Turn 98

Once the rest of the company has gone to sleep, Emmett slips from his bed with more stealth than one would imagine. Hiro is on guard on deck, but with a brief exchange of facial expressions Emmett is able to convince the saint of steel to guard the door and not mention Emmett's sudden midnight departure.
    With the storm still blowing outside the path is treacherous, but the Half Man perseveres with his Gond-given endurance, making his way back through the snow to the draconian battlefield. His eye providing him with light and making no effort to hide his presence, he makes his way to the cairn, hoping that their hosts of earlier have not yet quit the place - and that they are of a mind to talk.
    "Hello. Is anyone still here. I think we should talk..." "Talkative sort," the unseen observes; it a dry voice that speaks, carrying an impression of age and wisdom, and it sounds different from the one he spoke to previously. "Of course we are still here. You do not believe we would leave your vessel unwatched?" He is almost visible now, a shadow without a caster in the light from Emmett's "eye."
    "You recognized the name of my God earlier, when we spoke. How? To my knowledge, there haven't been missionaries to this world. And if there were, well tenet four says that no pieces have been placed in the great machine without reason. I've met Gnomes before, off world, and they followed Gond too. I was wondering if you knew why our gears are meshing now. Is there any way that you need aid, or any aid you can bring?" The half man waits for an answer, his light sweeping slowly back and forth through the night.
    "How? We were travelers once, ourselves... long ago, ages upon ages since we came here but we remember still. So while your ship is a surprise to us, it is not entirely strange, as our oldest histories speak of such things. Is there then traffic to and from this world now? Or have you been stranded here with your vessel?"
    "Limited traffic. We're only the second trading house to visit, and I sure hope I can leave this mudball...No offense. You guys are fine - it's the human locals who are getting under our skin."
    That nets a bit of a chuckle. "As for why, I am no priest, but it may well be that you are here for a reason yet to be revealed. Does a gear know why it turns? And much may depend upon the smallest part. I do not believe us in need of aid, but I am not all-knowing." He laughs again. "And I do not know what aid we might do you, as I do not know what might have killed your people."
    "I wouldn't ask, except that I just learned that agents of another off-world god, Hextor, have a presence on this world as well." He shrugs inside his furs. "In general, agents of this god are not harbingers of peace. I've starting to feel like the workings of this world are very deep and complicated, and I need to know more so as to do my part - especially since I might break it in a way that would damage other Gondians."
    "No more so than any other, surely... I do not know this name," the gnome says thoughtfully. "Perhaps it was once known, and we have forgotten it. But there have been omens aplenty this past year and more, that seem to speak of some great event in the offing--more battles among humans, or between the humans and dwarves, we thought. If there is some new war god seeking to make a place, it may be more serious than we expected. We may," he sighs, "become involved whether we will or no, if gods struggle here."
    "I know you place high value on your privacy, but if war erupts it will be harder to keep. And if you are already in a war I haven't seen, maybe I can help. One of the boys killed knew about the Hextorians, If they're trying to blame creatures in the forest, hunts will come out here. "
    "They do so already, as your young friend from the city discovered some years ago. We do what we can to ensure that they come to no harm if they do not intend to cause it. I suppose there will be more if he reports our presence--and is believed--but we will deal with that as need dictates. Our own war is as it has long been with the worms of the mountains and their offspring.
    Emmett smiles. "Don't worry about him. I know his bosses, and I think I can make sure that his story isn't followed up on. It's enough for them to know to look to the locals to find the killer."
    "But if you have evidence of these--Hextorians?--presence among the humans, and this young man knew of them, are they of such a kind to have killed him for this knowledge, and perhaps the others? The manner of their death certainly suggests to me some ritual of ill intent."
    "Er, yeah. Certainly ill intent towards the dead guys." The Half Man shrugs again. "That's not really my field, but I'll mention it to Master Alais. You remember him? Kid genius, big words?"
    "Of course."
    "Thanks. If I find any way to aid you, I will. And if you want this kept secret, I'll do that too."
