The Sid took a deep breath, glanced at Krinn, Fuji, the Don, turned back to the door and knocked. There was no telling what was inside; Rosebud had scouted the terrain, finding nothing unusual, and tried the windows. They were opaque. Knocking seemed like the only obvious next step if they wanted to ride out the storm.

The door, which looked like a simple wooden door in keeping with the rest of the house, was surprisingly solid; instead of the thunk of wood, he heard a muffled rap that told him the door was not what it seemed.

It swung open noiselessly. El Sid's hand dropped to his sword. The inside was shrouded in gloom, the feeble light that made its way through the overcast skies and rain insufficient to light the interior.

"ENTER!" spoke a deep voice. El Sid thought about that and decided it was NOT in his best interest.

Light and smoke flared within, along with a wind that rushed by him with a howl. A bright flash caused him to close his eyes, and when he opened them again, he saw a backlit figure. The glow subsided slowly, and he stared at... an old man.

"Come on in, please, I insist!" said the man in a quavering but friendly voice in common. A slight drawl indicated someone from Ostenar, Kuseme or Ramu, one of the Kethem cities near Kanday.

El Sid blinked. It was still an old man. He cautiously leaned forward and took in more detail. An old man with slightly wild white hair in a fine blue silk tunic the color of a midsummer's day sky. Black cotton pants held up by a belt of interlocking silver plates, the legs tucked into tall black leather boots, wearing a light cloak that looked to the Sid like a formal holder's cloak... he would have to see the back and check for a hold's seal to be sure. Some simple jewelry, a silver ring, definitely from a hold although he could not make out the seal from this distance. The room was still lit by the glow; it was a foyer done in wood and shale, the wood dark, polished mahogany.

"Please, young lady, gentlemen, come in out of the rain. Really, I'm sorry, I just have a bit of a flair for dramatic entrances." The old man smiled kindly at Krinn and she smiled tentatively back, then demurely stepped PAST the Sid and bowed slightly. Rain, deflected by Krinn's shield spell, suddenly cascaded down on the rest of them.

"Thank you for the offer. We are rather tired of the rain" she said.

Sid tried to think of some way to recapture command of the situation. Kidney punch to Krinn's exposed back? Kick her feet out from under her? Probably not the best way to convince their host they were peaceful whatever they were pretending they were. He stepped in behind Krinn, followed quickly by Fuji and the Don, making sure he 'accidentally' smacked Krinn in the butt with his scabbard. "Oh, sorry, Krinn" he said sweetly. She glared at him.

The old man said "please, introductions are in order, but let me get you someplace warm first... you must be chilled." He lead them through a small hallway (the Sid noted that indeed, a hold's seal was sewn into the cloak, crossed pickax and lightning bolt) into another room, this one large. Wooden floors with throw pillows scattered around Kanday style, some low tables of a light, glossy rosewood, and best of all, a large roaring fire in a large brick fireplace. He motioned them to sit and opened a small cabinet to retrieve a bottle and some small glasses, poured small quantities quickly and effectively into the snifters, and handed them out with a spryness that belied his obvious age. El Sid waited until the man had a taste (noticing that foolish Krinn sipped at the same time), then let a small amount settle on his tongue. It was very high quality Kethem Cognac. He and the Don pretended to sip while the rest drank.

"I am Cobel Hartt, silver ring of Bryant Major-Hold... that's out of Kesume." The Sid could have guessed... a pickax would be someplace with mining and the like. "I must admit some curiosity about who you are. Slightly unusual for messengers, and I don't see any Bryant seals on you, but you can't be random travelers, can you?" He paused and waited expectantly.

Fuji looked curiously at the old man. He KNEW what his companions were fretting over (indeed, this scene had been played out before, many times). Why must these Kethem fools always regard the unknown as an enemy? In his culture, the old were respected and valued for their venerable wisdom. There was no honor in attacking someone because they "might" be a foe. Better act before the sinister one (Sidster) did something foolish. Bowing in the traditional manner, Fuji thanked the old one for his hospitality, and introduced himself as a humble traveler simply seeking shelter from the storm (which WAS true).

Cobel bowed back, at the exact same inclination as Fuji had used, equal to equal, and said "Toju maja horiji, sama brojo. Preji Sa Kajok, herijsa ee sawnomi?" Fuji was impressed. Almost no accent at all. He said in common, to allow the others to understand, "May you find honorable combat as well, sama brojo. I am of the mitheral Sa Kajok, and these sawno... these people are my friends.

