Chapter
Fourteen
"That was a piking stupid thing to do, cutter. Taking on a cipher in a rigged contest. You're sodding lucky to be alive." Brianna's cold gaze slid to the girl who
Gwydion had rescued. "Thinking
with your sword arm," she said in disgust. "Bloody impressive.
What exactly are we supposed to do with her now?"
Gwydion glanced at his beautiful captive. The girl had not yet spoken; he was not
certain that she understood what Brianna was saying. She stared at Brianna and Tap warily, as if they might strike
her. "I did... what I did, had to
be done."
"Right," said Brianna contemptuously. "And of course the fact that she's a
pleasure-slave who has the curves of a goddess never entered your mind. Tell me:
Would you have been so swift to rescue her if she were an old man?"
Gwydion was surprised by the bitterness in her
voice. It almost sounded as if Brianna
were jealous. "As a matter of fact
I would," he said evenly.
"Now drop it. The deed is
done, for ill or good. I will set the
girl free and the affair will be finished.
The stone creature gave me the key to her collar, should I desire to
have it off."
"Unlock that girl's collar," warned Brianna,
"and every patron here will rise against you. It is the law, cutter. Slaves
must be collared in Sigil. I don't care
what the gargoyle gave you."
"Then I will take her outside, beyond their sight,
and set her free."
"No good," interjected Tap. "Bold paladin has won the day against
all odds; many there are who will be watching him now."
"He's right," said Brianna. "You've drawn attention to yourself,
and with the people who are looking for us already - competent people, trust me
- you're going to get noticed if you do anything else foolish."
"I'll risk it," said Gwydion.
Brianna shook her head.
"The penalty for freeing a slave is slavery." She jerked a thumb towards the captive
girl. "For her it's even
worse. Death. Not to mention the boy and me.
So don't talk about what 'you'll' risk.
Talk about the risk to which you've put us all. You should have listened to me before you
dashed off to the rescue, paladin. You
should have listened and sat tight.
Like it or not, you're saddled with that pleasure slut until we leave
Sigil. Which means I'm saddled with her
too, since I'm saddled with you."
"I have a name," the collared woman said
quietly. "It isn't 'slut'."
Gwydion and Brianna alike turned to stare at her. She had been so quiet and demure, following
him submissively when he had led the way back to their table from the fighting
platform even though a quick movement of resistance could easily have jerked
the leash from his grip and a lucky dash across the crowded room might have
meant escape, that both of them were startled by the sound of her voice.
It was soft, yet filled with quiet strength and
resolve. And it was musical, pleasing
to the ear - certainly the most appealing and feminine voice Gwydion had ever
heard.
"I apologize, lady," he said, chastened, though
Brianna still wore a sour look.
"What is your name?"
"Lady Trystessa," she answered. "Daughter of Hendra, Son of the Light
and Heir of Righteousness."
Gwydion stared at her.
"You are a noble, then?"
She gave a slow nod.
"I am, though I was stolen by Outland bandits and sold into
slavery."
"Fine," said Brianna shortly. "Your name is Trystessa. Wonderful.
And plainly you speak planar common.
Now that that's straightened out, little virgin queen, let me clarify
something for you: We didn't ask for
you and we don't want you. All you are
to me is dead weight." Her finger
stabbed the air in front of the other woman's face. "So I don't give a modron's smile whether you’re a 'lady' or
the lost Princess Secora herself, walked straight out of fairy tales. You're a useless bit of fluff sold as a pleasure
slave, and like as not you'll be nothing but a burden. So keep your pretty little mouth shut and if
fortune favors us we'll be rid of you soon."
The woman flushed but cast her eyes down, nodding
subserviently. "As you wish."
"Brianna," said Gwydion angrily. "You can't-"
"Don't get in an uproar, paladin," she said,
cutting him off. "Your stupid
bravado in accepting the contest has already drawn more attention than we
want. I know a few people - friends -
who may yet get us out of the city. All
we need is a portal, though thanks to your display of chivalry we'll have to
move fast to stay ahead of those who are after you. First things first: we
clear out of this place, right now, and concentrate on finding a safe
portal. Doesn't matter where to. Once we're out of Sigil then you can do your
'noble knight' routine and free the pleasure tramp. Give her a bloody party for all I care - but until then you'd
piking well better keep low and do as I say.
Now let's go."
"We're not leaving yet," said Gwydion. "At least I'm not."
Brianna looked at him blankly. "Paladin, there are people after us. People after you. And with your little
exhibition you have drawn notice here.
