Turn 86

    Ibn Fadil is no stranger to violent death, but this is something else again. He takes looks at the bodies just enough to get the idea and then moves away again as quickly as he can without actually appearing to flee.
    "Konrad Iyasu, father owns a couple of ships; Telek Cenon, up and coming in the Artificers' Guild; Walter Rehema, similar; Gerard Negasi, family owns a lot of the land around here I gather. Of course it's pretty impossible trying to track where anybody was yesterday." The giff looks worried. "From what I can gather, people think someone was trying to put a curse on the town, doing it during the festival. I don't know what to think," he admits.
    "Worshippers of certain kinds of gods do this sort of thing," ibn Fadil muses. "I was warned about it once. Possibly more has been imported from the other worlds than just iron, if the locals really do not know what it is." He glances around the square, avoiding the area where the bodies are. "Pham should certainly see this. He was still at the castle when I left. Shall we go back and bring him? And someone is following me. Back me up on trying to speak with him, will you?"
    "Of course." He, too, looks around. "Is he here?"
    "Somewhere. Let us try not to scare him off, please; I am curious."
    The half-elf takes off from the square at his usual pace, apparently leaving Yestin behind, then speeds up to make the follower have to hurry, and waits around a corner for him to catch up. "Did you want something?" he asks the person, in a mild tone.
    "Me sir?" The voice squeaks a little. "No. Uh, no."
    "Then why were you following me?" He moves a step or two, to partially block the person's forward progress.
    "Follow... uh, excuse me?" He backs up a step. At this point ibn Fadil can see that he is confronting a youth. He can also see Yestin hovering at the corner, ready to move.
    'Young' does not necessarily mean 'harmless,' of course. Ibn Fadil lets some impatience show. "I have been followed by *much* more talented individuals than you, lad. Just tell me what you want."
    "Um. Well I just... uh, was curious, is all. I mean, I guess you guys came from really far away?"
    "Not far away enough," he says sourly. "Look, I would be happy to talk with you some time, but I really dislike being followed around, all right? It makes me nervous. Especially what with people being murdered and all."
    "Right." Vigorous nodding. "Um... okay." He backs up another step.
    He comes up with something that at least resembles a smile. "Good. See you around, then. Nothing to worry about after all, Yestin," he adds, turning to continue on his way. He lets the giff catch up and walk along with him.
    Left behind, the boy heaves a relieved sigh, shakes his head. "He's gonna kill me."
    "This place seemed so tame ..." ibn Fadil comments to the giff as they return to the castle. Finding Pham already gone when they get back, he looks up Valarin instead, to get the latest news and trade Yestin for Hiro. He feels that perhaps a good sparring session with the kensai (which he has not done since they got here) will improve his mood a bit.
    "Haven't been able to speak to His Lordship yet," Val tells them, looking distracted and to the half-elf's eyes somewhat aggravated at spending half the day waiting. "Word from those who have is that it will be business as usual while the Guard and the priests look into it. Even better, there's company coming--one of Tesfaye's kids is due in any day now, so they may need the guest rooms for his people." He runs his hand through his hair in the familiar gesture. "We need to stay long enough to talk to the guilds, at least... crew meeting tonight, tell the others if you seem them? Damn," he remembers the problematic local customs. "Hm. No, we'll meet on the ship, they can think what they like. And I'll let you all know what else I've been able to find out. Keep your ears open." He grins a little, knowing the advice is unnecessary. Upon hearing ibn Fadil's request, Hiro simply nods; he hasn't had a good workout in a while himself. The two men go down to the castle yard, where there is an area near the barracks set aside for just such use.

