably just going to be convalescing in his room for the next few days. The silk felt nice on his skin, though he was too thin to fill out the clothes properly, and they hung off his frame. Once dressed, he retired to the bed, alternately resting and stretching his restored limbs, until there was a knock at the door.
“Come in”
Volaris entered first, followed by Lorella and a servant bearing a tray of food. The latter set down her burden on the table, and dragged it over closer to Matteo. Lorella thanked her, and she departed.
“Galawyn said you’d probably be quite hungry when you woke up.” Volaris smiled at him as he reached for a crisp looking apple – the first solid food he’d had since Shinkyo. “You look well – much better thank when you first arrived.”
“It’s good to have you back, Atremi.” That was Lorella – always professional. It was hard to guess what went on inside her head. Matteo smiled at both.
“Thank you.”
Lorella nodded, pouring him a glass from the pitcher on the tray. “You’re worth it. Director Fenning always thought so.”
It was a gentle probe. She was unlikely to ask him anything direct in front of Volaris, if she was planning on it at all. “I’ll try to live up to his expectations.”
“Good.” She nodded consideringly, and he wondered what all she did know. She was as sharp as a knife. “Eat first, then we’ll want to know what you can tell us about the cult. If you get tired, we can continue another day.”
Volaris smiled. “Meanwhile, I can fill you in a little about what we’ve been doing.”
Matteo ate as he listened to the Court Wizard relate all that had happened since Shinkyo. He didn’t go into any great detail, but he described the attack on the compound, the revelation of the spy, the move to Fort Cedric, their relations with the Local Aldryn and the Exian refugees they’d encountered, and the war with the Dragonkin that they’d in to which they’d stumbled. When Volaris was through and he was feeling fed and somewhat recovered, Matteo began his own tale. He recounted how he’d found the cult cell in Shinkyo, his capture, transfer to the Shrine, rescue by Cheng, their attempted rescue and the consequences, and finally his escape and travels with the eta band who’d picked him up. He glossed over the torture, and was surprised in the retelling how much of his time he simply couldn’t account for.
There were pauses for questions on both sides. Matteo wanted to know more about the refugees – how they’d escaped Exia and the state of the city when they’d left. Volaris and Lorella queried him about the cult’s personel, their power, and plans as far as he could determine. He revealed what he could, but it wasn’t much. Geron was not one to gloat unnecessarily. He knew some more form Gordon’s observations, but even these were limited as the Shadow couldn’t physically interact with their world. Lorella took some notes, but Matteo knew she kept most of the details in her head. She’d mull them over first, and then compile the essential reports that guided the Loyalist leadership.
Eventually, Volaris nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Thank you, Matteo. You’ve told us quite a lot that we can use. I want you to get some rest over the next few days. You’ll stay here for now, until Galawyn is satisfied that you’re healthy enough, mentally and physically, to return to duty. Then we can assign you a real room nearer the other guards.”
He nodded. He was tired. Ever since his recovery, he’d not had a chance to meditate properly. Most of his rest had been drug induced, and after his debriefing, his mind felt drained. Taking a few days to adjust to his new environment sounded very attractive.
“There is one thing, though,” the wizard added. “I know this Geron – Geron Elbe. He was a Priest of Salistrom before the fall – the True Church, of course. He taught some seminars at the University. I only met him a few times, but it should be enough that we can find him – and stop him – more easily.”
Shadows 9
Leo was pleased with himself. The Swift-as-a-Fox had anchored the day before, and Captain Triskin had allowed a bit of shore leave while she and the other officers squared things with the locals. It was nice going onto a Southern port. Between the government and the yaks there was always at least a day delay before any of their cargo could get moved. His watch had drawn the lot for first leave, and that was when his luck had started to improve.
He’d lost his pay gambling with Mr. Hallock – the captain’s mate as he was called when the quarterdeck crew was out of earshot. Despite the fact that he always won, there was always a place at the table for him, be it cards, dice, or anything else. Losing to Mr. Hallock was no shame. He rarely sat in for more than a few rounds and was generally pretty generous with his access to the liquor cabinet. It was all in good fun, except Leo hadn’t managed to win anything back of his mates this time, and found himself bumming around the waterfront with no coin and nothing worth doing.
Now, in a twist of fate, he just might get to be the luckiest man on the crew. It was a clear sunny day and there’d been a deep red sunset the night before. His prospects looked good. Leo approached the cabin, hat in hand, and knocked.
The door snatched open in a second and there she stood, frowning slightly. Her clothing was airy – a wispy skirt of white and yellow silk and a midriff-baring top to match that was all flowing sleeves and décolletage. Her blonde hair spilled across her shoulders as she tossed her head. She smiled then, unconcerned or unaware of the effect this had on the flustered sailor who stood before her door.
“Ooh!” she chirped, “a present already?”
“Um,” managed Leo. He was first – that was good news. Everyone on the crew brought her offerings even if it wasn’t exactly encouraged. She was their luck: their personal goddess. But Leo didn’t have anything concrete to give her. “No. I, that is, I don’t have… I saw something?”
“What?” Piove blinked in confusion. Leo shuffled his feet, feeling a flush spread across his face and preying his weathered skin wouldn’t expose his embarrassment.
“I heard something. Something for you to hear.”
“Then why did *you* hear it?”
He crumpled his hat in his hands. How suave! “I mean… I think you’d like it.”
“Oh?” She rested a finger on her chin, curious. Leo floundered on.
“There’s this cripple who plays music. At the dock markets. Elf songs, they say. Everyone knows you don’t much like the South…”
“I don’t like Southern*ers*,” she corrected, pouting beautifully. “They’re stuffy and mean!”
“Um… right. The songs though. I though you’d like ‘em. Maybe you could dance?”
“Southerners don’t like dancing.” The breeze picked up around them, and she cocked her head as if listening to something.