We cannot tarry."
Gwydion held up the note the centaur-creature had brought. "Have you forgotten the message? The one addressed to me and penned in my
native tongue?"
She nodded grimly.
"And delivered to you by courier at this particular table not
twenty minutes past. I told you
before: such a feat is not possible. No-one could have tracked us that quickly, that precisely. And the summons to a mysterious meeting in
Room 52, of all places. I told you
before, paladin, don't go. We've trouble enough with the people after
us and this fool girl you rescued. We
don't need more. My advice is we leave
right now and don't stop until we're well clear of Sigil."
Gwydion shook his head.
"I told you before. I won't
risk losing a chance to track the Icon.
Whoever or whatever sent that message could have sent men to kill us instead,
had it meant us harm. As for your 'Room
52', I'll risk it."
Tap had been looking from one of them to the other. "Dangerous place, cutter, filled with
legends and hauntings. Wise lady is
probably right, but Tap will show you the way if you decide to go."
Gwydion nodded.
"Forget it, whelp," said Brianna with a
snort. "If the dumb basher is
determined to put us all in the dead-book..." she grumbled, "well, at
least it'll be an interesting ride. You
want to see Room 52, cutter? Come on
then, let's go."
* * *
The main room of
the Broken Trust was adjoined on all
sides by several tunnel-like halls that appeared randomly scattered around the
room, some higher and some lower. The
openings to the halls were strange; small irregular circles and oblongs that
looked like they had been burrowed into the walls, each unique. They reminded Gwydion more of the intricate
and alien holes burrowed by nesting insects on his homeworld than of any
man-made structure, and it made his skin crawl. Some of the halls glowed eerily from fitful flickering of torches
from within, but most were pitch dark.
Brianna led the small party across one of the lower
hanging bridges that led to one of the holes.
The bridge was made of old wood, and the planks shifted and groaned
beneath their weight.
The aperture leading into the hall was roughly oval, and
looked like it had been bored into the hard stone-like wall. Brianna snatched up the torch that was
wedged into the final post of the bridge and ducked her head, entering. As Gwydion followed he glanced down at the
edge of the hole. There were marks in
the stony surface, cruel and irregular lines.
They looked like claw marks.
Within, the ‘hall’ seemed more like a tunnel tunneled
through the earth by some wild animal than any human construction. The walls were rounded, and mostly smooth,
and it ran jaggedly, sometimes sloping downward or upward, or pitching to the
side. There were no doors that Gwydion
could see. “What manner of creature
would choose to stay in a place like this?” he asked aloud. “It seems more a cave than an inn.”
“Some creatures prefer caves, paladin,” said Brianna
shortly. She glanced back at him. “Keep a tight rein on that bit of fluff; we
don’t want her running off. If you
can’t keep a solid grip on her leash, I will.”
Gwydion was loosely holding the end of the leash attached
to Trystessa’s collar. She had followed
quietly and without protest, though she looked frightened. Tap was just behind her. “I’ve got her,” he said quietly, not wanting
to argue.
But Brianna had already turned away, leading the way with
her flickering torch. The tunnel took
an abrupt left turn and suddenly the rest of the small party was left in
semi-darkness as the light was swallowed.
“Hurry on, paladin,” said Tap, pushing forward
nervously. “In a place such as this,
light is not good but darkness is far worse.”
Gwydion hurried forward.
As they rounded the corner, they were confronted with the
end of the hall. It ended in a rounded
wall.
Brianna stood before it, her torch held high. She turned and looked at him. “Room 52, cutter,” she said, and stepped
back.
There was a door there, a stout wooden one made of some
dark, twisted oak. Instead of being set
vertically into the wall, it was set into the slope of the wall as it curved to
the floor, pitched at such a sharp angle that it lay nearly horizontal.
“That’s it?” asked Gwydion, stepping forward. It looked a little like one of the trapdoors
that led down into the cellars of some of the neighboring farms on his
homeworld.
She nodded grimly.
“That’s it. Now you’ve seen
it. Can we go?”
He shook his head, not bothering to answer, and reached
down to grasp the rounded handle. The
metal was rusted nearly green, but it was firm and smooth beneath his hands.
“Forget it, cutter,” said Brianna, “Room 52’s been sealed
for years. That means nailed shut, and
worked with sorceries to keep it closed.
You won’t get it to budge-”
Gwydion twisted the handle, feeling the mechanism
disengage. With a groan and a shudder,
the door began to pull open slowly.
