Preface:

This is my attempt at a Dungeons and Dragons novel. I originally wrote a short story (“Eggeyes, Defender of the Faith”) in one evening of tying in the late fall of 1982. I started a follow on story in early spring 1983 but totally lost interest; actually, my Navy career completely “cock blocked” me and I never got back to the story.

Part of this novel is based on that failed second story.

After finishing my work in November 2015, I added “Eggeyes, Defender of the Faith”. I did not include this 33 year old story with my November 2015 creation for obvious reasons.

I can safely say I did not base the characters in this novel on anyone I know.

Michael W. Bell

Dodge City, Kansas

November 2015

Contact (Present)

Pitrov ap Gina of the Court of the Inner Kingdom lead his group up a hill. Grass easily higher than everyone’s heads was ahead of them. The ground was lost under the grass they trampled beneath their boots. One of the triplets thought he saw a hint of strange motion in the grass and signaled a stop.

They looked around and saw nothing.

Pitrov ap Gina dropped to his right knee and parted the grass at the ridge of the hill. In the distance he saw a strange building. He saw nothing more as trouser covered human legs were suddenly in front of him.

His Paladin, Morgon, casually glanced around and remarked: “We have some visitors.”

Behind them were four short, slender and heavily armed Half-Elves. They smiled and one say “we have visitors.”

The Human in front of Pitrov ap Gina smirked as he said “any why do we have visitors”.

“That is an interesting question and our best answer is ‘you invited us’. Perhaps, I should say your people invited us?”

“I wasn’t told of such an invitation. Perhaps the elders can answer your question?”

One of the Half-Elves murmured something and the man nodded. The Half-Elven moved easily through the high grasses. Moments later, he reappeared and stated:

“The Old Ones will receive the visitors.”

In front of the them was a hill with short grass leading into a large field. Long haired sheep were cropping the grass. In the middle distance was a building that appeared to have been cut out of a large rock spire. Other rock spires dotted the sky in the distance and what appeared to be various crops.

Humans and Half-Elves stood across the grass field; some were Humans holding Half-Elven children. The crowd appeared to be a casually mixed group of both species with adults holding children of both species or simply standing with children. As they got closer, they noticed two things about the Humans. The first, the human did not look any of the Human peoples they were used to.

Second, the humans looked very much like close relatives.

The final mystery was presented to Pitrov ap Gina and his comrades just before the entrance to the beautiful building. There were clusters of Humans and Half-Elven whose body language said relatives.

This was stunning to the people of the Inner Kingdom.

Temple of the Way (Six months ago)

Pitrov ap Gina sat on his throne overseeing his students working on their combat skills. His instructors had lead the young ones through running, calisthenics, and finally katas. Pitrov ap Gina had lead his instructor Monks in their runs, workouts and Martial Arts training that morning. Some were almost ready to be elevated. He had delegated the planning of the promotion ceremonies to his Second and looked forward to seeing how well this would turn out.

In the forefront was a class of children. They had the attention of high ranking and medium ranking instructors. If one of the girls was subtly getting a bit more attention than the other students, then that was an illusion. One of the girls was self-confident and showed a certain promise.

Pitrov ap Gina was a very senior Monk of a sect that required it’s people to be chase. The Master of his sect knew better than to expect the impossible.

The self-confident girl was Pitrov ap Gina’s daughter, Debra ap Pitrov.

Looking at her, Pitrov had a flashback of the time before he had wed the girl’s Mother and well before her birth.

He had finally achieved the rank of Disciple of Mysteries when he was given the position of Lead Instructor in the Temple of the Way. He had fallen in love with a more senior Monk. He knew it would probably be futile to court this higher ranked woman but she returned the interest.

He knew there was a way but it was dangerous.

Pitrov ap Gina went to the Immaculate, who was leader of the Temple School.

“Master, I wish to challenge you for your position”

“Why”, the Temple Master replied.

“It is necessary for me; it is not personal regarding you.”

“You are not ready to replace me, Pitrov. You have ambition but not ambitious to replace me. Thus, this is personal for you. I fear you have made it personal for me.”

Pitrov ap Gina had fallen into relaxed stance which allowed him to move into three different styles. His Master, the sole holder of the Rank of Immaculate in their city simply moved a little and was in a puzzling stance that appeared to come from none of the styles Pitrov knew of.

To an outsider, it appeared that nothing was happening. Pitrov would begin to move his arms or legs and his Master would have already slide into the start of defensive moves. Then, the Immaculate would start his own assaults and got further into them before Pitrov was able to respond.

The Master had been scanning the room and noticed a young female Monk observing the fight. Then, the Immaculate realized why Pitrov ap Gina so desperately needed to become Immaculate before his time. He believed that this promotion would allow him to court the young woman; he knew he could not do so at the rank of Disciple of Mysteries.

“Patience, my young one,” the Immaculate said in a tone that only Pitrov could hear. I will give you the advanced training you need and that will include subtle ways of courting your young lady.”

Then the Immaculate broke out of the pattern of unfinished attacks and used a foot sweep to drop Pitrov onto the floor.

Pitrov spent years learning advanced martial arts, improving the subtle arts and began courting his young lady with the blessings of the Immaculate.

His moment of remembrance over, Pitrov was pleased to note his daughter’s style was improving. It would be years before she could attempt the art of dropping down the side of a building in a style that seemed magical. She was nine and thought she knew more than anyone else. His son, an energetic three year old apparently thought all the movement was background and his movements were more important. The boy certainly was receiving a great deal of attention.

Across the room, the former Immaculate, who had been elevated to Master of South Wind was also watching. He considered the girl to be a granddaughter and was giving her private lessons. The little boy clearly thought the old man was his grandfather.

+ + + + +

Across the city, in a building that was as deliberately low key as the Temple of the Way stood out, a man who officially did not exist, the Grandfather of Assassins sati waiting for his Wizards to made a report.

“For decades, we have been able to purchase a powerful pain killer called morfina from a chain of merchants. Your personnel” – he meant thieves, some assassins and clerics who specialized in tracing business relations – “have traced a number of supply chains back to one city. This city is really an outpost on the edge of the Central Desert. All we have determined is the morfina is brought into the City of Final Refuge by Half-Orcs, and what appears to be members of a Human Tribe we know nothing about.”

“Find who is buying this drug in the City of Final Refuge.”

“Yes, Sire,” one of the house thief replied.

“Given that morfina is cheap and abundant, why is this suddenly a problem?”

“Someone is creating a modified version of morfina that is highly addictive, with a very small range of dosage between what causes a person to become inebriated and the lethal dose. Some of the wizards and assassins studying this drug are beginning to call it lethale. That word is front an ancient language and it means…”

“I know what it means,” the old Grandfather of Assassins snapped, “I speak that old language.”

There was a long pause before the Grandfather of Assassins spoke again: “How major are the changes between the two drugs?”

“The strangest thing”, the wizard in charge of the briefing replied, “is how subtle the changes are between the two drugs. We can see possible changes which we simply cannot comprehend. We do not know how to determine possible outcomes of changes. “

“Can you create a catalog modified substances?”

“We have Mages working on this and will provide this information to you.”

The visitors left, happy to be leaving unharmed.

“Do we have test subjects for the various drugs they may be creating?”

“There are several condemned prisoners in the main jail, and a number of prisoners in various lockups. Some are prisoner4s of the recognized authorities and some a prisoners of more private polities. I anticip0ate little if any difficulty in obtaining ‘specimens’ and can provide minders to observe test results.”

“If they die, Grandson?”

“We are the Assassin Guild, Grandfather and sometimes we kill.”

“Agreed! Tell the Research Mages to be ready to create these drugs tomorrow morning.

Pitrov ap Gina Monk

Dorna ab Willard Monk’s wife and a Monk

Debra ab Pitrov Monk’s 9 year old daughter

Stephen ap Debra Daughters take Father first name

Sons take Mother first name

Pitrov smiled while thinking of events starting ten years before:

`For the first three years Pitrov had been courting Dorna, she had gotten an apartment on the exterior of the building. Neither she or Pitrov had understood then why the Concierge laughed before assigned her a three bedroom apartment.

“Why did he do this”, Pitrov had asked her.

“Perhaps that was all he had available?” she had replied.

The Concierge could tell she was a week pregnant when she had asked.

For those three years, Pitrov had tried to avoid being seen walking into her quarters by crawling down the outside of the building and entering her living room window. They didn’t know how many town’s folk would wait to see him “sneaking” from the training floor to her room.

At three years, both were notified to attend the Temple Master. The Temple Master looked at both of them and said “do you realize how obvious you two are?” The Temple Master looked at Pitrov and said “you probably don’t realize how many people come by the Temple in the evening to see you ‘sneaking’ down the side of the Temple. Some are taking bets on whether you’ll fall or not. Do you think it was an accident that a ‘passing wizard’ suppressed gravity when you fell three weeks ago? It was not a gust of wind that blew you into her window..”

“Then, what was it, Master,” Dorna ab Willard asked.

“That was your other body guard.”

There was a silence.

“You did realize that neither or you are sworn to being chase is not the same as being celibate. Thus I have questions for both of you.”

“Pitrov do you like Dorna ab Willard , respect Dorna ab Willard, love Dorna ab Willard and are in love with Dorna ab Willard ?”

“Yes, I do, Master”, Pitrov replied.

“Dorna, do you like Pitrov ap Gina, respect Pitrov ap Gina, love Pitrov ap Gina and are in love with Pitrov ap Gina?”

“Yes, Master,: Dorna replied.

“Would you like to be married?”

Both replied “yes”.

“Have you proposed?”

“Yes, but only in private”, Pitrov replied.

“Why don’t you propose formally?”

Pitrov started to drop to one knee when the Temple Master moved both in front of a large window and began fussing with arranging them in front of the window. The Temple Master’s Secretary left the large room. Several minutes later, the Secretary cleared his throat and the Temple Master told Pitrov to proceed.

Pitrov dropped to his right knee, took Dorna’s hand and said “will you marry me, my love?

“Yes, of course,” she replied.

The Temple Master loudly stated “I declare you husband and wife. You will have to sign some paperwork in my office and we’ve taken a collection for the various fees. You may stand and kiss.”

People they had not known about began to clap and cheer. They realized they had been set up and didn’t care.

Their daughter, a year and a half old, was being held by her Nanny (Oiada). The Nanny was a gigantic Hobbit who stood almost 4 feet tall.

A gigantic Human Paladin stood by them holding a puppy the girl liked to play with.

Over the rest of the morning, visitors from other Castes arrived to congregate the happy couple. Both received custom oak bo sticks and quarter staffs and short swords. Their daughter was given stuffed toys, hand knit blankets, and codex of popular children stories.

The Temple served a light noon meal while the cooks finished a hurried feast for late afternoon.

The Grandfather of Assassins and his Grandson, both dressed as Clerics had wandered through the crowd. They were believed to be functionaries in the City Ruler’s Planning Bureau. They both seemed to be harmless and totally at their ease. They were at their ease but neither was remotely close to being harmless.

Pitrov’s moment of remembering ended when his son charged up to him and tugged on his trouser leg. Pitrov picked his son up and the family group continued toward a ramp which wound around the tower. Their quarters were three floors below the training floor.

Their Nanny supervised Debra, who was giving Stephen his bath. Debra was annoyed by Stephan who was playing in the tub. Oiada reminded Debra that she had been Moe playful herself. Debra sniffed in offended pride.

After the boy’s bath was finished, Debra prepared her own bath by ringing the tub, pouring boiling water into the tub and topping it off with cold water.

Debra eased herself into the bath and was shocked when Oiada put her little brother into the tub with her.

=================================================

In the families study, Dorna brought out a number of papers. Although a Monk, she was a historian who specialized in the relationships between various power groups in the City.

"There is an odd story that someone in the Assassin Guild is talking about. About eight generations ago, there was a group of mystics who decided to improve themselves. Their parents had modified their genetics to 'clean out genetic errors' in their offspring according to both old records and some legends. Then they disappeared."

"Where did they go?"

"No one seems to know," she replied. There are stories about fights and some involvement of the Assassin Guild. There may even have been an internal war in the Guild. I've asked the Assassin Guild House for the records but he won't tell me."

"Give him the trade route analysis the Thieves Guild finished last month. Mouse will be glad to help you then."

Their daughter interrupted: "Why doesn't Mouse already know this?"

"Knowledge is power. Mouse will tell no one about it and he can look wise in the Grandfather of Assassin planning meetings."

“So, what do these stories say?”

“These Mystics started out of town for some reason. They were a small group…

The City (Eight Generations Ago)

They were the surviving children of a power struggle within the City’s Assassin’s Guild. Their parents had created generically superior children who were supposed to enjoy the strengths of the Paladin, the advanced abilities of a Monk and have the spell handling abilities of a Wizard.

