Turn 99

"Fascinating," Pham opines, a bit disappointed that it seems his theory was incorrect, but intrigued by what they have learned about the world and also a by the puzzle before them. "But if they were then killed by human agency there should be some reason to it. A ship-owner's son, two artificers, and a land-rich heir.... Oddly enough, I encountered young Cenon in town, several days ago. He appeared to recognize this." He indicates his symbol and sighs a bit.
    Emmett, who has been sharpening his sword and thinking nasty thoughts about Gnomes in general, perks his head up. "He what?"
    Pham nods and continues. "This troubles me. I have spoken to many of these people since we arrived, and from none of them did I hear anything to suggest the order is known on this world. Their gods are their own, all strange to me, but this suggests... I know not what, but perhaps there has been some sort of contact, via one of the Victor ships or otherwise. And now he is dead, along with these others."
    Emmett does a double take back over his shoulder. "Hey, wait. Those Gnomes identified Gond, but Brunon and the other guards didn't have the slightest idea who he was either. What sort of machine is running here?"
    * * *
    "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."
    It takes ibn Fadil a moment to recover from the shock of having these potentially explosive ideas dropped in his lap. This connects far too closely to his concerns about the situation on Bral for him to take it calmly. Looking worried, he says, "Speaking of coincidence, this Stoat's interest in us might also be connected. Michal, does any of this ring any bells - have you heard any talk about the Herald of Hell or anything like that?" He watches the boy closely with out seeming to.
    Emmett glances at the boy as well, wondering what sort of wellspring of local lore ibn Fadil has tapped.
    "Herald of Hell?" His eyebrows go up in some astonishment. "Can't say that I have, but... there's been all kinds of wild rumors around for months now. Those murders a while back, and now this curse business -- I don't know." He shrugs. "Stoat only ever does things for money, far as I can see."
    [Sense Motive - he appears to be telling the truth]
    He nods absently. "And anyone importing iron to this planet will have a great deal of that."
    "Hell, you guys have plenty, as far as that goes...."
    * * *
    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.
    Both women are present. Emmett is not thrilled about having Inez present in what he increasingly regards as a guerilla war, but she's bored enough to insist. Ibn Fadil has fewer worries about Nyala. The two are in their best finery, determined to impress--and they do attract attention.
    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.
    Emmett walks slowly around the room, sliding his good hand across the stonework of the outside wall, which is very thick and well-made. All the while he is looking over the icons, carvings and other decoration for holy symbols to Gond worked in amongst the symbols for the local animal pantheon. If his deity has any presence on this world, it would sure be in places like this. "Maybe the Gnomes passed something to humans a long time ago?" he wonders. But there's nothing to indicate Gond's presence.
    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.
    Emmett spends a lot of time looking over the wares - fingering this, examining that - continuing his search for evidence of holy symbols or other signs that there might be some offworld evidence here. Much as he would love to start open discussions of theory, the obvious secrecy that would have to surround such new divine contact limits him to including some of the tenets of Gond in casual conversation or questions with the artificers, in hopes that this, combined with his quietly displayed holy symbol, would elicit some recognition. No such luck.
    _OK, maybe the Gnomes didn't pass anything along. I'm doing everything except open proselytizing and they're just not getting it..._ Emmett thinks, looking over the wares with a slight grimace. There is still nothing he can call evidence for the presence of offworld innovation.
    Meanwhile, ibn Fadil idly evaluates the quality of whatever locking mechanisms are on display (from the front door onward), on a rough scale from "dead easy" to "that hideous monster on Maija's Tear." He also looks for any unusual behavior on the part of the other guests.
    The locks on the front door certainly qualify as "hideous;" the displays run the gamut. Presumably, the more one wants to spend, the better one will get. As far as the attendees, he observes much the same interactions that he did the previous night. One or two of the journeymen here seem a little jumpy.
    Emmett keeps his eyes open for good examples of intricate clockwork for sale, but more interesting still would be a good set of clockmakers' tools, though he doubts that such secret items of the order would be placed up for sale, and it seems that he would be correct in that. There are some nice clocks and a few elaborate toys. The water clock, too, holds his attention, and he spends several minutes quietly looking it over, looking for the multiple functionality that typified the works of Gond in the windmill temple on Janik. He doubts it - suspecting more that this 'merely' keeps very accurate time, but it would be another spring in his newly re-organized mental blueprint of this place.
    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."
    "Sir, could you please explain the significance of the symbology? If I'm not mistaken, I see certain correspondence with similar systems in other spheres."
