At the shores of Loch Laern - First Night
"I know what you are." Jacob Mourngrym told them simply, and the eight in Monk's robes shifted uncomfortably on the cushions their host had set out for them.
"We are simple Monks, M’Lord." One of them said in a hushed tone.
"Oh, and your act is most convincing, I must say....more than enough to fool the common folk here, and perhaps even enough to get you past Arliss Castillar's sometimes-keen eye....that bit of talking in hushed and humble tones is a nice touch, but I fear you'll have to do far better than that with me."
An uncomfortable silence followed, and Mourngrym reveled in it.
"If the Priest finds out, he will banish us." The leader among them said quietly. "Or worse."
"Mmm...agreed. And there's nothing like a good old fashioned public stoning or flogging to distract the minds of the peasantry from their current misery....I'd say that if our good Shepherd found out the truth about you eight, you'd be in an uncommonly wretched predicament, yes?"
They nodded stiffly, as though fashioned of wood, not sure if the conversation unfolding before them was moving in a direction that would doom or save them, and Jacob Mourngrym gave no sign either way.
For his part, Jacob let the tension draw out for nearly two full minutes before he said, "Of course....at present I am the only one who knows the truth of the matter, and I am not much inclined to reveal that truth to those who lead us."
As a single body, The Eight slumped forward in relief, and Jacob allowed himself to smile. As with most of his business dealings, this one was proving far, far too easy. "I have, in my possession, a certain tome that, despite my vast resources, I have been unable to pay to have deciphered....if we can reach some agreement and I get your assistance in the matter, perhaps I shall become thoroughly convinced of your status as Monks?"
When no reply was immediately forthcoming, he said, "Gentlemen?"
"Where is this tome?"
"Ahhh....so I have sparked an interest in you then! What Wizard can resist the lure of a good book? But no....I think it unwise to just hand it over to you, so I have had Scribes copy down some of the text from the first few pages of the work....that should give you ample material that you can tell me, at least in general terms what it contains....what it might be used for."
He snapped his fingers, and one of his Attendants brought forth a bundle of scrolls, and spread them at the feet of the Wizards. They took them up carefully, unfurled them and read, passing them around and murmuring quietly amongst themselves.
A few moments later, the leader among them gasped in surprise. "It cannot be...." He whispered.
There were few reactions that could have evoked a more delighted gleam in Jacob's eyes. The leader of the Order looked up, eyes burning with questions. "I...I will need time to look these scrolls over more closely to be certain, if I may take them with me?"
Jacob nodded. "And your early impression is...."
"The...these words....phrases lost for a thousand years and more....they could be from the lost Tome of Talesian...where did you come by it?"
Talesian....that made a fair amount of sense, as he had acquired the work from a merchant of the Harradis, and those people were well-known for their love of witchery.
Talesian was a name, almost mythical to witches, warlocks, and seers. Among the first, and perhaps greatest Warlock that ever was.
If their words were truth, then the tome he had carefully hidden away in the third of his private wagons, with its cracked and withered human-skin cover and strange runes and sigils that glowed in moonlight was almost certainly not a listing of the Warlock's favored recipes, or a detailed accounting of the women he
had bedded in his day....no, more likely that it was, quite simply, a prize beyond compare....a source of wisdom, almost certainly, and perhaps a weapon of untold and unimaginable power.
But Jacob said nothing of this, nor let any part of it show in his face. "That is no concern of yours." He said simply. "You may take those scrolls with you and retire. Report back to me when you have deciphered them completely and are more certain of your findings. And until then, gentlemen, rest assured that your secret is quite safe with me."
Visibly relieved and excited, The Eight rose from the floor of the Pavilion Tent where they had been seated before Mourngrym, and made haste back to their own quarters, where they would no doubt be up long into the night, carefully pouring over the tidbit Jacob had given them.
He smiled and steepled his fingers together. Ahhh yes. The here and now was truly his time. The old Empire washed away in a sea of blood. The people scattered and frightened, and in need of new leadership. Leadership he was uniquely positioned to provide.
Suddenly he saw in current developments, a means to expand the scope of his plan for their future. He could be the father of an entirely new kingdom. Better still, he could be its undisputed Master….again, because he was a superior man, and it simply would be him.
He owed it to those of lesser station….those who would ultimately serve him, and ohhhh the prospects for fortune and power. For the second time in as many days, he smiled a genuine smile of delight.
~~Ж§Ж~~
"So how are you and yours?" Duncan asked the much larger man as he sat down and handed him a plate of fish and onion grass.
McDougil took it gratefully, and shoved an almost too-large chunk of steaming, grease-dripping fish into his mouth. Juices dribbled down his chin, but he did not care, scooping the fish up with gusto and abandon.
"Delicious." He said as he swallowed the first bit. "Absolutely delicious, and I don't even care for fish all that much."
He slapped Duncan good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Thank you, my Brother....and as for me and mine...what can I say but that Arliss was right? The fishing here is exquisite, and all have eaten their fill and then some this night!"
The cavalryman nodded. "Good to hear, and though I know you wish we could remain here, you must know that we strike camp again at dawn."
McDougil nodded. "Aye, but that matters little. Given our rate of progress, it'll still take us days to round the Loch, and all that time, we can spend fishing and fattening ourselves up for the last leg of it....Ahh, and thank you for the horses, by the way! A fine plan indeed to send fishermen riding forward so they could spend more time increasing our catch! We may grow tired of the menu, but I daresay that if our luck holds where the catch is concerned, we'll have fish enough to last us all the way to the Harradis!"