Having created and trained 30 men and 30 women, their parents were horrified when the Assassin Guild turned on them. Only 28 of the Women and 19 of the Men made it out of the Assassin Guild House alive. Only one of the group was married and they took all four of their children with them. They had left most of their armour and weapons behind.

This was actually a factor in their favour. They looked like a non-descript group running from a gang war. They knew where the Assassins Guild had stashed the supplies the group needed.

The Group entered a long alley. Ahead of them was a Dry Goods store.

The Leader motioned two scouts to stroll forward to check out the store. First one and then the other ran while the other was walking slowly. The Leader shook his head. Truly, “sprint and walk” was a well-rehearsed infantry tactic but it was horribly obvious. The two reached the Dry Goods store. There the clearly scouted the front of the store before entering.

The Leader realized they could not keep the children with them but they didn’t dare take them to sanctuary while so naked. He sighed and motioned the group forward. They casually wondered forward while carefully studying the walls for threats.

There was a vast difference between training and performing in a hostile environment. They were clearly a platoon patrolling toward some objective. They would have to gain subtlety it they were to survive. They kept failing to find threats and this was making them anxious.

Meanwhile, the two scouts had entered the Dry Goods store after one had picked the lock. The lock picker looked at her companion, rolled her eyes at the ease of the penetration and entered the store. Both paused, letting their eyes adjust to the dim lighting provided by gas lamps which had been left lit. This puzzled both.

The store had shelves on both sides, which were covered with sealed jars and casks. Two long tables were in front of the shelves and were covered with artfully placed items. Both scouts were hungry and quickly browsed down the rows munching on hard boiled eggs, soft cheese and the split a mug of Mead. They knew the food was safe as the Assassins Guild would not dare left poisoned food out for the public.

The scouts started looking for the entrance to the special stores.

Under the end of one table was a message written in dots that told them where the entrance to the special stores was. The woman left the store and reported to the leader.

“We found the instructions to the special store room. There is no one in the store so it is safe to bring the group in.”

The Leader nodded. Then, he signaled for the group to follow them into the Dry Goods Store.

They were pissed off and they were hungry and they ate all the food left on the shelves for customers.

“This is delicious,” one person sighed.

“Really?”

“Hunger is the best appetizer”, the first person replied.

Both scouts went to the far end of the store and moved a cabinet of books. Behind the cabinet was a locked door. Both scouts studied it.

“Type 2 door”, one remarked.

“Type 5 lock,” the other replied after studying the lock.

“Shall we?”, the first said wryly as she delicately turned the lock. The door did not open. Then, she turned the lock again and felt the tumblers click into place. They easily opened the door. The female scout looked at the group Leader and said: “folks who use a type 5 lock on a type 2 door favor a small list of combinations and often pick the second or third combination on the list.”

They turned up the gas lamps inside the vault and were amazed at they saw.

The vault was much larger than the rest of the store.

After examining the weapons, everyone in the group picked out clothing and each a heavy cloak. The parents of the four children picked out loose clothing and filled bags with clothing. They did not take weapons for the children.

There were the only ones who didn’t stock up on weapons. In the show area were three large carts laden with barrels of powders. These were carefully set aside and the clothing and weapons being stolen were placed on them.

On their way out, they took a massive amount of food. Somehow, no one seemed to notice they were taking survival and camping food.

The Leader and his wife retreated a slight distance from the rest so they could have the illusion of privacy. The others began speaking with the children and entertaining. To an outsider, it was clear these people were trying to form memories for the emotionally cold future to come.

“We need to leave the City for some time to escape our parent’s enemies. I will have to lead our people through death ground.”

“Don’t you mean we will lead our people?” His wife was trying to maintain self-control.

“You know why I don’t mean ‘we’! We can’t risk the children by taking them. You can make protect our children better than I can and you can work to revoke that attack on us. You must do this!”

She sighed and hugged him.

“Don’t let it be too long, husband.”

“I won’t my wife, I won’t.”

One of their people who had been patiently waiting until the couple’s embrace relaxed said: “Where do you wish to go?”

“We need to take my children to the Temple of the Way”, he said. “Then we need to continue escaping.”

The sound of braying caused the Leader to realize his people had obtained donkeys and were attaching them to the three wagons. The walk to the Temple of the Way was brief but seemed very long. Only the Leader was calm.

“Why are you so calm, Dent?” Dent was the Leader’s name.

“We were raised by members of the Assassins Guild. We’re family and as long as we appear to be quietly escaping, we will be allowed to go.”

When they arrived at the Temple of the Way, Dent greeted the Temple Master.

“Master, I don’t know why we have to escape but we do. I fear we cannot take our children with us and must leave them with their Mother…here at the temple.”

“Is this necessary?” The Temple Master was quite concerned.

“I fear it is”, Dent’s wife replied.

“What do you need?”

“We stole three carts and supplies from a Guild cache. We need to transfer these items to wagons. We need wagons, horses and probably more supplies. I’d like to return the carts but I obviously can’t bring them back.”

“I can give you four wagons and sixteen oxen. How many of your people survived your escape?”

“Just 47, 19 men and 28 women. We could rotate four of us on the wagons and would need horses for the remaining 43.”

“I suggest you put two on each wagon and bring 43 horses with you. I’ll be right back.”

The Master went to a private room where he met the Grandfather of Assassin and his son.

“My son will provide what my Nephew needs. I wish to speak with both.”

Dent and his wife were escorted into the presence of the Grandfather of Assassins and his son. There the two Assassins embraced the Nephew and his wife. They were, after all, family.

“Why did your Assassins kill several of us, Grandfather?”

“Mine didn’t, Dent, mine didn’t. They were brought in from another city and we were ordered to house them until they were called for. You did a nice job of defending yourselves. I have them in cells for disturbing the Peace of My House.” He paused and continued: “My son will obtain the wagons and animals you need. We will also put your people’s personal weapons and personal artifacts in an additional wagon. We will put your personal medications and extra food, water and other supplies in five wagons. If anyone asked about those wagons, we’ll tell anyone asking that we destroyed them out of pique. I don’t think anyone will be stupid enough to ask us for an accounting of our equipment!”

“Why did this happen”, Dent’s wife asked in a baffled tone.

“No one knows Niece. We talked with the leaders of the visitors and they say someone very high up in the political arena made the decision. “

The junior Assassin left and the wagons were moved into the courtyard of the Temple. The survivors were given fresh clothing, food as fine as the Temple Staff could provide on short notice and they were able to relax. Signs of grief began to appear on their faces as they allowed themselves to face the reality of their dead relatives.

The supplies the Grandfather of Assassins promised arrived and the escapees’ new property was transferred to them. Then, the Grandfather of Assassins embraced each of the survivors and wished them well.

Dent kissed his children good bye and ordered them to obey their Mother. He told them “I will need to be gone a while but I will return. It may take a while but I will return my beloved.”

Dent kissed his wife, then they held each other as if they wanted to merge bodies and he forced out the words “I…will…return some…day! I swear this!”

It was in the late night as the group oved slowly through to city and entered the castle of a very reclusive Baron. The castle was surrounded by a 20 foot high wall, with torches lit. As the elaborately decorated double doors closed out the world, plainly dressed men came out to take charge of the wagons and animals. The Baron himself stood in the entrance to his castle, smiling at the refugees.

The refugees entered the Great Hall and stood there feeling unfordable. The Baron went outside to check on the progress. When he returned, he looked at the group of refugees and sighed.

“I’m afraid all of you will have to leave the City. I’ve been asked to have you stay here until any pursuit eases up. You are welcome to go to quarters and get some sleep. I will arrange for you to dine in the morning. You’ve all had a very shocking night and need to recover. I’m told you can depart three days from now. Those with families can see them but we will have to arrange for covert meetings. Any questions?”

There were no questions and sleepy servants lead the refugees to nicely appointed sleeping rooms. In the months to come, the refugees would regard these rooms and the hospitality they received as some of the finest times in their lives.

The Baron looked at the Son, who was representing the Grandfather of Assassins.

“Are they really in any great danger? Is anyone actually looking for them?”

“No and no, Sire but there is still the fact of someone wanting them gone. We need to protect them. “ The Son paused. “We have set up surveillance of your Castle both as a training exercise and to see if anyone has tracked down these people. For the sake of their enemies, I hope they are not caught.”

“Why?”

“Grandfather is very upset that someone attacked relatives living in his Great House. I am even more angry since I am in charge of internal security and I lost face. If I get my hands on the attackers once they have officially left our quarters, I will not be merciful.”

The look on the Son’s face told the Baron that such a meeting would be very bad for those who had attacked inside the Assassin Guild House.

The Mystics received medical care and spent the time meditating. When not doing this, they cleaned their weapons, arranged the belongings and helped plan their escape route.

Their city lay at the Eastern End of a large sea. Trade routes went to the northeast, to a small kingdom to the southeast and a major trade route lead in an easterly direction to the west, just south of the sea. There were five cities along this route, with the western most city perhaps the least desirable as it was on the edge of the desert. That the city was called “The City of Final Refuge” was not comforting to anyone.

The day before their scheduled departure began with meditation, weapons and unarmed combat practice and a series of Immediate Response Drills.

In the early afternoon, the Baron had taken an ornate carriage to the Temple and had been greeted by the Temple Master. No one could tell that Dent’s wife and all four children were in the carriage when it returned to the Baron’s Castle.

Their arrival was electric!

The children were ecstatic to see their Father and their Aunts and Uncles. The rest of the afternoon and the evening was spent in entertaining the four children and if Dent and his wife were escorted to a Royal bed chamber, that was no one’s business.

If Dent and his wife had faces showing the strains of weeping, well they were merely two among the adults.

They had a large breakfast and the Baron’s men helped arrange the goods in the wagons.

They had been told that horses had been stolen the night of their escape and that the lock s on a small gate on the northeast side of the city had been forced. Convenient witness came forth to testify they had seen a “company of men on horseback riding northwest along the old trade route”. These “witnesses” were soldiers of the Earl who ruled a small city to the northeast of the City and these “witnesses” were well paid to return to the company and to not speak of this matter.

As Dent was embracing his wife and bewildered children, the Grandfather of Assassins and the Baron were watching from a second floor window.

“Why did the Emperor and his Mages send these fine people into exile?”

The Grandfather of Assassins gave a one word answer, which he had to amplify later. Then, the Baron went to his courtyard, wished all the Mystics well, and took Dent’s Wife and four children to a secluded spot to watch as the group

There were more tears, hugs and the group left the Castle and slowly plodded through the city and left through the western gate. It was a pleasant day, with people coming and leaving the city. There was no guard on duty (the guard duty was maintained in the night time hours when the gates were closed).

The last thing Dent did before leaving was swear to his family “I don’t know how long this exile will be but I will come home to you!”

Dent never saw his family again.

Temple of the Way (6 months ago)

“Dent never saw his family again”, Dorna finished the tale.

“What was the one word answer the Baron got”? Debra ab Pitrov was a very curious child.

“Speciation.”

“What does that mean, Mother?”

“Speciation is the evolutionary process by which new biological species arise.” {paraphrase this} That just means the Mystics were different from their parents and were expected to become more different with time.”

Pitrov noted she had not mentioned the “sexually incompatible” part to their daughter. He expected his wife to wait several years before bringing up the subject of “lizards and horses” to his daughter.

He would have been appalled to learn his daughter had gone to her Nanny that night and asked the same question. The Nanny had talked about “sexual incompatibility” to their daughter and had needed to explain “sex”. Their daughter was disgusted by “sex” and the fact her parents engaged in this frequently. That is, more than the one time required for the conception of each of their children.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Dorna ab Willard sent the House Mouse a letter asking him to visit her and suggested that perhaps he could drop by the next afternoon. In reply, he sent back a gracious note stating:

“I am free to visit you whenever you wish. Perhaps you could tell me what you wish to learn, so that I could better assist you?”

She replied with “Tomorrow would be nice. We would like to know more of the history of those ‘Mystics’ who left the City so many years ago. My husband has information that you might find of interest.”

The House Mouse replied: “I can be in your attendance in the early afternoon tomorrow as this would allow you to complete your morning training and also to avoid interfering with your noon lunch. I think I can bring material of interest.”

The next day was routine in both the household and in the Temple. Pitrov ap Gina instructed his students and demonstrated technique from different schools. His daughter demonstrated fine technique in White Crane but not so fine technique in her mathematics (her skill in long division was lacking and her teacher informed her parents that their daughter would be receiving remedial instruction along with several others in her class). His wife demonstrated a quarterstaff attack and lead her students in assaulting practice dummies.

His son demonstrated pure cuteness and demonstrated his mastery at chasing down one of the Temple puppies and later showed the proper method for napping with a puppy.