    "Indeed? Well, I'm not familiar with all of them, but..." He provides a brief discourse on the historical and mythological correspondences, having to do with the journeys of their god through the heavens.
    "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...
    _Hmmm. I will have to report this to the half-man._
    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, but then again, what isn't--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. The sound and smoke comes from below, some kind of explosion. The smoke smells of wood and something unfamiliar. The room stays calm until someone realizes that the front door is locked, at which point panic erupts.
    Emmett leaps onto the closest table to get above the panicking people. "Everybody stay calm!" he yells, not expecting that to have much effect. "Alais!" He scans the room for the wizard, then leaps again across the gap between tables to get closer to the young magus. "We need to get you into the basement to freeze out that fire! The stairs are that way! Pham! Get him down there" he says, pointing to the door from the room that doesn't lead to the kitchen, hoping that his voice contains the certainty that he doesn't.
    Ibn Fadil closes his eyes briefly as Emmett sends their only tickets off this hellhole *toward* the source of trouble instead of *away*, but knows better than to start arguing. Hooking his arm through Nyala's, he heads for the door.
    Trusting that their navigators will be able to magically deal with the threat below before it engulfs the building, Emmett takes several leaping steps down the table to get as close as possible to the front door before leaping towards it, hoping to get to it before the crush gets too great. He has to fight his way for a few moments, but then the rush of people toward the other end of the room clears space for him.
    "I'm going, I'm going." Alais calmly takes out his wand and progresses in the direction of the heat. He hasn't been near such a quantity of fire before, and is before he puts it out he wants to jot down some notes on the elemental properties. Just a few sentences-he realizes there's some urgency.
    Some, yes. There is a fierce crush near the back of the main room, all heading for the same door Alais and Pham are. Beyond the door, they find as they fight their way through, is a store-room. There is one door in the outer wall--this is where everyone else is going--and a second, narrow one on the inner wall. This second door is marked with emblems of the goddess, whose realm is knowledge; perhaps their workrooms are below? Pham wrenches it open and burns his hand in so doing; thick smoke, heat, and a sullen light pour up from below. There is sound now, too, the greedy hiss and crackle of flame.
    "Alais!" Pham yells, quite uncharacteristically for the normally soft-spoken cleric. "If you're going to do something about this, you need to do it now, before the floor collapses out from under us and we can't do anything at all!"
    The others streaming out of the building will no doubt alert the local fire brigade--if there is one. Pham follows Alais closely down the stairs, not so subtly "herding" the mage until he indicates that this is close enough. In the uncomfortable heat, the shadows of the flames on Pham's face make it much more believable that Pham is, in fact, a more common sort of follower of Hextor.
    But that's just a trick of the light. No. Really. It is!
    Meanwhile, ibn Fadil and Nyala join Emmett at the door. Fortunately, since he didn't want to leave anything valuable in his room - and he's learned not to leave them behind - he has his lockpicks, for whatever good it will do. He knows there's little chance of getting it open before the place comes down around their ears.
    Once the half elf gets close enough Emmett starts pushing panicked people out of the way, yelling "Give the man some room to work his magic or we'll never get out of here!" The goal is to give ibn Fadil a 5' area of relative calm in front of the lock.
    Uttering polite 'excuse me's as he gently pushes past them Lynden makes his way through the over anxious crowd until he also reached the area around the door. Looking apologetically at the small man known as Emmett he says quietly, "I may be able to help if you'll allow me..."
    Stepping up onto a bench Lynden seems noticeably more confident as he begins to project his voice across the crowd. "Ladies, gentlemen! Allow our good guests to assist us in gaining exit without further excitement if you please." He pauses fractionally to raise a small carved medallion into the air before him. "I am sure that Gerik will aid them in their efforts."
    They grow quieter, at least, still pushing with fierce concentration as the haze thickens and breathing grows difficult, but no longer in immanent danger of trampling one another.
    The Zakharan only frowns at the lock, shakes his head, and turns his attention to the hinges. Emmett catches the look and leans in close "Crap. I think the hinges are too big, and since this is deliberate they're probably a bar on the other side, too. That's what I'd do. Any chance of you and Nyala getting out one of those windows?" A very slight head jerk indicates the narrow things high overhead. "I think we're small enough for it, but I couldn't make it up there. Once out there you could either get a bar off the door or get some other help."
    "Let us try all," ibn Fadil suggests. "Nyala and anyone else --" he glances around at the crowd -- "try the hinges, you try to take it down by force, and I will climb up and try the window."
