A Hero Is Born, Part 2

Renate: "So when do we get there?"

Alan: "We've entered the kingdom of Vundamar. The town of Geness cannot be far ahead, my lady."

Alan: The sun is low on the horizon; if Godfrey is wrong, it'll be a cold night's camping.

** Renate doesn't mind being wet, but this is ridiculous. **

Renate: Been a few of those, I'm sure.

** Renate sneezes. **

Renate: "Damn!"

Alan: The rain still comes in a cheerless drizzle, but the clouds are starting to clear in the west. As the muted sun reaches across the rainy landscape, the world takes on the surreal quality unique to rain in sunlight.

Alan: Will-o-the-Wisp is no happier with this rain, but gamely takes the challenge of a steep rise up ahead...

** Renate looks behind, in case of rainbows... **

Alan: ...and as you mount the hill, you can look out over the town of Geness.

Alan: The town has seen war, and recently; some buildings are collapsed or burned, some are just damaged.

Renate: "Uh-oh. What would you bet Durai's gone?"

Alan: There are no fires, no sounds of battle; whatever happened here has moved on.

Alan: Within a quarter-mile, below and to the left, the town graveyard is host to a burial ceremony.

** Renate arranges her clothes as best she can. **

Alan: Even from here, you can count no fewer than six caskets lined up, with two priests walking between them swinging censer, shielding them from the rain.

Alan: It seems as though the whole town has turned out for the ceremony.

Renate: "Looks bad. Shall we go pay respects?"

** Renate waits for Godfrey's opinion, knowing him to be infallible in matters of etiquette. **

Alan: Godfrey makes the holy sign of Uriel in the air. "It would be seemly. Let us walk as we approach the grounds; in some parts of the Patchwork Kingdoms, it is bad manners to ride in a graveyard."

** Renate nods and dismounts. "Might as well start now." **

** Renate walks her horse down the slope. **

Alan: Godfrey dismounts, and takes the reins of his horse and the packhorse. "Indeed, my lady."

Alan: As you approach the cemetery grounds, you see the "invisible fence" common to all burial grounds: pillars inscribed with potent holy signs, meant to prevent the raising of undead within the premises.

Alan: Only a concerted effort can reverse the sanctification and allow works of necromancy.

Alan: You pass the invisible fence with a faint shiver, though whether from the magic or from the rain you cannot tell.

Renate: (or from bad memories of dragons, swords, and collarbones!)

Alan: As you draw nearer, you can hear the drone of holy chants from one priest, and the louder eulogy of the other:

Alan: "These souls, though caught up in the passion of worldly pain and longing, go now to the Celestium, where their tangled threads can be woven anew into a grander and more glorious tapestry than we mortals can even imagine."

Alan: "Let not their sins disbar them from the sacred halls; instead, let their inner beauty, which we their friends and family knew so well, shine outwardly and grant them the company of angels and saints."

** Renate quietly makes the proper responses. **

Alan: "May Gabriel guide them, Michael ward them, Raphael succor them, and Uriel receive them; in the unnameable name of the True King we pray."

Alan: Local men raise hunting horns to their mouths and play the hymn of the dead as best they can; despite muffed notes, the emotion is deep and the intent true.

Alan: The caskets are lowered one by one into the damp earth.

Alan: As each one is lowered, the priest with the censer utters prayers over them that cause them to coruscate with holy fire; further warding against undeath, perhaps.

** Renate watches soberly. **

Alan: The ceremony ends; the townspeople, dressed in their finest dark clothes, wander off each in their own separate ways.

Alan: One portly man with mutton-chop sideburns stops by you.

Alan: "Are you visiting this town, young mistress, good sir?"

Alan: "I apologize for our woeful state."

Renate: "Passing through, sir."

Renate: "What happened?"

Alan: "The hour grows late. I run the local inn, if you need lodgings."

** Renate looks at Godfrey. **

Renate: "We may need to move on."

Alan: "Ah, well, there's a sad and shameful story, one that you might not want to hear."

Renate: "No, tell me. Sorrow is better shared."

Renate: The line is from a book, but Renate says it sincerely.

Alan: "Well, let's get out of this rain, at least. Walk with me, I need to re-open the inn. There'll be many looking to tap the hogsheads after this."

Renate: "Certainly, sir."

Renate: "Call me Emilia."

Emilia: "And this is Godfrey."

Alan: The innkeep leads the way into town. "I'm Garvey. A pleasure to meet you, under any other circumstance."

Emilia: "I wish I could have come at a better time."

Alan: "The trouble started years ago, I guess, but nobody knew a thing until the other night."

Alan: "There was a planting festival, you see. Singing, dancing, the usual business."

** Emilia is suddenly homesick, remembering spring festivals in Karlbotel. **

Alan: "And we had a minstrel through, who did a wonderful job of getting us to kick up their heels. Heavens, even I made some footprints in the sawdust, and that never happens."

** Emilia starts listening again at the mention of a minstrel. **

Alan: "But towards the end of the night, she started singing slower songs; a traditional end to the festival. A little something to bring us back down, make us remember the finer things in life."

Emilia: She? Emilia listens harder.

Alan: "We all started to get a little misty-eyed; you know, songs about lost love, tragedies. Things that make you crack open the wine-barrels."

Alan: "It was really touching. I shed a little tear myself, and that never happens either."

Emilia: "She must have been a powerful musician indeed."

Alan: "But songs like that can... well, find things in people. Things they wouldn't have let out."

Alan: "Turns out that old Clive was in a... an indelicate relationship with Goodwife Hastings."

Emilia: "Oh."

Alan: "And Goodie Hastings had had her heart broken just a week before by Master Cooper..."

Alan: "...and, well, to make a very unpleasant story short, that wasn't the extent of it by far."

Alan: "Between suicides and murders that night, we are now as you see us."

Emilia: "So it was old hatreds that did all this? How horrible."

Emilia: "What happened to the minstrel?"

Alan: "Old hatreds, burning passions, jealousy, envy. It's a small enough town, you know. They say 'there are other fish in the sea,' but around here the loss of one person can seem ... too much."

Alan: "Still, we've never had anything like this. They'll be talking about it for decades."

Emilia: "I can -- imagine," Emilia says, thinking of her brother.

Alan: "The minstrel, well, she felt terrible about it all. We paid her extra and promised to keep her name off our lips."

Emilia: "You -- paid her? When her music brought all this out?"

Alan: "After all, she can hardly be blamed for playing a few sad songs. I won't be the one to spread rumors."

Emilia: "Of course not."

Emilia: But someone will, Emilia is sure of that.

Emilia: And if anyone can find out where Durai has gone, it's Godfrey.

** Emilia picks up her pace a touch. **

Alan: You arrive at the inn; the holy symbol of Uriel is chalked on the door, already streaked by the rain.

Alan: "Will you be staying this night, Mistress Emilia?"

Emilia: "It is late, quite dark. If it is no trouble -- but you have lost someone, is that not so?"

Emilia: "I could not intrude on a house of mourning."

Alan: "I was fortunate enough that none of mine were harmed. Hunter Jonath was a good customer and friend, but that's not enough for me to turn you away at the door."

Alan: "The symbol is just to appease the angel of death, to ask him to overlook this mourning town."

Alan: "The priests say it's a bit, well, heretical, but they tolerate our ways."

Emilia: "May it be so," she says, and gives Will-o-the-Wisp's rein to Godfrey.

Alan: There are folk beliefs all over the Patchwork Kingdoms, since the organizing force of the Church weakens away from easy communication and travel.

Alan: "Ah, let me look after your horses," Garvey says, taking the reins. "My boy will see to your needs."

Emilia: "Thank you, Garvey."

Alan: The interior of the inn is deserted except for a young man, perhaps thirteen, preparing some food; and a rough-looking man, perhaps a mercenary, at a far table nursing a brew.

Emilia: "Well, Godfrey," Renate murmurs, "feel up to talking to people until we know where Durai has gone to?"

Alan: The mercenary sits with his back to the wall and his face to all entrances; either paranoid, or a professional.

Alan: (That was narration, despite the trailing quote.)

** Emilia touches her longsword's hilt with one finger. **

Alan: "I fear there are few people to talk to; but I could make a circuit of the town, if you wish, after chatting with this dour gentleman in the corner."

Emilia: "Well, if Garvey's right they're all coming here."

Alan: The serving boy pipes up, "Can I help you, my lady?"

Emilia: "Might just as well wait and see."

Alan: Godfrey nods. "Quite likely."

Emilia: "Yes, lad. Two rooms for the night, and whatever dinner's handy."

Alan: "Coming right up with the food. The master will show you your rooms, I think."

Emilia: "That's fine."

Alan: Garvey comes in through the stable-side door. "Boy, stoke the fire! There'll be a crowd looking to take the numbness out of their toes and the memories out of their heads."

Alan: Godfrey seems content to put off socializing until there's more of a crowd; you sup together quietly.

Alan: Unless you've got something to discuss, obviously.

Emilia: Emilia seems rather oppressed by the gloomy atmosphere. She eats quietly, and not very much.

Emilia: "Maybe we don't need to ask where she went," she says after a while. "All we have to do is look for war zones."

Alan: "Let us hope that this was an isolated occurrence, my lady."

Emilia: "Agreed."

Emilia: "But let us prepare as if it were not."

Alan: "I shall endeavor to discover her direction of travel."

** Emilia nods and pushes her plate away. **

Alan: Many people have come in from the funeral while you were eating; the overall tone is somber, with heavy drinking being a major theme.

** Emilia drinks only water. **

Alan: Garvey's stores, already depleted from the festival, seem due for a real pillage.

Alan: The serving boy clears your table, and Godfrey stands. "By your leave, my lady."

Emilia: "Good luck, Godfrey."

Alan: Godfrey wanders over to another table and insinuates himself into the conversation.

** Emilia listens for anything interesting or useful. **

Alan: A heavy gloved hand comes to rest on the back of the chair Godfrey just vacated. "So... I hear you're named Emilia."

Alan: It's the mercenary who was in the tavern when you entered.

** Emilia turns around. "And you are... ?" **

Alan: "Sorel Maiandos, at your service. Quite literally, in fact, if you got a need for a hired bow."

Emilia: "Not at present, Mr. Maiandos, though I appreciate the offer."

Alan: "I saw the condition of the place, and reckoned they'd need someone plugged. Turns out all the plugging's over."

Emilia: It wouldn't do for a mercenary to be possessed of Emilia Eaglebourne's secret.

Alan: The serving boy comes over. "Sir? Is your name Maiandos?"

** Emilia lifts her lip slightly. **

Emilia: "Just as well."

Alan: "Yeah, kid. What's on?"

Alan: "I've just received a message from you. Courier."

Alan: (For you, rather.)

Emilia: "Perhaps your luck is turning, Mr. Maiandos."

Alan: Sorel takes the sealed envelope and rips it open roughly. Silver coins spills out, and he catches them in midair with a single deft swipe.

Alan: He doesn't appear very cultured, but he's quick as a snake.

** Emilia notices! **

Alan: On second look, you see a certain intelligence behind his scarred and weatherbeaten face and unkempt long hair. Or at least a certain alertness.

Alan: A letter is included; Sorel reads it at a glance.

** Emilia turns away politely to let him read -- but keeps the tail of her eye on him. **

Emilia: And her hand near her sword.

Alan: "Well stab me in the eye and call me Uriel."

Emilia: (not, BTW, Crescent Light -- her own sword)

Emilia: "Mr. Maiandos! That is not appropriate!"

Alan: He lowers the letter and takes a longer look at you. "No doubt now—you're Emilia Eaglebourne."

Alan: "Saves me asking."

** Emilia moves her hand just that much closer to her sword. **

Emilia: "And?"

Alan: "Looks like I'm seeing you safely out of the Patchwork Kingdoms, missy. See for yourself."

Alan: He tosses you the letter.

Emilia: "You're *what*?"

Emilia: "Says who?"

** Emilia reads the letter indignantly. **

Alan: Sorel, the letter says, In Geness you'll find Emilia Eaglebourne, or the trail of her. Ensure her safety while she's in the Patchworks. A payment is enclosed. If it runs to more, you know my word is good. —C. Nightblade

Emilia: "Coris! I'll ship him for this!"

Alan: "He's my boss. Abrupt end to my fun-time."

Emilia: "Your boss, is he?"

Emilia: "How much would it cost me to have you take him a letter?"

Alan: "Him, me, Lehron Soya, Masan Ahim. We... handle things around some parts."

Alan: "Well, once this job is done, I'll have to find him anyway, so you can write him a letter then."

Emilia: "This job *is* done, Mr. Maiandos."

Emilia: "I appreciate Coris's regard, but this is *not* necessary, nor is it welcome."

Alan: "Well, if you put it that way, then I can't argue. You can write up that letter if you want."

Alan: "Can't guarantee when it'll get to him, though. Life is dangerous around here."

Emilia: "And what will you do with it?"

Emilia: "No hurry."

Alan: "Carry it around. Give it to him when I see him. What else? It might get a bit crumpled, though."

Emilia: "I find I do not much care."

Emilia: "Well, I appreciate your being reasonable. I hope it will not cause you trouble with Mr. Nightblade."

Alan: "Nope, no trouble. He sees reason pretty easy."

Emilia: "Sometimes."

** Emilia beckons the serving-boy. **

Emilia: "Pen and paper, please."

Alan: "Oh, sorry miss, we haven't got any real paper. Vellum and a quill, maybe?"

Emilia: "You needn't bring vellum. Any old parchment will do."

Alan: The boy scuttles off and returns with the cumbersome assortment of writing tools people use in the frontier world away from fountain pens and 20-bond paper.

** Emilia has had several lettering-styles rapped into her knuckles over the years. **

Emilia: She uses the plainest of them, as if Coris Nightblade were a barely-lettered child.

Emilia: Master Nightblade: I cannot take up the valuable time of your associates unnecessarily. This note is to bear witness that Mr. Maiandos would have fulfilled your commission had I not dissuaded him in the strongest possible terms. Yours sincerely, Emilia Eaglebourne

Emilia: (sorry, that should have been Master Maiandos)

Alan: The boy has a leather courier's envelope for sale; the entire cost of materials comes out of your travelling fund, which Godfrey has been handling.

Alan: The rest of the money you got at the start, the ten silver, is for your personal equipment or needs.

Alan: (And obviously the hundred gold is in a lockbox with your gear.)

Emilia: What Godfrey has been handling he may continue to handle.

Emilia: (I should hope!)

Alan: (It also has an alarm charm on it, so it's not to worry.)

Emilia: "There, Master Maiandos. For Master Nightblade."

** No match found

Alan: Sorel takes the envelope and touches his brow in a sketchy salute. "Mistres Eaglebourne."

Alan: "I'll make sure it gets to him."

Emilia: "Good luck go with you. Give him my regards."

Alan: Sorel wanders back over to his table to finish off his beer.

Alan: Godfrey returns before you retire, bearing news that the minstrel was in fact Dorothy Durai, and headed along the west road.

** Emilia fumes quietly. How dare Coris Nightblade think her a worthless swooning lily? **

Emilia: "Where does that lead?" she asks, taking a hold on her temper.

Alan: "The town of Border—a singularly descriptive yet undistinguished name, I agree."

Emilia: "Anything we should know about it?"

Alan: "Border is a fairly quiet town, but the people there have much to fear at the moment. The town two days to the west of Border was destroyed in a war recently."

Alan: "The war may be moving west, although Steinmar's Destroyers are trying to lead the battle away from civilized areas."

Emilia: "A war, eh?"

Emilia: "Sure it's a war? Or have the incidents not been as isolated as we'd hoped?"

Alan: "The Reavers and several bands of lawless mercenaries form the opposite side; with both the Destroyers and the Reavers involved, it is most certainly a professional effort."

Alan: "Although to refer to the Reavers as professional is perhaps an exaggeration."

Alan: "When dragons are forced to the role of common mercenaries, they cannot be said to be paragons of their race."

Emilia: "So it is a war. Wonderful."

Emilia: "Well, I suppose we've avoided them so far."

Emilia: "Let's hope our luck holds."

Alan: "Let us hope that Mistress Durai will choose to circle around the area after leaving Border."

Emilia: "She will if she's got any sense! Though, after this..."

Emilia: "Can we try to cut her off?"

Alan: "We shall move as quickly as may be. But I have been informed that she is travelling on a single horse, whereas our pack animal limits our speed."

Emilia: "Well, so perhaps we'd do best to try to get ahead of her."

Alan: "When she stops to perform, we gain time on her."

Emilia: "It's not as if she has a great many options, out here in the back of beyond."

Alan: "Let us rest now, then, and make an early start tomorrow."

Emilia: "Fine, let's."

** Emilia stands up, nods a pleasant good-night to Master Maiandos, and catches Garvey's eye. **

Alan: The innkeep shows you to your rooms; they're small and plain, but comfortable enough.

Emilia: They'll do.

---

Alan: The next day dawns bright and cheerful; the last day's rains show only as a slight dampness in the earth, and heavy dew.

** Emilia is up early, almost before Godfrey. **

Alan: You meet Sorel on your way to collect your horses; he is already leaving town, heading to the north. He waves cheerfully, with a faintly ironic smile.

** Emilia waves back, as if nothing had happened. **

Alan: The stableboy prepares your horses, and you're on your way.

Alan: Your light breakfast sits heavy in your stomach as you pass burned houses... Godfrey explains that one of the dead locked all his doors and trapped himself and his erstwhile lover in the blaze.

** Emilia turns a sickened expression on Godfrey. **

Alan: "The products of the human heart can turn to poison in the wrong environment, my lady."

Emilia: "How do people who have lived together all their lives hate each other that badly?"

Emilia: "But -- it's beautiful here! Or it was."

Alan: "It can sometimes be the very closeness of other people that breeds hatred rather than understanding."

Alan: "The smallest flaws can be magnified over time."

Emilia: "Saints and angels."

Alan: The journey to Border is idyllic; once out of sight of the cursed town of Geness, you enter a patch of uncultivated countryside where wild prairie and dense forest alternates.

Emilia: "Godfrey?"

Alan: The dirt road fades at time to a mere track.

Alan: "My lady?"

Emilia: "Emil doesn't -- didn't -- hate us like that, did he?"

Alan: "The manor was not put to the torch, so I believe we can safely assume that he does not."

** Renate shivers. **

Alan: "The very existence of alternatives is enough to preserve sanity in all but the most troubled of souls."

Renate: "That's not funny, Godfrey."

Alan: "But even were Emil to feel truly imprisoned within his life, I do not believe he would ever resort to such permanent measures."

Renate: "That isn't what I asked."

Renate: Godfrey knows Renate to have been an affectionate child, all hugs and laughter.

Alan: "He chose to leave; but I believe that choice was the result of hope for the future, rather than hatred of the past."

** Renate sighs. **

Renate: "I hope you're right. I can't stand the thought -- "

Alan: "Even if Emil were to change his alliance for good, he would never stop being the person you know."

Alan: "He would always love you."

Renate: "Yeah. Fat lot I deserve it sometimes. Thanks, Godfrey."

Alan: The sun is high on the horizon; noon is nigh.

Alan: A faint hissing comes from above and behind you.

Alan: It rapidly grows nearer and nearer.

Renate: "Godfrey! Under the trees, quick, and hope they don't see us!"

Alan: The hissing mounts to a low roar as a wing of seven dragons rips through the air overhead, ruffling the highest branches, and continues off into the distance.

Alan: They give no sign of having seen or cared about you.

Alan: "The Reavers, or I miss my guess," Godfrey says. "Perhaps returning from an errand in the east? There is an alchemical academy. They might have flown there for supplies, and are returning to their battlefield."

Renate: "Just so long as they aren't interested in us."

Renate: "I can't down one dragon, let alone seven."

Alan: Each dragon was fairly small, or at least smaller than Hyuri (who was a good twenty meters from tail-tip to snout).

Renate: "Even that size."

Alan: But seven together would be a match for nearly anything.

** Renate checks for her bow, just in case. **

Alan: And after all, the mighty Eventide is scarcely three meters long, and is the single most powerful dragon known.

Renate: "Let's go. But carefully."

Alan: "Let us continue on our way. We will reach Border a few hours before sundown, giving us plenty of time to investigate."

Renate: "Sooner we're out of here, the better I'll like it."

Renate: "If something happens, Godfrey, get behind me and stay out of trouble."

Alan: "Of course, my lady. In fact, I imagine I shall assess the routes of retreat and choose the one which best balances expeditiousness with safety."

Renate: "You do that."

Alan: (Anything else to discuss before Border?)

Renate: (nope -- Renate will be keeping two eyes out for trouble)

Renate: (no leisure to chat!)

Alan: The town of Border is located in a clearing in an area of dense forest. The clearing is large; roads travel in all directions. To judge from the scream of sawmills at the edge of town, and the wagons carrying felled trees and lumber, logging is the principal industry in the area.

Renate: "Loud much?" Renate shouts.

Renate: (any signs of damage or fighting?)