He ducked his head. This wasn’t going as well as he hoped. “Well… lots of folk here aren’t Southern. We like your dancing plenty! And if the Elf music has caught on, maybe the dancing will go better?” Leo wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get that all out with those butterflies churning around in his gut, but Piove smiled sunnily after brief consideration.
“Okay! They’ll like my dancing…. Or else!” She punched the air. Leo froze, wondering if he hadn’t gotten himself into too much trouble with this proposition.
Matteo almost hadn’t found the energy to make it out for the morning crowd. The market-goers weren’t always as generous as the sailors who rambled through drunkenly on their way to and from their ships at night, but they were also less likely to harass him. He mightn’t have bothered, except that there had been fresh rumors circulating that some Northern ships had come in late the night before.
His presence was mostly tolerated by the market regulars, except when he attracted too large a crowd and it slowed down traffic. He set up on a low stool, just off the crossroads upwind of the fish stalls. This area got the most passers-through, but he couldn’t stand to be any closer. The smell was too overwhelming, especially since he still couldn’t manage solid food and went hungry much of the time.
Chiyo had gotten him help form her Order once they’d reached cities with larger eta populations. By that point, he’d barely been conscious an hour or two a day, and counted himself lucky not to have been dumped in a ditch somewhere along the road. The clerics of the Order of Repose had used spells to break his addiction and helped restore some of his lost strength, but he was still crippled, malnourished, and weak. He barely recognized his own reflection – a dirty, disfigured, rail thin man blinked back at him with one dull green eye. The other, when not covered to keep out the light, was a cloudy yellowish brow. His skin was also an unhealthy sallow colour. His hair and nails were brittle and dull.
His body was covered in small scars, the worst of which were on his hands where Geron had passed the bolts through flesh and bone to hang him from a tree. He couldn’t even wear gloves to hide the damage – the empty fingers just drew attention. At least the mess on his right leg was easy to cover up. He was lucky his fact hadn’t scarred worse, but Geron had used a sharp knife there. Chiyo’s spells had helped ensure that there was nothing but a network of thin nearly invisible lines. He’d learned to live with the wheezing and mysterious chest pain that sometimes seized him.
On his more optimistic days, he liked to think he wasn’t doing too badly for an ugly mute bard. He’d definitely gotten better with the lute, and had learned to compensate for his own physical limitations and the idiosyncrasies of instrument at his disposal. If his communication with Volaris was more sporadic of late, it was because the Court Wizard was more convinced that he would be alright. The Loyalists would get him back and take care of him. He just had other business requiring his attention and energies. That was all. They hadn’t forgotten him.
His Local support was growing a little thin as well. With no contact from the Loyalists he couldn’t follow through on his promises of money for getting him safely to the coast. There was a huge eta mura outside the capital, but Genming in particular seemed keen to get away from Shiroeki. With limited ability to communicate, tensions were unsurprisingly mounting. Qiu and Minsheng kept talking about trying to stow away on a ship bound for Nampung where social prejudice was at least nominally outlawed. Chiyo seemed unsure of the prospect, but Genming insisted that whether or not they would be accepted there, they’d still need money if they wanted their lives to be any better. And then he’d look to Matteo.
There wasn’t much else he could be doing. He’d tried to leave messages at the Inn Volaris had indicated, but the owners didn’t seem too impressed with his presence and he had no confidence that anything he left would get passed along. It was a bright and sunny day, at least. If nothing else, he might have a chance to learn something about the newly arrived ships. He laid down his staff, unslung lute and stool, and set up for another day of earning his dinner.
It took a while to get down to the markets where Leo had heard the performer the night before. The strains of music drifting their way told him he was on the right track. The difficulty was maintaining Piove’s interest. He’d almost given up. If he wanted her regard it would be easier just to save his coins and stay away from the card tables until he could shell out for something really special. Her favour was fleeting anyway. She couldn’t even bother to remember the names of people she’d sword were her best friends – or worst enemies – the day before. Only a select few seemed capable of making any lasting impression. But even a day of her attention…. Now, for instance, she smiled like spring sunshine, and Leo felt his heart melt into a puddle.
“I know this song!” She hummed along, tracing out the melody in Elven when the market sounds drowned out the distant lute.
~Depuis l’aurore du jour je l’attends, celui que j’aime, que mon coeur aime…~
Leo led her around the long way, avoiding the louder and smelly areas close to the fishmongers. He didn’t want to spoil her mood with anything unpleasant. She had such a forceful presence and radiated such an innocent joy that those they passed couldn’t help but stop and smile. Some of them even smiled at Leo. He basked in her presence.
There was a small crowd gathered at the crossroads. He’d switched to a song Piove was less familiar with, but she still skipped and spun as the mood struck her, humming harmonies she made up as she went along. Soon there were as many people watching her impromptu performance as gathered to listen to the music. Someone in the crowd threw her some flowers.
“Make him play something dancey-er!” she commanded.
Leo stepped up to comply, shouldering his way through to the minstrel. There were a few others, all men, who’d come up to relay her demand, and he frowned. She was with him. Sort of, anyway. The crippled lutist was peering curiously into the throng before him to catch sight of the excitement. Leo cleared his throat, interrupting the others. “Piove wants you to play something with a better beat for dancing.”
The man’s eye was on him I an instant, an unreadable expression on his dirty face. He nodded, striking a new chord as he stood carefully. The crowd let him pass, limping forward with furrowed brow to a spot where he could see. Leo didn’t recognize the song he played, but the melody seemed to be made for her. She sang along, her clear Elven voice ringing through the street as she danced. One song blended into the next as the crowd grew. People threw coins and other favours at both artists. Someone had brought over the cripple’s stool, and he was sitting again, seemingly as enthralled by Piove as everyone else. Leo beamed. It was a beautiful thing, and he’d had no small part in making it happen. Even Sir Valentine might be jealous!
