The Worlds of Katherine Kurtz

[Special thanks to Bynw, Revanne and Nezz for help with this one. Nice ending, Revanne!]

Bede had just closed the door to the cell Airich was resting in when Edwin caught up with him. He must not have been far from the dungeon, all this time with the dean. "Ah, Master Scrivener," Bede greeted him and tried to comprehend the roiling emotions on the other man's face. Then he noticed that Edwin was looking at the book under his arm. "Would you like this back, now?"

"You ... you uncivilized Mearan maniac," Edwin sputtered. "What the devil have you done?" He took the book then and examined it, full of dread, while awaiting an answer.

"It was an accident," Bede said, beginning to understand the value of such tomes. "One which our mutual friend, Mr. Steinmeister, was responsible for." After all, he would not have slapped it against a metal trowel by choice.

"Really? And where is he now? I swear, this is the last time I vouch for you."

"Take it out of his student fees, yeah? He's down here somewhere. Follow me," and Bede led Edwin limping to the cell in which the guards had imprisoned Henry. "How was your meeting with the witch?"

Still incensed over the book and his disappointing meeting, Edwin returned, "You clearly have not spent time in the circles I have if you thought I could meet Gwendolyn specifically, as though she were some ordinary country slip. No, that did not even happen. I did manage to meet with the dean, however. He was less than pleased to see me, you might imagine. He didn't seem too pleased with my recent behaviour and scorned our suggestions for her safety."

"I see..." Evidently, your silver tongue still needs work. "T'is of no consequence, yeah? The Willimites still know where she is, but so do we, do we not?"

"Oh, God." Edwin wiped a damp brow and exhaled. "One thing at a time, Archer. Before you start devising your damnable plans, let's take a look at my colleague, please."

Afternoon sunlight shone in through a barred window high on a stone and mortar wall in Henry Steinmeister's cell. The belt that bound his hands had been replaced with high-quality manacles, linked to a ring in the ceiling. His effects, including the trowel, were on a table against the wall of the door. "Hello," he said flatly to the pair.

"Steinmeister," Bede began. "This is Edwin. He is, like me, empowered to do with you whatever the law may allow. You are, like de Nore, who I'm sure you must know, a prisoner here for crimes you have confessed to ... and for trying to stab me, which I understand, but it gets old, yeah? What do you have to offer the good people of Grecotha besides the sight of your feet dangling from a scaffold you would otherwise admire?"

He denied knowing de Nore. Then he seemed to think deeply on the question Bede had put forth. Finally, he began to smile. "How's this for a brief speech to the crowd? 'No legal censure can bring Robert back to how he was, and that goes double for his traitorous human friend.'"

Edwin blinked and suddenly he had thrown a crunching haymaker directly at Steinmeister's cruel face.((Edwin Fists roll 3d6 4 + 6 + 3 OUCH))((Bede Strong roll 3d6 2 + 6 + 3)) Before he could follow with a second and then a third and however many after that it would take for him to feel better, Bede had pulled him back. "Easy," the Archer said. "We should not start so rough. Next time, remember to open your palm, my friend."

Edwin hated the idea of this, but he had already made himself a part of it. "Of course." He stared hard at Steinmeister, who could not look at him with the same mockery as before.

Bede asked again, "What do ye know?"

"I am just a laborer ... with a boss," Henry said, wincing as he spoke.

"Does this boss have a name? A face?"

"Jacob. And I do not know his face. Only his hand. He leaves notes filled with instructions for me at the stonemason's gate. Now, what's in it for me? I don't want to die."

Edwin spoke up slowly and carefully, to make sure he was understood. "As much as I hate you, it is only fair you be rewarded for your cooperation. Still, you have done things the law cannot simply forgive, nor would I want them to." He opened and closed his fists a few times as though flexing his fingers but the veiled threat was clear even though he now had his anger under control.

"We cannot speak for his excellency the Bishop, and it is he who bears his Majesty's remit of just retribution for evil here, but he also has the prerogative of mercy. (It was not for nothing that Edwin had buried his nose in tomes of Gwyneddian law)." He spoke quietly now as though enjoying the picture his words conjured up. "I have seen it once, a murderer who was given the chance of banishment. Stripped to his shirt and hose, with simply a scrip hanging from his belt for his few meagre possessions and a wooden cross on a leather thong to wear around his neck to declare him a penitent, and sent forth to walk to the nearest port and then take ship overseas. Hoping no doubt that a priest or two along the way would spare him something to eat and a rough bed. The man I saw had made a full confession and been absolved, and so was allowed his shoes. Have you tried walking barefoot in the winter mud, my friend?"

