The Tenth Pit simmers, the Tenth Pit boils
In deepest conspiracy
the Tenth Pit roils
They plot with the
finest, most evil of brains
And conspire to put the
universe in chains
Chapter
Eight
Traveling through the phlogiston was
as different from journey through wildspace as night was different from
day. In wildspace, since the only
external light came from the distant stars and whatever fireworlds happened to
be nearby, illuminated areas on ship were generally belowdecks (abovedecks the light
was wasted on the endless void). As a
results, crews usually spent their free time below when travelling through a
sphere. In the rainbow ocean, however,
the endless nothing which stretched in all directions was brightly colored, and
illumination came from without.
Belowdecks it was necessarily dark (because open flame would set the
phlogiston off) except for those few rooms which had portholes. (Incidentally, the main reason spelljamming
ships even had portholes was to let light from the phlogiston in.)
In some ways, though, traveling by
spelljammer was the same no matter where it was done. Unless a crewmember was manning the spelljamming helm, no matter
what his duties might be, he was going to be left with a lot of free time on
his hands.
Tianna, who had no duties
whatsoever, was left with more time than most.
She decided to discover where they were heading. Although she was by no means a trained
navigator, she was well-enough versed with spelljamming that it didn't take her
long to work out that the Nightwarder
wasn't headed for anywhere near Faeriespace.
That particular sphere was in almost exactly the opposite direction.
When she confronted Reanyn about
their course, he was unconcerned.
"You said that Faeriespace was the last place Windhook was
seen. And that word would have to have
been at least several weeks old by the time you got it to me."
"So?" she asked.
"He won't be there now."
"What?"
He looked at her strangely. "Did you think he would be? This is the Raver we're talking about, after
all, and even though I personally don't believe in the myth there are a lot of
people who do. Mercenaries and killers
for the most part. You can bet they'll
have combed that sphere for him by now."
Tianna remained unconvinced. "A sphere is a pretty big place."
"Not that big. If he's still there, he's dead by now."
She was getting irritated. Is he
giving up already? " You're
not even going to look for a trail?"
"Of course I am. But I don't expect to have to go all the way
to Faeriespace to find it. The best
place to start anything is at the beginning."
And that was all he would say.
They stayed to the center of the
'river', surfacing occasionally to take bearings and measurements. Navigating through the Flow was tricky. There were no star formations to tell
precisely what a ship's position was.
The fourth day, when they surfaced,
the gigantic ebony shell of a crystal sphere appeared off the starboard bow.
Immediately the Nightwarder abandoned the river and headed for the shell.
Although it looked almost close
enough to reach out and touch, it took almost an entire day's journey to reach
it. Distances were difficult to judge
when the only object the eyes had to measure scale was as incredibly immense as
a crystal sphere.
Once they reached it, it was a
simple matter for the orc priest to open a portal. And then the Nightwarder
passed into the sphere, darkness engulfing it as the portal closed behind.
The ship stopped just inside the
shell, lamps being lighted both above and below. Reanyn and the navigator dragged out star charts and began making
calculations, then went below to double check their findings. It was cold in this sphere, much colder than
the phlogiston had been (temperatures in the rainbow ocean varied slightly in some
places, but were for the main part temperate), and the crew quickly bundled up
in cloaks and furs.
It was nearly an hour before Reanyn
came up on deck again. He barked out a
series of coordinates, and the ship gave a whine as it slipped into spelljamming
speed.
"What is this place?"
Tianna asked. She didn't recognize the
star constellations. "Where are we
going?"
"This is Weyrspace," he
answered her. "We are headed for
Windhook's homeworld."
"His homeworld?" Tianna was confused. "How do you know which planet he's
from?"
"I'll be very surprised if he's
not from Westfall. It's the only
human-populated planet in the sphere."
"But what good will his
homeworld be to us? You don't seriously
expect him to be there, do you?"
"I wouldn't discount the
possibility. In any case, it's where
the trail will begin."
"And what if he didn't leave a
trail?"
Reanyn shook his head. "Everyone leaves a trail."
* * *
Westfall was a small, barren world,
sparsely populated and loosely-governed by a mostly-human nation. It was a strange planet, slightly warmer
than most but with almost no weather patterns to speak of. The bluish-green fireworld it orbited lent
it an unearthly aspect.
The native population, small as it
was, was conversant with spelljamming technology (no surprise, since it was
originally colonized by human spelljammers) and had a small spelljammer port
equipped with facilities for ships with ground-landing capabilities. (In reality, the port was little more than a
large mostly-flat area of dusty ground that had been cleared and marked
off.) There were three other
spelljamming ships already docked: a
sleek-looking hammership, a tradesman, and a battered vipership.