Alan: Signs at the edge of town tell where the roads lead: north and south lead to other towns, west leads to Janfair and thence to a Ktarr's Field (site of a dozen legendary battles and several dozen others).

Alan: The other roads just lead to sawmills or logging areas.

Alan: "Janfair is the town that came to grief, my lady."

Alan: The village seems quiet; or rather, undisturbed.

Alan: The noise of the sawmills dies down as you approach the town itself.

Renate: "I see. Maybe we should check it out?"

Alan: "It would be best to inquire here as to Mistress Durai's conduct or direction of travel. She planned to pass through here."

Renate: "Oh. Well, fine, then."

Alan: "The local innkeeper would, as always, be a good source of gossip."

Renate: "Over there, I suspect. Let's go."

Alan: Godfrey points to a nearby tavern sign advertising "The Toppling Giant." Above the block letters, two loggers use a reciprocating saw to cut a huge hobgoblin off at the ankles.

Renate: "Charming."

Alan: (For what it's worth, there's now a races page up.)

Renate: (nifty)

Alan: The inn is busy, full of off-shift lumberjacks. The floor is covered deep with sawdust and wood shavings, which are apparently tossed down to cover up spills and then forgotten.

Alan: The innkeeper is an ironically small and slight man, with thin wire-framed glasses.

Alan: He looks more like an academic than a logging town barkeep.

** Emilia watches her step as she enters. **

Alan: "Hello, welcome. How can I serve?"

Emilia: "A glass of wine for me, and whatever my man wants. And a chat, if you will."

Alan: "Well then," the barkeep says as he pours your wine and a whiskey and water for Godfrey.

Alan: "Something in particular on your mind?"

Emilia: "We're looking for someone who might have passed through this area. Dorothy Durai? A minstrel woman."

Alan: "Ah, yes, her. Shameful business. Usually we're on our best behavior when a woman's about."

Emilia: "She has been here? How long ago?"

Alan: "Just yesterday, in truth."

** Emilia braces herself for bad news. **

Alan: "She left in a bit of a hurry. The sight of blood made her swoon just a little."

Emilia: "Blood?"

** Emilia gives Godfrey a significant glance. **

Alan: "Now, don't concern yourself, my lady. Of course, I see you're armed, so you might not have any worries."

Emilia: "I'm curious to know what happened."

Alan: "There was a bit of a brawl yesterday, but both men are in the jail. Giving them a little time to cool off."

Emilia: "Over Mistress Durai?"

Alan: "Oh, common enough thing. Small town, not much to do, of course a few of the loggers are going to chase after the local women. But Mistress Durai played a little song about two men who loved the same woman, and wouldn't you know it?"

Alan: "Jack Falgard and 'Bucko' Mackie got into quite the tussle. Turned out the song could as well have been about them specifically!"

Alan: "Would have been just the usual rough-and-tumble we get around here, except Bucko decided to pull his twig knife."

Emilia: "Nobody badly hurt, I hope."

Alan: "A bit of the old claret splashed about, that's true. But loggers always have a potion on hand in case of accidents."

Emilia: "I can imagine."

Emilia: "What happened to Mistress Durai?"

Alan: "Oh, she got a case of the shakes, but once she was feeling better she took off west. We tried to warn her off it, but she said she had a safe-conduct."

Emilia: "West."

** Emilia does not have a safe-conduct. **

Emilia: "Toward Janfair, by chance?"

Emilia: Janfair, right now, sounds like a suitable place for Durai, the vampire.

Alan: "Yes, she said she was going to see the wreckage. Maybe write a song about it."

Alan: "She did go in for the sad songs, that's the truth."

Emilia: "So we have heard."

Alan: "Ah, so you're fans?"

Alan: "She said she was playing in Ilium at the end of the month."

Alan: "At some high-tone club, although I'll be damned if I can remember the name."

Emilia: "We have business with her. Nothing to cause worry, I assure you."

** Emilia smiles her most guileless smile. **

Alan: "Well, I hope you find her all right. Anything else I can get you?"

Emilia: "This is fine, thank you. And thank you for your help."

Emilia: (Godfrey, I assume, will handle payment.)

Alan: "If you're looking for lodgings, Goodwife Moonson takes in borders. Just two blocks down. Tell her I sent you."

Alan: (He already has.)

Emilia: "Thanks."

Alan: (Boarders, rather. Keh.)

Emilia: "Can we get to Janfair before dark?" she asks Godfrey.

Emilia: (well, them too! *grin*)

Alan: "We've made good enough time. I daresay we can."

Alan: "It will be a squeeze."

Emilia: "Let's try, then. Though I don't fancy sleeping out with the Reavers running around."

Alan: "No doubt we can take shelter in a ruined building of some sort."

Alan: "I gather there will be no shortage of them."

** Emilia looks at him carefully. **

Emilia: "You sure you're up to this? We can wait. Like as not she'll come back through here."

Alan: "If she has a concert in Ilium, she will certain continue west to reach the city. To arrive there by month's end, she would need to make good time."

Emilia: "Hm. Is it better if we go straight to Ilium and wait for her there?"

Alan: "That might be an acceptable strategy, my lady. Such a course would still take us through Janfair and Ktarr's Field, however."

Emilia: "I suppose. Are you all right with leaving now? No evasions, Godfrey."

Alan: "Of course. Let us be off."

** Emilia accepts that, and heads for the door. **

Alan: Godfrey unhitches the horses and makes them ready for further travel.

Alan: Together, you set off along the west road. The sun is still a few hands over the horizon.

** Emilia has her bow ready and her sword loose in its sheath. **

Alan: Your journey is uninterrupted until you reach the borders of Janfair itself.

Alan: A small group of soldiers stands by the side of the road; as they see you, one of them strolls into the center and casually flags you down.

** Emilia stops. **

Alan: "They wear the colors of Steinmar's Destroyers," Godfrey whispers.

** Emilia nods, her eyes on them. **

Alan: The soldier, a bored-looking young woman, says "You are at the border of a war zone occupied by Steinmar's Destroyers...."

Alan: "... If you continue beyond this point, you express your agreement that you will not hold the Destroyers responsible in criminal or civil proceedings for any misfortune you may encounter..."

Alan: "...and that you will not interfere with Destroyer operations in any way."

Alan: "Or to put it another way," says a male soldier, "stay out of the way and you won't get hurt."

Emilia: "I understand. What is the extent of the zone you control?"

Alan: "This war zone currently stretches from this point on the east to seventeen kilometers west of Ktarr's Field on the west."

Emilia: "That's, what, two days' ride?"

Alan: "On the south, it is defined by Margai River, and on the north, by Sevener Hills."

Alan: "Two days without interruptions. But that might not happen."

Alan: "If you go dead west from here, you're passing between the two front lines."

Alan: "No man's land."

Emilia: "Suggestions? I do need to go west."

Alan: "If I were you, I'd swing south a bit to move behind Destroyer lines. You'll have to check in with each station lieutenant, though."

Emilia: "That poses no problem."

Emilia: "May I ask if anyone else has passed by here today?"

Alan: "Good. We never really have much problem with saboteurs."

Alan: She doesn't indicate whether there are no saboteurs... or whether they just "aren't a problem."

Emilia: "I daresay," answers Emilia, smiling.

Alan: "Sorry, that's the kind of information we keep to ourselves."

Emilia: "Right. I won't press you."

Alan: "If you'd like to hire one of our recon squads, you can talk to one of McKallis' aides at the main camp."

Emilia: "I'll manage. I appreciate your help, and your forbearance. And I'll take your suggested route."

Alan: The soldier nods and steps out of the way.

** Emilia nudges her horse to go on. **

Emilia: A bit south of west.

Alan: The ruined town of Janfair is just beyond the watch post.

Alan: A quick ride around the town shows that either Dorothy Durai has moved on, or she's hiding in one of the buildings.

Alan: And unless word of your search has reached her, she'd probably have no reason to lurk.

Emilia: "Let's not search. If we get ahead of her, that's fine."

Emilia: "We know where she's going."

Alan: Will you be stopping in Janfair or pressing on to find a campground further into the war zone? It's twilight.

Emilia: Is there any halfway suitable place to sleep here?

Emilia: Probably as safe as anyplace.

Emilia: Given that it's already been razed.

Alan: Some of the buildings seem fairly intact; Godfrey glances in a few of them until he finds one that's in good enough repair and free of "distressing elements."

Alan: Such as the stereotypical ripped-up teddy bear that every war-torn city seems to have.

** Emilia caught glimpses of what Godfrey called "distressing elements." **

Emilia: "This will do. How are you holding up, Godfrey?"

Alan: "I would welcome the chance to rest my bones, my lady."

Renate: "Thought maybe. Go in and sit down. I'll haul the bedrolls for once."

Alan: "If you wish, my lady," he says, and goes inside.

** Renate unsaddles, ties up, and feeds the horses, then fetches in the bundles. **

Alan: As you enter, you find him drawing in the dust on a relatively intact table.

Renate: "Oof! Where do you want the bedrolls?"

Alan: "This is the shape of Ktarr's Field. The high ground is to the north, and as such is strategically significant."

Alan: "Ah, over there away from the hole in the roof, I believe."

Renate: "Right. Keep drawing. I need to go curry the horses."

Renate: Which she does.

Renate: Along with watering them, if there's a clean source of water.

Alan: A small stream runs through the center of town.

Renate: If it isn't running blood, it'll do.

Renate: She'll fetch water back for the two of them as well.

Alan: It's been untouched by the violence, except where a half-burned waterwheel lies across it.

Alan: "Look here," says Godfrey as you enter, "I suspect that Steinmar's Destroyers are holed up in this declivity, where they cannot be directly attacked by spellfire."

** Renate surveys the drawing, getting her bearings. **

Alan: "However, yesterday's rains would have make that area less hospitable, and worsened the footing."

Alan: "Today or tomorrow would be perfect for an aerial attack."

Renate: "You get this from your Guide, Godfrey? Or have you been here before?"

Renate: "Oh. Damn."

Alan: "Surely the Reavers would not dare to attack alone; so they would need to muster their forces and move them forward."

Renate: "How do we stay out of its way?"

Alan: "Therefore, the attack could not have occurred today."

Renate: "Oh. Damn."

Alan: "As long as we stay far enough behind the Destroyer lines, we will have a strong margin of safety."

Alan: "Steinmar's Destroyers seldom lose."

Renate: "How strong is strong?"

Renate: "Yeah, but what about civilian casualties?"

Renate: "Collateral damage, I think they call it."

Alan: "We cannot travel more quickly than flying dragons; but those dragons will not have us on their target list."

Renate: "Do the dragons know that?"

Alan: "The mortal soldiers employed by the Reavers will definitely be stopped by the Destroyers for at least the day or two we need to cross safely."

Renate: "Or are you just hoping?"

Alan: "I believe we had a discussion about hope not so long ago, my lady."

Renate: "So we did."

Renate: "And necessity."

Alan: "If you would prefer to pursue a course of greater guaranteed safety, I would not be at all averse to it."

Renate: "What would it look like?"

Alan: "We would swing south further, skirting the very edge of Ktarr's Field along the Margai River."

Renate: "Hm. How many kilometers out of our way, roughly?"

Alan: "It would add perhaps a day to our journey."

Renate: "And keep us in the warzone longer."

Alan: "We would be riding directly away from the actual armies for a good portion of that day, however."

Alan: "The wisdom of that action cannot be underestimated."

Renate: "If they do what you think they're doing. How confident are you of that?"

Alan: "I am not. Although I have read the classical works on military strategy, I have certainly never put such knowledge into practice."

** Renate nods. **

Renate: (Do the Reavers ever do raids behind enemy lines?)

Alan: (Who knows? They're known to be pretty unpleasant, though.)

Renate: (Yeah. I was afraid of that.)

Renate: "Well, let's keep talking, and sleep on it. We don't have to decide until we're ready to leave."

Renate: "Wish Sabine was here. She'd cook something. I'd do it for you -- you look pretty wiped -- but I'm no good."

Alan: "It will have to be trail rations, I fear."

Alan: Godfrey breaks out some dried fruit, granola, and jerky.

Renate: "Better than me cooking."

Renate: "When I started training with Aaron, Papa made Mama let me out of cooking lessons."

Alan: "Perhaps you can pick up some pointers next time you see Master Laplace. I believe he said he was headed for Ilium."

Renate: "I don't think the competitive ones teach, Godfrey."

Alan: "I shouldn't wonder if he saw fit to impart the basics to the noble Emilia Eaglebourne."

Renate: "Hmph."

Renate: "You been riding funny, Godfrey? You look like your leg hurts."

Alan: "An old injury, my lady. It never fully regenerated."

Renate: "Oh. That's too bad. Anything I can do?"

Alan: "No, a good night's rest will have me right as rain."

Renate: "As for Laplace, he saw the 'noble Emilia Eaglebourne' take a major dive."

Alan: "As long as it does not, in fact, rain."

Renate: "Oh. Was that it. Why didn't you make me stop?"

Alan: "We have a mission to complete, my lady. One man's aches—which I might add are not so great—must be balanced against the demands of his duty."

Renate: "That again. We could have stopped, Godfrey."

Renate: "We'd have gotten to Geness the same day, just a little later."

Alan: "In hindsight, you are in fact quite correct."

Alan: "Now, I for one am quite exhausted." Godfrey turns down the wick of the camp lantern.

Renate: "Well, take it easy on yourself next time, will you? The 'noble Emilia Eaglebourne' doesn't get a kick out of mistreating her friends."

Renate: "I got you the extra blanket. I don't need it. Sleep well."

---

Alan: As you ride away from Janfair, the countryside betrays few signs of warfare.

** Renate armed herself carefully before riding off, and recommended that Godfrey do the same. **

Alan: The trees are all standing, and many have begun to bud; the fields are unscarred; the first wildflowers of spring spread patches of color through the late Thirdmonth terrain.

** Renate is too busy watching for trouble to notice scenery. **

Alan: "Although many battles touch Ktarr's Field, my lady, the Great Council has decreed that environmental damage be frequently repaired here."

Renate: "Oh. They do a good job."

Alan: "At times the place appears to have been plowed by giant farmers."

Renate: (we are taking the southern route, btw)

Renate: "Giants. Last thing we need."

Alan: "Purely a metaphor, my lady."

Renate: "Let's hope."

Alan: "Although in truth a great iron plow would be a more pleasant encounter than the dragon breath and spells that cause similar damage."

Renate: "Thank you, Godfrey, I guessed as much."

Alan: "This region of Ktarr's Field is not immune. Although this war has thus far spared it, the River Margai is often a point of contention."

Alan: "River transport can be very valuable to supply chains."

Renate: With only Godfrey around, Renate has none of Emilia's assurance. She is nervous, and she looks it.

Renate: "I'm not treating anything like it was immune to dragons, Godfrey."

Alan: Several hours pass peacefully, during which time you proceed through ever lower ground.

Alan: Mounting an escarpment, you see the river, travelling in gentle curves westward from the mountain ranges.

Renate: Anything else we see?

Renate: Dragons, soldiers?

Renate: Clouds of dust or smoke?

Renate: Crazy minstrels?

Alan: A road parallels the river, but it is bare of travellers.

Alan: Far down the river, a boat is passing out of view.

Renate: "Right. Let's go. We can be seen for miles from up here."

Alan: In the distant north, plumes of smoke can be seen; the campfires of the warring armies.

Alan: As you ride down towards the river, Godfrey calls a halt, and gestures towards the surface of the water.

Renate: "What is it?" Renate whispers.

** Renate puts her hand on her bow. **

Alan: You see a shadow just under the surface; a long serpentine shape, wriggling through the water like a sea-snake, but a hundred times larger.

Renate: Any cover nearby?

Alan: "A dragon, I believe. We would do well to travel out of sight of the river."

Renate: "Agreed."

** Renate thinks about Hyuri and frankly shudders. **

Alan: "Some dragons are amphibious; this one might simply be patrolling the river for the safety of boaters, but the likelihood of such civic service in the Patchworks is low."

** Renate looks at Godfrey. **

Renate: "You know, dragons *can* hear."

Alan: You're not really near the river; perhaps a hundred meters or so.

Alan: Out of human earshot, at least.

Renate: Even so. She's nervous.

Alan: Godfrey leads the way away from the river; a secondary track parallels the river further inland.

Alan: It's almost entirely out of sight of the river.

Renate: Sounds good.

Renate: Onward.

Alan: "This should provide an acceptable degree of safety, my lady."

Alan: From the track, you can't see the being in the river; but by the same token, it shouldn't be able to see you.

Renate: "An acceptable degree of safety would be hundreds of kilos away, Godfrey. But it'll do."

Renate: Hey, sounds like a good deal to me.

Renate: We know it's there. If it doesn't know we're there, we're golden.

Alan: Whatever the creature is, it doesn't seem to be disturbing the natural order in the same way a mortal would; the birds still sing, a brisk breeze brushes the trees into constant motion.

Renate: Dragons. Go figure.

Alan: This track isn't well-worn: your horses constantly have to navigate around saplings, roots, puddles.

Renate: Slow but steady will do fine.

Alan: In places, finding the track simply means taking the path of least resistance through the light woods.

Alan: After a half-hour's travel, you enter a thicket of tightly-spaced trees, where the trail is forced to switch back and forth, prompting sudden turns and unexpected views.

** Renate takes the lead; if anyone falls, it shouldn't be Godfrey. **

Alan: As you round another corner, you're forced to pull up short before a fallen tree.

Alan: It'll require some hacking or some squeezing to get past it.

Renate: Anything behind it?

Alan: The track appears clear behind it.

Renate: Or in the trees around?

Renate: (on the off-chance of ambush)

Alan: "Question time," a deep and rasping voice sounds from directly in front of you.

Alan: It's like one of those visual puzzles, where a candle suddenly becomes two faces.

Emilia: "Ask away."

Alan: The fallen tree is suddenly a dragon's neck and head, lying in the path, attached (one would assume) to a full-sized dragon in the underbrush.

Emilia: oh, *lovely*.

Alan: The scales are dark brown, and rough like bark; the illusion must have been very simple to cast.

Emilia: "Sir."

Alan: "We're looking for a lone warrior, dressed in silvery armor of a geometric cut."

Alan: "Have you seen him?"

Emilia: "No, sir."

Alan: "His life is worth twenty gold. Information leading to his death is worth five."

Emilia: "May I ask who he is, sir? And what the nature of your quarrel is?"

Alan: "He is Garland Stahl. And although our quarrel with him is strictly a matter of profit, nobody could condone the massacre at Three Wall Gorge, or the destruction of Green Leaf Temple."

Alan: "If you assist us in his destruction, you will aid the world at large."

Emilia: "I see. I fear he is rather a lot for me to handle alone. If I should see him, whom should I contact?"

Alan: "We are all along this river. He is expected to arrive."

Alan: A long and spindly arm, tight with sinew and thin muscle, delicately extends a small twist of metal to you.

** Emilia extends her hand. **

Alan: "Should you see him, bend this metal until its ends cross. We will be attracted to its signal."

Alan: "Do not signal in vain."

Emilia: "Very well. Are there precautions I should take to stay out of your way, you and your compatriots?"

** Emilia takes the bit of metal, and places it carefully in a belt pouch. **

Alan: "If you see us in a posture of war, run away as quickly as possible, with no weapons drawn."

Alan: "We only attack those who threaten us."

Emilia: "Understood."

Alan: "Barring, of course, matters of profit."

Emilia: "Of course."

Alan: The dragon raises its head so that you can pass.

** Emilia passes by, waits for Godfrey, and continues on. **

Alan: A glance back shows the dragon already taking on the appearance of a fallen log.

Renate: Renate's hand on the reins is shaking perceptibly. Will-o-the-Wisp shies, sensing her state of mind as horses will.

Renate: Renate gets the horse back under control, and they go on.

Renate: "Godfrey."

Alan: "My lady?"

Renate: "Mr. Stahl's history, please."

Alan: "Like all Kahanites, a man of innumerable contradictions, which can be adequately explained only in light of his singular philosophy."

Alan: "In brief, he has fought on all sides of political, moral, and ethical disputes; and has dealt ringing setbacks to good and evil alike."

Alan: "He is respected but despised by nearly everyone, including even his own church, since his only true loyalty is to his own beliefs."

Renate: "Unpredictable. Great."

Renate: "Hm. Sounds a little like Aaron, some days. Trusting yourself, not the world."

Alan: "He is known to be a defender of the innocent; but his definition of innocence is odd."

Renate: "Oh."

Renate: "So if we run into him, you would recommend...?"

Alan: "Those who have committed no ill would appear to have little to fear from him; but things such as complacency, blind acceptance, and the pursuit of worldly happiness all seem to be ills."

Alan: "I confess that I have insufficient information to adequately predict his actions."

Renate: "Oh."

** Renate isn't sure how she would fare on that scale. **

Alan: "I would recommend behaving as personably as possible, my lady."

Renate: Though she thinks Godfrey is relatively safe.