Cobel raised his eyes slightly at the word mitheral, but Krinn jumped in. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Gwen Jamine, a Tagalakis cleric from Kethem." This time, the Sid was impressed. She didn't stumble for a second over the name she had just made up. She offered him her hand, and he bent low and kissed it.

"Welcome, my lady, most welcome. What temple are you with?"

"Temple of the winter storm."

"Ahhhh... from Salta." Krinn suddenly looked uncomfortable, realizing she had given something away. He continued "I'm surprised Archbishop Colcough allowed you leave, with the storm season apon us. I would have thought every available cleric would be protecting merchant and warships right now."

"Special dispensation.... I had a windvision in the last ceremony, and Colcough allowed me leave to pursue it. I can say no more, for it is a temple edict that one must complete the quest before speaking of it. Do you know Colcough?"

"By reputation only" he replied. "I don't get to Salta much." He turned to El Sid. "And you are?"

"Master Hartt", El Sid intoned, flawlessly imitating the Kandayan bow of respect. His deliberate, neutrally-accented Common revealed him as a non-native. "With your indulgence, my companions and I," gesturing to include Fuji and Dom, "must remain as we seem, mercenaries out of Kanday. We have been retained by our Lady Cleric to escort her on her quest."

"We also have companions, if somewhat rude, and animals, in the storm. Have we your leave to fetch them?" At this, the Don stepped forward slightly and inclined his head politely for their host's response.

"Indeed, by all means, bring in your companions," gestured the Bryant to Perignon, dismissing him to this task. "However," and here his eyes steeled even as his mouth smiled, "However, certainly courtesy dictates a host know to whom he extends hospitality within his own walls?"

The Sid studiously did not react. He glanced at Krinn and Fuji and then back at his host. "My host, we *do* escort the Lady Cleric. However," he paused and slowly began to pace about the room, hands behind back, examining the furnishings and artwork. Occasionally, he would pause and look pointedly at their host in emphasis. "However, as you are aware, recently there has been an unusual...stability...to Kethem politics. You are also aware how...atypical...this is in our history. There is a growing...concern...in certain sectors of the Great Council and in...Other Quarters...about this...stability. Now," and here the Sid held up both his hands in placation, "Now stability can be strength. If the stability of the...Current Principals...reflects their internal strength and the support of Greater Kethem, all well and good. This is to the benefit of Kethem. But...it is of concern that this stability may represent...stagnation...an inability to respond with...flexibility...to external demands. The growing frequency and strength of the Strangri raids suggest Kethem may be entering a period of increased... External Pressure... There is growing concern that the...current stability...may be being...enhanced...to our detriment by... external agencies...There is concern that...the Current Principals...might be being manipulated, *unknowingly*, and against *their* long term best interests in furthering this...stability...This disturbing possibility must be investigated. For the good of Greater Kethem as well as for the good of the Current Principals. So...in regards this situation...neutral observations are being... conducted..." and here the Sid stopped his pacing and turned to the Bryant and looked him straight in the eye, "And opinions are being canvassed...for the Good of Kethem..."

Cobel looked at him strangely. "Well, very interesting, if somewhat cryptic. Are you asking my opinion on whether the current High Council is somehow being manipulated such that our defense against the Stangri is being weakened? I'd have to say no, but then, I'm always ready to hear a good conspiracy theory. However, it is clear you are traveling incognito, and I certainly am willing to respect that although..." and he sniffed, "you could remove the bear grease while you are visiting. It really isn't all that common in Kanday anyway... they just do it when traveling in Kethem to irritate people, I'm afraid."

The Sid looked hard at Fuji, who was whistling and looking at the ceiling. He reserved THAT conversation for another time. Other fish to fry. He tried to think for a minute. The High Council was TOO high. He needed an angle to find out whether Bryant and Bradford hold had any kind of relationship. If they did he might have to... to...

Krinn was paying attention to Bryant, so she missed it. Fuji, however, was most startled to see, for the first time he could remember, the Sid look absolutely stunned. What was going on with the man?

