DELRIN
It was the third unit of the Kethem Guard they had run into that day, which seemed odd to him. He nudged Rascal a bit with his knee, and the white horse instantly but subtly adjusted his direction, allowing Delrin to come closer to the chainmail clad soldiers. He listened intently, but was disappointed to hear nothing odd in the topic or tone of their conversation. If anything, they seemed bored. There was no challenge of the party, and they rode past with nothing more than a exchange of nods. Delrin knew from the previous two encounters that asking questions would be met with suspicious glances and a vague, useless answer about "standard field training."
El Sid was out on point again. The big, black charger he rode wasn't fast, but it was quiet, and it and El Sid moved like a single creature. It was the first time Delrin had seen a bond between man and horse that matched - or possible exceeded - his with Rascal. Tristan was a better horseman than both of them, but this went beyond simple skill - it was an empathetic link than was rare among even the best horsemen.
Envy over his bond with his horse wasn't the only thing that had bothered him about El Sid. El Sid's steady but unpredictable weaving ahead of the party, scouting ahead for trouble, had struck Delrin as ridiculous. This was, after all, deep in Kethem, and there were very few bandits that would dare attack a party on the road. There was always the occasional Urakai slave uprising that could be a reasonable justification for such caution, but word of this or any similar event would have spread, and they had heard no such rumors.
Even when they stayed at the Roaring Manticora and the Well Traveled Path, two small inns along the road to Hediro, El Sid and Don Perignon had made rounds every hour, alternating their watch. Delrin had finally asked him about it when they first got on the trail this morning. El Sid had smoothly mounted the Black steed and looked down at him, slight dark circles under his eyes the only indication of having had less than four hours of sleep for the last two... no, three nights.
"Borgia hold has supplied horses. They have a stake in this effort, and I am responsible for safeguarding the hold's interests. We don't know much, but it appears that this scroll, or some events which include it, have resulted in at least one attack where someone ended up dead. I am merely being... prudent. Besides," and El Sid flashed one of his rare smiles and leaned back more casually, "our marching order really sucks. You people have absolutely no concept of small squad tactics." Then he was off, taking his standard three to five hundred foot lead on the party.
Delrin had been momentarily irritated, then on reflection realized that El Sid was probably right on the mark with the danger of carrying the scroll... without knowing the original cause of the attack, it was foolish not to conclude that the scroll itself might have been the cause. El Sid was right about their marching order, too. Even he could see that it would be hard to respond to an attack. But if a lord like El Sid wasn't going to suggest anything to the rest of the group, he certainly wasn't. In the meantime, El Sid was basically bait for any ambush up ahead, given them the time to organize a response to any sudden conflict.
Gradually, fear had given way to grudging respect for the man and his companion, the Don.
He had a chance to get to know the others on the march as well, some better than others. He smiled for a moment, then road a bit faster and caught up with Aron, who was attempting to look nonchalant but winced every time his horse took a step. "How's the poultice working?" asked Delrin quietly. He had found some Sara's Loss along the road, and ground it up with the roots of some cat-o-nine tails growing in the same area. Not perfect, but the best he could do while traveling.
Aron looked back and responded gratefully, "I'm feeling much better, thanks" in an equally low tone of voice, "but I still don't think I'm going to sit for a week."
Delrin smiled encouragingly. "You'll toughen up" he promised. "Horseback riding takes more practice than skill."
They chatted for a few moments more, then Delrin moved over to Krinn. She smiled lazily at him, and he smiled back. She seemed to have relaxed after being on the road for a day. Krinn had demonstrated an unusual knowledge of woodlore, but it was slightly off. Delrin already had a good guess as to why.
"So, want to tell me more about the leaves of the Lalm?" he asked curiously. "It's a northern variety, but you can occasionally get a few from the elvish trading runs..." he stopped as her smile disappeared. Touchy subject. "Look, see those berries?" he said desperately. "They make a really great pie". She glanced in surprise at the small, red clusters on a low hanging bush, then laughed and turned back to him slyly.
"You don't have to change the subject."