    "We would appreciate that, but will not hold you to it. It may be the times have changed." With a sigh the gnome falls silent.
    With that the Half Man turns and works his way back along the trail, trusting Hiro to open the door for him with as much stealth as he closed it behind. "This is a strange world. Maybe Inez was right in not wanting to come here. But, if it tweaks Victor, it's good."
    The next morning, the expeditionary force returns from their visit to the forests, and after asking some questions locates the inn where the rest of the crew is staying. Hiro volunteers to stay with the ship to keep an eye on it, along with the two local guards.
    Tomek of course must report to his captain. He's done a lot of thinking in the course of the night, some of it about how disappearing swamps, minuscule warriors, and voices that come from nowhere might affect his future.
    Val sends a message to the castle to formally inform Tesfaye of the group's return (not that the returning ship could have been easily missed). As soon as ibn Fadil realizes they've arrived, Michal drops from his attention as completely as if he's vanished. He looks over the new arrivals for signs of damage -- and, of course, to see if Nyala has come with them. It seems he was more worried than he let on. No one is injured, and she is pleased in her reserved way to see him as well.
    "All right," their captain calls the crew together. "It seems like it's been forever since we had this many of us in one place, so let's see where we are. I'm pretty sure we're just waiting for a reply to Tesfaye's original message about us before we get passed off to someone at the capital. It's in his best interests in a lot of ways, since it seems Durrell has kept his Victor contacts to himself -- and might be prepping for a rebellion -- so this will certainly make him look good.
    "Would probably be in our best interests as well. We haven't had any actual trouble since the attack on ibn Fadil and Nyala the other night, but they are keeping an eye on us. So are the local guards, now, but I'd rather not put their abilities to the test. So be careful when you go around town. We had the blacksmiths' banquet last night. Lots of contacts, they seem very interested. Wish we had more we could sell them right off, but...." He shrugs, looks at ibn Fadil to see if he has anything to add from the evening.
    Emmett jumps in to say, "Val, we're just here to open a route. Dazzle them with the beads. We'll sell them more later, assuming there is a later."
    "Well yes, but..." He decides not to get into it. "What did you find out there?"
    "A not overly informative dead end. Tomek's a good kid, but he was off base in thinking that the killing was done by some monsters from the woods. It was done by some monsters in town." Emmett takes a quick drink, then continues. "What we did figure out is that there's some sort of direct off-world contact right here in town. Pham mentioned that one of the victims recognized his holy symbol, which is kinda strange because there ain't no other offworld gods here.
    "I dunno about you, but I'm kinda curious why if Victor's people are the only others ones here why the less Phamlike followers of the Herald of Hell are also kicking around. Is Victor working with them? Are they here on their own? If this Durrell fellow is planning to start a war - armed with fancy offworld steel courtesy of Victor & Sons - that might be good news to the worshipers of a war god." He looks over at Pham for some sort of confirmation, knowing that really the young cleric is as much of an outsider from the main body of his gods followers as any of the rest of them.
    "Another thing: On Cadin I found out that the Church of Gond was quietly building their machine there for some time without everyone knowing about it. Maybe that's common - offworld churches slip into new worlds slowly, nudging things here and there to make their gods more attractive. If that's the case there might be other quiet churches here. The artificers guild is as good a place as any for me to start looking for my god's influence, and since some of the victims came from there, maybe they could tell us more about any links between our trading rivals and the other Hextorians."
    "That's a good thought." Val nods, winces; he seems to be acquiring a headache of stunning proportions. "The more we know about what's going on under the surface, the better we'll be able to tell what they might want from outside. And if V&S, knowingly or not, is helping Hextor to spread through new spheres, Three Trees will certainly want to know about it. There could be repercussions for their business elsewhere."
    That evening, then, the group gathers for the second in the series of banquets. Val and Yestin remain behind, the former due to feeling unwell and the latter because with one thing and another it doesn't seem like a good idea for any of them to be alone at the inn. Their city watchdog is still there; if any of Stoat's people are around, they are keeping a very low profile.