The Sid stopped, took a deep breath, and tried again. They would have to.... negotiate? No, no, no. Ask? Definitely not. His mind skimmed over a thought that refused to surface, like the worst case in history of searching for a word you knew intimately but could not remember. He felt sweat on his face, took another deep breath, realized he was acting out of character, tried to look poised... and failed. They would have to do... to do... STOP. Back to square one. If he had someone, Krinn, say, and they represented a threat, he would obviously slip a knife between her vertebra, second and third disks, causing instant death. So, by extension, if this man was a threat he would.... negotiate with the man... no, no, no, no....

Outside, the rain began to roll down Cookie`s long nose, coming off the end like water from a spigot. He had to scrunch down to stay inside the weather umbrella spell, which was uncomfortable, or stand, which was wet. What was taking them so long? Probably sitting around the fire, smoking and drinking, all warm and toasty, forgetting about their friends outside. If that was the case, Cookie was going to get mad. And they would not like to see Cookie mad. When REALLY angry, Cookie would channel his energy into whipping up a truely creative dish(usually using the object of his anger as the main ingredient. "Cookie go see what hold up is." Cookie's rather large form rose slowly from the ground as he started to lumber towards the little house.

Glorm started to panic, but quickly regained his head. He nimbly stuck his foot in front of the Troll. Cookie's large bulk seemed to hover in mid air before crashing to the muddy ground. "Oh my goodness, pardon me Cookie, an accident I assure you. What a mess. Here come back under the umbrella spell and have a swallow or two of this fine Kandayan brandy." Cookie took the flagon and drained it in one swallow. Glorm looked startled but continued on smoothly. "You look like you could use a little something to cheer you up my big friend." So saying Glorm quickly filled his old war hammer pipe he had carved as a boy. The pipe was crudely carved, but it had a large stem and bowl, more appropriate for a troll. He handed the pipe to the troll, who looked at it with some confusion.

"What dis Dorf? It be to small to tenderize meat..."

"Here Cookie, let me show you. This is a pipe, one of life's finer pleasures, just behind women and just ahead of brandy. Here is what you do, take the pipe to your lips and light the bowl with a coal from our tinder box. Ahh there you go, now draw slowly and periodically to keep it lit." Before Glorm could continue his instructions, the troll inhaled a massive breath and Glorm was sure he would explode coughing, possibly giving away their position, but the troll held his breath for a minute and exhaled a huge cloud of smoke which filled the entire umbrella, only slowly diffusing into the night. Having exhaled the smoke Cookie handed the pipe back to Glorm. The rather large bowl was completely empty!

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm me like pipe almost as much as pickled Urakai liver. Gives me a tingly feeling in my head. You fill that again Dorf."

Cookie had been PISSED. Picking himself out of the mud, he looked for the root he had tripped over, only to have the Dorf pour the good stuff down his throat and shove the hammer -turned-pipe into his mouth. But it was a good combination and soon he forgave the Dorf. However, once the pipe was empty he looked at the Dorf and said simply, "More". And he did not seem to be asking. Cookie also looked around for another flask, deciding that it was the answer to getting warm. Glorm`s quick thinking may have stopped the troll, but it was going to cost him, he suddenly (and sadly) realized. The troll swigged the brandy like it was water and inhaled the pipe in practically one breath. Glorm did some quick calculations, Stock left versus rate of consumption and suddenly did not feel very well. Delrin chuckled, realizing the Dwarf`s quandary. "You should have remembered the old fable about "music" soothing the savage beast, Glorm", the druid scolded, "It may work like a charm, but what happens when the music stops?" Glorm looked gloomily at his fast dwindling reserves, then looked at the troll who was having the time of his life. "what to do?", fretted the poor Dwarf. Dare he cut off any more to the troll and risk becoming tomorrow's Desert? Cookie guffawed loudly and smacked the Dwarf on the back, and with the force that could have shattered a stout oaken door, the dwarf found himself face first in the mud, bringing another round of squeals of delight from the troll. As Glorm picked himself he decided that the troll had been hanging around Fuji too much.

Glorm looked dejectedly on as Cookie polished off his third flagon of Brandy, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and burped loudly. He definitely was spending to much time with Fuji. Well, thought Glorm, the trading business hadn't been the same since they left Salta; horses kept dying and markets were scarce. At least this way, he wouldn't have to lug 100 pounds of brandy around, or deal with that evil horse. So Glorm refilled his snifter, lit his pipe and tried to relax. The troll was looking a little wild eyed. To calm the giant, Glorm started forming smoke images of young trolls playing in the field: kicking Trollkin around and dancing in delight as they fell to ground writhing in agony. It seamed to work as Cookie's eyes started to tear up. He sat their lost in thoughts of his carefree youth... which lasted for about two minutes before the Troll started looking around for one of the sacks with the rapidly disappearing supply of Brandy.