He was saved from a response by the sudden appearance of Glorm, looking awkward as usual on his small but steady roan horse. "Be a fine day" he said with his heavy accent. "To bad to be back here." His small pack animal followed behind the horse, tether tied to the stallion's saddle. The pack animal was almost unrecognizable under the huge pack it carried, a pack Delrin knew was full of the Dwarf's precious tabac and brandy. Delrin had tried a puff a night ago and nearly died. Smoking wasn't his idea of fun.
"That's right, you came from Hediro, just a couple of weeks ago, didn't you?" responded Delrin.
"Hediro? No and Yes. Hediro for a short time, but from much farther than that before. Yes, much farther." And the small man looked sad.
They rode on in silence for a while, and near mid afternoon, made the city gate. El Sid dropped back, and the party closed in for a moment.
"Inn, or straight to the Elvish Embassy?" asked Tristan, looking at Krinn.
"The Embassy, I think. They will put us up for the night."
Tristan looked doubtful, but finally nodded and motioned along a small side street. "This way."
"You know Hediro well?" asked the Don curiously.
Tristan smiled. "Hediro, Bythe, Ostenar. I've been around all of them. Just about any port city you can name. If the elf's aren't feeling hospitable, I know a few cheap but clean places. And I may have to disappear for a while... there are a few people I need to catch up with."
The side street opened on a wider roadway full of hawkers and peddlers. They headed left, hitting a open plaza a half mile or so later. Delrin needed no guide to spot the elvish embassy. It was a delicate, tall structure full of spirals and lacy carvings, unlike anything else he had seen in the city.
At the front door, two unobtrusive humans guards watched impassively as they walked through the entrance way. Delrin would have sworn they were about to intercept the group, but a funny hand motion by Krinn had stopped them. As they passed through the doorway, he felt a funny tingling that started in the base of his spine and travel to his head, but nothing else unusual happened.
The inside seemed larger than it could be given the outside dimensions of the building. Large white marble pillars, and a mix of white and black marble floors, but almost no furnishings. And a white marble staircase ended in large, white doors. The color scheme for the place really needed some work.
"Tronella, pesa mes sallor." A tall, spindly figure flowed down the stairwell with a grace that made simple movement seem a dance.
"Pesa mes sallor" echoed Krinn. "Hi, Prenanala" she added, walking up to him and brushing his cheek. It was more a greeting than an act of familiarity. "Let me introduce you around." She quickly nodded to each of the party members in turn, speaking their names.
Prenanala greeted each in turn, pausing only momentarily over Glorm, who looked uncomfortable. He clapped his hands twice, and a number of human servants quickly brought cushions and pillows for people to rest on. Tanaka and Fuji looked at them in obvious distaste and elected to stand, muttering to each other in Kanday. Fruits and wine appeared next. Tanaka and Fuji sniffed the wine, took a small sip, and spat it back into the cup. Prenanala looked taken aback for the first time, but signaled again. Beer in cold mugs appeared as if by magic, and several gratefully grabbed the drafties.
They settled down, and Krinn gave the basic outline of their mission, and although most of it was in elvish, she clearly was asking him to identify the scroll. The tall elf took it and without opening it muttered for a moment, then looked surprised.
"Well, it is a fairly harmless spell. A binding spell, or binding detection, to be exact. When events of significance to an individual occur, there is some psychic energy released. There is a pattern to this energy that imprints itself on the things that surround the event, particularly those that are used directly as part of the event. This scroll merely amplifies that residual pattern and allows you to know if a set of items is related in some way to a special event, and to some extent what it was."
"Look at the writing" suggested Krinn. Prenanala did.
"Curious" he said, scanning it. "But again, merely odd, nothing sinister. This is merely in a very old form of elvish. About ten thousand years, I think. The most interesting question is who would bother to write a scroll in it, then put a translation spell on top to allow someone... and one would assume an elf... to use it. Why not write it in modern Elvish? Where did you get this?"
Krinn glanced back at the rest of them. "I really don't know. Where DID you get this, anyway?"
Krinn and Prenanala looked directly at the group for an answer.
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