    [Question: Do you want the women to come along? That would be quite permissible in this context.]
    The artificers' guildhall is a long, low building and is one of the few in Myrr to sport elaborate locks. The windows are small and high, more for air than light, made superfluous by a multitude of cleverly made lamps. Wolf and fox icons are prominent, invoking the presence of the local gods whose powers include protection and trickery. Behind the center seat at the head table is a baroque, massive and apparently very old water clock, its many parts in constant, almost silent motion.
    The head of the guild, Nikodem Cenon, is a tall, thin man of perhaps sixty, somewhat stooped and frail in appearance; he walks with the aid of an elaborately decorated stick. His son's murder appears to have added ten years to his age, but he makes the rounds with good grace, speaking to every one of the guests. He is a charming and very likable man, skilled at putting others on their ease. Sympathetic murmurs follow his progress around the room; poor man, to have been through so much, bearing up quite well really... there is considerable hushed talk of the murders, the presumed curse. Rumor has it that suspects have already been identified, but that Feliks hasn't been talking.
    The form of the banquet is much the same as the previous; a staggering amount of food, a toast, and the dispersal to admire the guild's wares. These are many and varied, from clockwork to kaleidoscopes to puzzle boxes to ingeniously small devices that fold into or out of themselves to become something quite different.
    [Anything in particular anyone wants to do, look at, shop for?]
    After supper, Alais is examining the water clock to try and determine if there is indeed astrological significance to its design--he's quite certain of it, based on some of his earlier readings in the library--when he becomes aware of someone standing next to him.
    "Quite the antique, isn't it?" Nikodem says with a self-deprecating smile. "My great-great grandfather designed that old monster. We've come a long way since then."
    [reply?]
    "As you can imagine, I'm sure, we are all most intrigued by your ship. I hope we will be able to discuss its design before you leave the city--most fascinating mechanisms!"
    [?]
    When the man has gone on his way, Alais resumes his contemplations. Yes, all the correspondences are there; if one but knew how to operate it, he suspects, one might well be able to use this device in some divinatory fashion. Antique, indeed! Such a variety of materials incorporated--copper, silver, bronze, iron and more... where has he lately seen just these things...
    While he chats with one of the junior priests--a young man of somewhat somber mien named Lynden--Pham is bothered by a nagging sensation of being watched. He has made the rounds slowly in hopes of drawing out whoever might be keeping an eye on him, but those who approach either make innocuous small talk or want to discuss business. He is eventually disturbed enough to withdraw to a corner, locate a small piece of copper he keeps in a pocket of his robe, and murmur a brief prayer before resuming his rounds.
    There are so many people, all thinking such a variety of things, it's quite difficult to sort them all out, but eventually the brother locates the source of his watched sensation; one of the guild journeymen is keeping an eye on him, wondering anxiously what Pham's intentions are, what will come of the night, what is really planned for he knows *they* don't tell him everything....
    [actions?]
    Meanwhile, a smartly turned out apprentice approaches the conversational knot that has formed around His Lordship and with apologetic mien speaks for a moment to Lady Rahel. She listens for a moment, then makes a regally dismissive gesture; the concubine Mela leaves the room with the apprentice.
    A few moments later Emmett is replenishing his drink--talking about Gond to interested but wary artificers is thirsty work, and so is being glared at by the local head priest, who seems to be feeling a touch threatened--when from somewhere nearby he hears Nikodem exclaim in some surprise and a voice loud enough to be heard by many, "Now where has Lord Dorek gotten to?"
    As do others, ibn Fadil glances around automatically. The heir is nowhere to be seen. Mela is still gone as well. Many guests who were at the blacksmiths' banquet perform an elementary calculation and find something absorbing to look at in the floor, ceiling, or middle distance. Nikodem looks appalled to have committed such a solecism and is turning toward Tesfaye while he gropes for something that will smooth over the moment, when there is a muffled but nevertheless arresting sound.
    Whumph.
    The building shakes slightly. There is a faint haze of smoke in the air, thickening rapidly.
    

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