Alan: "And taking our leave as quickly as polite."

Renate: "I don't think I have a whole lot of 'personable' left, somehow. But I'll try."

Renate: "Have I mentioned that talking to dragons really makes me jumpy?"

Alan: Godfrey is staring curiously at the sky. "I sympathize with your plight, my lady."

** Renate looks up, reaching reflexively for her bow again. **

Alan: "I share some of your mental state. I fear I was reflexively scanning the heavens for dragons myself."

Renate: "Oh. Sorry. Didn't realize it was catching."

Alan: "But it seems as though it was nothing."

** Renate tries to calm herself down. **

Renate: "Let's get out of here, hm? Between dragons and Kahanites..."

Alan: "Now that the Reavers are fully aware of our presence, perhaps it might be advisable to take the main road? We would make quicker progress."

Renate: "I suppose. Do they talk to each other?"

Alan: "They are most likely equipped with telepathic magic, or tellstones."

Renate: "I mean, just because one decided not to squash us..."

Renate: "Oh. That's good."

Alan: Main road?

Renate: Main road.

Renate: Figuring the Kahanite will avoid it, because it's obviously being watched.

Renate: And there's a bit less likelihood of dragons lying across it.

Alan: You return to a normal speed as you rejoin the main road. The river is idyllic; you even encounter a few other travellers on the road, peasants driving cattle.

** Renate nods to them as they pass. **

Alan: And at one point you pass a riverboat laden with barrels, carrying a complement of bravos as well as the crew.

Alan: River pirates are not uncommon.

** Renate gets between Godfrey and the river, just in case. **

Alan: As the sun grows low on the horizon, Godfrey says, "Another half-day will see us safely out of this region, my lady."

Renate: "Might as well keep going as long as we can. Until it's too dark to see the road."

Alan: As twilight sets in, Godfrey switches you to the forest track, looking for a suitable campsite away from the river.

Renate: For some reason Renate isn't picky.

Alan: Night falls, and swiftly; and a fire is a virtual necessity. Spring is just barely getting underway, so the nights are still cold.

Renate: No dragons, no Kahanites -- that's really all she wants.

Renate: Um. Can we really not avoid it?

Renate: Cold is better than dead.

Alan: You have enough bedding to make a go of it.

Renate: I think we better had, frankly.

Renate: Get the horses to lie down, and sleep between them.

Alan: You wake shivering and damp in the predawn. Godfrey is already packing up his things.

Alan: "A most disagreeable night, my lady. I for one will be glad when we arrive in Ilium."

** Renate helps with numb fingers, then does some stretches to make her body work again. **

Alan: "Even the meanest suite at the Golden Rose Inn would be a paradise."

Renate: "So will I, Godfrey. Sorry about the accommodations. How's your leg?"

Alan: "Slightly cramped, but I shall press on."

Renate: "We'll stop when we're out of here. Promise."

Renate: "Need a hand mounting?"

Alan: Godfrey gives you a polite wave and swings up into the saddle.

Renate: "Guess not."

** Renate mounts. **

Alan: An uneventful morning's travel leads you to a bridge over the river where the river turns north.

Alan: "This is the border of Ktarr's Field, my lady. Once we pass this guardpost, we will be free and clear, so to speak."

** Renate takes the first deep breath in hours. **

Alan: Another small squad of Steinmar's Destroyers waits at the bridge.

** Emilia raises a hand in greeting. **

Alan: "You are now leaving a warzone of Steinmar's Destroyers. If you enjoyed your stay, please consider visiting our recruiting offices in Xanadu, Ilium, Rivalon, and Gereval."

Alan: "If you have any questions or comments, please leave a message with us for high command."

** Emilia would rather fight Hyuri again, but so be it. **

Emilia: "Nothing, thank you."

Alan: "Remember: we are your best source for high-end tactical conflict resolution."

Alan: "Steinmar's Destroyers: 'the last argument of kings.'"

Alan: This spokesman seems much more involved in his work than the last one.

** Emilia moves on as quickly as politeness allows. **

Alan: "The finer your dress, the more sales talks you must endure. One of life's constants," Godfrey quips.

Emilia: "Did they want me to hire them or join them?"

Alan: "Either one, I believe."

Emilia: "Oh."

Emilia: "Hm. Reminds me. Won't be needing this. Just a minute, Godfrey."

Alan: "Less than a full day's ride will now take us into the protectorate of Ilium."

** Renate finds the bit of metal, dismounts, and lays it at the side of the road. **

Renate: "I don't think we need the Reavers able to find us."

Alan: "I can't help thinking that it might some day be convenient to be able to lure them to a chosen spot, my lady."

Renate: "You're mad."

** Renate picks up the twist and hands it to him. **

Alan: "I prefer to preserve what options I may," Godfrey says.

Renate: "But it's your funeral."

Alan: He tucks the metal away in a pouch.

Renate: "Me, if I never see another dragon it'll be far too soon."

Alan: "Any dragons we encounter in the Silver Coast will at the very least be constrained by law, and will at best be friendly."

Renate: "They give me the screaming horrors."

Alan: "I once met Noble Mercury, and he was quite pleasant to speak with."

Alan: "Of course, we only exchanged a few words. It was at an art opening."

Renate: "How nice for you. I once met Lord Hyuri, and he broke my neck for me."

Renate: "At a festival for his gallery, as it happens."

Alan: "Just like mortals, dragons run quite a full range."

Renate: "Yeah, well, first impressions count."

Alan: The edge of the Patchwork Kingdoms is quite peaceful, perhaps showing the influence of the stables lands nearby.

** Renate thinks wistfully that they won't be passing too far from home. **

Alan: You stop for the evening in a medium-sized town of perhaps a few thousand, staying in the nicer of its two inns.

Renate: Is Godfrey still limping?

Renate: Can we at least get a hot bath for him?

Alan: You haven't pulled ahead of Dorothy; this town too has a tale of tragedy resulting from one of her shows, although nobody seems to make the connection.

Alan: Identical twin brothers dueled almost to the death after it turned out one had been dallying with the other's woman, using the simple expedient of pretending to be his brother.

Renate: "Enough to turn a person off love," Renate remarks to Godfrey.

Renate: "That kind of love, anyway."

Alan: It's the sort of melodrama that might quite reasonably lead to tragedy no matter what; but the fact that the duel happened right after Dorothy Durai played is telling.

Alan: The next morning, you set off into the Protectorate. The border guards wave you through; there is a certain refugee problem, but the real trouble comes in getting into the Ilum Province itself.

Renate: Even after several days of rough travel, I doubt we look like refugees.

Alan: The Protectorate isn't much better than the Patchwork Kingdoms, but the Province holds more of a promise of a better life.

Alan: You've got identification papers, actually. Not to sound all totalitarian "let me see your papers" about it. :)

Renate: I thought we might.

Alan: Another two days takes you the rest of the way to Ilium; the road in the Silver Coast are good enough to take a full half day off your journey.

Alan: Unless you wanted to stop by home?

Alan: You've got info on the items, you wouldn't appear to be coming back empty-handed.

Renate: She does, quite a lot, but she has no progress to report at all, so I think she'll pass.

Alan: But of course it's very near the end of the month.

Renate: Regretfully.

Alan: So to catch Dorothy's show, you'd have to hustle.

Renate: Can't miss that.

Renate: Better keep going.

Renate: (besides, she'd have to explain that embarrassing duel to Aaron -- better put *that* day off as long as possible!)

Alan: You enter Ilium through the Gate of Heaven. Bas-reliefs of saints and angels watch over you benevolently, lit from above and below by soft glowbulbs.

** Renate isn't thrilled by the name, thinking of Emil in Andragar. **

** Renate keeps an eye out for posters advertising Durai's concert. **

Alan: City guards watch impassively as you enter along with a steady stream of people; Chamber of Commerce servants hand out brochures to anyone who's interested.

Alan: As you pass out of the gate and into Angelwatch, you're mobbed by shills, salesmen, and flim-flammers, all with something to sell.

Alan: Godfrey methodically dissuades them all.

** Renate also keeps watch for actual guard stations, as opposed to random groups of guards. **

Alan: There's a guardhouse a block down, a two-story building shaped like a miniature fortress.

Renate: She is thinking that she might want to tip someone off about the possible effects of a Dorothy Durai concert.

** Renate notes its location. **

Alan: There's also a central Watch headquarters somewhere.

Alan: One would assume.

Renate: "Godfrey? You know Ilium pretty well. If I wanted to tell someone to put an extra guard detail on the Durai concert, where would I go?"

Alan: "The Watch headquarters is slightly north of Berthold Square, if I recall."

Alan: "After that, I advise that we check in at the Golden Rose Inn in Gate Town. It's the finest establishment in the city. A little luxury would be welcome."

Renate: "Inn first."

Renate: "We'll get you settled, and I'll go talk to the watch."

Alan: "And we should check our horses at a livery. We can't use them here without buying a temporary license."

Alan: "License fees go to pay the city street-cleaners."

Renate: "Oh. Didn't know that. All right."

Alan: Z-J's Livery and Transport is right nearby; they stable horses for a small fee.

Alan: Godfrey handles the details.

Renate: If Godfrey okays it, it's fine with Renate.

Alan: "I've taken the liberty of requesting a rickshaw to take us around town."

Renate: "That will be fine."

Alan: "Human power is less efficient, but also better suited to a crowded environment."

Renate: "Yeah, I noticed. I don't think I've ever seen this many people at once."

Alan: A steady stream of people flows up and down the street, like pulsing blood in a giant artery.

Alan: Some carry weldon boxes, playing new soundcubes you've never heard.

Renate: "Does it ever stop?" Renate asks, a little intimidated by the constant motion of the throng.

Alan: On a street corner, several people listen to a political speech which discusses issues foreign to you.

Alan: You can't make out the speaker, until you realize it's pre-recorded.

Alan: A heavyset dwarf pulls a rickshaw up next to you. With a heavy Lan'yarian accent, he says, "Eaglebourne?"

** Renate suppresses a sigh. **

Renate: "Yes?"

Alan: "Where you going?"

Alan: Godfrey helps you up into the rickshaw.

Emilia: "The Golden Rose Inn. Thank you, Godfrey."

Alan: It's early enough in the day that you can do whatever you need to, so the order doesn't matter much.

Emilia: She'll do as she said; check in at the inn and make sure Godfrey is comfortable, then go talk to the guard.

Alan: The dwarf has short legs, but he seems inexhaustible. He trots down the streets at a good clip, calling out a clipped tourist guide as he goes.

Alan: "Antonius Boulevard here. Main street, north south. They split it into two to reduce crowding."

** Emilia sits back and tries to take it all in. **

Alan: "Now here, entering Southtown. Deadly Fighters like it here."

Alan: "Down that street, Gunner's Heaven. Orville Timberlake runs it. Big guy, huge-big. Can't miss him if you try."

Emilia: "Glad I'm not one," she murmurs to Godfrey.

Alan: "Teaches fighters. Sort of a mentor. Godfather of the place."

Alan: "Up there?" The dwarf points to a street which mounts a fairly steep hill. "Iron Ring at the top. Deadly Fighting venue for Ilium. Big stuff."

Alan: "Mick Denson was supposed to fight Hotman, but he rose five ranks first. Hotman can't challenge again until he rises too."

Emilia: "Poor Karzath."

Emilia: "He'll miss his fight."

Alan: "Southtown's not all fighting. Lots of middle class. Residential. Nice place to live."

Emilia: "Middle class?" Renate asks Godfrey.

Alan: "In the cities, there are those who make their living in ways that cannot be easily classed as farmers, or tradesmen, or servants, or nobility."

Alan: "Imagine, for instance, if your father's steward were to hire out his financial skills to a number of businessmen, and were thereby to earn a living much higher than that of a farmer, but without the powers or privileges of nobility."

Alan: "Such a person would be called 'middle class.' They are very numerous in the more prosperous cities."

Emilia: "Oh. Middle class."

Alan: "Quite simply, the class in the middle."

Emilia: "Thanks."

** Emilia gets that unsettling feeling that the world is very large again. **

Alan: You leave the white wooden bungalows, garden plots, and tournament posters of Southtown, and enter another bustling commercial district full of taverns, shops, and offices.

Alan: "Entering Gate Town. A bit richer. Not like Kamry South, but not bad," the dwarf says.

Alan: "Golden Rose coming up. Great place. Stayed there once after I hit a trifecta."

** Emilia smiles confidently at Godfrey. **

Emilia: If he picked it specifically, it must be a great place.

Alan: The dwarf pulls to a halt outside a beautiful stone building rich in architectural embellishment.

Alan: Instead of a sign, it has a carved gilt rose above the doorframe.

** Emilia lets Godfrey hand her down. **

Alan: "Please wait here, sir, as we are simply checking in."

Alan: "Do you better," the dwarf says, and lends a hand with the luggage.

Alan: Without the packhorse, it's a little much for the two of you to handle in one trip anyway.

Emilia: (I would think!)

Alan: Godfrey has a conversation with the clerk at the front desk, and comes away with a pair of keys. He hands you one.

Emilia: The room number is on it?

Alan: The key says "212."

Emilia: "What room are you in? Can you get into mine to leave the luggage, or should I come with you?"

Alan: "I am in 213, my lady. We shall leave the luggage in your room for the moment."

Emilia: "Very well."

** Emilia leads the way. **

Alan: You carry the luggage up to the second floor. The hotel's architecture is like nothing you've ever seen—everything is echoing marble, slender columns, carpeted hallways.

Alan: Your rooms are more spacious and elegant than your old bedroom in Karlbotel.

Emilia: It's almost too rich for her blood.

Alan: "These are the most inexpensive rooms, I might add," says Godfrey.

Emilia: She feels out of place, in her travelling gear.

** Emilia looks behind her to see that the dwarf is out of earshot. **

Emilia: "Can we really afford this? Without Papa scalping me when I get home?"

Alan: The dwarf is waiting respectfully outside. "Quite certainly," Godfrey says. "I have a friend who I believe will be interested in bankrolling our stay."

Alan: "Our next visit after the Watch will be to him."

Emilia: "Godfrey! I thought you were going to stay behind and *rest*!"

Alan: "I believe you will find my friend's accomodations quite restful."

Alan: "And rest is best enjoyed in good company."

Emilia: "It isn't me I'm worried about!"

Emilia: "Oh, all right. Since you're going to insist."

Emilia: "At least I can keep my eye on you. Evil man."

Alan: After you pile back into the rickshaw, the dwarf sets back off up Antonius Boulevard.

Alan: "Watch HQ is just north of market. I'll cut through Bevier Park."

Alan: "New to the city, right, mistress? You've got to see the Arrowny."

** Emilia cocks an eyebrow at Godfrey. **

Alan: After a jog up through Southtown, the dwarf turns left into a beautifully-kept formal garden.

Alan: "Keller Arrowny's scrap-metal scupture of Noble Mercury is one of Ilium's greatest cultural artifacts, my lady."

Emilia: "Oh, my! Wouldn't Mama love this!"

Alan: The rickshaw's rubber wheels crunch on the raked gravel paths as you pass rolling fields of checkerboard-mown grass, beds of flowers arranged like soldiers on parade, trees placed for maximum artistic impact.

Emilia: (The Jardin Botanique in Montreal. Stunning.)

Alan: Other people are out for their afternoon walks; you pass people on foot, in rickshaws, and on bicycles, which you've seen only in books before now.

Alan: "Those wheels are made resilient and thus practical by the application of rubber from the rubber trees of southern Lan'yaria," Godfrey says.

Alan: "Another valuable product of our commerce with that continent."

Emilia: "Is that what that is? Smells funny."

Alan: "Yes," the dwarf says. "The motherland is good to everyone, not just her own children."

Alan: "Moved here a few years ago. Haven't looked back."

Alan: "I thought I'd miss elections, but they've even got those. Lan'yarian propaganda, you know? Everyone else is a monarchy with them."

** Emilia suspects it is better not to ask the dwarf why he left Lan'yaria. **

Alan: "The Seven Stars aren't going nowhere, but everyone else? We can boot 'em if they get uppity!" The dwarf grins back at you before returning his eyes to the path.

** Emilia returns his smile. **

Alan: "Yes," Godfrey explains to you, "since dragons must forever strive to rule, the Seven Stars have created a system of elections to make that striving political rather than physical."

** Emilia nods. **

Alan: "Truly a masterstroke, if I might say so."

Emilia: "Learned about that last winter."

Emilia: "Seems to save wear and tear on armies."

Alan: "Andragar has followed the lead of the Silver Coast, in fact, after centuries of a more autocratic approach."

Emilia: "Is that right?"

Alan: "Andragar states a more eudaimonic motivation, however, as Dark Eternal is quite capable of keeping order."

** Emilia is getting her bearings finally, enough to listen to Godfrey's lectures. **

Alan: Ahem, "eudaemonic." Sorry. :)

Emilia: (same diff, actually)

Emilia: "I should think."

Alan: (Ah, okay. Never actually used the word in conversation before.)

Alan: The rickshaw pulls to a halt in a roundabout which circles a bed of blue and green flowers.

Alan: "Here you are! Noble Mercury down to the last hunk of glass."

Emilia: "Remarkable."

Alan: On the pedestal sits an undignified agglomeration of scrap metal, broken bottles, twisted wire, chipped wood.

** Emilia hides her utter bemusement. **

Alan: All together, however, it adds up to an eerily convincing image of a dragon, tall as a house, with flashing bottle-bottom eyes and a long coiled copper-wire tail.

Emilia: Godfrey, however, knows all, as he's been travelling with her for weeks.

Alan: And once viewed as a dragon, it takes on a life of its own; the mind fills in every detail.

** Emilia walks all the way around it. **

Alan: A twist of metal, carved away from a soup can (which still bears the logo of its maker), forms the hint of a sardonic grin in the dragon's toothy (water-smoothed stone) mouth.

Emilia: Emilia's spine shivers.

Alan: The dragon holds only the faintest hint of menace; its overwhelming aspect is one of knowing, a knowing which controls its environment more than any mere violence could.

Emilia: When she climbs back into the rickshaw, she whispers to Godfrey, "I still don't like dragons. Even trash dragons."

Alan: "Keller Arrowny himself is now a dragon; and his art, I am told, has become more abstract and conceptual."

Alan: "It is said to draw on themes known only to dragons, and to dragonrank humans like himself."

Alan: "His human students, however, carry on his artistic lineage."

Emilia: "Whatever makes him happy. Just include me out."

Alan: The dwarf resumes motion. "Not far now. Market up ahead."

Alan: You pass under a series of arches, and the park gives way to a district made entirely of shops, carts, and open-air tents.

Alan: The dwarf navigates skillfully through the crowd, employing equal parts speed, threat of collision, and good-natured bellowing.

Alan: "Here we go! Berthold Square, city center!"

** Emilia holds tight to the railing. **

Alan: "Atelier Building—lots of money goes through there!"

Alan: The dwarf gestures to a seven-story tall building, which towers over its neighbors.

Alan: "The Fate building, shrine of accuracy!"

Alan: That building is four stories tall, done in a beautiful palatial style usually reserved for government buildings.

Alan: "The Alchemists' Guild," the dwarf says, pointing to a low but long building with an open-air arcade running through its core.

Emilia: "I feel like I ought to be taking notes!" she murmurs humorously to Godfrey.

Alan: "And Happy Market," he says, pointing at a three-story building whose lower section is entirely glass-walled, showing aisles and rows of produce.

Alan: Godfrey holds up one of the brochures he picked up at the gate. "Here are your notes, my lady."

Emilia: "Oh, good. You're a prince, Godfrey."

Alan: The dwarf exits the square to the north, and stops a block later in front of a four-story building built, like the guardhouse in Angelwatch, after the model of a fortress.

Emilia: "Here we are, I think. Will you come with me, or wait here, Godfrey?"

Alan: The walls actually lean outwards a little, as though the architect had been told to make the most looming, imposing testament to the power of law.

Alan: "I shall accompany you, my lady. Good sir, please await our return."

Alan: "Not a problem, gent," the dwarf says.

** Emilia squares her shoulders and walks toward the door. **

Alan: Three sets of double doors lead into a large lobby area. There are three lines, each leading to a different open spot at the counter.

Alan: One of the open stations has a sign saying "fines and tickets," but the other two seem general-purpose.

Emilia: One of those seems appropriate. The shorter line, preferably.

Alan: Godfrey points out a lockbox with a thin slot on top, and a sign saying "tips—anonymity guaranteed."

Emilia: "But do they actually read them?"

Alan: "I cannot guess, my lady."

Alan: The line seems to be moving quickly enough.

Emilia: "I'd rather talk to someone, I think. But if you want to leave a note, go ahead."

Alan: After a few minutes, it's your turn. "What can I do for you?" the guardsman behind the counter says, turning it all into one word.

Emilia: "I have concerns surrounding the upcoming Dorothy Durai concert."

Alan: He wears the white and blue of the Ilium guard, and his epaulette of rank shows the blue falcon from the city's flag.