"We just may, and it'd be a heartening thing for all." Duncan agreed. "As to the horses...we had scant need of them anyway....I kept my Roan to use for scouting, but things have been strangely quiet since we destroyed that picket."
"And thank the Earth Mother, and all the Holy Saints for it!" McDougil said in agreement.
He really wasn't that bad a fellow, Duncan realized. True, his was a markedly different perspective, but the more time he spend with McDougil, the more he realized that his earlier actions had been born of a good intent, even if their execution had been...less than admirable.
Still, as he got to know the man better, he found it impossible to hold a grudge. He was strong and able, and with Duncan's assistance and training, was becoming quite a good swordsman.
In fact, their camaraderie had grown to the point where Duncan had reassigned some of his men to McDougil's command, giving him an official field Promotion to Captain, while Arliss had decreed that he himself, would wear the title of "Marshal of the Forces of Ravanna." Such as they were.
All things considered then, he truly did not feel as though he could hold much of a grudge against Jacob Mourngrym, either. It was truer than true that he didn't care for his methods, and the fact of the matter was that simply being around the man made him feel unclean. But another fact was plain enough to see. They were better off for what had happened.
Strange world.
Strange world indeed. Idly, Duncan packed his pipe and lit it, drawing the acrid smoke deep into his lungs, and then blowing out smoke rings, wondering at what sort of times these were, when a man as dangerous and self-serving as Jacob Mourngrym committed an atrocious, heinous act that nearly amounted to conspiring with the enemy, and yet, somehow managed to make things...better? A deep mystery indeed.
~~Ж§Ж~~
“Why the long face, young Master?” Armando asked the lad with the glum expression as he stepped up to the shore of the loch to survey the sparkling waters.
The youth regarded him for a moment, and then turned his attention back to the waters, sighing heavily.
“Come now,” Armando continued undaunted. “It can’t be as bad as all that…this is the best we’ve had it in weeks.”
“I miss my mum.” The lad told him glumly, and when the boy-who-was-verging-on-manhood turned to face him again, he saw all too clearly the lines of pain and loss etched into the young man’s face. “I miss my mum, my dad, and my brother.”
“Was your brother in the Imperial Guard?” A slight nod. “As was my father.”
“What’s your name, young Master?”
“Perrin.”
“Ahh…you are one of Father Castillar’s students.”
“Yes….two more years.”
Armando put his hand on the lad’s shoulder. “I know you miss them, but you are here now…and they live on through you…that is among the beliefs of your kind, yes?”
Perrin nodded.
“So take a measure of comfort in that….and take care not let your blood soak into the ground here, Master Perrin…you are the banner of your family. You.”
What could have been a ghost of a smile crossed the lad’s lips for a moment…quickly eclipsed by the lines of pain and loss, but there nonetheless…at least for a fraction of a second. “So…Lord Armando of the Free Folk…you know much of the ways of my people…what of yours?”
Armando shook his head and practically beamed at the boy. “Few of your kind have much interest in our ways. We are relatively small in number, and often written off as thieves and vagabonds.”
“We have nothing to steal, and besides that, your kind have been nothing but helpful…at least that I’ve seen.”
“’tis so, Master Perrin….we are frequently misunderstood. But what would you know of our ways?”
“I…know nothing at all, and so do not quite know what to ask…anything you tell me will be fascinating though…that much, I am sure.”
“You flatter me, young Master…and you have a diplomat’s tongue. The day may come when it serves you well.”
“I would rather learn to fight, but Father Castillar won’t have it.”
“And you should abide by his wishes. Father Castillar is wise…and fighting is not always the best way to resolve a conflict.”
“The Nilroggi don’t care much for diplomats.” Perrin said softly. And there was certainly no worthy reply to that. The lad was right as right could be.
There was a long moment of silence between them, and then Perrin sighed and smiled. “But perhaps you’re right. The day may come when we don’t have the threat of the Nilroggi looming over us, and then fighting won’t be so much on everyone’s mind.”
“And that will be a fine day indeed, Master Perrin.” He nodded.
“So…tell me of your language. Your art….Anything.”
Now it was Armando’s turn to smile. “You’re genuinely interested, aren’t you? What a refreshingly wonderful surprise.” He was rarely at a loss for words, and was not now, but a young man’s sudden, unexpected interest in him and his culture…a mind open to the new ideas his kind represented…it very nearly made him so.
He enjoyed the feeling for a few lingering seconds before taking a deep breath and beginning to speak. “Well, the first thing I should tell you about the Free Folk then, is our love of dance and song….we…”
They talked long into the night.
~~Ж§Ж~~
Loch Laern - Fourth Night
"It is as we suspected, My Lord Mourngrym." The leader of The Eight told him in an excited, whispered tone. "The book you carry with you is, in fact the Tome of Talesian....a work of unspeakable, unimaginable power...rumor holds that it contains all of The Master's most potent spells."
Mourngrym smiled and his eyes glittered like onyx caught in the sun's rays at those words.
"What must we do in order to obtain the work?" And the businessman could see in the Wizard's eyes that no price would be too high.
He took a deep breath and prepared to cinch the deal. "Let me tell you exactly what I want...."
~~Ж§Ж~~