* * *

    Emmett looks from one to the other, realizing that things here probably have not been good.
    "Town festival, and yes, it was exciting." He shrugs. "Everyone there was masked, and they let their hair down a little I'm sorry they didn't give me any warning about the masquerade part or I would have come to get you." The next words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, "Ibn Fadil had a mask made. I'm surprised he didn't come let you know...."
    It's already pretty cold in the room, so it's hard to see how it can actually be getting colder....
    "Anyway, last night some sicko cut up four townsfolk. All men, some sort of mutilation murder. I don't have much information yet - I have ibn Fadil looking into it, and I think Val is talking to the local lord. The Sergeant told me he'd keep me up to date, but I wanted to let you know as soon as possible. Apparently this isn't the first time this has happened, so we're not suspects at all. Still, be on your guard at night."
    He glances between the two. "I'm also here to give one or both of you a break from isolated guard duty. I have a horse out front, and enough heavy furs to keep you both warm and comfortably masculine, or at least not feminine.... So the question is, do the two of you want to leave me here and go off together, Inez, do you want me to take you for a ride, or Nyala do you want to go off for a ride and leave us here? Wandering into the town is probably questionable, but this will at least give you some new scenery."
    "If I may, I'm sure you two have lots of catching up to do," the elf says coolly.
    "Be my guest," Inez replies, imitating her tone, and ignores her stalking out. "So...."
    "Whew." Emmett sits down in one of the chairs. "I've been on battlefields less tense. What the hell is going on out here?"
    "What?" she shrugs. "We're *bored*. Ran out of games, the ship's cleaner than she was before we launched her, and it's not like we've got a ton in common."
    "Well, we're making nice nice with the locals, and hopefully we'll be able to hop up the chain soon and get to see someone with even more stature to make trade agreements. They have a lot of stuff that would see (sic), and they're metal poor, which gives us something to sell back.
    "Hopefully this'll go quick and you won't be stuck out here much longer. A larger city would have to be more accepting than this place - at least enough to get you in the city."
    "You could do that here, couldn't you? I mean, as long as I had an escort and wasn't wandering around on my lonesome? The captain did say that it would be all right with them as long as we had a man along to make sure we didn't get into trouble...."
    Outside, Nyala keeps her head down as she passes the guards, and is soon riding south along the coast, enjoying sun, air, and *silence*. _The woman chatters more than Cog. Odd name for a bird. We truly must find some other arrangement soon, or the ship will be short a crew member._ She's somewhat surprised (perhaps uncharitably) by Emmett's thoughtfulness in arranging a means of temporary escape. She would have very much enjoyed a chance to explore further, or go hunting, and if there had been any of her own people on the planet, she would have been seriously tempted to not come back, but as it is, she gives them a good hour to get reacquainted before returning.

* * *

    Alais wanders down to the yard eventually. "Here now, what's all the commotion--oh. Oh dear. What are those symbols? They look familiar..."
    And they do in fact strike a vague bell in the eclectic archives that fill the back of the young wizard's mind. He has not seen these before, he decides, but ones like them, much as different calligraphic hands can render a letter almost unrecognizable. They ring of destruction and chaos, and as he kneels in the snow seem almost to form words, tantalizingly on the edge of comprehension.
    While he's trying to decide whom to tell about this, Pham arrives. [Sorry Dave, I can't decide who that's going to be. :-) ]
    Brother Pham spent much of the festival going from group to group, trading tales as is his calling. Of course, such social environments require one to follow the local customs. In short, Pham has been doing a very pious version of bar hopping.
    The tales were marvellous, both the telling and the listening. The tale of the foolish dwarf citadel played to crowds in turn both amused and smug at the dwarven duplicity, and horrified at the end result. Pham collected tales of hunting, of the crowning of the high king, fighting dragons and bandits in the mountains... at least, he thinks that's what they were. No matter; Hextor heard them, even if Pham's poor mortal brain can't sort them all out at the moment.
    So it's not surprising when a rather haggard looking Brother Pham arrives late at the scene of the murders. He takes a look at the young man he'd been trying to find, swears softly in a language none of his companions except Hiro understands, and looks at the marks on the bodies.
    He recognizes some of them from old texts his mentor carried--not for use, but for warning. Symbols of ill omen, of death and misfortune, not necessarily magical in themselves, but they could have been used as part of a ritual, if only to amplify the victim's fear and heighten the alarm of the townsfolk. And they are alarmed, make no mistake. The guards present eye everyone--including each other--extra carefully this morning.
    As he ponders, a discreet cough sounds behind them. "Pardon me, sirs." It's young Tomek, looking decidedly less keen than usual. "There's people from the temple come to take them away." Two wagons and a half dozen somber junior priests are waiting; some of them don't look terribly happy about the outsiders examining their dead.
    

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