Alan: "Dorothy who?"

Alan: "Don't tell me this is another 'music is immoral' speech. Heard 'em."

Emilia: "Dorothy Durai. A singer. I believe she has a concert here shortly."

Emilia: "No, not one of those. We happened to follow Mistress Durai's trail out of the Patchworks. Some very odd and disturbing incidents, after her shows. One left six people BHR."

Alan: "So, what, she's a murderer?"

Emilia: "No. But the kind of music she plays seems to incite crimes of jealousy."

Alan: "So, wait, she plays some music, people get sad, they kill each other."

Emilia: "I am only saying it cannot hurt to be careful."

Emilia: "So it seems."

Emilia: "A friend of mine says that music can be more dangerous than halberds."

Alan: "Uh, yeah, okay. Well, we've got a precedent for having an extra guard when a show might bring a tough crowd."

Emilia: "That should do, I'm sure."

Alan: "I'll put in a word, maybe get a few extra people on the block. Can't guarantee anything."

Emilia: "I know you'll do your best. Thank you for your time."

** Emilia smiles at him and turns away. **

Emilia: "Where to now, Godfrey? Your turn."

Alan: "My friend lives in the Salla District, just north of Kamry Park. It's not very far."

Emilia: "Swank friend, I take it?"

Alan: "You have been taking notes after all, I see. Yes, he is well off."

Alan: Another fifteen minutes' rickshaw ride takes you to the address Godfrey specifies.

** Emilia puts her mannerly face on. **

Emilia: Despite an uncomfortable awareness that she has not changed out of her travelling garb.

Alan: The area is very pleasant indeed; the streets are paved in overlapping bricks with a herring-bone pattern, and every house is two stories, with a beautiful lawn.

Alan: Godfrey tells the dwarf to return in two hours.

Alan: (Or to send someone else, at least.)

Alan: "Baron Darenton is a pleasant old fellow. He will not comment in the slightest on any informality we might commit."

Alan: "Even his title is simply a relic of earlier days. His family holds wealth, but no political power."

Emilia: "Well, I shall endeavor not to commit any," Emilia says in a fair imitation of her manservant.

Alan: "He is now a patron of the arts, and is lord only over that domain." As Godfrey speaks, you walk up a gentle rise to the door.

Alan: Godfrey pulls down on a bellpull. This action winds a clockwork somewhere out of sight, and as the clockwork spins and the bellpull slowly retracts to its original position, chimes play a merry tune.

Emilia: How utterly useless, Emilia cannot help thinking.

Alan: A few moments later, a formally-dressed doorman opens the wooden door. His face is as expressionless as Godfrey's; it is possible that were they to touch, they would both explode.

Emilia: (ha!)

Alan: He holds out a silver tray. "Sir?"

Alan: Godfrey places a calling card on the tray, face down. "Sir."

Alan: The doorman backs into the house. "Please, come into the foyer."

Alan: As you step over the threshold, you see the doorman retreating down a hall.

Emilia: "If that said 'Eaglebourne' anywhere on it, I am going to roast you over a slow fire, Godfrey. Just so you know," Emilia murmurs.

Alan: The foyer is in two parts; the entrance is floored in marble, and contains a hatrack, umbrella rack, and boot caddy.

Alan: "It is my own calling card from my earlier days, my lady."

Emilia: "Oh. Good."

Alan: There is a step up, and the floor is carpeted from then on.

Alan: Godfrey removes his boots, then steps up onto the carpeted area.

** Emilia follows suit. **

Alan: The carpet is deep and luxurious, and stretches from wall to wall, cut to fit the shape of the floor.

Alan: You've only seen thin rectangular carpets before this.

Alan: Every fixture and fitting of the house is of the highest quality you've ever seen; although smaller, this place makes the manor house of Karlbotel look rustic.

Emilia: "Goodness. I'll sink in and never come out."

Emilia: "Worse than quicksand."

Alan: Beautiful paintings and sculptures adorn the rooms, although this at least is not surprising, given the buildup.

Emilia: (sure, Godfrey said this guy was an arts patron.)

Alan: The doorman returns. "The Baron will see you, and furthermore wishes me to extend his highest esteem in advance of your meeting."

Alan: "Please, follow me."

** Emilia dutifully follows him. **

Alan: The doorman leads you down a hall to a light-filled sitting room. Two men rise as you enter.

Alan: One is elderly, at least to your youthful eyes, and is dressed in a formal suit with what looks like a silk nightrobe tossed over it.

Alan: The other is younger but still mature, of fine feature, with platinum blonde hair that pours down his back.

Alan: "Godfrey," they both cry at about the same time. Godfrey embraces both men heartily, then turns to you.

** Emilia enters and curtsies properly to both men. **

Alan: "Lady Renate, may I introduce Baron Kligh Darenton and Jashain Juste?"

Alan: "And gentlemen, please greet Lady Renate Astrid von Adler."

Emilia: "Master Juste. Baron."

Alan: "Please," the Baron says, "call me Kligh. I suffer little formality between friends of friends."

** Renate is remarkably relieved to hear her very own name. **

Renate: "Only if you will call me Renate."

Alan: "And you must address me as Jashain, as well," says the younger man, bowing with a flourish.

Alan: "I would be delighted," says Kligh.

Renate: "Certainly, under the same condition."

Alan: "May I bring you refreshment?" asks the doorman.

Renate: "That would be welcome."

Alan: "Have you any Sequoia Hills?" asks Godfrey. "It's been so long that I would very nearly kill for a glass. Or at the very least, speak crossly."

Alan: Kligh laughs. "I can barely imagine you doing even that, Godfrey!"

Renate: "Out of the question, I assure you," Renate grins.

Alan: "We have a fresh bottle, Master Cuyler," says the doorman.

Alan: "And for my lady?"

Renate: "A very plebeian glass of fruit juice, please, if such can be procured without difficulty."

Alan: "Orange, grapefruit, apple, carrot, or some combination?"

Renate: "Apple will be lovely, thank you."

Alan: "And for my lords?"

Alan: Kligh and Jashain demur, still having drinks from before.

Alan: The doorman departs.

Alan: "So, Godfrey, what brings you and your young mistress to Ilium? Are you simply sightseeing?"

** Renate prepares to fade into the background and let the men talk. **

Alan: "In fact, Kligh, we're on something of a quest."

Alan: "A quest, eh? Quite interesting. You do appear a bit travel-worn—more than I'd expect if you were just making the hop from your county."

Alan: "Yes, we've just returned from Vesper by the most direct route."

Alan: "The most direct? I read in the newspaper..."

Renate: "The most direct route available, at any rate."

Alan: Godfrey nods. "We swung wide around the worst of it. Our journey was without incident," he adds blandly.

** Renate nods agreement. **

Alan: (And comparatively speaking, it was.)

Renate: (yup! just the way Renate wanted it!)

Alan: "So what is this quest? And how can we help?"

Alan: Jashain leans in as well, signalling his interest.

Alan: Godfrey clears his throat. "Well, our first order of business is to find a young lady named Dorothy Durai. She carries an item which was stolen from my lady's family years ago."

Alan: "Durai? Ah, yes, I've heard she's playing at the Risen Octagon tomorrow night. I was invited, but you know how that new style gives me a headache."

Alan: "I'd rather attend the Blue Door any day."

Renate: "How many people does the Octagon hold?" Renate asks alertly.

Alan: "Oh," Jashain says, "a few hundred if they're packed in. Which they will be—tomorrow's Earthday."

** Renate thinks about the carnage among a few hundred auditors, and quails internally. **

Alan: "So how can I help you?" asks Kligh. "Aside from replenishing your travelling funds, of course. I know you like to travel light on gold, so that trip through the Patchworks might have emptied your purse."

Renate: The gentlemen see a faint disquiet pass over her face.

Alan: "Well," Godfrey says, "I accept that offer with great appreciation. And in fact, your donation will not simply contribute to our life of dissolution," he adds drily.

Alan: "Mistress Durai's concerts seem to be rather dangerous."

Renate: (just as Renate's fruit juice arrives!)

Alan: The doorman arrives with Renate's apple juice (in a frosted mug, no less) and Godfrey's brandy.

** Renate thanks him quietly. **

Alan: "We plan to purchase a potion gauntlet of high quality for my lady, and a duelist's outfit of equal merit."

Renate: "We do, do we?" Renate murmurs, but she does not argue.

Alan: "Kligh, you have perhaps heard your proteges playing songs or poems in honor of one Emilia Eaglebourne?"

Renate: Especially not about the gauntlet.

Renate: "Oh, no."

Alan: Kligh shrugs. "Certainly... a new folk hero, right?"

Renate: "I hope you haven't believed more than one word in a thousand."

Alan: "I submit that you are looking at her."

** Renate shakes her head wearily. **

Alan: Kligh laughs. "Interesting indeed! So you say it is all bunk, then?"

Renate: "Every last word."

Alan: "Nonetheless," Godfrey says, "I believe that for her to switch easily between the two roles might prove beneficial. For the first thing, she would more easily enter the Risen Octagon."

Alan: "They have a most exclusive guest list, do they not?"

Renate: "Hm. And here I was hoping for a backstage pass, so I wouldn't actually have to go to the concert."

Alan: "Normally I could get her in, but she's just a bit too young—sorry, Renate."

Alan: "They wouldn't let her past the door."

Renate: Renate shrugs.

Alan: "But say she's just a little bit scarier than they are... yes, that could work."

Renate: "Dress me up; I don't look so young."

Renate: "And how old is Emilia supposed to be, anyway?"

Alan: "Well," says Jashain, "dressing you up is exactly my business."

Alan: "I'm a tailor."

Renate: "So I'm told," Renate says, turning her smile on him full-force.

Alan: "A world-famous fashion designer, if that's what you mean by tailor," Kligh says.

Renate: "Godfrey is quite taken with your work, Jashain."

Alan: "Been that way since historical times, Renate. Don't tell me he's thrown away the clothes I made him back then?"

Renate: "Godfrey? Throw something away? Perish the thought."

Alan: "I regret to inform you that they no longer fit my newly expansive waistline, Jashain," Godfrey says.

Renate: "Hmph. You ought to try them now."

Alan: "They are safely mothballed against the arrival of a new generation."

Renate: "After weeks trawling the Patchworks."

Alan: "Well, take a look at some of these sketches, Renate," Jashain says.

Alan: "I've been thinking up a few ideas for Ariane Vastar, but they might work on you as well."

** Renate curls up on a divan next to Jashain and accepts the sketches. **

Alan: "She passed them all up as too formal—should be right up your alley."

Alan: One is a dark ensemble complete with broad shoulderplates and a flowing cloak; almost vampiric, with metal accents and high boots.

Renate: "Not bad. Lose the shoulders and the metal, try some embroidery in a subtle shade -- I like it."

Alan: One is a white suit, almost clerical, with straight lines and a high collar, and a silvery breastplate in several pieces to flex around the outfit.

Alan: Its outer coat hangs straight and dignified, but allows freedom of motion and hidden weapons.

Renate: "Mmm -- I don't think I could carry this one off. I'm a bit too short for it, I'm afraid."

Renate: "Runt of the family, my brother says."

Renate: "My sister's two years younger and a head taller."

Alan: One is bright red, with shocking blue slashes, with a cape made of feathers, iron bracers, claw-like boots, and a full-scale mask.

Renate: "Yikes! This was too formal?"

Alan: "That one is more of a ring costume. Not necessarily suited for general wear," Jashain laughs.

Renate: "I should hope!"

** Renate firmly lays it aside. **

Alan: The second-to-last sketch is a full-length gown, cut away daringly at the legs to allow motion, with reinforcing metal wires all through it in intricate patterns.

** Renate laughs. **

Alan: "The wires act as light armor."

Renate: "It's striking, but I don't think I quite have the -- I think Godfrey would say elan."

Alan: "The complete ensemble includes a veil of the same type, which can be taken off and used as a lashing weapon."

Renate: "Impressive. The whip isn't my specialty, however."

Renate: "And no jokes from you, Godfrey!"

Renate: "And isn't that a bit much for a concert?"

Alan: The final sketch is a classic duelist's garb, with tight black trousers, an embroidered three-quarter coat with gold piping, a broad-brimmed black hat with a golden feather, and a light gilt breastplate.

Alan: The epaulettes, although they dangle braid, are actually cunningly design armor plates.

Renate: "Lose the gilt, and I'm sold, Jashain."

Alan: "You should see what everyone else will be wearing," says Jashain. "You go to the Risen Octagon to be seen!"

Renate: "I don't." Renate says seriously.

Renate: "I'm going because I have to."

Alan: "Well, in the original design the golden breastplate was meant to preserve the black and gold color scheme. You know, to highly Ariane's citizenship."

Alan: (Ahem, highlight, not highly.)

Alan: "We could move to a black and silver instead."

Renate: "Maybe. Or something subtler still."

Renate: "An applique design, in dark colors: a pair of eagles."

Alan: "Too dark and you'll come off as a necromancer or an assassin, though."

Renate: "Well, I was about to mention -- black doesn't work on me."

Alan: "Let's compromise. I'll put my shop to work and you'll see what comes out."

Renate: "A good rich brown, though... that might be something. Or a dark red."

Renate: "Burgundy or maroon. All right, Jashain, I'll trust you."

Renate: "Godfrey does."

Alan: "I'll send the result by your rooms tomorrow. You're staying at the Golden Rose, I assume?"

Alan: "Yes, of course," Godfrey says.

** Renate grins at Godfrey. "Where else?" **

Alan: "And Jashain—you wouldn't happen to have met Aran lately?"

Alan: Jashain shakes his head. "Consider Eveline's haiku."

Alan: Godfrey blinks noticeably.

Alan: "Perhaps I should...?"

Alan: Jashain smiles. "It's been quite long enough. I think it would be a good idea."

Alan: "Ah." Godfrey turns to you. "My lady, if I might have liberty for some part of the morrow?"

Renate: "I've only been trying to give you free time the whole day! Of course."

Renate: She turns to the other men.

Renate: "Has he always been impossible, or did he learn it after he left Ilium?"

Alan: "Always," Kligh says.

Renate: "Good to know. It isn't just me, then."

Renate: "And which of you taught him to play cards?"

Alan: Kligh laughs. "He taught us!"

Renate: "Oh, well, that explains it, then."

Alan: "And you have been singularly poor pupils," Godfrey adds with satisfaction.

---

Alan: We'll take up where we left off; you're just leaving the house of Kligh Darenton.

Alan: Are there any errands you'd like to run?

Renate: Can we get a look at the Risen Octagon?

Renate: Any more information about the concert?

Renate: backstage passes? :)

Alan: The dwarven rickshaw bearer picks you up outside the house, and gives you a little information as he jogs you to the upper Salla District, north of Kamry Boulevard.

Alan: This area is a bit more run-down, lower rent, but bohemian rather than crime-ridden.

Alan: Perfect for artists and slackers of all stripes.

Alan: The commercial districts seem particularly heavy on things like coffeehouses and framing shops; the residences are all apartments, some obviously just renovated storefronts.

Renate: A few studios, I'm sure.

Alan: The rickshaw comes to a halt in front of a perfectly nondescript building, a dingy brick warehouse with a single blank wooden door.

Renate: "This is it?"

Alan: "Here it is. Risen Octagon."

Alan: "Place comes alive at night, for real."

Alan: The dwarf shrugs. "Not my scene."

** Renate raises her eyebrows, then lowers them. **

Alan: "The more exclusive night-clubs prefer an unassuming profile, my lady," Godfrey says.

Renate: "Exclusive, huh?"

Renate: "How are we planning to get in?"

Alan: "That way, those who know its location feel as though they are members of an exclusive group."

Renate: "Which we're not."

** Renate sighs. **

Alan: "What is more, such clubs usually employ a carefully-guarded guest list, so that only local luminaries and those carefully selected for their fashion sense may enter."

Renate: "Actually," she says in a very low voice indeed, "I'm feeling like the best thing we could do is get the concert cancelled -- but I don't have any idea how."

Alan: "Hence my insistence upon procuring you appropriate dress."

Renate: "Always on top of things, Godfrey."

Alan: "Ah, such a course of action would indeed have a preventive effect."

Renate: "Might keep some people alive. Maybe a lot of people."

Alan: "However, without recourse to extralegal methods, I cannot say how we might effect such a cancellation."

Renate: "That's my problem."

Alan: "My man, please drive on. To Tifan's Place, if you please."

Renate: "She hasn't done anything we can get her arrested for."

Alan: The dwarf grunts assent and takes off again.

Renate: "What's Tifan's Place, Godfrey?"

Alan: "It is a gathering place of sorts, which attracts those with poetic souls."

Renate: "Hm. You think Mistress Durai might be there?"

Alan: "A young lady there is quite acquainted with despair in its many forms; she may prove insightful."

Renate: "Despair. You think that's what's wrong with her?"

Alan: "There is a chance, albeit slim, that Mistress Durai will attend. However, Tifan's Place tends to reject those of unwhole spirit."

Renate: "Oh."

Alan: "It seems as though Mistress Durai's music sparks chords of despair."

** Renate wonders if it will accept her. **

Renate: "Really? Felt more like jealousy, or active malice, to me."

Renate: "But you know best; you always do."

Alan: "And what causes malice to take on physical form and express itself as violence?"

Alan: "Only when malice despairs of easy resolution is steel drawn."

Renate: "I, um, don't really know."

Renate: "Oh."

Alan: "Despair is the crisis which brings all evil into being."

** Renate thinks about that. **

Alan: "The spirit of Tifan's Place is Tifan Pearl herself. Those of whom she approves find solace and welcome there."

Alan: "I have reason to believe that she will view you with warmth."

** Renate shrugs. **

Renate: "I guess we'll find out."

Alan: "And her dark sister, Sylvie, is the one we seek. She was almost a Saint of Kahan; and thus she is quite familiar with crises of the heart."

** Renate eyes Godfrey suspiciously. **

Renate: "You seem to know a lot more about Durai than you're letting on."

Renate: "How do you know it's her lovelife?"

Alan: "I know nothing, my lady."

Alan: "But it is not unreasonable to suggest that Dorothy Durai may be an alias of Dorothea du Raiden, granddaughter of Raiden Orlandu."

Renate: "I never heard of either of them."

Alan: "Raiden Orlandu was a mighty hero in his time. They called him the Thundergod, for his effect on the battlefield."

Alan: "And Dorothea du Raiden, I have heard in letters from Ilium, was a lover of Cecilia Faris, before the suicide of Galvados White."

Renate: "Cecilia -- Faris? The singer?"

Alan: "As Cecilia now loves another, it is possible that Dorothea du Raiden has encountered a situation where simple artistic expression is insufficient for release."

Renate: "Oh."

Renate: "I have a real bad feeling I'm in over my head on this, Godfrey. Again."

Alan: "Mistress Faris was not famous during my time as an impresario, my lady, and so I can only relate what hearsay I have received in letters."

Renate: "Well, seems she's out of the picture anyway."

Alan: "Indeed. Unless we visit Gereval, we are unlikely to encounter her."

Alan: Godfrey ignores the fact that Gereval is in fact on the itinerary.

Renate: "Well, isn't Gereval where we're going to find Emil and the figurine?"

Alan: "Quite, my lady."

Renate: (jinx!)

** Renate sinks into thought. **

Alan: "My surmise is most hypothetical, my lady. It is entirely possible that the names are pure coincidence."

Renate: "Sure. Just like Emilia Eaglebourne is pure coincidence."

Alan: Tifan's Place (if I recall) is back in Southtown; your rickshaw bearer is racking up quite a fare.

Renate: "I'll rely on your surmise, Godfrey."

Renate: (Well, so we'll walk back to the Golden Rose.)

Renate: (besides, I thought the Baron was bankrolling this! :) )

Alan: The establishment is small, not even on a choice corner spot; it's just a dark-windowed storefront, with a door that's been repaired so often it looks boarded up completely.

Alan: "Heh," says the dwarf. "Doesn't anybody go in for signs around here?"

** Renate gets down carefully and follows Godfrey's lead. **

Alan: Godfrey hands the dwarf a silver and a few copper. "Thank you for your services," he says.

Alan: "Any day," the dwarf replies, and moves away.

Alan: Godfrey graciously holds open the door for you; despite its appearance, it opens smoothly, and you see a pulley system inside that uses weights to gently close the door behind you.

** Renate passes Godfrey and stops just inside the door to look around. **

Alan: The interior of the nightclub? Coffeehouse? is dark, lit only by candles and glowbulbs over each booth, but your eyes adjust quickly.

Alan: Patrons are scattered about, some at tables, some in booths, several at the bar.

Alan: They're engaged in quiet conversation, or in writing or sketching.

Renate: "Where to?" she asks Godfrey.

Alan: You immediately realize that some of the patrons are not human—and by "human" I mean any of the mortal races.

Alan: Angels, demons, Chaos beings, and faeries seem to be among the clientele as well.

Renate: Oh.