The Nightwarder put down without difficulty, and after Reanyn had paid the
docking fees to the port authorities (two gold pieces to a bored-looking older
man who didn't leave the shade of his hut or even stand when Reanyn approached)
he struck out on foot towards the nearest 'city' (a small town located less
than half a mile away). The crew
remained aboard (goblinkin were not always a welcome sight on human worlds)
along with Tianna (who protested bitterly, but was compelled to remain by an
impassive Reanyn).
Westfall (the city bore the same
name as the world) turned out to be larger than Reanyn had expected. Still it took only a half hour to find what
he was looking for. Jarren Windhook was
the son of two of the original colonists of Westfall. He had grown up here, and although both his parents had passed
away years ago he had a brother, Myfallar, who still lived here on
Westfall. A little more digging
revealed that Myfallar was something of a sot, and could often be found in one
of the taverns on the bad side of town.
It took less than fifteen minutes to
find The Spacefarer's Song. The Song
was typical of any of a thousand alehouses on a hundred other worlds: a filthy, dark, and rundown tavern filled
with the usual scum. Most hovered over
their tables, ignoring everyone and everything around them, but there was one
young human who sat in the corner, surreptitiously observing everything. Reanyn noted the young man, but his face had
not appeared on any wanted posters, so he walked on. He headed straight for the barkeep, a hard-bitten woman of about
thrity or so who looked like she was busy doing nothing.
"Myfallar Windhook," he
said, flipping her a silver piece.
She caught it deftly. "That's funny, you don't look a thing
like him," she said.
"I was told I could find him
here."
The silver piece had disappeared
into her bodice. "He's been here
before," she said. "Maybe
he's even here now."
He flipped her another silver piece.
She chuckled. "Well, well. Ain't he the popular one, all of a sudden. He owes you money?"
"It's a private affair."
"Sure, sure." She jerked a thumb. "He's in back, with them others. And you remember, whatever money you might
squeeze out of him he already owes to me."
Reanyn was already halfway down the
small dark hallway the woman had indicated.
There were two toughs lounging near the door at the far end. They stepped into his path as he approached.
"May we be of help?" asked
one of them, plainly not interested in helping anyone.
"I'm here to see
Windhook," said Reanyn.
"He's busy," grunted the
other one, cracking his knuckles loudly.
"Come back some other time."
Reanyn stared at them. "Get out of the way."
The larger of the two stepped
forward. "Look," he said,
poking Reanyn in the chest with a grimy finger, "I don't like elves to
begin with, so don't test my patience."
"My friend don't like
elves," echoed the other man.
"I don't like 'em either."
Reanyn looked from one to
another. "You were warned."
Then he went into motion. He siezed the man's arm and pivoted, putting
considerable force into the manuever.
As the man was lifted bodily off his feet and flung past, Reanyn could
hear tendons ripping in his arm.
The man gave a grunt of surprise and
pain before connecting with the right-hand wall. He hit head first, his body flopping like a ragdoll, and there
was a sound like the crunching of bone.
The second man barely had time to
register surprise before Reanyn's right foot lashed out in a graceful arc,
catching him with great force on the chin and spinning him in a half circle
into the opposite wall.
Reanyn was past them and at the door
before the two had slumped to the floor.
It was locked. Reanyn tore it from its hinges and tossed it
to the side.
The room within was small, barely
more than a closet. Two men were
standing near the doorway, each holding a wicked-looking mace, and two more
were on the far side of the room, bending over a third, who was tied to a
chair.
The two at the door had half turned
at the sound of the door being ripped open.
They lifted their weapons reflexively as Reanyn entered, but had time to
do little else before Reanyn was upon them.
Smoothly Reanyn's arm arced out,
gracefully lifting a dagger from the belt of the man on the right in the blink
of an eye. As the man looked down in
surprise, Reanyn stabbed upward,
plunging it into the man's right eye, killing him with his own weapon. Reanyn
let go of the dagger for a moment, ducking under a blow the second man swung at
him, then reached back, grasping the hilt of the dagger and pulling it free of
the first man's eye. Before the second
man had time to recover his balance Reanyn had buried the dagger in his throat.
The first man dropped like a stone,
without a sound. The second gave a
horrible cough, lurched forward a few steps, and fell down face first.
"Not one move!" screamed
the shorter of the two men across the room, pressing the point of a dagger into
the bound man's throat. "Not one
more move! Come any closer and he
dies!" The other man had produced
a shortsword and was waving it threateningly.