Edwin shouted for the guards. "This man is a murderer beyond doubt but he has turned King's Evidence. I would not for a moment presume to advise his Excellency but, if you ask me, the realm is well rid of even the corpse of scum like him!"

Quote from: Laurna on Today at 11:08:10 AMI believe we had tamed the Torenthi dice back a few years ago.  These must be Willimite dice. Cursed by their rude insults.

Bet you're right. Those Willamites curse everything they touch. If any group needs to be expelled from Gwynedd it's them. Of course no one else would want them

I believe we had tamed the Torenthi dice back a few years ago.  These must be Willimite dice. Cursed by their rude insults.

Quote from: DerynifanK on September 17, 2024, 10:18:13 PMHave you somehow gotten hold of cursed dice? Not sure if source but definitely not Torenthi. We need better dice!!

I tell you what, those dice were so good to me for the first couple of months. That last bunch of dice rolls felt like a total betrayal!

Have you somehow gotten hold of cursed dice? Not sure if source but definitely not Torenthi. We need better dice!!

((Thanks to Revanne for helping me strike the right balance, to Laurna for toning down my gruesome impulses, and to Bynw for... well, for just being Bynw. ))

For just a moment, Airich thought that Eddard de Nore would be cowed enough by the threat of a painful death that he might tell all, willingly. But then the moment passed.

"The Willlimites..." de Nore looked cautiously at Airich. "What do you think you want to know about the Willimites? That we simply want humanity to live without fear of their will being taken by another? That we resent being controlled by those whose first parents sold their souls in exchange for their unnatural power? That we would be happy if all Deryni left Gwynedd and let humanity have one kingdom without fear of the Deryni taint?"

Whether or not this was true of all Willimites, de Nore seemed to mostly believe this. And more so, he was actually talking, rather than yelling threats or insults at him. Airich might be able to get him to drop a clue without resorting to extreme measures.

"I've talked with plenty of Brothers of Saint Willim. Many a night in the tavern did we argue over the collective guilt or innocence of Deryni. But they didn't kill anyone. Why has your chapter of Willimites begun advocating for murder?"

"It's not murder when it's Deryni. And if those Willimites back from whichever slime-pit you crawled out from haven't begun doing their duty yet, it's because they're cowards who don't have the stomach for properly serving God."

"Not so," Airich replied. "They see their duty to God in a different light than you do. I know of two men who claim to be Deryni who were persuaded to renounce their powers and join your cause. And yet, you gave Lucas no such opportunity to repent. Why?"

"Lucas. Pah." De Nore spat again at the mention of the juggler's name. "That devil and I have a long history back in Nyford. He'd been given ample opportunity to renounce his evil. He chose time and again to not repent and instead, he ran. I'd never thought to see him again, but believe me, I was quite pleased to see that he'd wandered up this way. And doubly pleased when they gave me the task to make an example of him."

"And who is 'they'?"

De Nore grinned slyly and spat again. "Don't treat me like I'm stupid. If you were half as smart as you think you are, you would have stayed in your slime pit and renounced your evil powers and joined your craven Willimite friends. Because we're going to exorcise the land of every last Deryni. Including that fat son-of-a-whore whose arse keeps the throne warm."

Treason. This added a whole new level of crimes to the Grecotha chapter of the Willimites. Airich made eye contact with Captain Hawthorne, whose eyebrows went up at this revelation. Callum continued taking notes on a wax tablet.

"Ambitious plan," Airich said, "and yet, I doubt you have the manpower to pull it off. Not unless you've somehow converted Primate de Berry and have him preaching to the rightness of your cause."

"Ha! We don't need that Deryni-lover, he's going to have troubles of his own soon enough." Another spit. "He can just go out and..." De Nore went on to describe a truly obscene action that Father de Berry could perform on any number of farm animals, both large and small. Airich noticed Callum's ears grow red as he continued his writing, but the aide conscientiously added a note about a warning to the Primate.

"Then I don't see how you could possibly find enough allies to your cause," Airich said. "Deryni and Humans have lived side-by-side for too long in peace for the sheer numbers you'd need to overthrow the King, Deryni or not."