** Renate is intimidated, but not quite frightened. **

Alan: Godfrey takes your hand and leads you to a small table in one corner.

Alan: "All those here have proven their good intentions, my lady."

** Renate is careful not to stare. **

Alan: "Even among those who might otherwise be dangerous, this place is neutral ground."

** Renate takes a deep breath. **

Renate: "If you say so, Godfrey."

Alan: A very pretty young redhead bounces over to the table and gives Godfrey an energetic hug before he can so much as react.

Alan: You can't help noticing a certain intentionally bosomy quality to the gesture.

** Renate gives Godfrey a sly wink. **

Alan: When released, Godfrey's composure is not affected in the slightest. "Nora, a distinct pleasure, as always. May I introduce my young charge, the lady Renate Astrid von Adler?"

** Renate stands up to greet her. **

Alan: "And my lady, this is Nora, a co-proprietress of this establishment."

Renate: "Mistress Nora, a pleasure."

Alan: Nora curtseys, despite wearing close-fitting trousers.

Alan: "Nice to meetcha!" she says, extending her hand for a hearty shake after the curtsey.

** Renate shakes hands. **

Alan: "Any friend of Godfrey's is good people in my book."

Alan: "Nora, might I ask if Sylvie will be in attendance tonight?"

Renate: "Well, you have to listen to Godfrey -- I'm his job, as it happens."

Alan: Nora rolls her eyes. "Yeah, the Diva of Despair will be here as sure as rain at weddings."

Alan: "Hey, stick around for a bit. It's Goldday, there's going to be some serious bardicism going down."

** Renate shudders involuntarily. **

Alan: "Cataigne's supposed to be here, they say he's scouting. Looking for the next Cecilia Faris, you know?"

Renate: "The first one wasn't enough?"

Renate: Her tone can't help being the tiniest bit sharp.

Alan: "She's a handful, all right—but you know how people are always looking for something new."

Alan: "Well," Godfrey says, "let us hope that he finds one."

Alan: You pass a short time in light conversation; Nora catches Godfrey up on the Ilium art scene, while Godfrey glosses her explanations in asides to you.

** Renate stops listening after a while, thinking about that concert. **

Alan: Drinks arrive, and the club starts to fill up; several patrons have instrument-cases with them.

Alan: One end of the club is a raised stage, with an articulated wooden pole you recognize as a soundstone pickup.

Alan: Before long, one of the aspiring bards gets up on stage, adjusts the pickup to a position in front of his instrument, and plays a gentle classical tune on his cello, accompanied with a sweet song.

** Renate is not accustomed to anything so mellow, but she finds she likes it. **

Renate: It fits her state of mind, without worsening it.

Alan: It doesn't take long to realize that the music is actually working a subtle magic on you, much like Mistress Durai's must.

Alan: But this music is soothing and enlivening, bringing a sense of well-being. Quite a different phenomenon.

Renate: Unfortunately, that realization gives Renate the cold chills.

Alan: The sensation might still bring rebellion, of course.

Renate: It's a moment or two before she can relax into it.

Alan: The bardic influence is like hypnotism—you can't be made to do things against your nature. (Without out-and-out spellsinging, of course.)

Renate: She reminds herself that Godfrey said this place was safe, and consciously lets her muscles go slack.

Alan: Nora gestures to someone off in the darkness, and another young woman arrives at the table, bows slightly from the waist, and sits, gesturing in negation when Godfrey starts to rise to get her chair.

Alan: This woman bears a certain family resemblance to Nora, but where Nora's hair is short, red, and wavy, hers is long, black, and straight;

Alan: and where Nora's body is short and curvy, hers is tall and lanky.

Alan: Her clothing is black, edged in silver; her eyes are a gray that could as easily be silver itself.

Alan: "Sylvie," Godfrey says, in the most brief greeting you've ever heard him use.

** Renate waits for her answer. **

Alan: "Godfrey," Sylvie responds. You don't get an impression of coldness, although they are both masters of the deadpan; simply of a mutual respect that does not admit of warmth.

Alan: "You've returned to Ilium for a reason. I can see it in your fate."

Alan: Did she mean "face?"

** Renate feels out of her depth again. **

Alan: Godfrey nods. "Indeed, although I cannot adequately suppress my delight at seeing the old crowd."

Alan: "Music has something to do with it," Sylvie says. "What?"

Alan: Godfrey lowers an eyebrow a millimeter. "Perhaps you have heard of one Dorothy Durai?"

Alan: "Ah," Sylvie says. "She whose gift is discord."

Alan: "Even so," says Godfrey.

Renate: Renate's eyes flick from face to face, trying to guess how this conversation will help.

Alan: Sylvie directs her gaze at you. "You're the one whose path crosses hers."

Alan: "What will you do?"

Renate: "I -- I don't know yet. I only know what I can't do."

Renate: "She has something that belongs to my family, but I can't steal it from her, because she came by it honestly."

Alan: "There is nothing you can't do. Only things you won't do."

Alan: "But if the latter feels like the former, you're well on your way to what we call 'honor.'"

Renate: "All right, I won't, then." She accepts the correction quietly.

Alan: Sylvie smiles, and though the expression is cold, it is the cold of a perfect snowfield in moonlight.

Renate: She picks up the thread of her thoughts again.

Alan: Chill and yet reassuring.

Alan: Nora punches Sylvie in the arm, not budging her. "Don't scare her, sis."

Renate: "And what she's going to do tomorrow may end with death; but I can't -- I won't -- stop her, because anyone can sing, and she will wield no weapon."

** Renate isn't scared, only very thoughtful. **

Alan: Sylvie nods. "I understand how your beliefs limit your actions."

Alan: "You have two options, both rich in both risk and honor."

Renate: "So I'm at a loss."

Alan: "You can change your beliefs; or you can change the fate your beliefs lay before you."

Renate: "Well, I -- if I could, I'd ask her what she would want from me, to give me what I want."

Renate: "But I'm afraid the answer will be 'nothing at all.'"

Alan: Sylvie nods in understanding. "I can see how you could think that."

Renate: "But?"

Alan: "But no challenge is placed on earth without reason. And this is a challenge."

Alan: "Even if her answer is 'nothing at all,' there is still something she wants."

Renate: "I know. And it looks to be the second one I'm going to fail."

Alan: "The real question is whether you are prepared to give it to her."

Renate: "I don't think I can know that until I know what it is."

Alan: "Even finding out will require courage. I'll be curious to see how you do."

Alan: "I'll ask the boss to watch over you. But I don't think that's reassuring."

Alan: "Never reassures anyone else, at least."

Alan: Sylvie shrugs carelessly.

Renate: "Any good wishes. I'll take 'em."

Alan: Nora laughs. "'The boss' is Kahan, Renate."

Renate: "Oh."

Renate: A fractional pause.

Renate: "Well, even so."

Renate: "Thank you, Sylvie."

Alan: Sylvie nods. "Don't worry—he's a being who likes to see success."

Alan: "And he's sad to see failure."

Alan: "He cares about people, in his own way."

Renate: "I'm not 'people.' I'm just me."

Alan: "Don't you realize? By saying that, you've already started on your way."

---

Alan: You're roused from sleep by the unfamiliar sounds of the city: rickshaw wheels, bicycle bells, a hundred footsteps and talking voices.

** Renate piles a pillow over her head. **

Renate: It doesn't help.

Alan: A corner soundcube merchant hawks his wares: "Onion Kids, Starline Network, latest news, stump speeches! Get 'em before they break!"

Renate: No wonder everybody is perpetually in motion -- they can't sleep!

Alan: He's playing a soundcube carrying a local news report—a chilling listing of muggings, murders, robberies.

Alan: Elections are coming up; a segment discusses the various candidates for different positions.

Alan: The morning is in its infancy; your bedside clock reads six.

Renate: "Oh. Damn."

** Renate gets up and goes to the bathroom to wash. **

Alan: Godfrey is already up, of course; he knocks on the door. "My lady, I have taken the liberty of ordering breakfast."

Renate: "All right. I'll be out in a few minutes."

Alan: It's pleasant to have the luxury of real plumbing for a change.

Renate: And she takes full advantage.

Alan: Once you've completed your morning ablutions, you go next door for a breakfast of croissants, fruit, tea (a Silver Coast tradition, in quiet opposition to the coffee so popular in Andragar).

Alan: (Andragar's Ordillan shipping lines give it coffee that's admired throughout the world.)

Renate: (Indeed. Well, coffee is too strong for Renate, generally. She prefers tea.)

Renate: "Jashain is coming by at noon, right?"

Alan: "Him or his courier, yes."

Alan: "He said that he would include a potion gauntlet of masterful craftsmanship, holding a full five vials."

Alan: "Perhaps a trip to the Guild of Alchemists?"

Renate: "All right. I'll trouble you so far as to ask where I might go to get my hair cut, and then you can have the rest of the day off."

Renate: "I'll manage that. You go have fun."

Alan: "Ah, I fear I have no experience in the styling needs of a lady. I always attended a barber's shop in the Salla District, but such a place is the preserve of gentlemen."

Renate: "Of course. I should have asked Nora. Sorry, Godfrey."

Alan: "I understand that the finest hairdresser in the city is Madame Alois, in the Market District west of Bevier Park."

Alan: "But her rates are likely to be steep."

Renate: "I don't need anything nearly so fancy."

Renate: "All I want is a short soldier's cut, really."

Renate: "Maybe layered a little -- my hair is so thin."

Alan: Godfrey hands you a purse containing five silver. "A gift from Baron Darenton. Use it to outfit yourself as you see fit."

Renate: "I'll make sure to write him a thank-you."

Renate: "I bet the hotel clerks know. I'll ask there."

Renate: After breakfast, Renate returns upstairs and writes the promised thank-you note to Baron Darenton. She does not quite recall his address, so she lays the note aside for Godfrey's return.

Renate: Her clean hair is dry by then; on enquiring at the desk, she receives three names. Choosing the second one at random, she drops by the shop, still mostly empty this early, and gets exactly the cut she wants.

Renate: The shorter 'do favors her better than the unruly mop she had adopted (after a 'cube star of whom Godfrey mightily disapproved) -- and, not least, makes her look older than her sixteen years.

Renate: Mindful of Godfrey's advice, she then took a rickshaw to the Alchemists' Guild, returning with a variety of carefully-packed vials.

Renate: (a couple of Focus, some Mending, otherwise Cure -- I'll figure it out precisely later.)

Renate: On her way back to the hotel, she finds a pretty eagle-shaped locket. Sabine's birthday is toward the end of Fourthmonth. Renate doubts she'll be home in time, but she buys Sabine the locket anyway.

Renate: She gets back to the hotel near lunchtime.

Renate: In time to meet Jashain -- or his courier.

Alan: Godfrey is off doing whatever Godfrey does; but there's a package waiting for you at the front desk.

** Renate takes it, thanks the clerk, and retires to her room to open it. **

Alan: The note attached to it says "For a young lady of true fighting spirit."

** Renate shakes her head, but can't help blushing a little. **

Alan: Enclosed is a dried wildflower, of a type you don't recognize.

Alan: You understand that there is some code held in flowers, but it's one of the more esoteric courtly graces you refused to learn.

** Renate makes a mental note to show it to Godfrey. **

Alan: The outfit itself is much like the sketch, but instead of the bright gold accents, it is almost completely black;

Alan: the epaulettes, breastplate, and piping are of a glossy black material with tiny twists of silver wire, and tiny seed pearls, giving it a moonlight sheen.

** Renate touches it, wondering. **

Renate: She has never had anything like this.

Alan: Dark velvet eagles are picked out in opalescent black against the field of more reflective satin.

Renate: Slowly, almost afraid to, she withdraws behind the dressing screen in the corner to try it on.

Renate: When she comes out and looks at herself in the full-length mirror, she almost turns around to see who the young warrior is.

Alan: Godfrey will be returning around five, to go with you to the concert at ten.

Alan: You have a whole day to spend, really.

Renate: She changes back into her ordinary clothes -- all the more ordinary-seeming now! -- and takes a walk around town, just trying to understand the place.

Renate: She would write a thank-you to Jashain as well, but the flower might need a reply, and she isn't sure what it should be.

Renate: But Godfrey will know.

Renate: Southtown area, I think.

Renate: Perhaps she'll pick up some tips from a Deadly Fighter or something.

Alan: Most of Southtown is quite nice; it's a peaceful walk around, looking at fighting tournament posters.

Alan: All the tournaments have names like "God Bless the Ring," "Dream Match Never Ends," and so forth.

Alan: You stop for a while at Gunner's Heaven, watching Orville Timberlake (an eight-foot-tall giant with skin like dark teak) direct a class of aspiring young fighters in a sandy training field.

Alan: The entire club is laid out like an indoor garden, with streams, fish pools, and trees.

Renate: Any good? :)

Alan: The students are studying an aristocratic style which will take many years to return a usable skill—quite unlike Wrenfall, where even a dense student can grasp the basics within weeks.

Alan: In the case of Wrenfall, a great gulf divides the master from the student, but results are quick and frequent.

Alan: As the sun begins to set, you find your way back to Gate Town, and have dinner at a small eatery which specializes in fresh-caught seafood from the Gray Ocean.

** Renate feels rather provincial, watching them. **

Renate: (mm, yummy!)

Alan: Godfrey happens to see you through the window, and comes in to join you as you finish up.

Alan: "My lady."

Renate: "Godfrey! Did you have a nice day?"

Renate: "Sit down."

Renate: "Have you eaten?"

Alan: "Quite, my lady." Godfrey has a seat.

Renate: "Should I not ask?"

Alan: "I have, in fact, but this restaurant seems quite good."

** Renate is obviously curious, but equally obviously doesn't want to pry. **

Renate: "It's great! Try some of mine."

Alan: He smells very faintly of perfume; you need wonder no more. :)

Renate: a-ha.

Alan: Godfrey politely accepts a bite, and chews with pleasure.

Renate: Another belief ruined. :)

Alan: "Quite excellent."

Alan: Aww... you thought him celibate?

Renate: no... gay.

Alan: Oh, duh.

Renate: And you did say perfume instead of cologne.

Alan: Yes, I certainly did.

Renate: "I need your expertise a moment, Godfrey, if you don't mind."

Alan: "By all means, my lady."

Renate: She describes the flower in Jashain's note.

Renate: "Significance?"

Alan: "That is a golden aurelia, I believe, and it is meant to signal esteem towards a young lady of inferior station but superior prospects."

Renate: "Hm."

Alan: "In contrast to the devil's purse, it is not meant to connote a romantic interest."

Renate: "Good choice."

Renate: "Is there one that means 'thank you,' no romantic interest?"

Alan: "I believe that the Silverton Snapddragon would be most appropriate. Shall I procure one?"

Renate: "Please."

Alan: "I shall do so tomorrow; I fear the local florists will have closed their doors by now."

Renate: "And I'll need your memory to address my thank-you notes properly."

Alan: "Of course, my lady."

Renate: "If we make it to tomorrow, that's fine."

Renate: "Well, I'm done here; I need to go back and get dressed."

Alan: "My lady will surely go well-equipped? The exigencies of self-defense cannot be superceded by noble intent."

Renate: "Planning on it. Jashain sent the gauntlet."

Alan: "In times of trouble, the court of King Hahn wore potion-belts even to formal balls."

Renate: She describes her errand to the Alchemists' Guild.

Renate: "Believe me, I've got everything but the kitchen sink."

Alan: "Ah, an excellent decision. I took the liberty of acquiring mental protectives myself."

Renate: "Well, I've got extra."

Alan: "Quite good, my lady. Let us, then, prepare."

Alan: Godfrey pays your bill out of the travelling funds, and escorts you back to the hotel.

Alan: He goes into his room, and after a time you hear the distinctive sound of quill on paper; perhaps an entry in his journal.

Alan: Any last-second preparations?

Renate: Dress. Arm. Put potions in gauntlet. Don gauntlet.

Renate: That's about all I can think of.

Alan: I don't know, it sounds pretty elaborate.

Renate: Unless the Focus potion needs to be taken prophylactically, far in advance.

Renate: Well, Godfrey's there to help.

Alan: No, only the various elixirs work that way.

Renate: That's what I figured.

Alan: (Was sarcasm, BTW.)

Renate: (I know.)

Renate: (So was mine.)

Alan: (Ooh, sarcasm battle. :( )

Renate: (call it preparation for Durai... somehow I think sarcasm is part of her arsenal.)

Alan: At around nine, Godfrey calls for a rickshaw and you set off towards the northern Salla District, near its border with Ivy Prime.

** Renate has the same nerveless poise Godfrey remembers from before the fight with Hyuri. **

Renate: And she looks remarkable in Jashain's creation.

Alan: The area outside the Risen Octagon is completely different now.

Alan: There's a long line of people outside the club, being pushed back by burly guards.

Alan: Everyone who tries to get in is checked against a depressingly short-looking list; most are turned away or told to wait.

Alan: As you get closer to the bouncers, you hear one of them say, "If you're a model, you get in. If you're with a model, you get in. If you're on the list, get in."

** Renate walks up like she owns the place. **

Alan: "Does any of that apply to you? No." The bouncer firmly pushes the target of his discussion back behind the braided rope.

Alan: Godfrey steps ahead of you. "Emilia Eaglebourne, the Demon Killer."

Alan: Both bouncers turn around. "Demon Killer?"

** Renate narrowly avoids choking at the epithet. **

Renate: She tries to look as if she might deserve it.

Alan: One bouncer rolls his eyes and starts to cross his arms dismissively, but the other grabs his shoulder.

Alan: "Wait a second, I think I've heard of this chick. You're the one with the sword, right?"

Renate: She gestures to it, sheathed at her side.

Renate: "This one?"

Renate: "I do not show it to just anyone."

Alan: "She is indifferent to such public displays, gentlemen," Godfrey says. "If you want to know more, perhaps she will hold audience within."

Alan: The credulous bouncer nods and ushers you through the door. "Have a good time, my lady."

Renate: "Thank you."

Renate: "Nice going, Godfrey," she murmurs. "Too bad no fires. Can't roast you."

Alan: "A lot of the Hundred Deadly Fighters come in here," says the more sarcastic one. "Don't blame me if you get challenged or something,"

Renate: "I'll manage, I'm sure." Said confidently.

Alan: The bouncers return to their duties, bullying the next poor sap in line.

Alan: The interior of the club is ... confusing, at first.

Alan: It's mostly very dark, but there's a light show that plays over the crowd, illuminating different areas in flashes.

Alan: The music is what really gets you, even though you've heard similar stuff on soundcubes a hundred times.

Alan: It's loud, but more than loud, it's powerful. The beat is at the exact volume and tempo to get into your bones.

Renate: (not at this volume, I'm sure!)

Alan: It's the new style of music; it's powerful, almost bardic in its pure primal draw. The influence of Eastlands drumming is clear; everyone is dancing, or trying not to dance.

Alan: You can imagine people dancing for hours, dancing to exhaustion, just like the primitive Eastlanders whose tribal drumming inspired it.

Alan: A battlestave, a chanted tale of braggadocio and testosterone, pulses over the music, fading in and out of the rhythm.

** Renate looks for someplace that might be just the slightest bit quieter, or less crowded. **

Renate: She also looks around for the exits.

Alan: And the people on the floor, dressed in all sorts of exotic finery, are like nobody you've ever seen before... your previous concert experiences have been at amphitheaters, where people come for the music, not for the party.

Renate: She suspects she'll want to know where they are.

Alan: Here, there are men wearing layers of violently contrasting clothes, women wearing fewer clothes than is strictly appropriate...

** Renate is glad to be fully covered. **

Renate: Which is a change, for her.

Alan: Nearly everyone has something pierced, the stranger the better, and many of them, in keeping with the Eastlands influence, are wearing stripes of pastel-colored warpaint, which flare into glow-in-the-dark brightness when the lights play across them.

Renate: But some of the men are rather... large, and intimidating-looking.

Alan: If you'd seen this in Karlbotel, you'd think you were dreaming.

Alan: There is one bar near the entrance, but Godfrey leads you toward the far wall of the club, where another, smaller bar is at the center of an island of calm.

Alan: It's almost quiet enough to talk here, due to some clever acoustics.

Alan: This bar has stools, unlike the one nearer the entrance.

Renate: "Where are the ways out?" she asks him.

Alan: You notice that the pearls in your outfit are glowing an eerie purple-white. A side effect of the lighting, no doubt.

Alan: "There are illuminated signs over each one, by law."

** Renate looks for them. **

Alan: Several doors have red arrows pointing down at them, dimly visible in the murk.

Alan: One is behind the stage, one is near this bar, and two are nearer the entrance.

Alan: There's some sort of incomprehensible machine taking up one corner; behind it, under a radioactive-green light, a half-elf with his hair shaved into a single spiky stripe is manipulating some sort of controls on it.

Renate: "Right. If Durai runs for it, try to go after her. But don't get hurt doing it, all right?"

Alan: "My lady."

Renate: "And don't threaten her."