There was a sudden puff of stale air from within, and
suddenly the door swung wide, revealing a small darkened chamber. Dust motes danced in the flickering light of
Brianna’s torch.
Her eyes were wide.
“That... shouldn’t have happened,” she said faintly.
Gwydion glanced back at her, then motioned for her to
bring the torch closer. When she didn’t
respond, he reached back and took it from her, then extended the flame through
the doorframe and into the room.
The chamber within was small, with a wooden floor and
fairly regular dimensions. From where
Gwydion stood he could see a small bed and the edge of a dresser with a mirror
set atop. In sharp contrast to the
tunnel-like hall they stood in, the walls and floor of the little bedchamber
were of normal dimensions, and constructed for the most part of wooden beams
and planking. A thick layer of dust lay
over everything, and it looked as if nothing here had been disturbed for some
time.
“Looks normal enough to me,” said Gwydion. “What did you say happened here?”
“Which time?” asked Tap from behind.
“Does it matter?” asked Brianna. “People who go in don’t come out again. It’s that simple.”
“It looks empty,” said Gwydion.
“I agree,” said Brianna.
“So there’s no reason to go in.”
Gwydion shook his head.
“The message said ‘Room 52’.”
“We came; there’s nothing here. End of story. Now let’s
go.”
Gwydion looked back at her, then handed the end of
Trystessa’s leash to her. He pulled tylith-senshai from its sheath. The sword was cold and dark.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, only extended the torch into the room
again, ducked his head low to get through the sloped door, and stepped forward.
An electric shock shot through his body as he stepped
through the doorframe, and he gasped as if he’d been doused with freezing
water. His foot didn’t come down on the
floor as he’d expected, for the floor was no longer in the same place, but
nearly six inches lower. Gravity had
shifted as well, so that ‘down’ was no longer straight beneath his feet, but
rather beneath and slightly forward.
He stumbled into a sprawl, nearly dropping tylith-senshai. He knew instantly what had happened, for he
had not stepped into the small bedchamber at all. The room he had entered was large and spacious, though only dimly
lit.
A portal! he
thought in surprise.
Tylith-senshai
was alive in his hands, thrumming angrily against his palms, the blade glowing
with a bright inner light. Danger!
He knew the sword was reacting to the presence of evil.
The room was wide and dark, filled with the shapes of
tables and chairs. The ceiling was
high, and there were wooden pillars supporting it spaced evenly in ten foot
intervals. It was familiar to him...
An icy prickle slid down his back. It was a familiar room, yes. In fact, he had been here before. It was exactly, in shape and dimensions, the
same as a tavern his compatriots had frequented when he was a young cadet in
training, within the city Nauntin on his homeworld. He remembered it well, for he had hated it. All the templars had come here, for wine or
women, and it had been the scene of one of the most humiliating events of his
young life...
Angrily he forced the thought down. He was in danger in the here and now. Besides, this was not - could not - be the
same place. The tables here were
covered in cobwebs, the dust on the floor was undisturbed. There were no men here. And beyond the windows a greenish, unearthly
light pulsed steadily.
There was a single candle lit on a table on the far side
of the room. A cloaked man sat behind
it, watching him with dark eyes.
Behind him Gwydion heard a thrum, and a muttered
imprecation as someone thumped to the floor behind him. He shifted slightly, sword held ready, unwilling
to take his gaze from the man at the table, and glanced back with his
peripheral vision.
Brianna was just picking herself off the floor. Her eyes were wide as she looked around
herself, and the naked steel of her dagger was visible in her hand. Behind her the portal shimmered like the
surface of turbulent water, the cloudy images of Tap and Trystessa beyond it.
Immediately Gwydion was focused forward again.
The man at the table watched him in silence,
unmoving. The hood of his cloak was
pulled forward, so that only his face was visible. It was a younger man’s face, handsome and slender, with something
about it that suggested elven blood.
His eyes were shadowed, and the flickering of the candle’s light played
across his features, lending them a sinister air. “Greetings, Gwydion Talienvar,” he said at last. He gestured to the chair across from
him. “Won’t you sit?”
“Who are you, and how do you know my name?” Gwydion asked
warily, not moving.
There was a grunt and a thud behind him, and the man
looked past him, his lips twisting into a thin amused smile. “I see your companions have arrived. An interesting company you have chosen with
which to wage war against the forces of darkness. The Clueless, the Fool, and the Traitoress.” This last was said with barely-concealed
menace, and directed towards Brianna.
Gwydion took an instinctive step to place himself between
them, but the cloaked man’s gaze had swung to the side. His expression registered faint
surprise. “This is unexpected,” he said. “Greetings, lady.”