Their Nanny, who was extraordinarily fit, lead all the students through a round of pushups, sit ups, pull ups and stretching exercises. She liked to provide a good example and didn’t realize that sometimes too good of an example could discourage the weaker students …

After lunch, both Pitrov ap Gina and his wife, Dorna ab Willard were reading through copies of the Trade Route Analysis when their Nanny arrived to inform them that their son, Stephen ap Debra, had not wanted to take a nap until his favourite puppy had joined him in his bed. She also said a young Monk who wished to become a Pediatric Nurse when she was old enough to enter the City’s Medical Training Schools was watching over both “little ones”. This future nurse had favourite toys of both boys: a book the human liked to be read and a favourite chew toy for the puppy.

“This is odd,” the Nanny commented. “There are five cities west of us. Some items move openly from the western most city or city five, to the next eastern city or city four, then skip cities three and four before reappearing in city one. Aren’t there customs officers in those cities tracking the movement of items?”

“The officials track certain items with paperwork that has to be counter signed in each city during the item’s transit. However, given the number of items being moved and how long it takes to communicate, only a few products are actually tracked. There simply are not enough customs officers available. It comes down to the destinations of some items being recorded for possible later analysis.”

The Nanny didn’t look too thrilled but could not argue with Dorna ab Willard.

The House Mouse arrived after lunch as the City criers were giving voice to the traditional “return to work” cry. He was brought to the Monks and Nanny and gravely accepted the offer of some strong coffee.

“I hope you have read the story of the Mystics and their flight from the City. We have found and translated the next saga in their story. There are more of these stories being copied from very old letters, which we hope to translate into modern language.”

“What is the problem?” the Nanny asked.

“There are several problems. First, theses Mystics fled around 350 years ago. Second, they were using an archaic script from around 800 years ago. Why they are doing so we hope to discover. Third, they are using a mixture of the common language and what appears to be an Elven High Language of the time. It is giving our translators fits but nothing too serious. We expect to have full transcriptions shortly.”

The House Mouse reached into his back pack and brought out a book, bound in thick cord. The book was two thin wooded boards with thick papers between them and were held together by cunningly wrapped cord that seemed almost a shame to unravel. The House Mouse solved this problem by cutting the strings on one end and pulling the book out.

He handed it to Dorna ab Willard.

“We know you to be a historian and thus most appreciative of this story.”

“What did you think of the opening story of this saga?”

“It was a tragedy”.

“We agree with you. Based on what few records we have and this story, it seems like someone had wanted these ‘Mystics’ to breed a great many more of themselves. There was a fear they would leave the Guild House and after a generation or two, marry back into the general population before speciation could occur. I see no problem with this as I don’t think men should be bred like cattle but this is just my opinion.”

The House Mouse’s parents were mixed with one being Elven and the other Hobbit. This had made for a somewhat difficult childhood and his public schooling was nothing to think back on but his schooling at the Cities’ College had surrounded him with students who weren’t too concerned with his ancestry. Those within the Assassins Guild did not take kindly to being mocked for any reason. As House Mouse, he was actually the Chief Intellectual and was Master over an Intelligence Operation that reported to the Grandfather of Assassins, who in turn reported to the Emperor and the Council of Nobles (in certain matters but only in certain restricted matters).

“We appreciate your giving us this information but have to wonder. What are you giving us this information?”

“What do you know about your personal family history, Master of Dragons Pitrov ap Gina. Haven’t you considered that as far back as you can trace your family line, your people have been associated with the Temple of the Way?”

“Yes, I have but I have always thought it was simply a natural event. I don’t know why.”

“A long time ago, there was another Master of Dragons. As you have done, this Master of Dragons married and fathered children. This was a time when the Celibacy business should have seen him forced out of his Order. But, the records record that all was forgiven and his blood and that of his Lady Wife were “added to the genetic diversity” of the Temple of the Way’s Monks. Of course, the Temple was somewhat smaller and ended up being replaced by this edifice some centuries ago. He was a superb Monk and a fine leader.”

“What became of this Monk?” , Pitrov asked.

“That is the real question isn’t it? This old Monk’s name was Dent and he was your ancestor all those centuries ago.”

“Thank you for this knowledge but it makes me wonder why?”

“We wanted you to have a personal interest in the story of Master of Dragon’s Dent and what became of him. We have some hypothesis regarding your ancestors but I don’t want to appear a fool so I must delay sharing this information with you. Patience though, please and I will be happy to share everything with you before the month is out.” Then, in a wry tone, “I hope.”

With a happy smile, the House Mouse finished his coffee, put the cup down as asked “more, please?”

Oiada glanced at a young Monk standing a polite distance from the four adults and said, “please bring coffee and coffee cake for us.”

The young Monk, an Initiate of the Elements, brought the requested items several minutes later. The boy was 15 years old and was one of their most promising students.

“There is perhaps something you might find of interest”, Dorna ab Willard stated. “Speaking as one intellectual to another, of course.”

Her husband handed the Thief Guild’s Study of Trade Routes to the House Mouse.

The House Mouse read the title and then Synopsis in stunned silence.

“How did you get this analysis?”

“The Minister of Commerce asked the Minister of Taxation about this subject. The Minister of Taxation then asked the Guild Master of the Thief Guild for this information. The Thief Guild has an inherent interest in commerce and the movement of goods,” Pitrov finished in a very dry tone of voice.

“Of course, the fact that the five large cities to our west and the two major cities to the northeast are semi-autonomous and secretive about their commerce had nothing to do with this request. Could there be concern for armed clashes between The City and any of these seven?”

There was a pause before the House Mouse continued:

“Of course there is the possibility of armed clashes between the cities. We have been at peace for a long time. We might actually be better off if some outside enemy attacked; it would force current tensions into the shadows again.”

“Do you really expect armed conflict?”

“Not really, Pitrov, but it is always a possibility to take into consideration. I do expect an expansion of banditry.”

“Would this be actions of thieves?”

“In a sense, it would be, Dorna. That is, travelers would be forced to give up their good to ambushers. But, there are major differences between the thieves in town and these bandits. The thieves in town generally want valuable items they can sell to buy items. These bandits often trade stolen goods for items that may have been stolen and have been ‘donating’ them to the rulers of some of the cities. We can’t confirm this and this Analysis of Trade Routes could help in this matter.”

“Isn’t it a bit hypocritical for an official of the Assassin Guild to be concerned with war, armed skirmishes and thief?” Both Pitrov and Dorna rolled their eyes at Oiada’s angry remark. She didn’t see this and the House Mouse was too polite to comment.

“The Assassins Guild was established to regulate violence between various factions in the cities. We must make certain payments to officials after killings; these payments are either ‘death taxes’ or ‘pertinence’, depending on your view point. The Guild serves to regulate violence in personal feuds and other personal wars. If this personal violence cannot be stopped, at least it can be regulated and the violence might be kept from the average citizen.”

Oiada nodded grudging agreement.

The House Mouse came to a decision and decided to let his three hosts into the compartmented project that was morfina and lethale.

“Do you know what a ‘Compartmented Programme’ is?”

“No”, Pitrov answered for the three.

“A ‘Compartmented Programme’ is designed to contain information or items that can only be known to a small number of people. This requires special storage and special processing of this information; communications of any ‘sources and method of processing information’ must be done in secret.”

All three nodded.

“Perhaps you should ask your young disciple to brew some more of his fine coffee?”

Pitrov glanced at the young Monk who bowed and left quietly.

“I believe he could have kept your secrets”, Pitrov said softly.

“You are probably correct. There is something to be said for the peace of not knowing secrets and knowing secrets is often ultimately pointless. I expect your young Monk will learn of ‘my secrets’ soon enough.”

There was a complete silence.

“Pitrov ap Gina, if I trust you with certain knowledge, can I trust you to not reveal this information without permission from me?”

“Yes.”

“Dorna ab Willard, if I trust you with certain knowledge, can I trust you to not reveal this information without permission from me?”

“Oiada, daughter of Delcara, of the House of Dent, if I trust you with certain knowledge, can I trust you to not reveal this information without permission from me?”

“Yes.”

“You can provide a different viewpoint from the one we have lived with. I fear we are starting ‘group think’. Perhaps 330 years ago, the first shipments of an extremely effective pain killer our ancestors called of morfina began to appear in the City of Last Refuge. Around 300 years ago, fresh shipments of morfina started appearing in City 4. There was very little of this drug, actually, and it became very expensive. Around 280 years ago, the suppliers of morfina were arranging drop offs of the drug in different locations with various amounts of payments given. In the many decades since, the apparent supply of this drug has stabilized at a high level as the amount available has been very steady for at least a century. The price has gone up somewhat as the population has gone up; this is simple supply and demand.”

“Why is this so highly secret, Mouse?”

“Because the drug has been changed. We are now getting something called lethale, which seems to be a far more concentrated form of morfina, but it kills. Our alchemists are still trying to determine the differences between the two drugs. It will be done but this is a culturally destabilizing development.”

“Are there other of these drugs possible?” Dorna was the one who spoke this question.

“My Mages and our Alchemists say yes. Thus, the main thing we can do is track down the source of these drugs. I hope you three can approach this problem from a different direction and thus allow us to gain insight.”

“We will think about this problem. Perhaps you can get the Thief Guild personnel to assist with this effort?”

“I will ask my Superiors if they can speak with the our friends in the other Guild. I think I hear your young Monk arriving.”

“You do indeed Mouse; he should be able to hear us momentarily.”

“Your coffee was excellent and I truly enjoyed the coffee cake. I would like a copy of the recipe, if I may?”

“Certainly,” Dorna replied, “I will be happy to give you a copy of this recipe. My young Monk has excellent hand writing.”

The young Monk proved he had been listening and also that he was not sneaky. He went to a table, took a piece of paper and a pen and wrote carefully. Then, he walked to the elders, bowed politely and handed a piece of paper to his superior Dorna ab Willard.

She read the note, nodded with approval and said “this is very nicely written Brother LaFere.”

NOREME'S COFFEE CAKE

          1 stick oleo (or butter)
          1 cup sugar
          2 eggs
          1 tsp vanilla
          1 cup sour cream
          2 cups flour
          1 tsp baking soda
          1 tsp baking powder

Mix sugar and oleo until puffy. Add eggs, vanilla

and sour cream, then beat. Add dry ingredients

and mix. Pour half of batter into greased baking

pan (a loaf shaped pan). Mix 1/2 cup sugar with

tsp cinnamon. Pour half of this over the batter.

Put remainder of batter into pan and pour remaining

topping over this batter. Bake in 350 F oven for

45 to 55 min.

”Thank you Master”, he young Monk replied.

“Perhaps I could take some of this coffee cake home with me?”

“Certainly, he will be happy to give you a loaf.” She nodded to the young Monk who scurried off.

When the young Monk returned, the House Mouse put the recipe with the report he had been given and put this in his pack.

“I truly enjoyed your cake, young man. Is this cooking part of your daily duties?”

“No, sir, the Nanny likes to teach the young ones things to expand our lives.”

“Who do you most want to be?”

“Sir, both Dorna and Oiada are like Mothers to the other kids and they teach us a lot and are fun to be around. Still, I would like to be like Pitrov when I grow up.”

The adults who had heard this were trying hard to avoid laughing.

On the Road to City 1 or Uno (Eight Generations Ago)

The Mystics numbered 28 women and 19 men. Their losses struck them hard for they had been raised together. This raising included medical tests, training as a group and the creation of a Battle Language for them alone. They were also taught various languages as children and these languages included the Human Language (arrogantly called “Common”), the Elven and the Orcish languages as well as thief cant, assassin cant and a condenses trade language that was a true “Common” Language.

They had learned the ways of the Warrior from fighters and Paladins; they had learned thief still from the finest of thieves and had gotten theoretical training in assassin techniques. (No one expected these students to actually need to use assassin techniques.) As they went into their adulthood, they had studied medicine, religious mysteries, diplomacy, history, government and more history.

They had learned the five stages of grief and had practiced therapy on each other so they felt they were competent in dealing with grief.

They were wrong.

Uno or City 1 was 35 miles from The City. They made an easy day of their first day traveling only six miles. The road went through a forest with occasional thick areas and even rarer meadows. They stopped in the late afternoon in a thick wooded area that had a meadow hidden from the road by the trees.

Most of the Mystics crept carefully straight into the woods before moving through the dense wooded area and the meadow. Dent did not need to give orders; this was a drill they had mastered before that had mastered puberty. The group were excellent scouts and easily moved their horses and wagons into the meadow. A few of them smoothed out the traces of their passage.

They laid out ground cloths and bedrolls at the edge of the meadow. There was a small stream wending its way through the meadow and their oxen and horses drank this. Dent and his people were still too much city folks to drink the water and they used the water brought from The City.

It was a dark camp and they ate dried meat, dried fruit, hard bread and strong ale.