Alan: Every time the half-elf makes some change to the machine, the music changes with it.

Renate: "We just want to talk."

Alan: There are visible beams of white light travelling between gaps in the machine's parts, at eye level.

Alan: "Of course, my lady. I would not wish to intimidate Mistress Durai. She might grow unacceptably... flighty."

Renate: "Well, watch out for her. Does she do gigs this big often?"

Renate: "She could get herself hurt this time."

Alan: "I am informed that this is her first engagement of such magnitude."

** Renate nods. **

Renate: "Thought that might be. Well, when the place blows, I'm going to try to get her out safe, all right?"

Renate: "You just watch out for yourself."

Alan: The "lightwarrior" behind the machine—so called because he works with the beams of light which carry the music—touches a few controls, then speaks, and his voice comes from all around, just like the music.

Alan: "Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for!"

Alan: "Fresh from the Patchwork Kingdoms, where her music has dazzled the ears and touched the hearts of thousands!"

Alan: "Granddaughter of the Thundergod himself!"

Alan: "Listen closely and open your souls to Dorothy! Durai!"

** Renate watches Godfrey, to see when he imbibes his potion. **

Alan: The first notes of a gentle harp melody fill the air.

Alan: Mist swirls in the center of the stage, and a woman appears within it.

** Renate pricks up her ears, and looks for the harp. **

Renate: Is it the harp of Astrid?

Alan: Bent lovingly over a small but ornate silver and gold harp, so that her thing copper braids are almost entangled in the strings, she plays a swift and intricate melody.

Alan: It is almost certainly the harp you seek; its sound is pure and sweet.

Alan: Despite the speed and complexity of her tune, it is delicate in nature, soft and friendly.

Alan: It's a vast change of pace from the music that was playing before.

Alan: This song tells a story of love and happiness; every note is like a new discover, every new chord is like a first kiss from a new lover.

Alan: This song has the bardic power you experienced in Tifan's Place; and just like at Tifan's Place, there is nothing sad or angry about this music.

** Renate finds it inviting, but -- foreign. **

Renate: She has not known feelings like that.

Alan: As Dorothy plays her harp, she starts to sing; there are no words, just a soft keening melody, sweet and raw.

Alan: You feel the joy of first love, an emotion appropriate to these first warm days of spring, at the end of Thirdmonth.

Alan: The audience is drawn in; they fall completely silent, they stop dancing; out of motion, with their oulandish club gear, they look like a congregation of faeries, lost and transfixed by a holy sign.

Alan: The song reaches a peak of emotion, and Dorothy raises her eyes, looking out across the club, and you see tears pooling at their edges.

Alan: She looks at the lightwarrior and makes a slight nod.

Alan: The lightwarrior tweaks the knobs of his machine, and the harps' notes start to take on a soft-edged, distorted tone... even with the same tune of beauty and joy.

Alan: Dorothy begins a beautiful, soaring arpeggio.

Alan: And the arpeggio continues, rising up the scale and down, now keeping to an even, swift rhythm.

Alan: The lightwarrior snaps a glass cube into a port on his machine and pushes a button...

** Renate feels her heart beat faster. **

Alan: ...and the old primal thumping beat begins to play, catching the rhythm of the harp.

Renate: Perhaps it is the music.

Renate: Perhaps it's sheer apprehension.

Alan: Again, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them—which it is—the clubgoers begin to dance.

Alan: And the harp's tune, the tune of happiness and joy, is locked in place, seemingly unable to progress, and without changing a single note, it becomes a tune of despair.

** Renate reaches for Aaron's lessons. **

Renate: She tries not to be distracted.

Alan: There is a sound pickup near Dorothy's head, on a stand. Dorothy sings; or speaks, since the words are harsh, tuneless, angry.

Alan: "I know the flames that dance on the fire in the winter; I've seen the world turn black"

Renate: (How far is Renate from the stage?)

Alan: "I know the pain of lost love in your heart like a splinter; I've seen the brave turn back"

Alan: "I know the strength of despair like a chilling hand, like a mouthful of sand,"

Alan: "Like all my dreams getting broke and driven through my skull... and my heart is full..."

Alan: At this quiet bar in back of the club, the entire dance floor and its crowd bars you from the stage.

Alan: Closest to the stage, a lowered area houses a standing-room only dance area, where people are packed body to body.

** Renate reaches for Godfrey's hand and squeezes it, once. **

Alan: The audience dances, fiercely, trying to work the powerful music out through their bodies and hearts.

Renate: Then she slips down from her stool and starts edging her way around the crowd toward the stage.

Renate: Whenever she thinks she needs it, she'll take that Focus potion.

Alan: The lightwarrior uses his machine, and snatches of other popular songs ripple through the mix, songs of anger and sadness—songs about love gone wrong.

Alan: They form swirling echoes to Dorothy's words.

Alan: "I know the steps to the dance that goes straight down; and I've seen them fall"

Alan: "I know the demons that feed where dreams abound; and I've fought them all"

Alan: "I know the power of hate like a burning fist, like a bloated cyst,"

Alan: "Like all my dreams getting broke and driven through my skull... and my heart is full of..."

Alan: The dancing grows more wild; the audience can't express their new emotions in simple motion. As you try to squeeze past them, people crash into you, carried away by the wild frenzy.

Renate: She tries her best not to hurt anyone.

Alan: Tears are streaming down Dorothy's face, reflecting pinpoints of the wild lightshow.

Renate: She'll even take damage herself rather than inflict it.

Alan: The lights strobe across your vision, making you stagger as you press through the crowd.

Alan: "You were the one who kept my soul alive; you were night and day"

Alan: "You were the one who helped my hope survive; then you turned away"

Alan: "You were the one who filled my life with rage, like a white-hot cage,"

Alan: "Like all my dreams getting broke and driven through my skull... and my heart is full of love..."

Alan: You pass the main dance floor, and are at the brink of the lowered pit.

Alan: "For you..." Dorothy's voice rises into soaring song.

Renate: (how's the crowd? dangerous yet?)

Alan: The people there are hurling themselves against one another like chips in a torrent, swirling and flowing.

Alan: "My dear..."

Alan: At times people clash and strike each other, but are pulled apart by the flow of the dance.

Alan: "I am full of love..."

Alan: "For you..."

Alan: "My dear..." the last sweetly-sung note extends, reaching a crescendo that slams back into the harsh, angry music.

Renate: Renate gets ready for a flying leap over the pit to the stage.

Renate: (taking 10 on Jump or Improved Jump, whichever is appropriate)

Alan: You see the flash of a knife down in the crowd. You don't see the result.

Alan: (Improved Jump would be the way to go here.)

Renate: (oh, dear. well, whenever she can!)

Alan: (And taking ten will get you there; it's only a few meters.)

Renate: (right -- let's do it!)

Alan: As you jump, the lightwarrior adjusts the underlying music to have a deadly screaming sound, like a buzzsaw on metal.

Renate: (ow!)

Alan: You land lightly on the stage after lightfooting over the heads of the dancers below, stepping so delicately none of them notices a thing.

Alan: "I will be the one to hold you close; like you did for me"

Alan: "I will be the one to make you feel what you did to me"

Alan: "I will be the one who makes you live with my own pain,"

** Renate fades into the wings, waiting for the right moment. **

Alan: "Like all your dreams getting broke and driven through your skull! And my heart is full!"

Alan: Instantly, she breaks into a frenzied musical barrage, notes of sheer rage backing up the treacherous hateful beats. The dance floor devolves into chaos; there's screaming.

Alan: If you're making a move to end her song, now's the time. But she also seems to be standing up.

** Renate walks calmly out, and stands between her and the crowd. **

Renate: "Mistress Durai? I think we'd better go. You could be hurt."

Alan: Dorothy blinks away tears, and as she snaps her harpcase shut, she looks at you in surprise.

** Renate tries not to think about Godfrey, in that chaos. **

Renate: "Please, Mistress. It's not safe."

Alan: "I appreciate it," she says shakily, and swings the case onto her back, crosswise over her shoulder and chest.

Renate: "Hurry. There's an exit around back."

Alan: She goes to the door behind the stage.

** Renate walks behind her, shielding her as best she can. **

Alan: As you exit, you see Godfrey making his way along the back end of the club—he's illuminated briefly by a strobe—holding a barstool up defensively.

** Renate sends a quick prayer after him. **

Renate: It's all she can do.

Alan: The brouhaha isn't centered around him; he seems to be doing all right.

Alan: Dorothy breathes a sigh of relief as she hops down the stairs in back of the club.

Renate: "Are you all right, Mistress Durai?"

Alan: "Quite the donnybrook," she says, dabbing her face with a handkerchief.

Renate: "Yes, I -- expected it to be."

Renate: "It's just -- so many people."

Alan: "Next time," she says, "why not ask the management if you can have a spot on stage? You're quite the acrobat."

Renate: "You couldn't rely on staying a noncombatant."

Renate: "I'm not a performer, ma'am."

Alan: You're in the alley behind the club; from the street, you can hear the whistles of the Watch as they hurry into the club.

Renate: "I just don't like seeing people hurt, that's all."

Renate: "Should you stay? The Watch. They might have questions."

Alan: "Neither do I. It's sad that people have so much pain," she says. She's recovering her composure; one hand rests idly on her harp-case, the other is underneath her cape.

Alan: Her rapier is in plain view; her hand is nowhere near it.

Renate: Renate's hands are in sight.

Renate: Gauntlet, sheathed sword -- she is using neither.

Alan: "I don't really have a good relationship with the police. Justice is to hard to come by. You read the papers, you know what I mean."

Renate: "Yes, it is."

Alan: "It's all about gold and power, and I've got neither."

Renate: "I thought maybe."

Renate: "Is there somewhere I can take you? Somewhere safe?"

Alan: "There's an open-air tavern I like to go to. Quiet enough that you can talk, but enough people for me to feel safe at night."

** Renate nods. **

Renate: "That sounds fine."

Renate: "If you don't mind me coming with you, that is."

Alan: Dorothy walks a cautious few steps away from you. You realize after a moment that the hand under her cape is resting on a long knife.

Alan: She makes no threatening move.

** Renate holds up her empty hands. **

Renate: "I'll swear whatever you like that I won't attack you, Mistress Durai."

Alan: "It's just a few blocks." Dorothy leads you to the place; a set of tables surrounded by a glowbulb-strung wrought-iron fence.

Renate: "All right. Thanks."

Alan: "And I would never suspect ill of one of my fans," she says, with a certain understated irony.

Alan: Like the beer garden in Larkspur, this place is heated by strategically-placed bonfires.

Renate: "No, ma'am," Renate answers, with equal irony.

Alan: The night air is almost warm; one of the first nice nights of spring.

Alan: Dorothy orders two glasses of wine.

Renate: Renate pretends to drink from hers, for politeness, but tastes no more than a sip.

Alan: "So to what do I owe your extravagant concern for my well-being?" she asks after a moment.

Renate: "A few things. Most of them you probably won't like. But one of them -- I swear this is true -- is just plain sadness, that anyone should feel like you do, ma'am."

Alan: "What is tragedy if it gives rise to powerful music?" Dorothy says lightly.

Renate: "Still tragedy."

Alan: "And what music could be powerful without its touch of tragedy?"

Alan: "There are no famous songs of love fulfilled. Only those of longing and loss."

Renate: "I don't know, ma'am. You would know better than I."

Alan: "So what is your name? I should know, if you plan to rummage about through my soul."

Renate: "Well, ma'am, there's a whole genre of dawn-songs."

Renate: "They aren't sad. They're hopeful."

Renate: "Oh. Sorry."

Renate: "You'll hear me called Emilia Eaglebourne."

Renate: "But it's not my right name."

Renate: "It's Renate. Renate von Adler."

Alan: "Hope is only a form of longing, Renate Eaglebourne," she says, turning the mixed name on her tongue.

Alan: Her flat copper braids reflect the flickering light of the bonfires, and she places her hands palm-down on the table.

Renate: "Maybe, ma'am," Renate answers, fencing carefully, "but sometimes it's fulfilled."

Alan: "And longing is what humans do."

Renate: "Yes, ma'am."

Alan: "The moment one desire is fulfilled, there is another."

Alan: "Have you ever eaten a meal so filling you did not need to eat again the next day?"

Renate: She smiles.

Renate: "Actually, I have."

Alan: "Have you ever slept so soundly you did not need to sleep again the next night?"

Alan: "Okay, okay, bad metaphor."

Alan: Dorothy rubs her temples. "Work with me."

** Renate chuckles, just a little. **

Renate: "I'm sorry."

Renate: "I'm not very good at this."

Alan: "I mean that my songs are only reflections—poor ones, sure—of cosmic truth."

Renate: "I don't mean to put you off, ma'am."

Renate: "I can tell. From their effect on people."

Renate: "But, Mistress Durai, are they the whole truth?"

Alan: "In a way, I'm sad that people react with such strong emotions."

** Renate nods. **

Alan: "But I'm also... interested." Her lips curve up into a sensual smile.

Alan: "I like to see what's inside people."

Alan: Her eyes catch yours with a certain fire.

Renate: "You're good at it."

Alan: Her braids fall over one another as she tilts her head to one side.

Renate: "People like to do what they're good at."

Alan: "You're good at saving people."

Alan: "Nobility is so rare."

** Renate looks up at her, startled. **

Renate: "No, not really."

Renate: "I mean -- I'm not good at saving people. And I'm not really noble."

Renate: "I mean, I *am* -- my father is a baron -- but -- "

Alan: "Then why do I so seldom see it—when my entire art is based on stripping people to their most basic selves?"

Renate: "Oh, dear."

Alan: "Your father doesn't matter; your soul is all that is important."

Renate: "I guess you've looked inside me and seen what there is to see."

Renate: "Confusion."

Alan: "Joyous strength."

Alan: Her hands come together, fingers interlaced; her knuckles brush yours lightly.

** Renate is astonished. **

Renate: "Really?"

Alan: "Beyond your eyes I see a pillar of silvery fire."

Renate: Renate's breathing quickens. She could not have said why.

Renate: "I -- don't understand."

Alan: "Then you have much to learn about yourself," Dorothy says, leaning back and taking a careless sip of wine.

Renate: "That I understand," she says wryly.

Alan: "I suppose you hear that from everyone, at your age," she says gently. She can't be more than 23 herself.

Alan: "I shouldn't have added myself to the list."

Renate: "Most people, yes. But it's all right."

Renate: "Better I should know, than go around thinking I know it all already."

Alan: "Quite a far cry from the day you killed Red Justice and Blue Dark, don't you think?" She smiles, completely in on the joke.

** Renate screws up her face. **

Renate: "Please don't."

Renate: "Mistress Durai, I'm truly sorry to have to ask anything of you -- you don't deserve this. But I have to."

Renate: "So can I ask you now, and get it over with, and maybe we can go back to just talking?"

Alan: "Listen, Renate. I've seen your eyes shift, even if you haven't. I know why you're here. I know the history of this harp."

Alan: Dorothy finishes her wine.

Renate: "Oh."

Renate: "Well, that saves me a lot of explaining, I guess."

Alan: "I'm wondering just what you're willing to give me for it."

** Renate takes a deep breath. **

Renate: "I don't know what you want," she says simply.

Alan: She stands up, and her hand is under her cape again. She strolls slowly, more like an amble, towards the exit.

Renate: "And I don't want to insult you by offering something wrong."

Alan: "I'm curious to see what you're really made of," she says.

** Renate follows her. **

Alan: "And where you're weak, where you break; where you can heal and become stronger."

Alan: "How you're balanced, how you might fall."

Alan: She waves, and a rickshaw pulls up.

Renate: "I think you'll be disappointed, Mistress Durai."

Renate: "But if that's what you want, I'll tell you as best I can."

Alan: "This is your chance. Do you want the harp? Then show me something surprising."

Alan: Her eyes dance with reflected firelight.

Renate: Renate walks up to her, empty-handed.

Renate: She puts her arms around her, as if Dorothy Durai were Sabine von Adler.

Alan: "That's surprising," Dorothy says, and leans her head against your shoulder for a long moment.

Renate: "I thought you might need it."

Alan: She gently smooths your hair where it hangs below your hat.

Renate: "Or at least want it."

Renate: "Please don't go right away, Mistress Durai."

Alan: "But you've got depths I still want to see. And I'll see them anon." She breaks the embrace, and turns away, placing one foot on the mounting rail of the rickshaw.

Renate: "I'm at the Golden Rose Inn, Mistress Durai. You're welcome there."

Alan: Without another word, Dorothy enters the rickshaw, and it pulls away. As you turn to watch it go, you notice that the shoulder of your coat is damp with tears.

---

Renate: "Godfrey? Is that you? Are you all right?"

Alan: "Quite," Godfrey says, strolling casually towards you.

Renate: She is emptyhanded.

Renate: "Good. Let's go."

Alan: "As I presented no apparent threat, and my mental state was tranquil, I was not given a second glance by Ilium's finest."

Renate: "Yeah. How -- how bad did it get in there?"

Alan: "At least two are dead, my lady; from a quick glance, however, I would not say that they are beyond the assistance of the Church."

Alan: "Have you escaped harm as well, my lady?"

Renate: "Saints and angels."

Renate: "Me? Fine."

Alan: "That is well."

Renate: "Not a scratch."

Renate: "Well, maybe a couple of bruises."

Renate: "Nothing that won't heal."

Alan: "The hour grows late; let us return to our lodgings." Godfrey begins trying to hail a rickshaw.

Alan: "Mistress Durai's musical accomplice struck me as something of a rogue. I wished to speak with him, but he was standing guard over his equipment with a sword, and I did not think it prudent."

Renate: "Good call."

Renate: "I didn't like the look of him either."

Renate: "At least she was crying."

Alan: "Quite likely an element of her performance, my lady."

Renate: "Maybe."

Alan: "Her musical phrasing was too calculated to reflect a true loss of self-control."

Alan: "Having seen her perform, I strongly suspect her of being entirely in control of her own actions."

** Renate considers that. **

Renate: "She's trouble. I know that."

Renate: "And I'm afraid the next word I'm about to say is 'but.' I probably shouldn't say it, should I?"

Alan: Godfrey's waves are finally noticed, and a rickshaw pulls up. "Where you goin'?" the bearer asks.

Alan: "The Golden Rose in Gate Town," Godfrey says, assisting you into the seat.

** Renate accepts his help absentmindedly, forgetting even to thank him. **

Alan: Once situated, Godfrey says, "Mistress Durai exerts a certain dangerous charisma."

Renate: This is rare; she is generally quite mannerly.

Renate: "I, um, noticed that."

Renate: "Acutely."

Renate: "You might say."

Alan: "Indeed," Godfrey says, with no evidence of surprise.

Alan: Then again, he seldom gives evidence of any emotion to begin with.

Renate: "Yeah. Pawn to king four, Godfrey. I'm not done chasing that harp, I think."

Alan: "The Renard Game? Then hope that she does not answer with Tranech's Defense. You have always been most poor at that response."

Renate: "Well, I'll have to learn, won't I?"

Alan: "You have too great a willingness to allow the black knight its footing at the center."

Renate: "Metaphor, Godfrey."

Alan: "In this situation as in chess, a powerful starting position is greater than any material advantage."

Renate: "Well, I've blown that, thanks."

Renate: "Or maybe not. I'm not sure."

Renate: "I don't think I'm exactly what she normally runs into."

Alan: "I do not believe you are what anyone normally runs into."

Renate: "If I caught enough of her attention -- maybe she won't be so quick to hurt more people."

Renate: "So everybody keeps saying. I don't see it, myself, but I guess I can't step outside myself *to* see it."

Alan: "One route to an understanding of oneself is to use others as mirrors."

Renate: "I guess. Why else do I keep talking your ear off?"

Alan: The rickshaw jolts slightly as it turns onto the well-worn cobbles of Antonius Boulevard.

Renate: "Fuerza Gozosa. Not a bad name for a weapon."

Alan: "Most young ladies speak as much for the pleasure of speaking as for any urge to discourse."

Renate: "If I've got the Lan'yarian right."

Renate: "Oh, and I don't?"

Alan: "Your studies have paid richly; but if I might inquire...?"

Renate: "Something Dorothy said she saw when she looked at me."

Renate: "Kinda took me aback -- if anybody still says that."

Alan: "Indeed," Godfrey says.

Alan: "The difference between mortals and mirrors is that mirrors lack motives."

Alan: "Forgive my alliteration."

Renate: "You're dead sure she was trying to snow me, is that it?"

Renate: "I'm not."

Alan: "You have had the pleasure of conversing with Mistress Durai, whereas I have not."

Alan: "Nonetheless, it falls to me to maintain a healthy level of suspicion."

Renate: "Well, I think I know what she's doing. What she's after."

Alan: "Our first hint of her was at a funeral; that must color my impressions."

Renate: "I know. I remember."

Renate: "But I don't think we can get her to stop until we understand why she's doing it. And I don't mean Cecilia Faris."