"That's because you are blind! And you think you're going to fool me into telling you our methods, but I see through your tricks. I'm finished talking to you, you revolting, diseased maggot and your..."

Airich could see that his horse and Father Hugh's farm animals were going to have a lot in common. But as amusing and instructive as these vile insults were, they were not getting him any further in discovering de Nore's associates' plan for more murders or treason.

What's the point of taking a vow to the King if you're not going to do everything in your power to uphold his law?

Airich had hoped to avoid this, but the time was now. He left his stool and stepped closer to de Nore. He looked down into the man's angry olive eyes and took hold of his Speech. In a voice of perfect mildness, he said "Tell me the details behind your next attack."¹

"The next one is going to be huge. One spark is all it will take, and the whole of Grecotha burns. It will be glorious! You can't stop it now, we've been planning it for months. No one can stop it!"

Grecotha? The entire city? De Nore rapturously detailed the Cathedral going up in flames. And the ancient Grecotha library. And the Bishop's quarters. And the people running like human torches in the night, screaming their terror to the sky.

No. Airich thought, You are not allowed. We will stop your evil no matter what!

A wildly gleeful look appeared in de Nore's eyes. "I hope you don't expect the plan to change just because I'm in custody. It will go forth as planned, and I will burn along with the city! But I will tell you this much: if I'm released first, I'll make sure that you, personally, find yourself in the heart of the inferno."

Airich ignored this personal threat and held steady eye contact with the increasingly frenzied de Nore. "Where and when will it start?"

"Where it will hurt the worst. They'll start at—" de Nore stopped suddenly, the glee dropping from his face. He stared back and Airich and his lip curled up in a snarl. "You pestilent, filthy, Deryni cur! How dare you! You will pay for this, you whoreson!"

They'd come to the end of benign questioning. Airich's choice was now to use force or to let de Nore keep his secrets and allow hundreds—possibly thousands—to die. He reminded himself that de Nore was the man who had personally set Lucas Whittington on fire to let him die in agony, and then rejoiced in his own evil. This was no time to go wobbly.

"Where will the fire start?" Airich asked again, and he applied additional pressure on de Nore to answer his question. Surprisingly, the other man resisted, his fury giving him abnormal mental strength.^{2 3}

"You won't get the mercy of the oil, I'll make sure you burn slow! You get to feel it when the flesh slips from your bones and your eyeballs burst from the heat—"

Airich grabbed the man's collar and pulled him face to face. "Where do they start the fires?" He threw everything he had into the compulsion, willing de Nore to answer him.⁴ I won't let you kill anyone else!

De Nore panted like a rabid dog, teeth locked to keep from answering, making enraged guttural noises as he fought the psychic coercion. Abruptly, he pulled his head back and stuck his tongue out at Airich, like a child mocking a sibling.

By the time Airich realized what de Nore was doing, it was already too late. He felt the pain and instinctively dropped the link, thinking at first he'd accidentally bitten his own tongue. Then de Nore grinned crazily at him, mouth open and lips pulled back. As Airich watched in shock, a frothy red sea of blood filled de Nore's mouth, drowning the sharp, white, islands of teeth, and spilling out onto the front of his tunic. De Nore pursed his lips, then spat a mouthful of blood into Airich's face, half-blinding him.

Airich recoiled in horror, wiping wildly at his eyes as de Nore's crazed laughter rang in his ears. He felt the other man's hands scrabble towards his throat, and it was only his years-long combat training that broke the other man's grip. He felt another body enter the fray as Hawthorne brought the prisoner down. Callum called out the door for a medic, and by the time Airich could see clearly again, several other members of the Purple Guard had arrived, with more coming.

It was at this moment that Airich's fatigue-banishing spell finally failed him.⁵ He'd stacked too many, one upon the other, trying to overcome a long, exhausting day and using his powers too freely. He felt the tell-tale dizziness and sudden weakness in his shoulders and knew he had less than a minute before the reckoning came due.

Airich pushed through the door, against the other men trying to enter. He looked at the long, narrow stairway coming down and knew he'd never make it to the top. He braced himself against a different cell door just as his knees gave out from under him, and he slid down to sit heavily on the floor.

A set of legs stopped before him and stood there. "I need... somewhere... safe... to lay down." Airich gasped. He wasn't sure how he got the words out or if the man had heard.