    Emmett gives a brief look to ibn Fadil, then Nyala, then the window, then shrugs. "Right. Good luck." A quick motion with his hand and his artificial arm produces a flat, hiltless knife, which he hands to the elvish archer. "Try this on the hinges if you don't have anything else." He then turns his attentions to the door.
    Emmett braces his artificial leg into a crack in the stone floor and starts pushing with all of his nigh inhuman strength against the locked door. It gives slightly but does not break--just a bit more....
    "This way, my lord," Nikodem urges Tesfaye toward the front door rather than joining the crush at the back; he seems to realize that the odds are better there. Neither is looking good; perhaps the smoke. Nikodem takes Tesfaye's arm in an attempt to lead him in the proper direction, but after a few steps the old nobleman staggers. "My lord?" He falls to the floor, bringing the artificer with him for a moment before he can right himself, bending over to try and rouse Tesfaye without success. "Help! Help!"
    Hearing the raised voice, and quickly surmising the seriousness of the situation, Lynden directs two lesser guild members he recognises to assist Nikodem and Tesfaye whilst he himself remains focused on controlling the throng.
    "What? Oh for pity's sake." Emmett snags the helpful calming local by the sleeve. "I need as many strong men as we can get to help me with this!" The sound of the fire is growing; it's harder to hear. The floor is uncomfortably warm, as well.
    With that he activates his eye, hoping that the band of light will have a jarring effect to clear a path through the crowd towards one of the benches. He's going to need a battering ram.
    Lynden nods and also moves towards the bench. "Let the strongest come forward to assist," he calls across those gathered, "and we will clear a route for them."
    [Concentration check successful.]
    Between them they get a bench moved into position to swing. Nyala is on her knees with the knife, prying at the iron hinge pins and swearing in her own tongue. Meanwhile, ibn Fadil arranges his sword so he can more easily reach it while climbing, and essays the wall beneath the nearest window. Once up, he braces himself against the corner, attempts to peer out into the dark but sees only reflections from within in the thick glass, and then breaks the glass with the hilt of his sword. Once it is open, he takes a few breaths of clean air and looks around. There are people on the street outside; they seem to be part of a forming bucket chain.
    "One, two--three!" Emmett barks. The improvised ram swings at the door; it shudders under the impact. Again. The lock bursts and the great leaves give way, and the group of them stumble out, gasping for air.
    Two of the men who aided with the ram turn back to help Nikodem and Lord Tesfaye out as well; the latter is grey-faced and unmoving.
    As ibn Fadil lands lightly on the street outside the building Nyala turns to look at him. "Another exciting evening out," she remarks dryly in Elvish, glancing down at her damaged gown. "I hope you are not hurt?"
    The sounds of the growing fire seem to be stopping, much to everyone's surprise.
    Meanwhile, in the rear of the building, Pham hears the cries for help faintly, but does not recognize the voice. Thinking that getting the fire under control is the more important, he regretfully holds his place with Alais, who fortunately realizes quickly that this is not perhaps the time to be taking notes--mental ones will have to do, as the air is burning their lungs already [take six HP apiece for smoke inhalation] and there are ominous snaps and creaks amid the growing voice of the fire as it tears at the building supports. At the bottom of the stairs they find a long corridor with many rooms on either side.
    Alais looks at the wand his mentor gave him--so long ago now, and so far away! The first blast of cold gives them some space to breathe, at least. In the end five charges are expended before the fire is put out. It is then, of course, entirely dark until the intrigued mage produces a light.
    Alais walks down the hall, ignoring Pham's attempts to pull him back to safer ground. The doors on each side--which normally would most certainly have been locked--have been eaten away, some of them, providing glimpses into the workrooms of the masters, their contents now both burned and rimed, and the larger space where junior members of the guild would work on projects together. At the far end, which from the more extensive damage is where the fire began, one large room reveals something very interesting. Glancing into the blackened chamber, Alais notes that there seems to be another door leading out of the room--away into darkness below the town. The ceiling looks very unsafe here, and at this point Pham bodily drags him back toward the stair.
    "We can come back and look. There are injured people up there," the brother points out, coughing; the smoke and now steam are very thick still.
    * * *
    Meanwhile, a dozen men slip through the shadows of Myrr, toward the little-used Sea Gate. Timing their motions against the footsteps of the constant patrols on the walls, the door opens and two of them slip across the open space toward the ship from another world. The guard there does not have a chance to give the alarm. Silently they climb the ladder and force the hatch. The others by ones and twos join them.
    The armored walls retain sound well....
    A short time later, a single man with a sword and pack on his back descends the ladder, and a much smaller figure as well. After taking only a few steps, they vanish from sight.
    

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