Fortunately, the rest of his stock was saved by the sudden appearance of the Don.

"It seems to be OK. Come on" he said quietly.

They moved gratefully to the house, where Corbel, who had come at the sound of their knock, welcomed them as enthusiastically as he had the first group. The Don saw a momentary flash of surprise at the troll, out and out staring at the Dwarf, and a polite nod to Delrin. Soon, they were sitting in the same room as the others with warm blankets and full cups. Cookie tasted his cup, which was actually more of a bucket with a handle. A broad grin crossed his face. "This good stuff!" he cried. "Not as good as yours, Dorf" he said while winking at Glorm. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hmmmmm... make good marinade, I think..."

Corbet said "I was just asking how you found this place, since the road near the main road to Olex is disguised."

A few seconds elapsed, and even Krinn noticed this time... the Sid was at a loss for words. The Sid. Without something to say. What was wrong with the man?

Delrin jumped in. "I am a Druid of the seventh circle of Oak. I have a wolf friend that is familiar with this area. We were wet and cold, and the wolf told us of this place. We thought it might be an inn, so we struck out at an angle across the open grass, and so came across your road closer to the forest."

Corbel nodded. "Ahhh, I see. Well, no matter. As long as you are here, you are my guests. I will have dinner prepared if you would care to stay. And, if there is anything... unusual in the way of food that is desired," he said looking at Glorm, "ask and I will do my best to provide it."

Glorm answered "I thank you, but I be happy with a hot meal right now. I be not picky."

Corbel nodded.

El Sid finally spoke up. "And, if you don't mind my asking, what is someone from Bryant Hold doing out here, in the middle of the Pranan wilderness?"

Corbel shrugged his shoulders. "I'm retired, actually, from hold service, although they call on me from time to time. Our Lord Holder Gustaven, well, let's just say he owed me for special services rendered. I asked for a place to live a little isolated from Kethem for reasons I'd rather not go into. This house is fairly unusual. Prefall, actually. The previous owner was convinced to part with if for a tidy some of money, and wa-la, here I am. I must admit, though, that even with occasional special assignments, I do miss the company of my fellow Kethemers. There are nothing but a few scattered farms and logging camps around here, and they are all... well, very Pranan, if you know what I mean. Not the most stimulating of intellectual companions."

Krinn spoke up. "If you want company, why do you disguise the road?"

Corbel smiled. "Well, I do miss the company, but I like my privacy as well. A mite schizophrenic, perhaps, but who isn't?" Krinn looked doubtful, but kept quiet. Corbel smiled. "Well, does anyone want to freshen up prior to dinner? I have rooms with hot baths available, if desired."

Krinn went wide eyed. "Baths? HOT BATHS? I could kiss you. Lead me on, you wonderful man...." They left the room together down a hallway, Krinn smiling in eager anticipation.

Corbel returned a few minutes later, giving El Sid enough time to canvas the entire room. It was tasteful, expensive, but almost sterile... where ornamental pottery stood, it blended into wood and brick in a way that was too perfect not to have been chosen for that reason. Where a indoor plant stood, it stood healthy, green, and completely symmetrical, almost unnaturally so. It was as if the room had been put together by an artist, but have never been lived in. Nowhere was anything of a personal nature, anything out of place, anything that clashed. Maybe Corbel made his living as a home decorator.

As Corbel walked up, he winked with a grin. "Quite an attractive lass, my boy."

El Sid was almost startled enough to say "Krinn?" He caught himself in time. "Yes. The Lady Gwen seems to have taken a liking to you."

Corbel chuckled. "Well, I have to admit, I cast a bit of a glamour spell for the Lady when I saw you arrive. Never hurts, after all, to look your best. Never know when you might get lucky, eh???" He leaned over and said in a low voice "I don't suppose she is... you know... unattached, so to speak."

El Sid looked at him. Closely. He was definitely... old. What a billy goat. "My host, naturally, i would never speak to a lady's Virtue in her absence. We, ourselves, of course, have a strictly professional relationship." Here Sid paused, inclined his head, and met Corbin's eyes with the mildest of twinkle in his own. "However, our Ladyship *does* have excellent taste. You might broach the subject with her directly. She *does* seem to have taken a shine to you."