Renate: "Here's a bit of alliteration for you: Drifting Diamond."

Alan: "A most excellent name for a riverboat casino, my lady."

Renate: "Dorothy, I mean. Wandering around trying to find someone she can't actually damage."

Renate: "I don't think it's me -- but she seems to think it might be."

Alan: "A person, then, with no human weakness?"

Renate: "Maybe. Or someone who knows their weaknesses well enough to get by without giving in to them."

Alan: "A rare individual indeed, my lady."

Renate: "Few more of those in the world, I think."

Renate: "Yeah."

Renate: "You come pretty close yourself."

Alan: "Perhaps, my lady."

Renate: "You think she'll leave town?"

Renate: "Right away, I mean."

Alan: "I suspect that she is the type to strike and retreat. Sooner or later, someone must draw a link between her music and its result."

Renate: "Too bad. I wanted to get a note to her."

Alan: "She would not wish to remain present if such a person presented hostile intent."

Renate: "I wanted to give her the harp. Queen's pawn to queen three."

Alan: "An interesting gambit, my lady."

Renate: "Maybe you could try to locate that partner of hers?"

Alan: "I shall inquire tomorrow."

Renate: "I'll write the note, then. And don't forget Jashain's snapdragon."

Renate: "Say, would you like another day off?"

Alan: "The gesture would not be taken amiss."

** Renate smiles, for the first time since leaving the Octagon. **

Alan: "Our next destination is Eridu, is it not?"

Renate: "When do I get to meet her?"

Renate: "Looks like it."

Alan: "A friend of mine runs a passenger yacht between Ys, Ilium, Eridu, Atlantis, and Sachade."

Alan: "It will make port in Ilium the day after tomorrow."

Renate: "A yacht? Are you trying to bankrupt Karlbotel?"

Alan: "I believe we would be well served to seek his hospitality. He will certain put us up for free."

Renate: "And when do I get to meet her?"

Alan: Godfrey glances at you at an angle which endows his expressionless face with a certain humor.

Alan: "Tomorrow, if you so desire."

Renate: "I do so desire. Set out what you want me to wear."

Renate: "That, the snapdragon, and Dorothy's assistant, and the rest of the day is yours."

Renate: "And I promise, cross my heart, to be good."

Renate: Her grin is roguish, but she means what she says.

Alan: "I would not fear otherwise," Godfrey says.

Renate: "You lie like a Patchwork carpet. But I *will* be good, so there."

Renate: "She must be pretty special, if you like her."

Renate: "I hope she appreciates you."

Alan: "I must refrain from comment, my lady."

---

Alan: Godfrey has gone to snoop around for Sadler J, and pick up a flower.

Alan: He's given you the address of a restaurant where you're to meet him at noon.

** Renate is writing Jashain's note, finally. **

Renate: Jashain -- It is marvelous. I haven't words to thank you. You're the best ever! - Renate

Renate: Where is the restaurant?

Renate: Approximately.

Alan: In Southtown across the street from Bevier Park.

Alan: That would be the north edge of Southtown.

Renate: Cool. Then when she's done writing she can go window-shopping in Southtown.

Alan: Koralin Drive is a street in Southtown known for its shops and dojos, according to a brochure in the lobby of the Golden Rose.

Renate: Sounds good. Renate works out a route in the hotel lobby, so that she doesn't have to stare at a map on the street like an idiot.

Renate: (She is armed, and wearing the gauntlet, btw. Last night was mildly unsettling.)

Alan: Potion gauntlets aren't quite a stylistic statement, but a sword is the perquisite of the gentleperson.

Alan: It's uncommon but not worthy of remark.

Renate: Even so. She doesn't mind being unfashionable if it keeps her alive.

Renate: Which is not something she would have said a few months ago, but live and learn.

Alan: Every block on Koralin Drive, there's something interesting to see. It's the long steep street that leads up to the Iron Ring.

Alan: The arms dealers are far more specialized than you've ever seen; one shop, for instance, deals entirely in hand crossbows.

Renate: Impressive. Not a weapon Renate is terribly familiar with.

Renate: She didn't know there were so many variations.

Alan: Another appears to have an inventory of nothing but throwing stars, a weapon you hadn't even heard of (but whose purpose is immediately obvious upon beholding them).

Renate: Neat! Renate covets them, but reluctantly passes them by.

Alan: The dojos are of equal interest: most have windows or entire front walls that are open to the street, and the cries of students throwing attacks in unison forms a constant counterpoint to the bustle of the crowd.

Renate: She'd better learn the weapons she has before acquiring new ones.

Alan: In just three blocks, you can see examples of the Dragon Lord, Devil's Crush, Wandering Fist, Heaven University, Iron Armor, and Twin Suns styles.

** Renate takes copious mental notes. **

Alan: Most are unfamiliar, recognizable only by the signs over the dojo entrances.

Renate: (Warcraft!)

Alan: (Damn straight!)

Alan: (You've got two levels worth of study to undertake between this and the start of the main game, so the more excuses for skill points, the better.)

Renate: (figured!)

Renate: (but when she gets back to Karlbotel she's going to throw herself into her studies anyway, I suspect.)

Alan: One dojo seems to be having a cross-school tournament.

Renate: (easiest way to keep the trip out of her mind.)

Renate: Oh, that sounds interesting.

Alan: Oh, and yes, the hobgoblin term "dojo," "place of the way," is in common use instead of just "gym."

Renate: She does keep her eye on the sun, though.

Renate: Wouldn't do to be late for lunch.

Renate: Wouldn't do at all.

Alan: You're able to pick up quite a few pointers by watching lower-ranked students of several styles clash in a point-based competition.

Alan: After several bouts like that, higher-ranked students of the Blue Wave and Divine Crushing Fist schools face off.

Alan: The Crushing Fist student clearly has deadly attacks—he showed off earlier by breaking a tree stump—but the Blue Wave student easily redirects them all, and wins by making the other man punch himself in the opposite shoulder.

Alan: The shoulder breaks with an unpleasant noise, and the warrior yields.

Renate: Ouch.

Renate: Renate winces.

Alan: An example of a counter-based soft style overcoming one based solely on might.

Renate: She approves; she knows she'll never be the strongest person around.

Alan: The tournament pauses for a weapons demonstration—the same sort of dancing and showmanship Aaron always scoffed at.

** Renate moves on. **

Alan: The sun is not at its zenith; there is still perhaps an hour.

Renate: She is inclined to agree with Aaron on that score.

Renate: No point in waving a weapon around. Just use the thing.

Renate: How long is the walk to the restaurant, roughly?

Alan: Perhaps fifteen minutes; although you notice something that escaped you before.

Renate: What's that?

Alan: Antonius Boulevard has horse-drawn trolleys that travel up and down the avenue during the day.

Renate: Nifty. How much?

Alan: Your experience with trains is probably slight enough that you didn't make sense of the metal rails you might have seen in the road.

Renate: Probably!

Alan: Probably no more than a few chips.

Alan: You've got a handful of chump change.

Renate: Seems like fun. Sure, hop on, why not?

Alan: Your walk brings you before the most notable weapons shop in Southtown: Zachariah Moline's Implements of Destruction.

Renate: Ah.

Renate: A must-stop.

Alan: The array of items there is simply hypnotic.

Renate: The trolley will have to wait.

Alan: You have to look carefully and thoroughly just to see a single familiar weapon.

Renate: At some point her stomach turns over.

Renate: All this thought and craftsmanship, bent on killing people?

Alan: Everything else is totally exotic, from Eastlands clawblades to seven-section steel whips.

Alan: The former, according to the saleman behind the counter, straps onto the hands and is used for slashing; the latter is whirled in a circle, so that its bladed spearpoint slashes the foe.

Alan: A crowd of shoppers gathers around him, watching as he demonstrates the odd weapons.

Renate: "Isn't that just a bit random?"

Alan: "Aha, random you say!" says the salesman, who according to his nametag is Zachariah himself.

Renate: "I suppose I can see it for a solo fighter, but I wouldn't want the fighter next to me having it."

Alan: He vaults over a counter and into an area where several practice posts are lined up.

Alan: Standing amid them, he does a bewildering whip demonstration where he laces his spins among the posts without ever touching one.

Renate: "Well, I'm willing to be shown otherwise."

Renate: "Impressive, sir!"

Alan: "Of course," he says over the metallic swash of the whip, "it is a master's weapon."

Renate: She bows to him.

Renate: "Obviously."

Alan: "For most, it is suited more to demonstration than to actual combat."

Alan: "But Zadchiel is my strength, and through him I've got a little something up my sleeve no matter what the weapon!"

Renate: "I cannot doubt it."

Alan: "Eh, Blaine?" Zachariah grins, and a translucent knight appears behind him long enough to nod emphatically.

Alan: "Aha!" Zachariah says, seeing someone familiar in the crowd.

Alan: "I mean... ah well! What in the hells happened to you?"

** Renate remembers Sylvie and Nora's establishment, enough not to startle at Blaine's sudden appearance. **

** Renate turns around. **

Alan: Sorel Maiandos steps up to the shopkeeper. One of his arms is heavily bandaged.

Alan: "Ran into a little trouble in the Patchworks, is all. The usual."

Renate: "Master Maiandos!"

Alan: He hasn't seen you... well, now he has.

Alan: "Ah, what's this? Mistress Eaglebourne."

Renate: "You didn't -- you did."

Renate: "Damn Coris!"

Renate: "How badly are you hurt?"

Alan: You realize that his arm isn't heavily bandaged... it's missing.

Renate: "Oh."

Renate: "Hm."

Alan: Zachariah has noticed the same thing. "You're not doing much shooting without your left, chap. Going to get that looked at?"

Alan: Sorel shrugs. "They'll set me right up north. Right now I need a new firing piece. The old one got eaten along with the arm."

Renate: "I can help you, if you will allow," Renate says.

Renate: "I owe Coris one anyway."

** Renate holds up her gauntleted hand. **

Alan: Sorel makes a dismissive gesture with his off hand. "Don't think that I was along after you, Mistress Eaglebourne."

Renate: (which has at least one Mending in it!)

Renate: "Be that as it may."

Renate: (and she doesn't believe him!)

Alan: "My orders were to catch up with Coris at Camp Phoenix, so the quickest way was to head for Ilium and take a ship north."

Renate: "Please. Let me help."

Alan: Sorel raises an eyebrown, then laughs sharply. "I'm afraid no potion's going to give me an extra arm!"

Alan: "Takes quite the priest to do that."

Alan: Zachariah asks, "Do you want me to set you up?"

Alan: "You know how the Raphaelites will do you for that," Sorel replies.

Alan: "Better to bring in our own people."

Alan: Zachariah nods. "Would be at least a few gold, that's for true."

Alan: Sorel grins at you, slightly pained; probably his injury. "Coris will be glad to know you arrived safely, at least."

** Renate shakes her head. "All right. There's nothing I can do but feel bad." **

Alan: "And I've got a story to tell him, that's for certain!"

** Renate grimaces. **

Renate: "I can imagine."

Alan: "Never seen one man take down three dragons on the wing. Amazing stuff."

Alan: "Only one of 'em stayed down, of course!"

Renate: "Stahl?"

Alan: "You heard he was around, then?"

Renate: "One of the Reavers was kind enough to inform me," she answers, heavily ironic.

Alan: "Aye, he used that Crying Demon thing and turned one of 'em right to stone, while it was right over a lake."

Alan: "They'll have to get a block and tackle to fish the blighter out."

Alan: "Second one, he knocked into the dark dimension with that Black Gate..."

Renate: "Won't you at least sit down, Master Maiandos?" she asks, darting an indignant look at the proprietor.

Alan: "Then the third one, he filleted like a fish and set it right on fire!"

Alan: "No coming back for that one—he lit half the woods up along with it."

** Renate is glad they got out in time to miss the excitement. **

Alan: Zachariah shrugs. "Sorel's a big boy, he knows how to sit."

Alan: Sorel laughs. "You're still a charmer, Zach."

Renate: "Not when, apparently."

Renate: She finds him a chair herself.

Alan: "Hey, okay, right..." Sorel wanders over to a stool behind the counter.

Alan: "Hey, fix me one of those Eastlands war-bows, will you? The big thick ones. You know my draw."

Renate: What time is it? Should she be getting to the restaurant?

Alan: Zachariah nods and heads off to another part of the shop.

Alan: You have only a few more minutes to chat. You're certanly close enough to make an excuse.

Renate: "Well. I'm sorry I can't fuss over you as you deserve, Master Maiandos, but I have an errand. I hope you are well soon."

Alan: "Hah, I hope so too!"

Renate: "Tell Coris I'll repay him some other way."

Renate: "Good afternoon."

** Renate leaves. **

Alan: The trolley ride is just a chip, not much at all. It's full of workers heading to or from lunch.

Renate: Off we go, then!

Alan: You actually happen to overhear two of them wondering aloud when Carragio Laplace will be back in town; apparently he does a tremendous business during the lunch rush.

** Renate smiles at one of her few pleasant memories of Larkspur. **

Alan: The trolley driver yells the stops aloud. When he calls your street, you hop off lightly.

Alan: It's just another few blocks to the restaurant, and on your right side is the beautiful Bevier Park.

Alan: It's another very pleasant day; although you still need a light coat, the warmth of spring is really beginning to get a foothold.

Alan: Sharp contrast to the snow that was still on the ground when you left Karlbotel.

Alan: It's 1 Fourthmonth 93.

** Renate takes the street in a leisurely stroll, since she's on time. **

Alan: At this time of year, it's just as likely to be a cold rain the next day, though.

Renate: So enjoy it while it lasts!

Alan: The restaurant, named Volero's, is part of a high-class hotel.

** Renate pats her hair, makes sure her clothes are neat, and goes in. **

Alan: A pretty hostess greets you. "A table for one?"

Renate: "I am expecting to meet someone, actually -- two someones."

Renate: "Might they have arrived already?"

Alan: "Ah, the table of Mr. Cuyler?"

Renate: "Yes, indeed."

Alan: "Please come this way."

** Renate follows. **

Alan: The hostess leads you to a table near one of the side windows. Godfrey is there, and seated across from him is a stately woman in her near forties.

** Renate smiles at Godfrey, and waits to be introduced. **

Alan: As Godfrey has always exuded a certain ageless quality, this woman seems a strange contrast, simply for having a more human mark of time on her.

Alan: Godfrey and the lady rise. "My lady, please meet Mrs. Eveline Aran."

** Renate holds out her hands. **

Alan: "Eveline, my lady Renate Astrid von Adler."

Renate: "Mrs. Aran. Such a privilege to meet you."

Alan: Eveline greets you with an unexpected hug. "Oh, you're just as adorable as I thought!"

** Renate can't help smiling. **

Alan: "Godfrey's told me so much about you!"

Renate: "Oh, dear. He knows far too much."

Alan: "Well I'm going to find out just every little thing!"

Alan: She appears to be putting down an impulse to pinch your cheek.

** Renate sits down hastily. **

Renate: (knowing that in a chair she isn't quite so -- well, short)

Alan: Godfrey looks at you with every outward evidence of dispassion; but he is looking not at your eyes, but at a point just to the upper left of your head.

Alan: "My lady. Was your day pleasant?"

Renate: She is starting to wonder at Godfrey's taste in women, but she absolutely refuses to let that show on her face.

Renate: "Very much, Godfrey. We haven't had a day this fine in some time."

Renate: "And you, Mrs. Aran?"

Alan: "It is indeed fine; the park rather reminds me of Hasbelle's The Long Days."

Alan: "A new artist?" Godfrey asks.

Alan: "Oh, heavens yes, I haven't told you about him? Daru Hasbelle, he's from Lan'yaria, simply a wonderful artist!"

Alan: She launches into a breathy discussion of the young man's origins and career.

Alan: She is at least enthusiastic.

** Renate listens politely. **

Renate: And makes appropriate noises at appropriate moments.

Renate: She is, as she promised, behaving herself.

Alan: Halfway in, it comes out that she is his agent.

Alan: "He sounds a most talented young man," Godfrey says.

Alan: When his statement touches Eveline back off, Godfrey looks at you in what is clearly a certain understated commiseration.

Renate: She gives him the tiniest possible shrug. She doesn't mind.

Alan: "My lady," Godfrey asks when there's a chance, "what have you seen of the city?"

Renate: "I spent the day wandering around Southtown."

Renate: "Amazing. Is there anyplace Ilium does *not* trade with?"

Alan: "Oh, Southtown," says Eveline. "Did you see a fight? It's not nearly ladylike," she adds.

Renate: When Renate thinks about it, it only makes sense to her that imperturbable Godfrey would choose a woman like this.

Alan: It would seem that Godfrey hasn't told her everything about you.

Renate: "I watched the dojos for some time, Mrs. Aran, yes."

Renate: Two Godfreys hold not their courses in one sphere, or something like that.

Alan: (heh)

Renate: "Such displays of pure skill are very rare."

Alan: ("Or something like that"—classic.)

Renate: (Well, I have to have Renate pull Berties *some* of the time.)

Alan: "Yes, quite, but outside the city it's knives and clubs that make the world go 'round, or so they say."

Renate: "You have never travelled, then?"

** Renate doesn't try to correct her impressions of the world. **

Alan: "We should be grateful for being so safe where we are! Even during the Ilium Assault, our brave new wall protected us."

Alan: "I wouldn't dream of travelling: pirates on the sea, brigands on land, who is safe?"

Renate: "Yes, ma'am," Renate answers neutrally.

Alan: "I've no idea how you and Godfrey have managed."

** Renate looks at Godfrey, a little stricken. **

Renate: How is he going to manage his affair? Or are the von Adlers going to lose him?

Renate: "Godfrey has excellent judgment, ma'am, as I'm sure you know."

Alan: A waiter comes by, with the day's specials chalked on a blackboard.

Alan: Eveline defers her decision to Godfrey, who orders for her after a split-second's hesitation—quite a bit, for him.

Renate: It must have been a while.

Renate: But Renate can imagine Godfrey being very faithful indeed.

Renate: She orders for herself.

Alan: Any particular bases you want to cover?

Renate: mm, none I can think of

Renate: mostly she's trying to figure out what the attraction is!

Renate: other than sheer emotional warmth

Renate: And then she wonders why Godfrey seems to like *her* so much, and she is suddenly a little less dismissive of Mrs. Aran.

Alan: The dinner conversation continues in much the same vein as before: Godfrey responds with neutral observations, Eveline prattles about superficialities, focusing on art and literature without seeming to grasp the underlying depth.

** Renate holds up her end of the conversation as best she can. **

Alan: At one point, Godfrey attempts to draw her out regarding the deeper meanings of a poem, and finds that her particular interest is in its rhymes.

** Renate tentatively advances a hypothesis for Godfrey. **

Renate: Just to keep him interested.

Alan: Godfrey responds in his usual subtle-schoolteacher fashion, and you have a little back and forth on the topic.

Renate: (and what does she do?)

Alan: Eveline appears to be venturing into murkier waters for her, but she manages to venture a decent thematic suggestion.

Alan: Godfrey seems to consider this heartening, insofar as you can read him.

Alan: Near the end of the meal, Godfrey says, "My lady, regarding my business for the day."

Renate: "Yes?"

Alan: "I found that the young gentleman in question lives in Everhardt Towers."

Renate: "Where is that?"

Alan: Eveline is aghast. "You know someone there?"

Renate: "No, ma'am, we only know of him."

Alan: "I should hope you're helping them move in the ever-so-near future!"

Alan: "Oh, thank goodness. That place is a rat's nest!"

Alan: "Quite, my lady," says Godfrey. "Everhardt Towers is a noted center of criminal activity."

Renate: "Oh. I see."

Alan: "I would be loath to set foot in it."

Renate: "Perhaps I had better take care of that bit of business, then?"

Alan: "I believe my implication was 'if I were you,' my lady."

Renate: "Ah. Suggestions?"

Alan: "Perhaps the Mercenaries' Guild, in Southtown, might yield a few strong men who would work by the hour."

** Renate nods. **

Renate: "I passed by it. I'll stop in."

Alan: "Simply for providing the appearance of muscle, I believe that the rate is low. Only when muscle is actually required does the price increase."

** Renate shakes her head. "I hope he can get to her. I don't want to do all this for nothing." **

Alan: "It would be best if you were to make your visit this afternoon, my lady. Master Highwind has made port early, as I found when I visited the harbor this morning."

Alan: "I have secured us a berth, but the yacht will depart in the evening with the tide."

Renate: "All right. May I trouble you to take my notes to Master Juste and Baron Darenton, then?"

** Renate passes them across the table. **

Alan: "Certainly, my lady," Godfrey says.

Alan: Eveline, having done the math, says, "Oh, so you're leaving tonight?"

Alan: "I fear so, Eveline," Godfrey says.

Renate: "I'm sorry," Renate adds.

Alan: "We won't be able to see Las Luces at the Caravel!"

Alan: "I quite looked forward to it, I confess," Godfrey replies.