"Tyrinon Flemyr," said
Reanyn, recognizing the shorter man from wanted posters. "There's paper on you." That was an understatement. Flemyr was one of the top members of the
Tenth Pit, a secret society whose sadistic members were bent on controlling the
spaceways. The atrocities Flemyr had
committed were too numerous to list.
"I'll give you just one chance to surrender."
"Who are you?" shrieked
Flemyr.
"Reanyn Al'Nuoth."
The two man looked each other. "The Wayfarer?" Flemyr asked,
looking back at him.
Reanyn nodded. "Put down the dagger and I'll let you
live."
Flemyr giggled. "You must think me mad, Wayfarer. This bloated human," (he gave the bound
man a small kick) "is my only ticket out of here."
Reanyn considered the bound
man. He didn't look like he was having
a good day. He was a little overweight,
and it was obvious that he hadn't shaved in a while. His mouth was bloody, as if he had been struck repeatedly (which
he probably had, Reanyn thought, knowing Flemyr's methods), and he lolled in
his seat as if he were not fully aware of what was going on around him. "That is Myfallar Windhook, then?"
"Who else would it be? You just stay back or I'll gut him like a
pig!"
"Put down the dagger,"
said Reanyn again.
"Forget it!" barked
Flemyr, a triumphant grin on his face. "I'm
holding all the cards here!"
Reanyn shrugged. "Your choice. The reward is the same whether you’re dead or alive. Incidentally, what does the Tenth Pit want
with a second-rate drunk like Myfallar Windhook?"
"Don't play games with me,
Wayfarer! It's the Raver we're after,
same as you! Now, we're leaving, and
you're not going to be stopping us!"
Flemyr seized the bound man by his hair and yanked him to his feet, cutting
the ropes that held him to the chair.
In that moment, Reanyn moved. He crossed the room in one bound, his hand
whipping out as he did so, crushing the sword-wielder's larynx in passing. The man went flying backwards from the force
of the blow, his sword slipping from numb fingers as his hands clutched feebly
at his throat.
Before Flemyr could put the dagger back to Myfallar's throat Reanyn had seized his wrist, yanking it brutally backwards and to the side. Flemyr screamed as his arm and wrist were broken in five different places.
Holding Flemyr's broken arm firmly
behind his back with one hand, Reanyn reached around Flemyr's head with his other, cupping his chin. He gave a yank and Flemyr shrieked once as
his neck was broken.
The swordsman had fallen to the
floor, his face turning blue and his mouth working silently. A moment later he too was dead.
Reanyn let Flemyr's corpse drop and
turned to Myfallar.
"Who are you?" Windhook, a
touch of awe in his voice. He hadn't
been able to follow Reanyn's movements, as bleary as he was.
"Not important." said
Reanyn, cutting the ropes that still bound the man and helping him to sit
again. "I'm trying to find your
brother."
The man tried to focus. He could barely stand. "That's what these others said. How do I know you'll let me live if I tell
you what I know?"
Reanyn shrugged. "You're not wanted and I'm a bounty
hunter. I don't kill for pleasure. Good enough?"
"Not really."
"Too bad. Now tell me, when was the last time you saw
your brother?"
"Do we have to talk here,"
asked Myfallar, gesturing at the dead bodies.
"I'd feel more comfortable-"
"Right here," Reanyn
interrupted. "Now, tell me
everything about your brother. Leave
nothing out."
* * *
In ten minutes he was on his way
again, hoisting the body of Flemyr over one shoulder and leaving a bewildered
Myfallar behind.
There was a ripple of surprise as he
re-entered the main tavern room with the corpse slung over his shoulder.
"Well, I hope you didn't kill
nobody who didn't need killing," said the barkeep, her hands on hips. "And I surely hope you didn't destroy
my building."
Reanyn flipped her a gold piece in
passing. "Damages," he
said. She made it disappear as quickly
as she had the first.
He surveyed the room, looking for
possible trouble. All was quiet. He wondered if the patrons had even heard
anything. It was possible they hadn't;
the hallway was fairly long after all.
The young man whom he had noted earlier was gone now, though, and for
some reason that alarmed him.
It took him a half an hour to find
the local constabulary. Flemyr's crimes
weren't as well known in this part of the multiverse, and Reanyn was
disappointed by the small reward. He
couldn't very well lug the corpse across the universe looking for a better
place to cash Flemyr in though, so he took what he could get and headed back
for the Nightwarder.
But when he got there, he discovered
Tianna wasn't aboard.
"Where is the elf?" he
asked Keryth, the gnoll first officer.
Keryth shrugged. "Left the ship in search of you. Should we have stopped her?"