It couldn’t last.
The song changed for the third or fourth time and she hesitated after a few bars, stepping towards her accompanist.
“Hey! How do you know that song?”
He looked at her with an almost desperate expression, and reached out to take Piove’s hand.
She snatched it back, then slapped him. “Ew. Don’t touch me, you’re gross!” She stepped back, fists on her hips. He started to open his mouth, but she turned her head and wrinkled her nose. The crowd, Leo included, shifted uneasily. “And didn’t your mother tell you that it’s rude to stare?”
He had the grace to look away briefly, and Piove snatched up a copper piece, repeating a few short arcane words. Leo held his breath, but she only frowned more. There was a definite chill in the air.
“You’re creepy. And ugly. And a jerk.” She scanned the crowed and pushed a finger towards Leo. “Come on, sailor. We’re leaving.”
Minsheng had been giving him worried looks ever since he’d returned to the shack early that afternoon, but his mood wasn’t something he could convey in a few hand gestures and grunts. The youth probably just thought he was ill again, which at least allowed him some dignity. What he was actually doing was moping –useless self-indulgent behaviour. He knew he should have gone after Piove and tracked down her ship, or should be writing out some kind of explanation that he could try to pass along. Right now he just didn’t have the mental energy. He couldn’t think of how to start. At least the others were likely to be pleased with the extra coin he’d brought home.
Matteo heard someone hurrying up to the door flap of their shack – probably Qiu returning from some new adventure in the mura. Minsheng looked up from his work also – he was practicing the cobbling Genming was teaching him on a pair of worn sandals Chiyo had scavenged for him. His sister burst into the tiny room, looking around excitedly.
“You are here! Traveler-san, there are *Elves* looking for you!”
He sat up, looking curious. Her brother was surprised.
“Elves?”
“Yes,” she nodded to Minsheng and turned back to Matteo. “Two of them – a very handsome man, and a pregnant lady. I told them I might bring them to you…. If you wanted to go.”
He was already standing. Perhaps today’s earlier encounter hadn’t been so disastrous after all. He made his farewell to Minsheng carefully, in case he might not be back that way, and followed after Qiu.
Hadyn looked in surprised past the servant to the man standing behind. Sterling grinned his knowing sharkish grin.
“I figured I’ve never seen the inside of the Imperial City before. And, of course, once I explained my pressing need for a conference with yourself, the fine dedicated gentlemen waiting at the gates up and offered me an escort.”
“I see.” Only Sterling could have talked his way past the guards at the gates of Shiroeki. Hadyn wondered what he’d told them. “Then I suppose you’d better come in.”
“Ahh, well. That’s the trick see. My exceedingly generous but perhaps somewhat less patient escort is attending on our joint return, specifically. Grab your things, and I’ll explain along the way.”
“My things?”
“You know – the things you never travel anywhere without.”
“Travel is it.”
Sterling held up his hands placatingly. “Nowhere exotic, I promise. Just a spot of official business.” He winked. The gall!
~We’re going.~ Teah slipped up behind him, leaning into him slightly. ~We need out of here.~
“Fine.” There was no sense arguing with both of them. The guards likely considered him, and by extension his hostess, responsible for Sterling, and it would be best to steer him away from any potential trouble. He turned back inside to retrieve his travel pack. It contained all the essential things he might need if forced to flee at a moment’s notice. ~But I haven’t agreed to anything.~
Valentine looked up from his conversation with Triskin as the door of Suo Hu opened cautiously.
“That must be him,” he whispered. The dirty stranger did have an Elven look about him, just as Piove had described. He headed directly towards them. The eta girl they’d sent to fetch him poked her head in nervously and scurried after him in response to Triskin’s encouraging smile. “Do you recognize him?”
Triskin shrugged, turning to address the stranger. “Hi there… have a seat.”
He smiled guardedly in return, bowing politely before complying. His gaze flicked between the two of them, and he kept his head turned perpendicular to the small table to keep them both inside the peripheral vision of his one eye.
He was quite an off-putting sight – no wonder Piove had reacted so strongly. It was rare to see anyone, let alone an Elf, so disfigured. It remained to be seen if he was the rake she had described. That she hadn’t been able to read his thoughts was certainly curious. He didn’t know much about magic, but his lady was a formidable practitioner. If Sterling was successful in tracking down Hadyn perhaps he could shed some light on that situation – he was better at understanding how these things worked. For Piove it was just part of her nature that she rarely gave much thought.
Triskin continued, sticking with Southern for the girl’s benefit. “I’m sorry this is a little awkward, but a friend of ours ran into you earlier today and Yeoh-san told us you’ve tried to leave messages for another of our friends here. We thought we should try and figure out what this is about.”
“Yes,” Valentine interjected, though the cripple was already nodding. It wasn’t as though he could interrupt! “We went looking down at the markets and ran into your friend here.” He smiled at Qiu, hoping to put her at ease. She looked away, almost prostrating herself in front of the low table. Her companion reached over and patted her on the shoulder. She sat back up, eyes averted, remaining silent. Valentine disliked the Southern caste system, especially the tremendous sway it had over the eta. She did seem to respond a little better to Triskin – she was probably unused to the kindness of attractive men.
The stranger flashed the girl a closed-lipped smile, then turned back to his hosts. He pointed at himself, tapped his temple, and then indicated the two of them with a twirl of his index finger.
“I’m sorry,” Triskin apologized again, adjusting herself on the low cushions where she’d spread out to relieve the extra weight of her belly. “You do look a bit familiar, but should we know who you are?”
He smiled ruefully, waggling his hand back and forth.
“Un peu?”
He nodded, and Qiu made a quiet sound in the back of her throat.
“If you know any more, chérie, please tell us.”