Alan: "I have always been an admirer of opera."

** Renate watches to see how this plays out. **

Alan: Eveline sighs. "I'll send you a soundcube of it, then."

Renate: She feels distinctly guilty.

Alan: "You'll come back as soon as your journey is over?"

** Renate winces. **

Alan: Godfrey nods in assent. "I fear I do not know how long that will take, but I shall endeavor."

Renate: "I'll take good care of him, Mrs. Aran."

Alan: "You two take good care of each other," she commands.

Renate: "Yes, ma'am."

Renate: "I'm sorry I can't do without him. I wish I could, for both your sakes."

Alan: Godfrey takes care of the check. "I shall meet you at the Golden Rose at 5 of the clock, my lady."

Renate: "I'll be there. Mrs. Aran, thank you so much for agreeing to meet me."

Renate: "I would invite you to Karlbotel if I thought you would come."

Alan: "Oh, I'm certain I'd love to see the countryside. The province is safe enough, don't you think?"

Renate: "Yes, ma'am, very. I would escort you myself, if you would allow it."

Alan: "Quite," Godfrey says. "Only the most desperate of men would prey on the city-state of Ilium."

Alan: His sentence is not phrased to bring complete reassurance.

** Renate notes that. **

Renate: She turns a short but very intense glare on him.

Alan: "My lady, we shall take our leave," he says.

Renate: It isn't proper to frighten a lady.

Alan: "I wish you success."

Renate: "Thank you, ma'am."

Alan: As you exit the restaurant together, Godfrey and Eveline turn off for a walk through the park.

Alan: Where to?

Renate: Sigh. Renate is thinking about skipping the trip to Everhardt Towers.

Renate: She'd rather spend the afternoon watching the dojos.

Renate: But... there's Dorothy...

Renate: ... and that's just enough to sway her.

Renate: So she turns reluctant steps toward the Mercenaries' Guild.

Alan: Your path is blocked by an unexpected crowd, right in the middle of the street.

** Renate looks for a way around -- difficult, as she really isn't tall. **

Alan: People are all packed up together, looking and listening carefully, although you can't quite tell what the center of attraction is.

Alan: You could try squeezing through the middle.

Renate: That sounds a little dangerous.

Renate: Can she just hang back and try to figure out what's going on?

Alan: Sure. You try working your way through the crowd, and your course takes you close enough to hear what's going on.

Alan: Two people are engaged in a heated political debate, regarding some zoning dispute, and the construction of a certain pier.

Alan: Both voices are strong, authoritative, and deep. The only reason you couldn't make them out from the edge of the crowd was the general bustle of the street.

Renate: (oh no -- they're not -- are they?)

Renate: She maneuvers somewhere she can see the debaters.

Renate: Climbing a wall if necessary.

Alan: Just as you start to get a certain premonition, a bell goes off and another voice says, "time is up. Next question."

Renate: (take 10, Climb check, if there's a likely place)

Alan: You're able to shimmy up a lamppost.

Renate: She'll take it in, then hop back down.

Alan: From that vantage point, you can see the three people in the middle of the boulevard; they were originally placed in the green belt between streets, but people have spilled out to disturb traffic.

Alan: The three people at the center are inside a roped-off ring; one sits in what you can only describe as a throne, and the other two stand before him.

Alan: All appear human, but they dress in rich robes.

Alan: From here, you can't see if they have any non-human characteristics; and of course, human-form dragons only wear those as a signal of their race, not because they couldn't choose a fully human form.

Renate: (they ARE, aren't they?)

Alan: The seated dragon says, "Alderman Haken-Hidari. This question was proposed by Jessie of Angelwatch South."

Renate: Renate drops off the lamppost immediately, her heart pounding in spite of herself.

Alan: "What is your opinion of the influence of the new style of music on urban violence and youth morals? What steps will you take to guarantee our cultural integrity?"

Alan: As you land, you hear the voice continue, with a slight chuckle, "Quite a loaded one, this is."

** Renate suddenly wants to hear the answers. **

Alan: "Well," replies the alderman, "Ilium has been a center of artistic growth and change since I was an egg." The audience chuckles at the reference.

** Renate breaks out in a prickly sweat. **

Renate: Dragons.

Alan: "I believe it's only right that everything new should pass through our city—it's like blood flowing through veins, or air through lungs."

Alan: "So this music originated in Gereval? So what! Just Cause, even though their latest song pokes more than a little bit of fun at me personally, is completely home-grown."

Alan: "I think that we should support our musicians as much as we can. And the prevention of violence should start in the family and in the school, not on the cube-merchant's shelf."

Alan: The moderator speaks again. "And you, Bronze... rebuttal?"

** Renate would like to support this argument -- would have, reflexively, before this journey -- but she remembers the hate streaming from Dorothy's harp, and quails. **

Alan: "I know how you love this topic," he adds.

Alan: "Thank you, governor," the other dragon replies.

Alan: That would mean that the moderator of this debate is Noble Mercury himself.

** Renate gulps. **

Alan: "I think it is self-evident that by chanting about the glory of killing for profit, these Eastlands battle-stavists can only contribute to a decline in morals and rise in crime proportionate to cube sales and concert tickets."

** Renate suspects a logic problem. **

Renate: "Nothing is self-evident!" her rhetoric teacher used to shout.

Alan: "I invite you to explain to me how children can embrace with joy a music which endorses, for example, 'clapping chrome to the skulls of the unafraid, selling tickets on the ship is how I get paid'..."

Renate: "Everything must be proven!"

Alan: "...and at the same time fail to absorb its glorification of crime."

Alan: The dragon continues in the same vein until the first one cuts him off.

** Renate listens to the entire debate. **

Alan: "All right, now that you've started to repeat yourself it's my turn. My only argument is that our children are smart enough to distinguish fantasy from reality."

Alan: "The old ballads have just as much warfare and killing, and nobody complains about them!"

Renate: She almost wishes Dorothy were there to hear it with her.

Renate: She wonders what Dorothy would say.

Alan: "For cripes' sake, we're dragons, we're designed by God to kill things! Do we? I know I haven't drawn breath in decades."

** Renate goes all over prickly again. **

Alan: "You should recognize that mortals can suppress their primal urges just as much as we can. The very fabric of society demands that."

Alan: "If music could drive men to murder, there'd be nobody left alive."

Alan: "Well," says Noble Mercury, just a second before the bell rings again. "That was the last question, so..."

Renate: Renate's knees go weak.

Alan: "I believe that we're done here."

Renate: She leans on the friendly lamppost.

Alan: "If anyone would like to address any of us, we'll be answering questions and hearing concerns here for the next hour."

Renate: And tries not to remember her last moments in the Risen Octagon.

Alan: The crowd shuffles around a bit as the three dragons each move to different blocks of the boulevard so their crowds don't get too overlapped.

** Renate avoids the dragons as best she can. **

Alan: You catch a glimpse of Noble Mercury strolling along chatting with a middle-aged woman and her three children, as weary servants lug his throne along behind him.

Renate: What does he look like?

Alan: He doesn't seem threatening in action; but his face is clearly inhuman, adorned with two long brass horns that curve up from his forehead.

Alan: Above his winning smile, his eyes are a liquid silver like his name.

Alan: His overall aspect is of nobility, inhumanity yes, but not as alien as Hyuri's golden scaled skin and gem-like green eyes.

** Renate walks slowly away, thinking hard. **

Renate: (Hyuri was definitely an original.)

Alan: (A dragon can choose his form, so the form usually reflects how the dragon wants to be perceived.)

Renate: (of course!)

Alan: (Dark Eternal, for instance, usually appears as a bushy-bearded old man, superhuman but fatherly, sort of an Odin type.)

Alan: (But when it's time to get serious, he uses his dark elf form.)

Renate: (Hyuri was trying to be intimidating. And succeeding.)

Alan: (Which I might add is far more intimidating than Hyuri's form. :) )

Renate: (She clearly wasn't supposed to forget he was a dragon.)

Alan: (Yes, definitely. And Hyuri likes to alienate people anyway.)

Renate: (um, yeah. he's quite talented at it.)

Alan: So you're staying entirely away from the dragons?

Renate: If she can, yes.

Renate: They still make her incredibly nervous.

Renate: But she thinks about what they said.

Alan: Just for the hey of it, give me a Luck check, DC 13.

Renate: Cha check: [1d20+3] -> [3,3] = (6)

Alan: I sort of hate skill/ability rolls, since by setting the DC I'm basically saying "this is a 50/50 chance" or whatever.

Renate: (ha -- nope!)

Renate: then don't tell me the DC.

Renate: I'll just roll.

Alan: No, I mean that I want a bit of random without having a straight pass/fail.

Alan: More of a White Wolf thing, for instance.

Renate: ah, I see.

Renate: anyway, was that a "nothing happens" failure or a "you fall down a pit and are eaten by a grue" failure?

Alan: Anyway, as you're working your way through the crowd, you happen to meet Noble Mercury's glance for a second, and you get the same feeling of vibration in your bones that you got when Hyuri first looked at you.

Renate: Oh. Damn.

Renate: She *hates* that feeling.

Alan: It's so subtle you might have imagined it; Noble Mercury certainly doesn't pay any further attention to her.

Renate: No reason he should.

Alan: And yes, it was a "nothing happens" failure.

Renate: :)

Alan: So, any plans before you meet Godfrey back at the inn?

Renate: I suspect there isn't time for any.

Renate: Certainly not enough time to collect mercs and essay the Towers.

Alan: Yes, you don't have time now to trek to Everhardt Towers and be sure of getting back in time.

Alan: (Heh.)

Renate: She collects herself and walks slowly back to the Golden Rose, still thoughtful.

Alan: Godfrey isn't in the rooms; you find him in the hotel bar, having a glass of brandy.

Renate: "We're all checked out?"

Renate: "I hope I'm not late."

Alan: "Ah, my lady," he says. "Yes, all our preparations are complete."

Renate: "Don't get up."

Alan: "My lady?"

Renate: "Sit. Finish your drink. I assume we've got time?"

Alan: "Of course. Master Lorrimer, an apple juice, if you please."

Alan: The bartender provides you with the beverage in record time.

Renate: She smiles. "You know me too well."

Alan: "Was your errand successful, my lady?"

Renate: "I didn't get to it. Sidetracked by a debate."

Alan: "I hope you prevailed."

Renate: She laughs. "Between dragons."

Renate: "I just listened, believe me!"

Alan: "Perhaps the wisest course, my lady."

Renate: "Perhaps? Definitely!"

Renate: "It was about the corrupting effects of music."

Renate: "And whether they were enough to ban it."

Alan: "A most apt topic, my lady. Did the discussion prove enlightening?"

Renate: "I'm still thinking about it."

Renate: "It's the kind of thing that makes my head hurt."

Alan: "No conclusion ever suffered from a surfeit of cogitation."

Renate: "Yeah, but you can't say the same about crania."

Alan: "Might I suggest a potion of Focus?"

** Renate rubs her head, a little mournfully. **

Renate: "It's not that bad."

Alan: "Come, my lady," Godfrey says, having sipped the last of his drink. "The open sea calls."

Renate: "Right behind you."

Alan: "I have engaged a rickshaw to take us to Eridu; and, in the expectation that we shall travel from there to Gereval, I have sent our horses back to Karlbotel with the next caravan."

Renate: "A rickshaw? All the way to Eridu?"

Renate: ( ;) )

Alan: "I meant to say the docks, my lady... I am, perhaps, preoccupied."

Renate: "Mrs. Aran doesn't do good things for your head, Godfrey."

Renate: "But I liked her."

Alan: "I am glad, my lady. However, much must transpire before I may return to Ilium for any extended period."

Renate: "You must be plenty sick of shepherding me around."

Renate: "I'll try to tie this up quick. I really will."

Alan: "To the contrary, my lady, our journey thus far has been most rewarding."

Renate: "Rewarding? I've made a mess of things twice."

Renate: "You have a funny notion of rewards."

Alan: "Indeed, my lady."

Alan: Godfrey and a bellhop lug all the luggage (guess that's why they call it that) out to the rickshaw.

** Renate takes her place in it, and holds out a hand to help Godfrey up. **

Alan: After a peaceful jaunt up Antonius Boulevard and along the streets through the Salla District, you pass under Evan's Gate and into the docklands.

Alan: Godfrey directs the rickshaw bearer to the appropriate pier, and you encounter there a long sleek white ship, more a full-scale schooner than a yacht.

Renate: "So you'll be coming back to Ilium to live, when all this is over?"

Alan: The sun is setting; the half moon has begun to rise.

Renate: "You do seem to fit here."

Alan: Its dark half is speckled with the dim spots of light the country folk refer to as "dragon dust."

Alan: The lights appeared a century after the Dragon War, or so they say....

Alan: "I cannot say, my lady."

Alan: "I have many friends here."

Alan: "I am certain there is a place for me."

** Renate nods. **

Alan: (The moon of the Dragonhunt world is "normal," by the way—that is to say that it is fairly small, but also fairly close to the planet, and it spins to show all its faces throughout the course of a week.)

Renate: ('k)

Renate: "So what's the problem?"

Alan: "I believe that I have changed over the years, so that Ilium no longer fits me properly. If I might be permitted this moment of introspection."

Renate: "Of course you may. But it seems a pretty good fit to me."

Alan: "Some day, I shall see if you are right, my lady."

Renate: "Well, look, tell me when, will you? I'll help you settle it with Papa."

Alan: "Of course, my lady."

Alan: "Godfrey! Is this your young lady?" cries a hale voice from the deck of the ship.

Renate: "No, sir! Left her in Ilium, he did, and shame on him!" Renate shouts back.

Alan: "Then who the blazes are you if you're not Renate von Adler?"

Renate: "Well, I am Renate von Adler! But I'm not Godfrey's young lady. Met her at lunch today."

Alan: "My manners, terrible. I'm Sandor Highwind, and come aboard my ship!"

** Renate gives Godfrey a saucy smile. **

Alan: Highwind orders his sailors around, and a few of them come down to grab your luggage and stow it away.

Renate: "A pleasure, Master Highwind."

Alan: "We're setting sail in mere minutes. Better take a good position now and stay clear of the men. Might be ropes flying about!"

Renate: "Yes, sir."

** Renate looks at Godfrey for an appropriate place, remembering that he was a sailor once. **

Alan: The captain is almost stereotypical—his dark coat, small tricorner cap with snapped brim, and long briar pipe are all typical of the captains in ballads and books.

Alan: Godfrey guides you to an out-of-the-way place along the taffrail.

** Renate is delighted by him. **

Alan: (Whatever the heck a taffrail is. I think it's the back one.)

Alan: (Yep, it is. Just checked.)

Alan: The sailors bustle about typing things, untying things, pulling on things, and eventually the ship begins to slide away from the pier and out onto the waters of the harbor.

** Renate looks around with glowing eyes. **

Renate: "This wind -- it picks you up, doesn't it?"

Alan: "We'll be dining in the captain's room tonight, but for the moment he will be quite busy with the departure."

Alan: "Look at the city lights," Godfrey says.

Renate: "Oh. Should I dress for it?"

Renate: "My. That's quite something."

Alan: As the ship begins to pick up speed, the city becomes a landscape of dots of light, like votive candles in a church, or fireflies frozen in place in a summer field.

Alan: "Mages say that the lights of the moon are cities as well, founded by dragons exiled from earth."

Alan: Godfrey gazes up at the moon and its dim dragon dust.

Alan: "A romantic concept, if far-fetched."

Renate: "Just dragons? Or mortals too?"

Alan: "For what could live in a sky so high that even air itself cannot reach it?"

Renate: "I suppose we'll never know."

Alan: "Air has weight, just as water does, and if you fly above it, you cannot breathe any more than a fish can breathe in air."

Alan: "It is said that humans live there as well, those who refused to give up the secret magics taught to them by Rubylith."

Renate: "Of course air has weight," Renate the tumbler points out reasonably. "I use that little fact all the time."

Alan: "But there are things mortals can no longer discover... things, shall we say, forbidden to us."

Renate: "I'll settle for more mundane mysteries, if you don't mind, Godfrey."

Alan: "The world of men does indeed create mysteries every bit as unfathomable as the mysteries of the stars," Godfrey admits.

Renate: Such as what Godfrey sees in Eveline Aran, Renate thinks to herself.

Alan: "Who is to say that visiting the moon itself is not more likely than uncovering the heart of man?"

Renate: "That's one for Dorothy Durai, I think."

Alan: "She would very likely do less damage on the surface of the moon, I believe."

Alan: "After all... without air, sound cannot carry."

Alan: Another one of Godfrey's rare jokes.

** Renate sighs. **

Renate: "Did she do it? Or did she just -- occasion it?"

Alan: "Your question is philosophical."

Renate: "That's what the dragons were hashing out."

Alan: "Not in such specific terms, I imagine—but it is indeed a central issue of the day."

Renate: "No, not. Or I'd not have stayed, with what I did last night."

Alan: "Your actions were blameless, my lady."

Renate: "Not really. People were dying, and I walked out."

Alan: "The damage had already been done, my lady; and there was little you could have done to lessen the aftermath."

Renate: "Well, and I didn't stop the damage either, did I? Even though I knew."

Renate: "And I didn't take Dorothy to the watch."

Alan: "Her music exercises an undeniable influence. Though it pains me to admit it, the music demands attention."

Alan: "And you know well that the Watch would not have known what to do with her."

Renate: "You can't get me out of this one, Godfrey, though it's nice that you're trying."

Renate: "I'm part responsible for what happened in the Octagon."

Alan: "I would not dream of interrupting your journey of self-castigation."

** Renate chuckles. **

Renate: "I'm just saying. If I'm part guilty, isn't Dorothy Durai part innocent?"

Alan: "Only if your premise is true, which I submit is not the case."

Renate: "Explain."

Alan: "I believe that you have no share in the blame for the incident which occurred at the Risen Octagon."

Renate: "I have explained why I believe I am. Even if the watch could not have done anything with Dorothy Durai, who am I to have decided that?"

Alan: "You acted in accord with your instincts. I believe Master Wrenfall had something relevant to say on that topic."

Renate: "Godfrey! Is there anything you don't listen to?"

Alan: "I do not follow your meaning, my lady—I refer to the draft of his book."

Alan: "I had the honor of performing an editing pass."

Renate: "Oh. Never mind, then."

Renate: "He quoted from it, I'm guessing, before I left."

Alan: "How sad that it can never be published."

Renate: "Why's that?"

** Renate feels she's missing something obvious. **

Alan: "Wrenfall cannot be taught, my lady."

Alan: Godfrey sounds like he's saying something obvious, in fact.

Renate: "Well, I didn't invent it myself!"

Alan: "If it can be easily learned by any army... it can easily be learned by an army of any alliance."

Renate: "Oh."

Renate: "But isn't that the same argument about the music? It's dangerous, so get rid of it?"

Alan: "One cat rests peacably within its bag; the other already hisses and spits outside it."

Renate: "Oh. Andragar."

Renate: "Or am I missing the point again?"

Alan: "No. You are not."

Renate: "Saints and angels, Godfrey, what has Emil gotten us all into?"

Alan: "At the very least, Master Wrenfall has implied as much. He is a master of subtle implication, while I must say he is a novice at straightforward dissemination of opinions."

Renate: "He saves 'straightforward' for when he's got a sword in hand."

Renate: "Trust me on this one."

Alan: "You may wish to discuss this matter with the young master when you encounter him, my lady."

Renate: "I'll say."

Renate: "I'll ask you again -- how could you let him go?"

Alan: "Even if he cannot be induced to return to Karlbotel, perhaps he can be induced to withhold this particular area of information."

Renate: "Oh, no." Renate hadn't thought it through. Emil, a -- traitor?

Alan: "The young master is a man of unimpeachable nobility. He must be—must be—trusted to plot a true course."

Alan: You've never heard Godfrey emphasize something so strongly.

Renate: "And if you're wrong, Godfrey?" she asks, in a very small voice indeed.

Alan: "Then the world will turn, and even in standing still, we shall move with its surface, and all our lives and deaths are very small in comparison."

Renate: "That isn't much comfort."

Renate: "None at all, in fact."

Renate: "Sorry about the self-castigation, Godfrey," she says, after a pause. "I'm guessing you can't feel very much better about this than I do, and I'm not helping."

Alan: "I am persevering, my lady. Do not be concerned."

Renate: "Of course I'm concerned."

Alan: "Insofar as you can find peace of mind, I will be satisfied."

Renate: "What would I say to Mrs. Aran?"

** Renate shakes her head. **

Renate: "There isn't any of that. There just isn't."

Renate: "I saw -- in the Octagon, right before I jumped -- I saw a knife flash. All last night, I couldn't stop seeing it."

Alan: "Peace of mind, my lady, need not come from felicitous circumstances. It can come, instead, from resolution."

Alan: "An understanding that even amid unpleasantness, there is beauty."

Alan: "Another page from Master Wrenfall."

** Renate nods. **

Renate: "I'll keep looking, Godfrey."