Reanyn muttered an oath under his
breath. "I'll fetch her back. If she comes back here while I'm gone, lock
her in her cabin."
* * *
"Excuse me, are you the
Wayfarer?"
Reanyn had searched the city for
over two hours now, with no luck. In
fact, he was on the verge of abandoning Tianna to her fate when the young boy
hesitantly approached him.
"Yes," he answered.
The boy seemed unsure of
himself. "there's a man who wants
to see you. He gave me a whole silver
piece."
"Where do I find him?"
The pointed across the street towards
a small cafe. "Over there. He's dressed all in black."
Reanyn crossed the street, stepping
into the cafe and looking across the tables.
There were very few people; the man in black was seated in the back of
the room, his back to the corner.
Beside him sat Tianna.
Reanyn looked him up and down as he
approached. He was tall (though it was
difficult to tell exactly how tall because he was sitting) with cold blue eyes
and dark brown hair. His face was
handosme but angular, and he was meticulous in dress and manner.
"I don't know you."
The man smiled. "I'm not surprised. I'm not a criminal."
"And the elf sitting to your
right isn't your prisoner?"
The man shook his head. "Hardly that. I persuaded her to stay here with me until you appeared." He stroked her cheek. Strangely enough Tianna did not shy away
from his touch. She seemed to be
oblivious to what was happening around her.
"I am something of an admirer of beautiful women. The scar is lovely, don't you think? I assure you, she was not forced to
stay. I even sent people out to find
you. Are those the actions of a
kidnapper? Think of me as simply
watching over your property."
"She's not property." He was looking at her, wondering what kind
of drug she'd been given.
"Your ward, then."
"You're a mind bender,"
Reanyn spoke aloud as he realized it.
"You've done something to her mind."
"We prefer the term
psionicist," said the man.
"I've merely planted a suggestion for her to stay here at this
table. It's perfectly safe, I assure
you. Her mind isn't damaged in any
way. If you want, I can take the
suggestion from her."
Reanyn nodded. "Fine then. Do so and we'll be going."
"Just a moment. I think I have something to offer you."
"Yes?"
"I understand you and I are
looking for the same person."
"Really?"
The man leaned forward. "The Raver."
Reanyn shook his head. "I'm not looking for the Raver. I don't even believe he exists."
The man chuckled. "You seem to be going to a great deal
of effort to find someone you don't even believe in. You realize, of course, that there are others on the trail? Barundar and Nym came through here a month
ago, questioning Windhook's brother.
You know them?"
Reanyn nodded. "Our paths have crossed. We're involved in the same business."
"They are ahead of you. And they are not the only ones. I've heard that Diamond Jill is searching
for the Raver too, and of course Cyril Blackthorne's been on his trail for
years. There's even rumors Twilight
Jack has come back out of retirement.
And those are just the bounty hunters."
"Twilight Jack is an
assassin," Reanyn pointed out.
"Whole governments are after
the Raver. You had an encounter with
the Tenth Pit just today - and don't think they plan on forgiving or forgetting
anytime soon. The Raver doesn't draw
only bounty hunters, Wayfarer; the reward is just too big."
"I'm certain this is going
somewhere."
The man smiled. "The point is, you've got
competition. Some of which has a clear
head start on you. You're going to have
to work fast if you want to track down the Raver before they get to him."
"People have been hunting the
Raver since before I left the Fleet. In
all that time, no-one has even gotten close to him."
"Who's to say? A lot of people who chased after the Raver
ended up dead. They didn't die of old
age. Maybe more people have gotten
close to him than you think. And now,
with all the people chasing him..."
"There are always people after
the Raver. That doesn't make him
real."
"For the price that's on his
head, I would think you would be a little more open-minded."
Reanyn shook his head. "All of this is academic. I'm not hunting the Raver."
"But you are searching for a
man named Jarren Windhook."
"Perhaps."
"As am I."
Reanyn looked him up and down. "If you're looking for Windhook, then
you don't know where he is. I can think
of no other possible way you could be of use to me."
"You just said it yourself -
" the man protested, "I'm a mindbender."
"I thought you preferred
psionicist. And why would I need someone
with your abilities?"
The man shrugged. "I can be very useful. Imagine having someone with you who cannot
be lied to, for instance."
"That's presupposing I trust
you. And there are other ways of
determining whether someone is telling the truth or not."
"I can do more than simply
detect lies, Wayfarer. I am, after all
one of the more skilled mentalists in the spheres." He extended a hand. "Perhaps my reputation precedes
me. My name is Tavras. Wayland Tavras."