She still avoided looking at him directly, but continued with a nod from Triskin. “When we found him months ago, in the west, he was very sick and Chiyo said his scars and wounds were very fresh.”
“Well, that might do it.”
He shrugged to Triskin, and made a scribbling gesture.
“Oh of course!” She turned to look through her pouch.
Valentine frowned sympathetically. “It seems you have suffered much, friend. I hope we will be able to help you.” It was a fairly banal thing to say – how could anyone not pity such a creature?
Triskin produced some scraps of parchment and continued looking for something to write with. The stranger nodded again, then turned as the doors swung open again, admitting Hadyn and Sterling. The wizard seemed especially peevish, frowning suspiciously at the assembly. Valentine smiled regardless – it did no good to indulge his sourness. “I see our other companions have arrived. Do you know them as well?”
He nodded, but Hadyn was already answering for him.
“I know who he is.”
“You do? Ah bien!” They’d hardly walked in the door. Sterling sidled around to sit by his lady, who scooched over to make room. Hadyn regarded the stranger critically, affirming his suspicions.
“Matteo Atremi. Missing since the attack in Shinkyo.”
Could it be? He’d thought the other Elf dead after so long with no word. Triskin looked as surprised as he felt, though Sterling was as cool as ever. Likely Hadyn had already filled him in.
“How?” he asked, unable to decide between the many questions in him mind beginning with that word. How did the wizard know? How had Matteo survived? They hadn’t known each other well, but they’d certainly spoken a few times. Rumours of his disappearance and death had flown widely among the Loyalists after the attack and during the relocation.
“I’ve been in touch with Volaris. He wants him brought in as soon as possible.”
Qiu was the only one at the table who looked disappointed. Matteo reached over, slapped her on the shoulder, and nodded.
“When will you leave?” She looked at him imploringly, then glanced nervously beyond into the shadows of Hadyn’s cowl.
“The sooner the better,” he quipped. Matteo was writing something, holding the ink pen Triskin had found very carefully. He pushed the note towards her, and she nodded as she read.
“We can take care of that.”
“Take care of what?”
“Debts.”
Valentine nodded. The prince would certainly reimburse them any necessary expenses.
“Maybe we ought to consider conducting our affairs somewhere more conducive to a private transaction, as accommodating as the Yeoh’s have been.”
“Sterling’s right. Let’s head back to the ship.” Triskin gathered her things, rising with Sterling’s help.
Hadyn nodded his assent curtly, but Matteo looked to Qiu. Valentine offered her his hand as he stood himself. Her eyes went as big as saucers and she flushed again.
“You as well, petite. We will make sure you are taken care of too.”
Matteo rolled his eye behind her, but nodded when she looked to him for assurance. She took the proffered hand, and the group filed out back towards the Swift-as-a-Fox.
Matteo was slower than the others and had naturally fallen to the rear with Qiu. He wasn’t sure is anyone else had seen the spell cast, but they all seemed surprised when Hadyn first spoke in the minds.
~I need to do some tests on him before I ca take him to the compound.~
~What kind of tests?~
~To make sure you won’t compromise security.~ Presumably he meant checking into whatever was keeping him hidden from magical detection.
~Alright.~
~Do you need the rest of us to attend these examinations?~ Sterling asked.
~That depends on what I find. I do need a private place to work.~
~Don’t you have your own place in the city?~ Triskin, this time. She sounded a bit annoyed. Space, especially private space, was probably at a premium, on the ship.
~I can’t take him there.~
~Fine. How long will it take?~
~Not long.~
~Alright then – we’ll be on hand.~ She sounded a little appeased, but the rest of the short trip continued in relative silence. Matteo tried not to think too much about what exactly Hadyn’s tests might reveal – he really had not idea what Geron might have done to him before he escaped. The priest had never seemed too concerned about his escaped. Save for a few attempts to bribe him for information he hadn’t had, he’d never even heard from his captor. There’d never been any real sign that the cult had pursued him either. It was a little worrying.
“Hey, what’s he* doing here?" Piove’s voice drifted down from where he was perched on a yard. Qiu looked nervously to Matteo, not understanding her use of common. He put her hand on her shoulder to offer some reassurance, though he wasn’t exactly certain how this would play out. It was still quite a nice day out, though cooler and windier along the waterfront. As far as he could tell, no one really understood the relationship between Piove’s mood and the weather.
Valentine stepped forward, smiling up into the sky. “Its alright, ma belle, if you come down we will explain everything.”
“I don’t want to come down. It’s *pretty* up here.” She tossed her hair pointedly. “And there are no jerks.”
“Don’t you want to come and see Hadyn?”
“If he’s not being a jerk, he can come up and see me top!”
The wizard grumbled something under his breath, and waved a hand at the rigging. “I don’t have time,” he said more loudly. After a pause he added, “Tell her I’ll see her later. Tell her Teah couldn’t up there.”
“Of course. If you don’t need me…” The knight looked up again.
“Go head.”
Valentine headed off. Piove made a rude gesture in Hadyn and Matteo’s direction, which the former didn’t seem to notice. Matteo tried his best to appear inoffensive as he followed the wizard below to where Sterling was waving them into a cabin.
It was cozy inside – the ceiling was barely high enough that Sterling didn’t have to stoop. Hadyn, slightly taller, quickly seated himself in one of the chairs at the short table. There were cabinets on either side of the bulkheads filled with dishes carefully held in place with wooden bars. A number of charts sat rolled up beside a small pile of books at the other end of the table. “Triskin is just clearing away the rest of her stuff – we weren’t sure how much space you might require”
“This should be fine.” Hadyn turned to Matteo. “Sit down. Take off your shirt to start.”
He complied, and Hadyn began. They didn’t have any perceptible effects, and weren’t anything he recognized. Triskin returned after a few moments to remove the rest of her paperwork, and winced when she looked his way.