Finally, Dent spoke: “I estimate we have traveled 6 miles today. I would like to make about 15 miles tomorrow. The oxen can handle it and I don’t think it will bother the horses. We should avoid eating at the Road House we will be passing as to avoid being recognized. (The group had eaten at the Road House in happier times.)

One of his sisters said: “There is a camping area used by smugglers that we can camp safely at.”

“Why is it safe?” Dent wanted to know.

“It is a refuge area for both criminals and soldiers needing a safe place. Everyone knows who the smugglers and transiting thief’s are and who the various officials are. Folks who would be hunting or evading the hunters can relax around each other.”

“That sounds insane!”

“That it does, Dent, that it does. This arrangement was set up by the Grandfathers of Assassins and Thieves as well as the Emperor Staff to allow everyone’s workers sanctuary from each other. Don’t forget, many of the soldiers are young and inexperienced fighters who are still learning their survival skills.”

“Don’t they hesitate to act having met their ‘enemies’”?

“There are stories of that Dent but don’t forget something: the being who write the laws for official troops and those who make rules for criminals don’t have to live by them. Sometimes, those in the field lose track of who their true enemies are.”

The night went slowly with the surviving Mystics having trouble sleeping. Many of them left the lager to creep to the edge of the woods to listen to the night and to watch for traffic on the road. They heard only the sounds of a quiet forest and saw no one on the road.

There were several carnivores in the woods who wisely decided to stay away from the group of humans.

The next morning, they awoke at dawn feeling very hungry.

“Dent, I really don’t want to ‘dine on’ more dried food this morning. Early this morning, I came across egg laying birds who are leaving eggs in various clumps of grass. Let us eat them.”

“We need to get hardened people”, Dent replied. Then, are there enough of these eggs for the whole group?”

“Yes”, one of his sisters replied. “We can also eat some of the fish we caught as well.”

“Start cooking and remember we have to police up this area before leaving!”

Dent was thinking: “we just ran from The City yesterday and now my people want to feast?”

Still, Dent enjoyed his scrambled eggs, fried fish, dried bread and strong tea.

From the time the cooking began to the time the cleanup was done, over an hour was lost. Still, this had been a wise investment of time. They had needed the comfort of the familiar foods and scoundrels passing had noted the hoof prints of their horses, oxen and humans. These scoundrels had thought to scout the area to see if there was anyone to loot.

They broke off their attack plans and moved rapidly away from that particular wooded area. Any group who felt comfortable and safe enough to cook eggs, fish, toast and some sort of tea could not be a group fearing discovery.

Dent and his people did fear discovery but they knew they would be in public and intended to stay in protective character. They just had not thought of what that cover could be.

They had been taught to be cautious and careful of the outdoors and had removed as much of the signs of their presence. They knew that putting traps in the woods would be pointless and would not serve them well; traps would simply show that someone had been there and would create undesired attention.

In the city, Dent’s wife and children worried about Dent. In the Grandfather of Assassins’ House, the relatives of Dent and company were starting to take revenge on those who had driven out their children. The remaining attackers of Dent and all were beginning to realize they did not know who was save to be near and were starting their own retreat.*

There had been Assassins among the parents of the Mystics and certainly among those who had helped teach and train the Mystics. The Assassins had access to poisons that would take years before they sickened and killed their victims.

A small group of fighters passed along the road days after and noticed the signs of so many four legged and two legged creatures having passed through. But, they were in a hurry and did not want to deal with traps in the woods.

The Mystics rotated between riding horses and trying to guide the Oxen.

They had once been trained and didn’t do too bad.

The sun was overhead when they came upon wagons, single horsemen and walkers stopped.

“What do you think they are doing, Dent?”

“Let’s ask.” Dent and one of the older women causally walked to a clot of wagons. They looked like an old married couple. They weren’t but they had been together so long the rough edges had been rubbed off between them.

“Happy noon to you,” Dent spoke. “We were wondering what you celebrate?”

“Just the high noon today, pilgrim. We are going to break bread, drink some Mead and wish you would join us.”

“But we don’t have anything to give you.”

“Receiving our gift to you is your gift to us!”

“We have fried fish left over from our breakfast. Would you and your friends like this?”

“We would love it.

Dent and his people broke out the left over fried fish and some of the soft cheese they needed to eat before it went bad. They took this to their hostess. Only two of them initially stayed within the wagons and even they realized it was safe to leave their material goods.

The food was very good, the Mead slid down smoothly and Dent thought sourly “we’re running for our lives, this is our second day in flight, and we’re all having nice parties. Our breakfast this morning and now this!”

The woman who had initially spoken to Dent approached him again.

“It is obvious who you are.”

“What?” Dent was horrified at this failure of tradecraft.

“You are young members of a Monastery out on a Pilgrimage. You’re trying to look like a paramilitary group but you don’t have the presence. You do have the angst and presence for a religious group.”

“Well, ah, well our elders sent us out on the road to experience the world and to bring what we learn back home. We did not want to be so obvious.”

“Worry not, young religious leader, we are also members of a Monastery on a Pilgrimage. We have been on this for some time.”

“Ah,” one of Dent’s sisters interjected, “just how long have you been on this pilgrimage.”

“A short while,” the woman replied with a wild laugh. “Only about twenty years.”

“How do you survive?”

“We find things. Things we need to survive and sell them. Some we store for years to come. You are not the first group we have helped. We will teach you.”

The woman and many of her group were capable of telepathy and spoke to each other.

<No, we will help them since they are so pathetic.>

One of the oddly behaving crowd went to each of the wagons.

“Greetings to you, City man,” one of the wanderers remarked. “I wish to study how you convince your oxen to obey your wishes. May I walk alongside you?”

“If you wish.”

An hour later, the wanderer said “may I make some suggestions?”

“Certainly.”

The wanderer easily climbed aboard.

“Let me have the reins and show you how I handle them.”

The Mystic watched for over several hours before realizing just how subtle the other woman’s touch.

“How many years have you handled oxen. Fifteen years, eighteen years, who can keep count. We have other things to do.”

“What other things?”

“We move items from place to place. We acquire items in different ways. That is all.”

The Mystic laughed.

“We have been trained in different ways to acquire things. Some of our teachers told us what we needed to obtain and then confined us to our apartments. It was fun!”

“Did you acquire the desired items?”

“Yes, some of us snuck out, some of us persuaded family and cousins to help us. It was fun given our teachers had not expected us to succeed.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Dent told them to analyze the situation and brief us on what we had done.”

“How well did your teachers do?”

“They never came close to solving what we had done. I think they were very proud of us.”

“Yes, yes, I am certain they were very proud of you.”

Others had similar conversations.

Late that afternoon, the caravans left the road onto a flat wide area that most resembled a parade ground. There were large fenced in pastures that more resembled lagers than corals.

“Dent,” the leader of the wanderers said softly, “you have to decide if you can trust us. We will be glad to take you in as a cadet branch of our group. We will support you and thus you should be able to conserve your supplies.”

“We will be honored to accept both your help and to accept cadet status. We have been thinking of going to the City Of Last Refuge. When we left home, we may have underestimated the problems and certainly were not thinking of the long term. We need to think more of the long term.” He sighed.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want for us to go back home,” Dent replied, “but we cannot do that. We miss family and we’re afraid.”

“We will be your family until we must separate company. You are going to continue to the west and we will move southward into the northern plains. We have a number of relatives and a number of caravans to join with. We are planting various crops in grasslands. We can give you some of our products and that could help you in the City of Last Refuge.”

“If we can accomplish anything worthwhile, we will try to spread any wealth back to you.”

“That is good. We will send scouts into what you call City 2 this evening. Perhaps you would like to send someone as well?”

“I can ask one of the younger of us to accompany your people; he is skilled at dealing with thieves.”

· * * * *

Two young women (who were actually in their 90s) joined a Mystic named Artois (who was in his early 20s). He introduced himself as “Artois” and the two women introduced themselves. The blond called herself Flavis Capillis and the brunet as Nigrita Capillis.

Dent went to one of his people, a young man named Artois (who was in his early 20s).

“Artois, I need you to go with a couple of our hosts and see if there is any information concerning us. I suggest you go to an appropriate tavern outside the wall. Be subtle but don’t give away anything.”

“Certainly Elder Brother.”

In the distance, one of the travelers heard this and reported: <so, they use the structure of a Monastic organization . They still don’t seem like Monks though.>

The still unnamed leader of the traveler group lead two young women (who were actually in their 90s) over to Dent and Artois.

“Dent, before we go further, I should warn you that we will have a naming ceremony late this evening. We will then tell you my name. More immediate is these introductions. This is Flavis Capillis (Flavis was a blond) and Nigrita Capillis (she was a brunette). Both are skilled infiltrators and will accompany your agent into the city tonight.”

“I look forward to learning your name, Madam. Thank you for providing such competent assistance. This, by the way, is Artois. He specialized in studying the Thieves Guild and is current in the latest ‘visitor from afar’ protocols. I believe he can obtain useful information.”

The three agents bowed slightly to each other.

“I suggest these agents find an appropriate tavern or perhaps temple outside the city wall and made discrete inquiries.”

The traveler leader pretended to have heard this for the first time, paused to think and said: “I agree.”

After the three agents had left to plan their operation with possible continuances, the traveler leader spoke softly to Dent: “We should send a backup squad to provide cover.”

“I agree,” replied Dent. “How many should I provide?”

“None. There are too few of you and you are too clearly fresh from the Monastery. My people have been travelers for all those years; going into strange cities is part of their lives. We blend in, you don’t yet.”

Most of Dent’s people were tending to their horses and oxen, which were in their assigned lagers. The travelers had rented the lagers and had refused to accept payment from Dent. It would have been more accurate to say the Half Orcs who worked in the lagers were actually doing the work and were allowing the Mystics to “learn on the job”.

Dent had never thought Half Orcs could be so gentle and have such a sense of humour. This was something he would keep in mind.

The three went to a small cluster of wagons and were separated. A man dressed in a multi colored blouse with ballooned trousers and a huge mustache looked over Artois carefully.

“Are you a soldier? How do you need to appear?”

“He needed to appear like a young thief trying to appear like a soldier.” The leader of the travelers had entered unnoticed.

“Very well, I can work within those constraints.”

The dresser was also an intellectual who lectured in spy tradecraft when the travelers were in an area long enough to convene their university.

The dresser took basic measurements of Artois and asked questions about the colors he liked to wear and his preferred style of clothing. Finally, he came to a conclusion and began picking items of clothing from many storage areas.

“Put this clothing on young man”, the dresser said finally before leaving the wagon to give Artois some privacy.

The result was Artois wore trousers and blouse from different style uniforms, with soft soles shoes vice boots and a belt from a dress uniform. It may have looked official to the ignorant but the dresser knew everyone in the taverns they would be going to were conversant with the military uniforms of the various cities and even the mercenary groups.

Artois attire simply shouted “this is a bad attempt at military garb”.

The two women were dressed in highly refined yet trampy appearing clothing.

The three took saddle on their horses. Artois was seated in a very upright posture while the two women, who were wearing long skirts, sat side saddle. They made a very decorous ride into the slums around the outside of the city’s walls. The streets were muddy with animal feces mixed into the mud. The two women were inured to this but it was still an appalling matter to Artois. They came to a section where the street had been scrapped clean of mud and sand had been spread around. There was a nice appearing bar.

The bar’s sign was colorful with thief sign delicately worked into it. The three found spots in front of a hitching post. Artois dismounted from his horse and a boy took charge of the ho9use and found a place at a hitching post. Artois remembered his manners and offered both women a hand in coming down from their horses. He would have been embarrassed to learn that both were very experienced at managing their own dismounts.

They entered the tavern and were carefully looked over. Artois was immediately recognized for what he was supposed to be: a thief pretending to be a soldier. He was escorted to a table where Faro was being played.

The game was moving very fast when a waitress asked “what do you wish to drink?”

“A glass of Southern Merlot”, Artois replied. This was part of a recent identification.

“We only have two year old Southern Merlot”, the waitress replied.

“That fine will be be.” His syntax was bad but that was part of the password routine.

“Will you join the gamblers in an order of chick peas and bread.”

“Yes”, Artois responded.

The dealer then advised “the rest of us will join you. Do you want honey for your bread?”

“Yes, but only honey from The City.”

Bona fides established, the dealer continued in a more normal tone of voice:

“There was a schism in the Guild House of the Cousins in The City. (Everyone knew he was talking about the Assassins Guild House.) It seems some outsiders visited their Guild House and decided to kill some of the long term residents. These residents fought back and were able to escape. Some think they went south to the Orc work areas. Other wonder if they even left The City as they disappeared immediately after fleeing for their lives. One thing is certain: these residents had help after escaping.

“Interesting,” Artois managed to get out.