The legs bent and the body came into view, and Bede's blue eyes looked into his. "I knew it was a bad idea leaving you alone this afternoon. I could tell right from the start that you're a born trouble-maker."

Airich smiled at Bede as his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. "Don't let Elspeth see that bloody nose. She'll want to fix it." Then the darkness claimed him, with the taste and smell of de Nore's blood still on his face.

---

¹ Airich does Truth-say on Eddard, standard 2d6: 6, 4: success
² Truth-say, Standard 2d6: 4, 4: Fail
³ Tiring Save, Standard 2d6: 3, 1: Fail
⁴ Truth-say, Standard 2d6: 3, 4: Fail
⁵ Tiring Save, Standard 2d6: 1, 1: Super-duper Fail

((Bede Strong test post upgrade 3d6 2 + 1 + 5)) Bede walked awkwardly but with determination, carrying the slightly used Domesday Book in the crook of his left arm and pulling Henry Steinmeister by a belt binding his wrists with his right hand. He was leading the murderous Willimite to the dungeon, but already the man was jabbering. Bede wondered if he hoped to be spared the trip. It would make no difference, but the facts as Steinmeister declared them to be still lingered in his head. He had claimed responsibility for the crushing of Robert's hand, so Bede was a little rougher with his guiding than maybe was necessary. When Bede told him that Robert was doing alright, Henry's only question was where, to which Bede had to say, "Somewhere better than where we're going, yeah?"

"It does not matter," Steinmeister stated matter-of-factly. "He can't have gone far." Bede was glad that his captive could not see his smirk at that incorrect assertion. Then they arrived. Henry became more stubborn in his resistance, but it mattered little after Bede turned him over to a pair of guards he had no hope of overpowering.

As the evil engineer was dragged away, Bede found a stone wall to lean against and opened the Domesday Book, trying to pass the time with reading yet instead taking in the full scope of the damages. The wooden covers would be fine, although one side was a little scratched. The pages toward the middle of the book, however, were torn at the epicenter and somewhat crinkled beyond that point. Angels an' demons. If Edwin does na kill me, the rector will. Still, it was all readable if one could forgive the wear. He had just begun the section on the labyrinthine world beneath the city, when he heard a great commotion from somewhere deeper inside the dungeon. Airich's voice was unmistakably a part of it. He shut the book.

Quote from: revanne on September 16, 2024, 11:17:26 AM

Quote from: Evie on September 16, 2024, 10:43:47 AM

Quote from: revanne on September 16, 2024, 10:27:20 AM

Quote from: Evie on September 16, 2024, 09:28:47 AM(I can't really blame him there; no king with two or more neurons to spark together would want to leave a Portal open for just anyone to enter and leave at will through if the portal signature is known to others on the enemy side.)

That sounds like a pretty good description of Remy - he doesn't seem to think any further ahead than his own worst instincts.

Is that your new name for Rémy? "The Prince With Only One Very Lonely Neuron"? 

That would seem to be overstating it. Maybe half on a good day?

I think calling him more cunning than wise would be an accurate assessment. That said, I would still urge caution. Nicholas would be equally unwise to underestimate the depths of Rémy's ability to be cunning.

Quote from: Evie on September 16, 2024, 10:43:47 AM

Quote from: revanne on September 16, 2024, 10:27:20 AM

Quote from: Evie on September 16, 2024, 09:28:47 AM(I can't really blame him there; no king with two or more neurons to spark together would want to leave a Portal open for just anyone to enter and leave at will through if the portal signature is known to others on the enemy side.)

That sounds like a pretty good description of Remy - he doesn't seem to think any further ahead than his own worst instincts.

Is that your new name for Rémy? "The Prince With Only One Very Lonely Neuron"? 

That would seem to be overstating it. Maybe half on a good day?

Quote from: revanne on September 16, 2024, 10:27:20 AM

Quote from: Evie on September 16, 2024, 09:28:47 AM(I can't really blame him there; no king with two or more neurons to spark together would want to leave a Portal open for just anyone to enter and leave at will through if the portal signature is known to others on the enemy side.)

That sounds like a pretty good description of Remy - he doesn't seem to think any further ahead than his own worst instincts.

Is that your new name for Rémy? "The Prince With Only One Very Lonely Neuron"?