“I’m going to see about getting you a bath and something else to wear at least. What about something to eat?”
He shrugged, and she looked to Qiu.
“He can’t eat solid food,” she supplied. “Or meat broth – it makes him sick.”
“Well, most Elves don’t eat meat. I’ll have the cook come up with something. Anyone else?”
Hadyn shook his head. Sterling also declined. Qiu smiled shyly.
“Why don’t you come with me, Qiu. I can show you around the ship, and leave the boys to do their thing.”
“I would like that…” She looked to Matteo, and he waved her off. Triskin extended her hand to the girl, charts and books tucked under her other arm, and the two made their exit.
“Good,” said Hadyn after they’d left. “I need you to take off the rest of your clothes.”
Sterling raised an eyebrow at that. “What precisely are you looking for?”
“Markings. There have been reports that the cult was able to disguise some of the ritual marks placed on their targets. If he can be used against the Loyalists, we can’t risk brining him in.”
The examination was quick but thorough. No tattoos – Matteo was fairly sure he would have noticed even if ha hadn’t been awake for their administration. The only needles he remembered Geron using were the big long ones the priest stabbed into his chest to revive him. Hadyn made some notes. If the telepathy spell were still active he might have inquired as to their content, but as the wizard chose to ignore his curious looks, he was left to wonder.
A little while later, one of the sailors came down and led him further aft where Triskin had ordered a bath prepared. There were some clean clothes laid out as well – at least cleaner than the rags he’s been wearing for the past few months. He stepped carefully into the tub.
A hot bath and a change of clothes seemed an almost overwhelming luxury. The thought of it all – of going somewhere he wouldn’t have to worry about what he might get to eat, where there were other people who could make sure that he was safe. Safe and well. He might walk and see properly, hold things, swallow – talk. Sing. He felt a little weak, like the end of this great trial was in sight. A wave of relief washed over him as he sank into the water. It was lightly scented.
Matteo closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of the cabin. It was probably Triskin and Sterling’s. He could hear the two of them talking just outside the door but couldn’t make out the words. Hadyn was there too, and possibly valentine. He shut them out. The ship rocked gently on the waves, straining against its mooring lines. He could smell the salt mixed with the dirty scent of algae and other harbour wastes common to large ports. It was nostalgic. He let his mind drift, travelling to home and better times.
It wasn’t long before he was snapped out of his reverie. There was an impatient knock at the door before Piove popped her head inside the cabin.
“Hey you! Hadyn says you have to hurry up.”
Matteo sat up, startled. She was peering at him – at his face – with critical curiosity. It was discomfiting, but he brushed back his wet hair and tried a smile.
She frowned, perplexed. “You’re not hurrying.”
He picked up the soap, lathering it in water that was already looking a little dingy after his short soak. Apparently not quite satisfied, Piove remained. Fine, then. He set to washing, only willing to hurry so much, and determined to feel clean rather than simply rinsed. Piove hovered near the door, carefully not watching. He could feel the little breeze that followed her drifting through the room, and shivered.
“Are you really Matteo?”
He nodded. Maybe she did remember him. Maybe. She seemed uncertain, and snuck another look.
“Maybe Volaris can make you not ugly.” He raised his eyebrows. She tossed her hair. “Hurry faster – they want you to eat before we can go.”
With that she flitted out, leaving him to finish cleaning up in a less self-conscious environment. Along with everything else, he was looking forward to the end of the way people saw him now – pity or disgust marked on their faces.
The clothes he’d been given fit fairly well. They felt great, even the boots that were a size or so too small. It was step one toward rejoining society. Step two might involve a haircut or a proper meal, but for now he was content with what Triskin and Qiu had turned up. The latter was crunching an apple when he limped back into the other room. The others had apparently dispersed to tend to their own errands.
Qiu smiled at him, ad pointed to a bowl and a mug set on the table. “That is for you.”
It smelled good, at least. Even that seemed novel. He sat after a smile of thanks. The bowl held some kind of strained vegetable broth. He could taste, or at least smell, the seasonings. The mug contained a thick mix of fruit pulp and juice. After the rice gruel he’d been surviving on, it may as well have been a five star banquet.
Qiu watched quietly as he ate. It was unlike her to be so silent – she was generally content to chatter constantly unless she was around strangers. Even then she tended to recover quickly from her shyness. Matteo was her ideal companion, unable to rely or interrupt her rambling commentary. He shot her a concerned look.
“These people take very good care of you. It is good that you are going back to them.”
He nodded. Qiu was smart – perceptive.
“The others won’t get a chance to say goodbye, will they? You’ll be leaving very soon, and we’ll never see you again.”
It was a little abrupt, but what could he do? What could he say, even if he had the chance? He trusted Triskin and the others to come through for his traveling companions. He knew Volaris would see them taken care of if they were somehow incapable. But it was better this way. The less they knew the better. Maybe they’d be safer in their ignorance. He reached over and Squeezed Qiu’s hand, wishing he could make a better apology.
“You never told us your name, Matteo. I am sure you could have, but you never did. I don’t understand, but if that si how you want things, I won’t tell the others.”
He considered, nodded, smiled. She smiled too – it was their secret, then. A special gift just for her.
“Your friends said for you to go up when you were ready. And then you will leave.”
Matteo stood. His staff was leaning up against the cabin wall, and he reached out for it. Qiu stood too.
“You won’t forget us, will you?”
He shook his head. Never. Good and bad, he doubted he could ever erase the past few months from his memory. Not in a thousand years. He pulled her in for a close hug, then limped towards the deck to recover his life.