“Some think those fleeing the cousin’s Guild House may have gone west. If they did go west, they would be wise to find a sanctuary quickly. There is a bounty on them, a very big bounty.”

“What of the faction that started the killing?”

“Apparently they forgot the parents of those who fled were still living in the Cousins Guild House. The parents killed a number of the assassins and they fled in disarray. Some of the assassins living in the Cousins Guild House were close friends of the faction driven out and have been hunting down and killing the outsiders.”

“Good!”

“It may be good from a vengeance standpoint, young man, but remember this: the ones who ordered the kills are still untouched and still hunting down the escapees.”

“Who and what were the people attacked?”

“They were a highly trained group of Monks. Why they were driven out of the Cousin’s Guild House is something no one knows.”

“What about this city?”

“Safe in places outside the city but unlikely to be safe inside. City 3 may be safe but only because on one is likely to have gotten word to the various factions in City 3. For that matter, it may well be that no one would care.”

“Have your drink young soldier and enjoy your chick peas. Our hostess put honey on your bread as you wished.”

The food having been brought, it was consumed quickly.

“I thank you for your hospitality”, Artois replied as he stood.

Another player passed over a full and clanking purse and said “you forgot your purse, soldier.”

Artois knew it was not his purse and knew he had been given a present. He bowed politely and both women walked to him and they left.

The dealer, spoke sadly when he said “He used a validation method designed for the students at the Assassin Guild House. I hope he uses another method elsewhere.”

The waitress added: “We gave better validation methods to the two women who escorted that boy here. Does anyone know why his kin folks were murdered?”

“The attack orders came down from very high up”, the dealer reminded everyone.

Once outside, Flavis nodded to the stable hand who watched the horses. The boy then brought over the three horses. Flavis gave him three copper pieces, which was a large amount of money to pay for valet service. She didn’t mind the expense as they did not use the coin of the Inner Kingdom in her homeland.

“Did you have a nice gambling game?”

“Yes, I did”, Artois replied.

“We can discuss this when we get to our hostel later today,” Flavis promised. “Since we’re here, why not get some supplies?”

They went to a bodegas where the women bought six small kegs of a dandelion wine, which was tied to the back of the saddles. Neither woman had trouble descending from and then ascending to their saddles. Artois hid his surprise well.

There was little point in taking a circuitous route back to the camping area.

At the camp, the leaders of both groups first listened to Artois’ report. Then , they listened to Flavis and Nigrita. The two had compared stories on the way back to the camp and Flavis said she would speak for both:

”There are rumours about a split in the power structure of The City’s Assassin Guild. However, these schisms have happened before without the violence. There is also a report of a Thieves Storehouse having been raided. The oddest thing about this is the various Guild Masters reminded silent and replacements for missing items came from various sources. The oh-so secret supplies have been replaced. No one is talking about this after the initial reports. Someone is clearly clamping down on the usual sources of information.”

Nigrita looked at Dent and his senior people and said “someone is waging a very private war upon all of you. Do you want to come with us to our heartland? Once we reach your so-called ‘City 3’, we must turn south.”

Dent replied sadly “we can’t come with you. I was given specific orders before we fled that we would go as far west as we could.”

“Why are you trusting us?”

“You’re not enemies. You are the only friends we have out here.”

“You are quite correct. You are growing in wisdom, young one.”

There was a pause and the wander’s leader said softly: “We aren’t quite human, ourselves.”

· * * * * * * *

Both groups then had a very pleasant meal of fish, fowl, couscous, fresh vegetables, salad, fresh fruit and the dandelion wine. If this was running for one’s life, Dent thought it was quite pleasant. He could put thought of his family away from his attention by thinking they were safe. They were not…

As he was thinking this, his family had been put into a safe room accessed only by a hidden passage from one of the student’s barracks. The Temple Master exercised his right of self-defense and the attackers were quickly killed after they first refused to explain themselves and then spread out in the Temple.

The next day, a visitor who refused to name himself demanded to know why the invaders had been attacked. The reply was “you attacked my Temple for people we do not have. Get out!”

The attack was not repeated.

· * * * *

The night culminated with the leader of the voyagers finally introducing herself:

“I am Emma, daughter of Angelina, of the Wishful Dreamers Clan, of the Sublime Nation, sometimes known as the Central Kingdom. We accept you as a cadet branch of our Clan.”

Then, everyone one introduced themselves and stories were told. They ended up leaving for their sleeping areas far into the evening. This was fine as the lager masters were quite used to clients and their emotional meeting. The various horses and oxen were well cared for.

The next morning, Dent and his people arose after the sun had and they spent an hour in vigorous exercise and then practiced various martial arts. It felt good to be back in the familiar routines.

“Emma,” said Nigrita, “you were right about them no longer wanting to hide their true nature. Don’t be surprised if they want to patrol head and do so on foot. They are probably great long distance runners.”

Nigrita was correct.

The wagons were loaded with replacement supplies, oxen hitched, horses saddled and unridden horses strung on halters, feed bags on the horses, when everyone was called to an unused lager. There, he owners/operators of the camp ground had prepared a farewell feast. This was the first the Mystics had leaned of this one place’s customs.

Excellent farewell meal finished, both groups mounted their horses or their wagons and the merged group moved out onto the western road. In the late afternoon, a small squad of City 2 Guard road slowly bye. They were also hunter killers for the ones who had targeted the Mystics but could not recognize them for their wagons were festooned with ribbons and the Mystics simply did not look as they had before…

It took nine days for the combined group to arrive south of City 3. The road had not been busy for most of this time and Dent and his people were drilled in covert operations and how to detect.

During the drills on day 8, Dent and his people were finally able to detect incoming voyagers. It was only on day 7 that Dent and his people were finally able to complete an attack drill again the voyagers.

Emma smiled and said “I’m pleased that you can successfully make and detect attacks. It will not be so easy in a city where you do not have trees to hide behind. You will do well.”

The combined groups were several miles south of City 3 when the combined groups halted.

Emma began to speak with Dent.

“Dent, please do not continue to the west! Come south with us and be safe.”

“I’m sorry, Emma but we are…driven by forces we do not understand. It just has to be and we don’t why.” Dent shrugged and his face had a crocked smile. “We are driven Emma…”

“How can we contact you, Emma?”

“I have prepared a list of contacts in the cities and the codes to use.” She handed Dent a folded sheet and he put this in a wallet and put the wallet inside his coat.

“Plan on getting our mail as much as we can.”

The voyagers said their farewells and left. Dent and his people once again felt alone and isolated; it was actually worse than their first day on the road.

Several of the Mystics patrolled ahead to find a lager and they found an easily accessible meadow that did not appear to have any hoof tracks or horse shoe tracks or indication of wheel ruts or fire pits. They were a bit surprised at this good fortune but scouting in the woods around the meadow did not arouse suspicions.

Dent brought his group to the access to the meadow and his assigned lane managers were able to restore the wheel tracks. They were in a safe lager.

Five men and two women were detailed to walk into the outskirts of City 3. They explored the area outside the city and saw no sign of usable intelligence sources.

Then, they walked through the open gates and began looking for taverns with the correct symbols. They walked through a rough section of the city when they noticed several men loitering to one side.

“Ten, did you see those men over there?”

“Yes, and I also saw the two directly ahead of us.”

“Well, I can hear men running up on us.”

Ten looked around and saw four men running towards them.

By this time, Ten and his six had fallen into a defensive formation.

One of the attackers swung a short sword towards a Mystic called Jebed deflected this strike with a baton and broke the attacker’s knee with a low kick. This was followed with a baton strike across the attacker’s jaw, breaking the jaw.

A second attacker made a hugger mugger attack. The Mystic he lunged toward reached inside his arms, took two steps back used a stomach throw on him. This Mystic had cheated and had planted his boot into his target’s groin rather than his stomach. The attacker landed hard. One of the women stepped across the downed assailant, raised her left foot and stomped down hard enough to both knock him out and to give him a concussion.

Ten, who looked like a down at his luck vagrant, was armed with a quarter staff. The staff worked quite well to hammer down two of the attackers or perhaps it was Ten’s immense skill with this weapon.

· * * * * * * *

Dent could not have known that as Dent and his group and Emma and her group had finished their first breakfast, a very fast courier boat had left port in The City. The little craft carried two squads of heavily armed elite assault troops. To speed their trip, a long boat had towed the courier boat from the quiet doldrums of the inner harbor to where the wind was picking up.

The longboat detached from the courier boat, which raised all sails and fled into the open waters of the sea.

Just as Dent and his party were lucky to make 15 miles a day, the courier boat with all sails laid on was able to make more than 15 miles an hour. They had to lower sail at night to simplify their navigation but this did not matter.

The courier boat arrived in City 3 the next day; they had covered a distance that would take Dent and company 9 days.

The elite troops were to leave after 10 days and go to City 2. They had made all preparations to get under weigh the next day.

Ten and his party were patrolling from City 3 when the elite troops heard about the fight. At first it sounded like random city violence. The elite troops did not realize it might be Dent and his group until witnesses described the fight and these elite soldiers recognized the fight as having been conducted by the well trained such as the Elites.

The troops made the correct assumption that their prey was heading towards the gate.

Ten and his people were indeed heading towards the gate. They left the city before the elite troops reached them. As these troopers were going through the gate, they ordered the gate closed.

The assault troops overtook Ten and his family as they were about to leave the slums around the city. The assault troops screamed their attack cries and Ten and his six fell into interlocking defensive positions.

Temple of the Way (five months ago)

“Ten and his six brethren were turning to face a squad of elite soldiers. They were elite themselves but there is a difference being a generalist with the skills of an elite trooper and those of a person who is an elite soldier full time. We believe these people survived but we won’t know until we are given the next set of records. The continuation of the story is written in a cant that no one recognizes. The Thieves Guild is looking for very old records which could help translate. We are depending on the enthusiasm of the Thieves Guild in searching very old records. Remember this: the Guild has had to hide such records many times over the centuries as government decide to crack down on the Guilds. Some of the records are only being discovered by accident…”

Dorna ab Willard finished speaking and her husband Pitrov ap Gina replied: “Interesting and disturbing. I have to wonder what else we knew nothing about. What about the lives of Dents wife and children?”

“Shouldn’t that be in the Temple Archives?”

“I’m not sure where all the Temple Archives are. For that matter his children must have survived because I am here.” He sighed. “Where is our House Mouse when we need him?”

“Well, when in doubt, just ask the Nanny. So, Oiada, dear, where are the deep Archives?”

“The Archives are in the first basement. You should know that.”

“A first basement suggests a second and third basement, Oiada. Is that not true?

“Quite correct Pitrov. There are four basements. The Archivists are Elven snobs who tell me ‘don’t you dare tell those Monks about my Archives. There is no telling what those silly shits will do to my precious records!”

Pitrov waved toward a 14 year old very junior Monk under instruction but the child didn’t react. Looking closely told the adults that the boy was sleeping soundly.

Pitrov looked at Oiada and rolled his eyes then spoke very loudly:

“Oiada, would you happen to know where the Archivist is?”

“His quarters on in the basement, within his precious archives!” Her voice had boomed out. The boy woke up, looked around with mind clearly fogged and then straightened up.

“Gen, my boy, I’d like you to request the Archivist attend us this evening. Please see if he is still awake and if so, ask him to come to us.”

“Yes, Master. The adults were careful to not notice how the very sleepy boy wobbled slightly as he headed towards the steep stairs.

“Take the ramp, Gen,” Oiada ordered and the boy did so.

After he had disappeared down the ramp Oiada stated the obvious: “I didn’t trust him to walk safely down the stairs.”

Some twenty minutes later, as the three adults were talking about the interesting story they had read, their Head Archivist walked slowly up the final loop of the ramp. The elderly man was clearly pressing his lips together as he fought the urge to pant just a little.

“Good evening, good Albert, and how are you tonight?” Pitrov was very solicitous.

“I am fine and am tired. IK sent your boy off to his bed.”

“We spend so little time together and I have to wonder how you are doing?”

“I am doing fine and why did you bring me up here so late in the day?”

Pitrov knew he should not tease the old Archivist but Pitrov was tired of the old man’s snooty attitude.

“We were reading an interesting history that deserves to be in your archives.”

“Send it down and we will process it.”

“The problem is these records are translated from records that are several hundred years old.”

“Those are very old records.”

“Yes they are,” Dorna ab Willard agreed.

“Our Archives go back about 100 years.”

“Surely,” Pitrov murmured, “you have Archives going back centuries, perhaps as much as 400 years?”

“My Archives in the basement go back a century.”

“Could it be possible there are Achieves on sub-basements?” Dorna ab Willard asked.

“What…who told you about subbasements…what subbasements?”

“I know the Temple is at least 400 years old and that you Archivists have stored our records since the Temple was planned out. I also know Archivists never give up material.”