Gwydion glanced back again. Trystessa was standing behind Tap. She must have followed Tap through the portal, though he could
not imagine why, or how she had done it without stumbling as the rest of them
had. Her leash dangled loosely from its
collar. She looked frightened and wary.
“The fourth companion has been chosen, then,” murmured
the cloaked man. “This complicates
things.”
Gwydion took a step towards him. “Who are you?” he asked again. The nearer he came to the cloaked man, the
more the angry vibration pulsing through tylith-senshai’s
hilt grew.
That faint smile reappeared on the man’s face. “You could never pronounce my name,” he
said, “even were I inclined to give it, which I am not. Suffice it to say that I am an ally in your
cause.”
Gwydion stepped closer, his sword still held warily. “How did you know my name? My language? How did you know where to find me?”
The cloaked man gestured to the chair opposite
again. “Please, sit. We have things to discuss. Must you brandish your weapon? I find its presence... distasteful.”
“As it does yours,” Gwydion returned evenly. “Who are you? A name.”
The man was silent a moment. “Call me Whisper,” he said at last. “It will serve.”
Slowly Gwydion seated himself. Deliberately he lay Tylith-senshai
on the table between them. The cloaked
man didn’t move, but his eyes were locked on the blade of the sword, and
Gwydion had the distinct impression that he wanted to shrink back from it.
“Most distasteful,” he repeated.
“How did you know where to find me?” asked Gwydion. “How do you know my name?”
The man was silent for a long moment. “Those who oppose you, those who have the
Icon... they have not acted without preparation. Many of the prophesies have been destroyed and are lost to
me. Enough remain that I have been able
to find you.”
“Prophesies?” asked Gwydion, suspicious.
The man gave a slow nod.
“I have followed your exploits, Gwydion Talienvar, from the moment you
entered the Outlands through the portal from your homeworld. I have walked your dreams to learn more of
you, and I am convinced. You are the
One.”
“The one what?”
The man gave a small half smile. “The one who may recover the Icon. And I am the one who can show you how.”
“Gwydion,” said Brianna from behind him. “I don’t like this man, if that’s what he
is. You hired me to give you
guidance. My advice is that we leave
this... this place. Right now.”
The cloaked man gave her a scathing look. “The traitoress speaks,” he said acidly.
“I trust her judgment far more than yours,” snapped
Gwydion. “Tylith-senshai doesn’t like you and neither do I.” He stood.
“I’m inclined to follow her advice and take my leave of you as swiftly
as possible.”
“If you go now, oh noble paladin, how will you find the
Icon? Only I can tell you where it is.”
Gwydion halted.
“Don’t listen to him, cutter,” said Brianna in a low
voice. “We’ve got plenty to go on. The tiefling’s name, the scrap of paper,
what you saw through that portal...
This man is dangerous. I can
sense it. Any deal you make with him
will lead to destruction.”
The cloaked man gave that bitter smile again. “A ringing endorsement, considering it is
the traitoress who gives it. Oh yes,
the girl is right. I am quite
dangerous, and not at all to be trusted.
But the question, paladin, is am I dangerous to you?”
“Where is the Icon?” demanded Gwydion.
The cloaked man gave a low, throaty chuckle. “Why should I tell you that? It is the one piece of information I have
that you need. That is what we are here
to barter.”
Gwydion shook his head.
“Barter? What do I have that you
want?”
“Just yourself,” said the cloaked man simply. “You are the One. And I would be one of the seven.”
“The seven?”
Again that mysterious smile played across the other man’s
face. “Let me ask you something,
paladin. If I were to tell you where
the Icon is being held, what would you do?”
“Go after it and retrieve it,
of course,” said Gwydion guardedly, sensing a trap.
The cloaked man shook his head. “That would be a very unwise course of action, paladin. You would die. Worse than that, you would fail, and the only hope of retrieving
the Icon from those who have stolen it would die with you.”
“What do you mean?”
The man’s eyes went hooded. “‘Seven companions there shall be,’” he quoted, “‘each chosen by
the One. The task achieved by seven
hands, or else achieved by none.’ The
prophecy is clear.”
Gwydion shook his head.
“What prophecy? I’ve never heard
that little rhyme before in my whole life.”
The cloaked man gave him a sharp look. “You heard the chant as a rhyme?” he said, a
little surprised. Immediately he
nodded. “Further proof that you are the
One.”
“What did he say?” asked Brianna in a low voice. “It sounded like some kind of spellcraft.”