Volaris felt a twinge of guilt, and then suppressed it. He’d just had too many other responsibilities, especially since the problems with the Dragonkin and their masters. Lynel was rubbing off on him too much. He’d satisfied himself that Matteo was safe and relatively stable, and concentrated on other matters. What could a week of a few more days have really mattered? The Elf was recovered now. He’d sent for Jane Lorella and Galawyn, and the three waited in the transport room. There were guard stationed outside to escort them through to the warded room in the laboratory that Kyla was setting up – Hadyn’s brief report hadn’t been very encouraging.
He felt the stirring of magic half a second before they all came into view: Hadyn and Teah, Piove and Valentine, Triskin and Sterling. And Matteo. Hadyn had warned him, but it was still a shock. Volaris inhaled sharply – he was hardly recognizable. They were all given a moment to recover by Piove, springing up on her toes and looking at Valentine imploringly.
“Come outside and see the mountains!?”
Behind her, Volaris nodded to the Espada – he wouldn’t be needed. Piove would just be distracting, especially if she got bored.
“Bien sûr chérie.” He smiled.
“Triskin, I believe His Highness wanted to talk to you about finding some flying mounts for some of our people, if you’d be up for that.” She was very pregnant now, and might not be inclined to set out on anything too tricky when her child was due so soon. The small Elf cocked her head pensively, and nodded.
“I’ll see what the Prince has to say, at least. I might have some ideas.”
“I’ll go as well,” Sterling added – he knew his cues. “If Lynel is going to try and hijack one of my best captains, I might as well go along for the ride.” He turned to Matteo. “Good luck, friend.”
Volaris waited patiently for the others to say their goodbyes and take their leave until Hadyn, Teah, and Matteo were the only newcomers remaining. Hadyn seemed even more on edge than usual, not entirely surprising considering what had happened the last time he’d visited. It was probably for the best that Caena and Reason weren’t around. He hoped the young wizard could hold it together for the time being.
“So.” The others were waiting for his orders. Galawyn looked composed, Jane concerned, and Matteo anxious. Hadyn seemed unsurprisingly peevish and distracted. “Matteo, its good to have you back. Galawyn is gong to take care of you for the moment. I need to talk to Hadyn. Afterwards, I know Lieutenant Lorella is keen to speak to you. I’ll see you shortly – I’m sure you’ll be looking better.” He smiled, glad this loose end was tied up and hopeful that the young Elf would be alright. He might also have valuable information about the Cult and their activities in the South.
“This way.” Galawyn took charge, leading her patient out towards the labs. She’d really grown into her role in the past few months. Matteo nodded to the wizards and limped after her. Jane followed, leaning over to whisper to the Elf.
Once they were gone, Volaris turned to Hadyn. “What have you found, then?”
“Not as much as we would like. Whatever is keeping him hidden works similarly to Nondetection – it mainly blocks discerning magic from the Divination school, but he can still be contacted telepathically. I couldn’t dispel it – it acts like an item, even though he isn’t carrying anything. I haven’t tried a targeted dispel – I wasn’t prepared for this kind of thorough examination today, and I didn’t have access to my scrolls.”
“That’s alright – I don’t know that any of us were expecting this right now. But you didn’t see any evidence of potentially dangerous rituals?”
“Not dangerous to us.”
Typical Hadyn – sometimes he displayed a rather disturbing lack of empathy. “What about to Matteo?”
“He should be alright. Some of his scaring suggested a dedication of some kind, but he was never properly sacrificed and from what you’ve told me, he’s already had the effects of any curses he was under removed.”
“I’ll ask Galawyn if she can look into it anyway.” A dedication ritual was a way for priests to mark the souls they were sending to their Gods. He didn’t like to think about what use the Lich King might have for the cult’s sacrifices, but the fewer he got, the better. “Anything else notable?”
“Nothing your priestess won’t be able to fix, surely. Will you be needing me for anything else? I have my own affairs to tend to in Shiroeki.”
“Actually, yes – if you don’t mind saying at last long enough to ferry some of the others back, there are some other matters I’d like your opinion on.”
Hadyn frowned. “I’ll be in the lab.”
Volaris let him go. As valuable as some of Hadyn’s contributions were, the wizard wasn’t an immediate priority. He’d deal with Matteo, and do his best to get back to Hadyn quickly afterwards. For now, the Court Wizard headed out in the direction the others had departed earlier. He was surprised to meet Kyla coming the other way.
“Galawyn’s having some problems.” His apprentice looked a little shaken.
He nodded, directing her back the way she’d come. “What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t know – he’s having trouble breathing.”
Bad, but it could be worse. At least Matteo was in good hands. He followed Kyla back to the lab, though he could hear the commotion before they arrived. The door guard – only one of them – looked worried. She stood aside to admit the mages. Inside, Galawyn was the calm focus of a chaotic scene. A panicked looking second guard held Matteo down as he convulsed, coughing and choking.
“Something is fighting my spell,” the priestess explained.
He didn’t need to hear more – the incantation for Dispel Magic was already on his lips. Matteo’s thrashing stopped soon after, though he continued coughing. The guard – John Cooper – helped him sit up while Galawyn fixed something for him to drink.
Volaris stepped further into the room. “What happened?”
Kyla answered first. “I’m sorry, Volaris. I didn’t have the spell ready. I didn’t expect anything like this today…”
“It’s alright. You can’t be prepared for everything every day.” He looked at the Elf. Galawyn’s spell hadn’t had time to complete, and some of his nastier wounds were only partly rewoven. It looked painful, but Galawyn was already seeing to him.
“Something was interfering with the regeneration – something keeping his lungs from healing properly.”
“What’s wrong with his lungs?”
“I don’t know yet. There is no obvious damage from the outside, but he’s had some magical healing, and any of the small scars could have originally been a lot deeper.” She looked to her patient. “I’m sorry, Matteo. This will help you sleep, and kill the pain.”
Matteo he seemed worn down and resigned as the priestess helped him choke down a vial of some clear liquid. He began to remove his shirt without prompting, no doubt guessing what was coming next.