“I’ll have to look for it but it could take quite a while.”

“I could have twenty of my young ones come to the Archives tomorrow morning to help you search”, the Nanny said in a very sweet voice.

This horrified the Archivist.

“The Temple is almost 500 years old and Archives from 300 to 400 years ago are on the 7^th or 8^th sub-basement.”

“I have been in the Temple my entire life and did not know this.” Pitrov spoke in a soft voice.

“I am going to bed now and will look into those records in the morning. What is this history you were talking about?”

Dorna ab Willard handed both histories to the old man. The old man put the first book down and began to read through it. He took some paper on the table, dipped a pen in ink and started taking notes! Then, he snapped “mulled wine”.

Pitrov, who had been spent years as a Temple go fer, rolled his eyes and personally mulled the wine. A “fresh” junior Monk under instruction sent to wait on the “old ones” was wide eyed with shock as she realized this “old” Monk could actually obey orders and could actually do something useful.

The three watched as the old Archivist finished his mulled wine, held the cup out with a curt “more” and continued reading.

They retired for the night before the Archivist finished reading.

The next morning there was a note by the two histories “send those twenty kids”.

After breakfast, Pitrov’s three year old was demonstrating how to kick to anyone watching. “It is good he is wearing thick diapers”, Pitrov thought for perhaps the tenth time as his son’s kicks landed him hard onto his diapers.

The old Archivist sent a note asking Pitrov and Dorna to join him in the Archivist office in the basement. Oiada had accompanied the twenty young Monks under instruction to the old man.

They entered the clutter office and were not surprised to see all three of the Archivists writing scratch paper. Then, one nodded to the visitors and left the room. The old Archivist gestured his visitors to seats, spoke at a waiting boy “coffee and coffee cake for these Monks, please” and shuffled papers in front of himself.

His visitors thanked the boy for the coffee and cake, consumed some and waited for the old man to speak.

“I see our research as looking into what became of our ancestors, why they were attacked and who were the ones who helped them. This ‘Emma’ who was leader of the ‘Wishful Dreamers Clan’ may still be leader if she is the same Emma who is Minister Potentiate of the Sublime Nation to the Emperor. I’ve sent her a note asking if she visit us. We are still looking for records regarding our common ancestors. I looked into a very old copy of the genealogies of those in the Temple and found that Dent’s four children did indeed have children of their own. Pitrov, Dorna, you and I are descended from them. Which of the four give rise to us is of academic interest now. Perhaps the ‘why’ of the original expulsions is the real question. What happened to Dent and his companions after the battle in City 3 is more important.”

“’The battle in City 3’ you said”, asked Dorna.

“Yes, that battle. The second history you gave me mentioned the apparent start of this ;battle’ but not the outcome. We found a note from Dent stating they took casualties . They were obeying orders to continue west but would do so off the road.”

“Why do you look puzzled?”

“Very simple Pitrov. Dent and his people were never given orders to ‘go west’. They were simply told to ‘go to ground. Find safe refuge and if you can, make powerful friends’. They were never told to ‘go west’. This Emma could have been their salvation. Why they turned away from the safety of the Central Kingdom is beyond understanding.”

“This is a religious Temple”, replied Pitrov. “Sometimes our God speaks to us and maybe our God shouted into their ears?”

“Perhaps. Shall I show you the basements?”

“Yes!”

The first basement held the Archivist offices for the four Archivists and the current year’s Archival material.

The second basement held an armoury of ancient weapons. Pitrov was stunned by the quality of some of the weapons – weapons he would be reluctant to issue – and weapons he would have thought worthy only of being thrown away. Many of the weapons looked ready to be issued that day.

The third through eighth basements held isle after isle of boxes, files and carefully shelved artifacts. Archivists were checking inventory cards and sending their teen aged helpers to various locations.

In the 8^th level basement, was a large cabinet with a simple wooden door. The door was opened and behind it was a large safe door. This door had already been open and behind it was a tunnel. The tunnel was lined with wooden cabinets with large drawers.

“Here is where we keep out most important diplomatic documents. Yes, this Temple had diplomatic files. The briefing packet on the “Sublime Nation”. Simply put, they are a self-contained nation existing in the central grasslands and possibly out across the central desert. We think it is religious but they have never published any religious tests or declarations that we know of. There is only limited contact between the government of the Inner Kingdom, the Temple of the Way and the Sublime Nation. Perhaps “Sublime Nation” is the name given by the religious sects and “Central Kingdom” by the more secular government, if they have a more secular government.”

“Is there anything else,” Pitrov asked?

“They appear to be self-sufficient in that they trade for only limited amounts of trade goods and apparently obtain what they need without our knowledge.”

“In other words, we know nothing?”

“Correct.”

This less than productive meeting over, Pitrov returned to supervising his students, Dorna to her study of a second copy of the trade routes and Oiada to the feisty three year old (who was wearing out his teen aged minders and several other young children. In the late afternoon, she would conduct classes in various subjects to older students. Pitrov remembered her as being a gifted teacher…

In the midafternoon, Pitrov received a note announcing Emma’s arrival. Pitrov summoned his wife, the Nanny, the senior Archivist and his three most senior Monks. (is Pitrov the Temple Master?). They dressed in their finest robes. Then, not knowing how to receive this Emma, they decided to accept her with the formality of a visiting Ambassador.

Oiata, the Nanny, offered to bring the visitor into the Temple. She went by herself to the entrance and waited. Wearing demure attire, Emma departed from a carriage that had brought her. Her fact lite up when she saw Oiata.

“Oiata, my dear, how are you?” as she hugged Oiata.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, Emma. You haven’t changed a bit in the past century.”

“Well, neither have you, Oiata. Do these Monks of yours know who you are?”

“I am the Nanny for the small children and a senior instructor for the teenage Monks under instruction. I am more subtle with the adults.”

“You always did do well with the children. Do you have any favourites?”

“The Senior Monk has a three year old boy who is delightful and thinks the world revolves around him and a nine year daughter who is remarkably gifted. The world does revolve around that boy, by the way. That one might come to the Sublime Nation as an Initiate in other decade or two.”

“What do they know about Dent and his people?”

“Very little, I fear. They are worried about strange batches of a pain killing drug coming east across the Eastern Kingdom.”

“Take me in to meet with them.” Emma was an old, old, friend of Oiata but the time for private talking was over.

The formal introductions were brief. Oiata simply named Pitrov’s people and introduced each to Emma. They went to the formal greeting room, which featured nice seats, subtle lighting and delicate temperature control.

“Why don’t you tell me what your concerns are.”

“We have several, Emma,” Pitrov began. “We’ve been given a historical documents about ancestors of some of us. They were apparently some kind of Mystic Monks with eclectic training. They were forced from The City due to something called “Speciation”. We’re not sure what this really means.”

“A group of Wizards, Monks, and intellectuals decided to create the next level of human being. They determined what genetics caused a number of physical problems and limitations. From there, they devised changed to their basic germ plasm and gave birth to modified children. While they looked a great deal like their parents, each of the thirty males and thirty females were sports. Do you recall what ‘sport’ means?”

“A ‘sport’ is a change in germ plasm resulting in an offspring different from the parents.”

“That is correct, Dorna, but it doesn’t not explain some of the evils involved. We learned of these evils from speaking with the intellectuals involved in this work. They could not determine ahead of time what the true results would be so they created many more than just 30 men and 30 women. A number of the zygotes died quickly, a number of the fetus died at various stages in pregnancy and there were an unfortunate number of children who died after birth or who had to be put into special care. Very few of those in special care survived beyond the point where they lost their baby teeth.” Emma was not happy with this and neither were those in the Temple.

“The thirty men and thirty women were the stable offspring of this program. They were given intensive training to see their limits. Samples of each one’s tissue were taken and fetuses were grown from these. The fetus were as special and as outstanding as the thirty men and women. The best intelligence we have been able to obtain says these copies were taken into the inner city and raised there; no one knows what became of them and if they were allowed to reproduce.”

“This is awful,” Pitrov spoke, “it is like a farmer trying to breed better chickens or stronger bulls. Is this still going on?”

“We don’t think so Pitrov. I have spoken with the Emperor, who assured me this research was ended centuries ago. The Central Kingdom forbid this kind of work along with the Inner Kingdom many years ago. The Outermost (this being the name of a nation northeast of The City) simply does not have the knowledge of this type of work or the interest in it. They are fisher folk, woodworkers and folks who move herds in their high pastures. They tend to keep to themselves.”

Emma did not realize these Outermost were far more a secretive people than they were folks “who kept to themselves”. They had received the copies and the knowledge of their creation and now had powerful creatures they wished they could kill off but were not able to do so…

“They were not told about this. I think they were simply told they were improvements over their parents and may have figured part of it out.”

“How long did you have with them?”

“Just several days. What other matters do you wish to discuss?”

“For generations, we have gotten a pain killing drug from the far western reaches of the Inner Kingdom. This substance, called morfina was most effective but caused cravings for it. Sometimes, the wounded would obtain morfina in order to meet these cravings. The supply was limited and seemed to be coming into City 4 at first. Then, the supply increased and started coming through the outer cities. For the wealthy, morfina came to The City very quickly.”

“We are aware of this, Dorna.”

“Are you aware the morfina has become much more powerful. Medics must now dilute the morfina to prevent addictions. A new form of morfina which the medics and Assassins are calling lethale is being sold very cheaply in City 5 and City 3. This lethale is highly addictive, with a very small range of dosage between what causes a person to become inebriated and the lethal dose. From what little we have learned, the Assassins say this is very personal. These selling tactics are not what they expect from a simple business transaction; this seems very much like personal revenue. The Assassins Guild, Thieves Guild, Paladins, Wizards specializing in poisons and a number of Clerics are in agreement. Someone has developed a killing drug that is highly addictive.”

By this time Emma was looking horrified and the Temple Monks knew she was not involved!

“Who could be so angry as to wage war like this? If it is an ancient grievance, then surely anyone wanting revenge should be dead and the targets from so long ago also dead.”

“What if it was a comparatively recent grievance? What if those seeking revenge are taking revenue upon their enemies’ children or grandchildren?”

“That is pointless Pitrov!”

“I agree with you Emma, it is pointless since imposing pain does not relieve old pain. Still, this appears to be the best fitting solution to the facts as we have them. We simply do not have enough information.”

“There is something about your ancestor Dent you might find interesting. I met Dent when he was perhaps 30 years of age and he was the leader of his group. There was a mystical sense to him that we felt; a mystical sense to all of his people. We tried to get him to come with us but could not persuade him. We were able to follow this feeling for some time. Then, it faded with distance and for years we could barely detect it. In the past couple of centuries, this sense of their presence has gotten very much greater.”

“Where do you think they may be?”

“Far to the west Pitrov, very far. It is hard to tell direction let alone distance but the emotion feels like it is coming from well to the west of the City of Last Refuge.”

“May we confer with you as we gain knowledge?”

“You may,” Emma replied. “Now why don’t you introduce me to your children. I think I see a little girl holding back several very little boys.”

Debra ab Pitrov, Pitrov’s daughter, was holding back her three year old brother Stephen ab Debra and two other little boys and a little girl of the same age. The children rushed the adults and somehow Emma was able to make all four little ones and Debra the centers of the universe.

It turned out that Pitrov’s practice with the Harp and the Flute blended with the Ladies’ singing worked well. Then, there was Pitrov playing the Tuba which truly entertained the children; they called it his “fart machine”…

· * * * * * *

Assassins Guild – The City (four months ago)

The Grandfather of Assassins and his son were seated together. The Grandfather of Assassins spoke first.

“What have we learned lately?”

“The standard version of morfina is moving from its source westward to The City. We still don’t know where the drug is being inserted into the supply line. We have seen times when the morfina and the more dangerous, more addicting, stronger morfina has moved backwards or westward. I have written specific instructions for our factors in each of the five cities and anticipate their going out on courier boats to cities 2 through 5 on the 4 am morning tide. I intend to use four courier boats to reduce delivery times and to provide the officer and crews with needful training. Given the amount of boat traffic in the City 1 harbour, it will actually be quicker for riders to take our messages to our factors.”

The Son paused and continues: “there is the matter of the very addictive and often lethal lethale. Lethale appears to be a different compound from morfina. This is misleading as the lethale appears to be changed into a highly concentrated form of morfina in the liver. Thus, lethale deaths can be consider morfina overdoses.

The son paused to sip some wine then spoke more.

“The insertion mode is bizarre. Lethale appears to insert into Cities 5 and 3. Markings on the containers show the drug moving within both cities and into other cities at almost random.”

“Then, could this be revenge?”