With a little shock, Gwydion realized that when the
cloaked man had spoken the rhyme, he had not been speaking planar common. Instead it was a low, warbling language,
filled with rich contours and hidden meanings.
It was reminiscent of the tongue that the demon in the Outlands had
spoken, though different, more pure, less threatening.
“There are always prophets, paladin,” said the cloaked
man, “and ever through the millennia there have been prophecies. Prophecies of what is, what has been, and
what may yet be. You must choose seven
companions if you are to succeed in your quest.”
There was a beat of silence. “And what do you gain in all this?”
“What do I gain?” asked the cloaked man, an ironic edge
to his voice. “I make no claims to
sainthood, quite the opposite. I am
essentially an evil being, and I make no excuses for that fact. But I do not relish the thought of being
subservient to any man, beast, or god.
I prefer the multiverse as it is - with my own free will to act
intact. And in aiding you on your
quest, I hamper certain powerful enemies of my own. So you see, I am acting only in my own self-interest. You understand?”
Gwydion said nothing.
“As for what I want from you, that is something else
again. I have labored to retrieve the
few prophecies concerning the Icon that still exist, but our mutual enemies
have gone to great lengths to destroy them, and I fear they have done an
excellent job. The few hard facts I
possess suggest that only you may recover the Icon, and only then after you
have chosen your companions. Though the
roles of the companions are hinted at, they are not named. This suggests to me that your choice may be
influenced. The reason I am here,
Gwydion Talienvar, is that I propose to become one of them.”
“One of the companions?” asked Gwydion suspiciously.
The cloaked man nodded.
“I have watched you for some time now, paladin, and while I do not think
you are a fool, I do certainly find you foolish. Already your choices reflect poor judgment.” His eyes flicked to Brianna, Tap, and
Trystessa. “A boy, a pleasure slave,
and a tiefling. This is who you propose
to take into battle. Poor judgment, as
I say, but what has been done cannot be undone. Once chosen, a companion cannot be replaced.”
“I know nothing of this ‘seven’ you speak of, stranger,
but I have chosen no companions. Those
who accompany me do so by their own free will, and I do not consider them bound
to me.”
The cloaked man laughed.
“Did you think they would not?
‘They shall be twice chosen; once by the warrior and once again by
themselves.’ You have chosen the
tiefling and the boy at least, and they have chosen you. And I suspect the pleasure slave will bind
herself to you as well. Blood debt is
one her people do not ignore, and she owes you her freedom and life.”
Gwydion was silent.
The cloaked man leaned forward slightly, and then
immediately was brought up short when tylith-senshai’s
blade flared brightly and buzzed angrily.
“What I propose is simple, paladin.
Choose me as a companion and I will guide you to the place where the
Icon is being held.”
Gwydion was quiet, a frown tugging at his lips.
“You’re not seriously considering this, cutter?” said
Brianna. “He as much as told you he was
evil. You don’t hold a poisonous
serpent to your breast, not unless you’re a fool. You want my advice, we leave this place now, and find the Icon on
our own.”
The cloaked man didn’t even glance at her. “I am an extremely powerful sorcerer,
paladin. My knowledge of the planes is
virtually unsurpassed. I have talents
that you will need. I can be a very
powerful ally to your quest. None of
the companions you have chosen have even moderate battle skills, while I am a
trained war mage.”
“I trust them,” said Gwydion. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You can’t,” said Brianna. “Don’t be a fool, cutter.”
“You cannot trust me,” cut in the cloaked man smoothly,
unruffled. “Or rather, you may trust me
only to do what is in my own best interest.
As I have said, my best interest is to see that the Icon is retrieved
from those who hold it now. And with
that knowledge, you may choose me as a companion and trust that I will not
betray you.” That ghostly smile played
along those thin lips again. “Of
course, if my intention was to betray you, you would already be dead.”
Gwydion was quiet again.
“My proposition is simple, paladin,” said the cloaked
man. “You need help, and I can be of
tremendous aid to you. What is your
answer?”
There was a beat of silence, and then Gwydion gave a slow
nod. “I choose you as a companion,
then,” he said, “though I’m not certain I even believe any of your talk about
this ‘seven’.”
A look of triumph flashed across the cloaked man’s narrow
face and he gave a feral smile. “And I
choose you, paladin,” he said.
On the table, tylith-senshai
flared brightly, still buzzing angrily.
Brianna stared at Gwydion as if he’d lost his mind.
“Oh, foolish paladin,” said Tap in a low moan. “What have you done?”