Volaris turned to his apprentice. “Kyla, you don’t need to stay.” The war had changed her a lot, especially as she became more involved in some of the efforts beyond the relative safety of the lab and library. She’d matured a lot, but he still felt responsible for protecting her from the harshness of the world when he could.
“I’m okay.” She wasn’t, but she wanted to be. He frowned – but it was her choice. Galawyn was directing John on how to secure an already drowsy Matteo. He didn’t need to stay either, but Volaris knew the guard would stay as long as Kyla did.
Galawyn held the Elf’s hand, talking soothingly to him until the drugs took hold. The tension finally eased from his brow and the High Priestess began her examination.
“Hadyn mentioned that he has some kind of ritual scars – they couldn’t have caused anything like this?” Volaris approached to watch more carefully. He hoped Galawyn would be able to handle the problem as long as it was purely medical. Healing, he knew, had been part of her training well before she’d become the High Priestess after Shevan resigned. It was the cult he didn’t trust.
“No,” she answered, frowning. “This is a physical problem, but I see what he meant.” She probed Matteo’s chest carefully with her fingers, circling a cursive mess of thin white lines. Volaris could see the pattern they disguised. “I’m going to need a knife, small and sharp.”
Kyla nodded, fetching an appropriate instrument. She passed it to the priestess then stepped back, looking nervous. She pinched her lips together in a determined frown. Galawyn smiled reassuringly.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.” She closed her eyes, poised over Matteo’s body, knife in hand. “Oh Father of Justice, let me right the wrongs done to this undeserving man, as you have shown me that the war against this foul evil must be won in battles small as well as great. With your blessing, I act for what is good and right.” She lowered the knife, cutting carefully into the flesh. The Elf grimaced in his drugged slumber, but didn’t wake up. Galawyn proceeded with graceful confidence, peeling back skin and muscle, probing into the open cavity.
Volaris leaned closer to watch. He’d never learned healing himself, but had attended some lectures on Anatomy at the University. Now that he thought about it, they had been offered by a priest of Salistrom.
“Here.” She pointed at a sack of tissue pressed up against his lungs. “This isn’t natural.” She loosened it carefully with the tip of her knife. It was only loosely connected by a few blood vessels.
“What is it?” Kyla, standing back a few paces, leaned in towards the operating table.
“I don’t know. It’s hard – I think there is something inside. But it shouldn’t be connected the way it is. And you can see where its damaged the lung.”
Volaris stared at the pouch of skin, concentrating on his ability to discern magical auras granted by his permanent Arcane Sight spell. There was something there, he was sure, but he couldn’t quite pierce through it. “That’s it. Whatever has been hiding him is inside.” He had a sneaking suspicion about what it might be.
Galawyn nodded. She pulled the little pouch out carefully then severed the connecting tissue with one quick cut. It bled quickly and copiously, and the Elf’s lungs spasmed visibly. The priestess cast a simple healing spell to stabilize him, then carefully rolled back the skin and muscle she’d cut away. She used a scroll to cast a second Regeneration spell, and everyone watching waited tensely until it was clear that everything was working properly.
As soon as the tissue was severed, Matteo had become visible to magical detection. While she held the skin wrapped parcel, Galawyn was. It was… It was disturbed. Whoever had thought of this was very devious and even more depraved.
“Galawyn, can you cut it open? But be careful.”
She nodded, holding the sack of skin in still bloody hands. It was actually quite small, about two inches, round and slightly disc shaped. She ran her fingers over it and frowned.
“There’s two things in here.”
He nodded, casting a Greater Dispel as a precaution. He couldn’t tell if it had any effect, but he felt better.
Galawyn pulled out two discs, both about the same size. The first was an amulet, as he’d suspected. It was probably Nondetection, and fairly powerful. The second was a slim bone disc with arcane sigils on both sides. She passed it to him with a worried look. “A Symbol of Pain.”
“And an Explosive Rune.” He flipped it over, confirming his identification. “Nice little booby trap.”
“It’s sick.”
“Yes. But its over. He’ll be alright?”
“He’ll need rest after the spell finished its work, as his body is quite weak.”
“Let Jane and I know when he is awake. And thank you.” He turned to the others. “John, thank you for your help as well. You’re free to go, but you should keep what you’ve seen here in confidence. Do you understand?” He has several reasons for the order, but the biggest might have been morale. People’s spirits were low enough as it was without rumours of the extent of the cult’s great depravity spreading through the compound.
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. Kyla, come with me, please.” He turned to leave, knowing she would follow. She’d chosen to stay, which was brave. As his apprentice, he felt she also deserved a fuller explanation of what exactly had happened, but it was best done in private. Galawyn could see to arrangements for Matteo on her own, and he could check in on the Elf after he was awake for a full debriefing.
Matteo woke up, whole and comfortable, in a small stone room in the new complex. He still didn’t know exactly where he was, save that this was presumably the new Loyalist headquarters. He did know that he was ravenous. He’d gone hungry for a long time, but his appetite had waned with the rest of his body.
He sat up. He could see, and none of his limbs pained him. He made a fist with each hand – his knuckles cracked in new and interesting ways, and he still bore ugly scars from where he’d been spiked to the tree, but they were whole again.
“Hello?” There wasn’t anyone around to answer, but that wasn’t the point. His voice sounded thin and dry, but it was his voice. He reached up to feel his head – his ears were whole again as well.
He stood. Something was making him dizzy. It could be the hunger, or relief, or even whatever Galawyn had given him to kill the pain – best not to think about that too hard. She’d healed him, and he was exceedingly grateful. He turned slowly to take in the room. It was fairly empty, with only a table, a chair and a chest besides the bed. The chest he recognized as his own. It contained the few things he could call his own, mostly clothing accumulated after the initial flight form Exia.