“That is the general consensus Grandfather. Why these Cities are being targeted, if they are being targeted, may be revealed in the remaining letters. “

He handed the letters to the Grandfather of Assassins, who read them carefully, then thought about the writing. Finally, he smiled at his assistant and said “these letters are very well written and your delivery plan has great merit. I especially liked your discussion of what to look for in the packaging and tracking movement from the time of appearance in each city. Tell me about the Thieves translating of the remaining historical letters.”

“The first two letters were apparently straight forward. The letters describe a small group of survivors of an internal purge, who were protected by members of the Wishful Dreamers Clan of the Sublime Nation. I don’t know why this contact occurred and the Subline Nation ambassador, Ambassador Emma, could easily be the same person described in the letters. I am afraid to go directly to their Embassy and will instruct the Thieves Guild to take a copy of these letters to the Temple as they are finished.”

“Excellent.”

In one of the many secret passages within the thick walls of the Guild House, an Orc who was far more intelligent, far more competent and simply far more dangerous than anyone in the Guild House could have imagined sat and laughed silently. This Orc had joined the Assassin Guild in City 4 and then been allowed to migrate to The City.

He had told the Guild that he was from south of his city. He simply let the Guild Masters think he came from the wrong city…

The Son left the Grandfather of Assassin’s private office to seal up the letters and send them by couriers to the four courier boats. The letter to City 1 was put under guard until two couriers and four guards could take fast horses to City 1 after the city gates were opened.

In the Temple of the Way, both the Nanny Oiada and the Ambassador Emma started by charming the younger children and spread their charm across the teenage Monks under instruction. The young ones had fun playing with their “new” Grandmothers. The adults enjoyed the break.

Then, Emma had left and Oiada had inexplicably gone with her. It took the remaining adults a very long time to get their children settled down.

West of City 3 (Eight Generations Ago)

Those who had long knives drew them. It might have been more accurate to call these weapons short swords. The battle quickly became a melee of the eight man attack squad versus the Monks armed with long knives, bo sticks and Ten with his quarterstaff. Their most impressive weapons were their martial arts attacks.

Still, the soldiers were in chain mail over hardened leather armour. This blunted the knife attacks that didn’t go to the throat or legs. This armour did not protect attackers from blunt force trauma from the quarterstaff and hard kicks.

The Monks retained their composure during the fight; they had been trained to not get angry in a fight. Then, one of the women was hacked down and the composure began to fray. Then one of the soldiers taunted the Mystics by promising the dead woman, the living woman and the men would be raped repetitly. This was against doctrine and against the laws governing the Army the squad came from and the Squad Leader promised himself the taunting soldier would get stockade time.

It didn’t matter. The Mystics knew the aphorism of “for a threat to be effective, it must be believable”. The Mystics believed it…

The Mystics backed off and sent a flurry of shurikens towards the faces of the attackers. This distracted the soldiers and allowed them to fall prey to the hand attacks of the Mystics. Then, two Mystics who were serving backup made a high pitched whistle and the Mystics fell back. The remaining five guards were surprised by this and didn’t realize it opened them up to the crossbow attacks of the two backup mystics.

After the soldier fell, the Mystics picked up their dead sister and retreated. Three of the Mystics had been wounded and needed to be helped. One of the wounded later died.

After they left, the City Guard had finally arrived at the scene of the carnage and had interviewed witnesses. One old soldier said “it looked like a group of soldiers attacked a group of Monks who were peacefully trying to leave the city. I don’t think they planned on killing those soldiers until one of those young morons threatened to rape them all. Then, the throwing weapons and the cross bows came out and the fight ended. I don’t think they planned on killing even after one of them was killed.”

The Watch Commander arrived at the head of a platoon of soldiers and was briefed. The Watch Commander told his Platoon Sergeant “these are those damned ‘special soldiers’ we were told to work with. Have a squad leader go to their leader and tell him what happened. It is dark now and I won’t risk trying to track down a group of upset Monks. Set a squad on guard for these thugs and let them deal with the meat.”

The Platoon Sergeant smiled and said: “I will be happy to tell their commander!”

The Watch Commander nodded. Both knew that had the event happened at high noon, it would still be “too dark and I won’t risk tracking down a group of upset Monks”. The Watch Commander had a deserved reputation for being fearless but he also was known to hate outsiders who tried to bring foreign soldiers into his city…

Just outside the city slums where they blended with the growing darkness, another four Mystics watched the events unfold. After noting the City Watch had talked to witnesses and then left leaving a squad standing around the dead soldiers, one Mystic said “I don’t think they like the soldiers we killed.”

“They haven’t sounded the alarm. They are not attempting to look for us. Let’s go back to camp.”

The Mystics then put into practice the training they had recently received and patrolled to where their fellows were. After that, they patrolled carefully to their camp area.

In the camp, Dent was told of these events and knew his group was in shock.

Dent picked out three Mystics noted for this scouting ability.

“You have excellent night vision and it is a clear night with a full moon. Erase as much sign of our passage as you can. I have the Feeling the City Guard will not be looking for us; the Watch Commander could have caught our scouts if he had called out the full Guard and the Army Garrison. Right now, I fear the worst thing for us to do would be to flee on the main road. We will be safer if we simply stay ‘hiding in the sun’ here. Any questions or remarks?”

There were none and the scouts went quietly about their duties.

After a very bad night, the Mystics were fully awake shortly after sunrise. There had been no noise during the night and the scouts who had been stationed in the tall grass near the road reported no activity. This was not reassuring.

It was a mild morning, with a light wind bringing the smells of the city towards them. They had grown up in a The City, which was large for cities and had a very rich aroma. Still, they had spent so much recent time in the clean air of the country they were sensitive to the stench.

Dent convened a meeting of his clan.

“I think the stench from the city will cover our breakfast so let’s have a warm one. We can at least have tea. I don’t know why there isn’t a search for us but I’m happy about that. We need to grieve our precious dead and we need to plan a better escape route. Comments?”

“What is our ultimate goal”, Ten asked.

“For now, it is to find sanctuary in the Far West.”

“What is the best way to get there?”

“Hold meetings to decide. We can have breakfast, quietly pack and we can plan our exit. I need four people to help me make hidden fires.”

Dent and the four volunteers went to part of the pasture where the oxen had eaten the grass. There each set about making their cook fires. They used collapsible shovels to dig two holes about ten inches in diameter and two feet deep. Then, at the bottom of one hole, he scooped out a horizontal tunnel to the other hole. The five were done about the same time.

Another group of Mystics went into the wooded area and brought back bird eggs, wild onions and what appeared to be wild potatoes. The onions and wild potatoes were carefully cleaned and cut into pieces. These were put into cylinrical cooking pans, with enough water added to cover the food. They didn’t worry about water borne pathogens as they planned on boiling this food.

Dry sticks were gathered and put into the holes on one side. They had a carefully protected “eternal fire” for starting camp fires and used this to start fires in the fire pits.

The food was cooked in three pits and strong tea made in the remaining two pits. Breakfast was eaten, the dishes cleaned and set aside to dry.

While this had been happening, small groups of Dent’s people had been pouring a finely detailed map that Emma had given them. Four groups self-convened, discussed quietly and finally each group came to consensus.

“Have you reached consensus”, Dent asked.

All four groups nodded .

“The cooks and I have reached a consensus as well. We will be the last group to speak.”

Dent knew the once the Leader had spoken, it was very hard for a “subordinate” group to openly disagree.

“I guess I am going to speak for this little group”, a woman began. “We looked at the large scale map. If our enemies are tracking us, they will surmise we are moving west. Our logical next destination will be in City 4, where we can be expected to seek news, supplies and perhaps try to find sanctuary. We should avoid going there.”

“Thank you”, Dent said.

“We are in fair agreement with them”, said the appointed spokesman for another group. “We are going to need supplies and we think we should go to one of the large towns south of City 4. We still have enough coin to buy supplies. We think that perhaps we could make a feint towards City 4, visit a tavern and ask for news and say we were going to City 4 and then retreat south of there. We don’t think we should actually go into City 4.”

“Thank you”, was all Dent said.

“We’re angry and we’re tired of running. We say we should go to City 4 openly and demand our rights!”

“We all feel tired of running and hiding”, Dent replied. “But who are our enemies? Who had the gall to attack us in the heart of the Assassins Guild House? Why were we advised to head west for sanctuary and by whom? Why do I just have this strong urge to head west?”

“Perhaps our God speaks to us?”

“Perhaps our God does speak to us”, Dent replied.

“How many feel this urge?”

By show of hands, it was clear they all did.

“How many think we can survive openly seeking justice?”

No one, not even the one who spoke for the last group, raised their hand.

“Do we have consensus? Shall we find a safer route to the west?”

“From the lack of response, I’d say we continue west. But what route do we take?”

“The map suggests there is a grass road heading south southwest into what is marked as cattle country. We can migrate down this route masquerading as migratory folks with extra horses. Our main concern will be in maintaining supplies. We simply do not have enough to sustain us for more than a month. At that, it won’t be a healthy diet based on our dry food. So, we need to buy fresh food on the way and to forage.”

There were no comments but Dent could tell his people were thinking of their woodlands survival classes and were thinking of what they could hunt.

“Now, let us examine this map and see if we can come up with a better route.”

· * * * * * *

The Watch Commander summoned two platoons of his Guard and spoke with both Platoon Leaders and their Senior Guard Sergeants.

“Gentlemen, we can expect the Army officer commanding those damned ‘special soldiers’ to summon me before the Magistrate. As you may of heard, one of these oh so ‘special soldiers’ promised to rape a group of civilians the ‘special soldiers’ had attacked. I will be expected to send out the Guard to hunt down these civilians. You will divide up and canvas the witnesses. Two squads should do it. The other two squads and the other platoon can ride around the rings roads surrounding our City and look for possible suspects. Don’t risk your men by going off the roads and into the wooded areas. There is no reason to endanger your men. Questions?”

The Guard officers and Senior Guard Sergeants easily recognized their Watch Commander did not want anyone caught; he just wanted the appearance of a search. These officers looked at each other, nodded, and after they were far enough away from the Watch Commander planed on which taverns they were search first.

The Guard enjoyed good beer, good food and occasionally a good bar maid at these taverns and somehow never got billed for beer, food or woman…

· * * * *

Back in the city, the Watch Commander was brought before the City Magistrate and the Commander of the “special troops”.

“Tell me what happened last night.”

“Sire, the gate guard heard screams and what sounded like a fight. Then then attempted to sound the alarm to the nearest troops. Last night, the troops on duty were his troops. They could not summon them as they were already fighting strangers. The gate guards then sent runners to bring me and my personal platoon. When we arrived, I found 7 dead soldiers and one wounded soldier. This surviving soldier could not explain what had happened. Fortunately, there was a witness – a retired soldier – who said his soldier had accosted a group of people leaving the city. The soldier said both groups were almost evenly matched until one soldier had threatened to rape the civilians. Then, the civilians attacked with thrown fighting star, some vicious hand and foot attacks and knife work. Finally the civilians had separated and his soldiers were cut down by very rapid and very accurate light crossbow fire. This was a most impressive display of combat skills!”

Every time the Watch Commander said “his”, he was glaring at the Commander of the “special troops”.

“How dare you complement this murderers!” The Army officer was livid.

“How dare your soldier threaten to rape people in my city?” The Watch Commander was almost as angry as he was curious.

“Why are you so impressed by these people’s fighting skills?” The Magistrate had once been a City Guard himself.

“They simply were very well trained, Sire. The crossbow archers could not fire at the bodies of the soldiers and they were wrapped in armour. So, they had to attack the heads, necks and legs of their targets. They were making extremely difficult strikes and their friends were following up with lethal hand and foot strikes and knife work. It all very well organized and well-practiced.”

“Who could these people have been?”

“Perhaps Assassins, soldiers on some kind of covert mission, perhaps even Monks? There are Temples which have well trained and sometimes violent protectors.”

“Why didn’t you follow them out of the city?”

“Following a group of such well-trained fighters into darkness would have led to the deaths of many of my Guard. Remember, Sire, these people had at least a squad supporting them from the tall grass.”

The Watch Commander privately thought there had been one and perhaps two cross bow fighters but no more than that. The Watch Commander was too angry at the Army officer who had invaded his city, thrown his weight around and interfered with his Guards to care about finding soldiers who had attacked civilians leaving his city.

“Advise me if any of the Guard you sent out this morning find anything.”

“Of course, sire.”

Two Guards had actually ridden past the grassy entrance to the meadow hiding the Mystics. That they did not enter and examine it was because they believed that no one would actually have the courage to hide there. Also, they had been told not to go off into the woods to look for any strangers; had they done so, the Guards knew there were at least 50 meadows with travelers and they did not want to spend so much time looking for these folks.

Finally, they thought they were going to be late arriving at a favorite tavern of their platoon. They knew there would be cold Mead, juicy meat and good bread waiting for them. There might be a willing bar maid or three waiting for them.