He wavered. He wasn’t wearing much at the moment, but if he didn’t get something to eat soon, he’d rather at least be close to somewhere he could lie down. He decided to look around and investigate a little, and went to the door. He’d half expected it to be locked, but it wasn’t, and he stuck his head outside.
“Hello?” He tried again, this time a little more forcefully. His voice was still scratchy, but a little better.
“Matteo!” Kurtis Trevyn stepped into view. The larger man seemed greatly relieved. “You’re up! Man, you still look like hell.”
“Thanks…” Before Matteo had much if a chance to respond, his friend gathered him up into a big hug. He could feel his vision narrowing to blackness, but managed to extricate himself with some helpless flailing and a well-timed ‘oof.’ He caught the door frame upon release, steadying himself.
‘Sorry man, it’s just so great to see you, well, alive!” Kurtis grinned. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry. Dizzy.”
“Right. I’m supposed to go tell Volaris when you’re up. Sit tight, my friend. We’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you.”
His friend gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder – more gentle than his earlier hug, and trotted off down the corridor. Matteo stepped back inside the room, closing the door after him, and sat down on the floor in front of his chest. He flipped open the lid and smiled. It spoke volumes about his friends here that packed away on top where he’d left it was his Cloak of Elvenkind. He’d had it for a long time now, well before he’d gone to Exia. He wrapped it around his shoulders now, looking for something else to wear with it. His boots were there also, and he was extra glad he’d decided to go with something flashier the last time he’d gone through his things – dressing for the Spirit Festival, what seemed like a lifetime ago.
He was deliberating between what seemed like an army of clean comfortable shirts when he heard a voice behind him rasp his name – Gordon. The Shadow slid along the wall, profiled strongly but the torchlight that lit the small room.
“Yes?” He felt a twinge of guilt. Since the prospect of his rescued, he hadn’t given his companion much thought.
“Volaris and Lorella are coming. Don’t tell them about me.”
Matteo nodded. He hadn’t planned to.
The Shadow continued. “Lorella might guess. I know she wondered before. She doesn’t need you to tell her – secrets are our strength.”
“I know.”
“Good. I’ve scouted this fort, and I’ll report after they’ve left.”
“Thank you.” His throat still felt scratchy, and he swallowed. Something to drink would be nice too. Gordon withdrew, and Matteo returned to dressing, turning his thoughts away from his responsibilities again. He eventually settled on an outfit that most would probably consider a bit much for someone who was probably just going to be convalescing in his room for the next few days. The silk felt nice on his skin, though he was too thin to fill out the clothes properly, and they hung off his frame. Once dressed, he retired to the bed, alternately resting and stretching his restored limbs, until there was a knock at the door.
“Come in”
Volaris entered first, followed by Lorella and a servant bearing a tray of food. The latter set down her burden on the table, and dragged it over closer to Matteo. Lorella thanked her, and she departed.
“Galawyn said you’d probably be quite hungry when you woke up.” Volaris smiled at him as he reached for a crisp looking apple – the first solid food he’d had since Shinkyo. “You look well – much better thank when you first arrived.”
“It’s good to have you back, Atremi.” That was Lorella – always professional. It was hard to guess what went on inside her head. Matteo smiled at both.
“Thank you.”
Lorella nodded, pouring him a glass from the pitcher on the tray. “You’re worth it. Director Fenning always thought so.”
It was a gentle probe. She was unlikely to ask him anything direct in front of Volaris, if she was planning on it at all. “I’ll try to live up to his expectations.”
“Good.” She nodded consideringly, and he wondered what all she did know. She was as sharp as a knife. “Eat first, then we’ll want to know what you can tell us about the cult. If you get tired, we can continue another day.”
Volaris smiled. “Meanwhile, I can fill you in a little about what we’ve been doing.”
Matteo ate as he listened to the Court Wizard relate all that had happened since Shinkyo. He didn’t go into any great detail, but he described the attack on the compound, the revelation of the spy, the move to Fort Cedric, their relations with the Local Aldryn and the Exian refugees they’d encountered, and the war with the Dragonkin that they’d in to which they’d stumbled. When Volaris was through and he was feeling fed and somewhat recovered, Matteo began his own tale. He recounted how he’d found the cult cell in Shinkyo, his capture, transfer to the Shrine, rescue by Cheng, their attempted rescue and the consequences, and finally his escape and travels with the eta band who’d picked him up. He glossed over the torture, and was surprised in the retelling how much of his time he simply couldn’t account for.
There were pauses for questions on both sides. Matteo wanted to know more about the refugees – how they’d escaped Exia and the state of the city when they’d left. Volaris and Lorella queried him about the cult’s personel, their power, and plans as far as he could determine. He revealed what he could, but it wasn’t much. Geron was not one to gloat unnecessarily. He knew some more form Gordon’s observations, but even these were limited as the Shadow couldn’t physically interact with their world. Lorella took some notes, but Matteo knew she kept most of the details in her head. She’d mull them over first, and then compile the essential reports that guided the Loyalist leadership.
Eventually, Volaris nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Thank you, Matteo. You’ve told us quite a lot that we can use. I want you to get some rest over the next few days. You’ll stay here for now, until Galawyn is satisfied that you’re healthy enough, mentally and physically, to return to duty. Then we can assign you a real room nearer the other guards.”
He nodded. He was tired. Ever since his recovery, he’d not had a chance to meditate properly. Most of his rest had been drug induced, and after his debriefing, his mind felt drained. Taking a few days to adjust to his new environment sounded very attractive.
“There is one thing, though,” the wizard added. “I know this Geron – Geron Elbe. He was a Priest of Salistrom before the fall – the True Church, of course. He taught some seminars at the University. I only met him a few times, but it should be enough that we can find him – and stop him – more easily.”