None of the Guards knew the Taverns were told the Taverns submitted monthly bills to the Watch Commander.

· * * * *

One of the Mystics conducting surveillance of the road reported to Dent upon relief..

“Something odd happened, Dent. Something amusing in a way.”

“And that was?”

“Two City Guards rode past very slowly. One looked at the grassy entrance to this meadow, shrugged and kept riding. He was drinking from a wine sack. He laughed and said to the other Guard ‘fourth meadow we’ve passed’!”

“The other Guard replied ‘do you really want to find who killed those bastards last night’?”

“No! I don’t like soldiers threatening to rape in my city. Now, do you suppose we will find a lustful maid at the Tavern’? ‘I hope so, I haven’t had a woman since the last time we patrolled out this way. My wife was visiting her Mother until three day ago and now Aunt Flow is visiting my wife. Yes, my friend, I need a beer and a few minutes with a good bar maid!”

“Do you suppose they could have been more obvious,” Dent asked?

“Probably not. Have all of you decided on a path away from here?”

“Yes, let me show you.”

Dinner that night was more foraged wild potatoes, wild onion and wild garlic with dried beef. They had soaked the beef that afternoon and then stewed it with the vegetables that had been found. The next day was basically a repeat of the first.

On the third day, they saddled up the horses, put the oxen in their traces and the brave little caravan left the meadow. They didn’t bother hiding the traces of their passage for they knew they would never be back.

They left a present for the Guard they knew would find the tracks and be forced to examine the meadow: they left a bottle of Peach Brandy. They had buried the only one who liked this Peachy Brandy and could not bring themselves to try drinking it. The Guard enjoyed it and were mildly chagrined to realize that had been so close to their “enemy”.

The Mystics went two miles further west; before turning onto an old road covered with well-worn paving stones. It was all that was left of an empire which had risen, enjoyed massive power and the illusion of immortality and then died. As Dent murmured on their second day on this road “sic transit gloria mundi”. He wondered to himself how long it would be before their own nations would fade and when they might be able to return home.

On the fourth day, they resumed the old morning routine of heavy exercise followed by martial arts practice. Now, they practiced no contact work and passed the heavy padding around between those doing contact work. They no longer had access to high level medical care and even a broken limb could be permanently disabling.

Some strange disaster had struck the region. There were a number of empty farm houses and wild pigs roaming through the bushes. This caused the Mystics to lager up closely at night and to maintain an armed guard.

One morning, Ten was riding ahead of the convoy and was heard to yell: “Leave me, you devil.”

Then there was a scream that didn’t sound human.

Dent galloped to the point and found Ten, still on horseback, over a dying pig. There were several other pigs nearby which flew a short distance and then stopped to glare at the humans, The humans were more concerned than the pigs.

“What happened?” Dent asked.

“This creature simply attacked my horse”, Ten replied. “I had to use my short spear.

“Did any of the pig blood get on your or your horse?”

“No!”

Dent looked anyway as he still feared that Trichinosis could be present in these wild pigs. He used one of his few spells to cleanse the pig.

His people had gotten very tired of their diminishing supply of dried meat and were happy to slaughter the pig. They improvised a smoker for most of the meat and spent the rest of the day slaughtering and then smoking or simply cooking the meat.

They enjoyed a feast that evening of very well cooked pig with dried rice from their stores and dried tomatoes. Their breakfast the next morning featured pork chops, badly sliced bacon and bread that had risen overnight.

Wild dogs feasted on the remaining meat they didn’t take with them.

Ten days into their cross country trip, they came upon an abandoned homestead.

By this time, they had taken to leading the horses behind the wagons, with Mystics walking alongside the wagons and occasionally running up the road. They called it “patrolling” or “scouting” but there was no need for patrolling (there was no one around) and scouting was being done from horseback.

The wood shingled building was losing shingles and a shutter was hanging loose. But the door was shut. There was a weed loaded area around the house that might have been a garden. Five of the Mystics stayed with the wagons to protect them. There was a covered well in the front yard. One Mystic lowered a bucket and clean looking water was brought up, The water smelled clean.,

“Plumb the well”, Dent ordered one follower.

This Mystic brought back a long rope from a eight and began lowering the weight into the well. He carefully counted the length both when lowering the weight and when raising it. He could not believe the depth.

Another Mystic repeated ;the plumbing and sighed.

“I make it 109 feet”, she said.

“And I made it 108 feet. That is close enough”, the first Mystic replied.

They reported the water depth to Dent who said “somehow I’m not surprised”. Then Dent said “bring up enough to fill most of our largest boiling pot and let us see how safe the water is after we heat sterilize it.”

The main room was neatly made up with dishes and cups in closed cupboards. There were cast iron pans and a cast iron deep baking dish covered in sheets. These cast iron pans had large amounts of grease on them and the grease had not soaked through the covering cloths.

They were impressed.

There were two bedrooms with beds made up and well-built clothing lockers. There were closed chests. They looked into the lockers and found old clothing in good repair. The chests had nicely folded clothing that had been in the chests so long the clothing had settled.

There were closed kegs marked with the words for “flour”, “rice”, “dried carrots”, “dried apples”, “ground koffie” and something called “ground qahwah”. They didn’t open any of these kegs. It seemed a desecration as the building was configured as if the owners had simply left their house for the afternoon.

There were books in a book case and perhaps 18 books lined up against a wall upon the kitchen table.

Three of the Mystics found books they said were either unique or extremely rare. One of the Mystics had the extremely rare ability to magically make copies of books. This Mystic told Dent “I want to copy these three books”.

“Take your time, we can wait until you are done”, Dent replied.

This Mystic began her spell and most of the Mystics left her to her work and went outside.

There was perhaps twenty acres of dried and dead crops.

“We should burn this stubble if we can find seeds and plant fresh seeds,” Ten told Dent.

“First, we need the seeds.”

They entered a tightly sealed barn and found farming equipment in very good repair. There were also sealed glass bottles of seeds.

“Can any of those crops be harvested?” Dent asked Ten.

“I’ve found the corn is dried but I believe can be hydrated into useful form.”

Ten and a dozen of his fellows picked dried corn, shucked it and began to boil it in their the boiling pot of water. Later, they ate the rehydrated corn and found it very good indeed!

None of them remembered the old adage: “Hunger is the best appetizer!”

Dent and his people knew that people liked to hide variables in strange places. So, they tried moving cabinets and felt under beds. Under one bed, one found what felt like a recessed handle. It was the work of several minutes to move that bed and raise a wooden door.

Under the door were neatly stacked kegs. The names on the kegs were interesting but Dent was called outside to talk with people who were working on the wagons.

“We’ve been riding these wagons hard. We need to grease the axis and replace the rear axles on this wagon. “

“Do we have any replacement parts or grease?”

“No, Dent but one of the barns has both. If the owners don’t’ stop us, why not take the gifts they left for us and use them?”

“That will mean moving the contents from all the wagons. So, lets plan better usage of the storage.”

“We’ll start that, Dent.”

Dent helped move supplies from his wagons and was a bit surprised at what they actually had. This, Dent knew, meant this stop would greatly benefit his people. All of this were actions experienced waggoneers were have taken as routine.

Dent and his people has eclectic educations and had an intellectual’s appreciation of what actions were needed in different occupations.

They also had the intellectual’s ignorance of what actions were needed in those occupations.

Dent discussed the eventual reloading and then his curiosity got to him and he went back inside the house.

Dent went back to examining kegs found. The names were intriguing.

Four kegs were marked “pain stopper” and Dent handed two of the kegs to Ten.

Another set of kegs were marked “Apple starter” and “Rye starter” and “bread starter” and “Wine starter”. A similar stack was behind the first. By this time, Dent has surrendered to the urge to loot and handed the first stack of such inviting named little kegs to his family.

Other kegs of seeds were looked at and left behind. They had no idea of what “Milo” or “Popping Corn” were and didn’t think they had enough spare room in their wagons.

It took over a week to rebuild their wagons.

The Mystics decided that planting crops to replace what they had taken would be a good idea.

Ten and most of the Mystics trampled down corn stalks in straight lines and carefully burnt them. The weather had been getting worst as the week went by and the small amount of smoke produced was hidden by low clouds. There was no one anywhere close enough to see the smoke anyway.

The entire group turned out to plant wheat and corn seeds found In the barn. There were kegs of seeds marked “apple”, “orange”, “pomegranate”, “walnut” and “olive”. They opened a keg of each and planted a handful of each seed around the farm and near a stream. They would have been proud of the orchards decades later if they could have visited the farm again.

What they thought was their finest “coup” was taking a large stack of burlap bags of seeds marked “wheat”, “barley” and “rich hemp”. It would be some months before they found out what was meant by “rich hemp”.

The final actions all did before leaving were some of the most painful of their exile: they took paper found in this strange storehouse resting in a farm and using ink they had brought with them, everyone wrote letters to their loved ones.

Each of their parents and most of their teachers got multiple letters. Dent’s wife and children got multiple letters as well. These letters talked of hoping to return home soon, and spoke of happier days to come. Each page was individually addressed.

Then, the letters were tied closed with yarn and left in a wooden crate.

The Mystics held the hope that if the farm was visited only once a years, then perhaps some kind folks would arrange for the letters to be sent to the “Temple of the Way”, “The City”, “The Inner Kingdom”.

This action was done but not as quickly as had been hoped . Dozens of visitors arrived, explored the farm, enjoyed the fruit, put out their idea of “good farm crops” and left. They respected the sanctity of the items they found and treated the crate of letters as artifacts.

It was 104 years before the letters arrived at the Temple of the and only the great great grandchildren of the Mystics read these letter. That is, those descendants and the Archivists of the time.

Whoever had owned and operated the farm had left very nice maps out to perhaps fifty miles. They were not thieves and did not take what coins they found. They did leave a small amount of coin in a bowl they marked “For What We Took” and “Dent of The City of The Inner Kingdom”. Over the subsequent decades, coins in a variety of new and strange currencies were added and the names and cities of the donors were added. Some of the cities were born, lived and died during the subsequent centuries.

They were saddened to leave The Farm but knew their trip had to continue. It was an article of faith that the trip to the west continue.

They had been fleeing for four months when Dent told a morning prayer meeting some possibly disturbing news.

“We have been taking medications our whole lives and I never could get an explanation of why we needed to do so. Does anyone know?”

“I once asked one of the Mages what these pills did. She said we ‘had been modified genetically and the pills contained drugs which prevent full expression of these changes’ and that we would be fully educated on this changes when we were adults. We’re all adults but somehow, this Mage never got around to telling me before she went to a Nunnery.” The speaker was a woman known only by the odd nickname of “Toes”.

“I overheard one Mage telling a Priest that we would start ‘displaying unusual features’ once we were ‘off the drugs’. I interpreted this as meaning physical features not usually associated with standard humans.”

“We are going to find out my friends, we’re down to about one weeks supply. I hope there will not be horrific side effects.”

“Always the optimist, aren’t you Dent.”

“Always, Ten, always.”

Everyone knew this to be a lie.

The group had been traveling through a large area of mixed light forest and pasture. The pasture was fine for their horses and oxen. The forest gave them the chance to hunt deer. They were running out of spices to improve the taste of the rather gamey deer that had killed and were hoping to trade some venison for spices.

One afternoon, the Mystics saw dust in the distance.

Ten, who was a fine scout, told everyone “it looks like someone racing horses in a a dry area.”

“Well,” Dent allowed, “I suppose we could send a mounted couple to recon the situation.”

There was no disagreement and one of his brother and a sister mounted their horses and sauntered towards the dust. In a short while – they had stopped worrying about time given they had no time pieces – they came upon an odd group of people running in the dirt of a very dry field. Some others were riding horses in a reckless manner. Finally, one of the spectators noticed the two on horseback and wandered over.

“What are you doing,” the young man named José asked? He was a fine soldier but no diplomat.

“What are we doing? We’re having a dirt race!” This stranger acted like a “dirt race” was the most common thing they could have had.

“What is the point?” The young woman, who was named Elizabeth, who asked this question was a fine medic but not a diplomat either.

“Who puts the most dirt and dust into the air above us is the winner!”

The stranger threw his hands up in the air and spun in a circle.

“We are strangers here,” José said.

“We are all strangers here. We have only been here five generations. We barely know the woods and the trees and the dirt.”

There was a pause and the stranger continued.

“Oh, dear, oh dear, oh dear, where are my manners, my manners? They call me the Talkative One, yes, they call me the Talkative one for some reason.”

“So I see, ‘Talkative One. This is Elizabeth and I am José.”

Talkative One walked over to the dry field, picked up dirt and threw it into the air. “Joy,” he shouted, “joy!”

“Are you with the others?” Talkative One looked intently at both José and Elizabeth.

“What others?”

“The others who came here yesterday or last week. I don’t’ know when but within the last month. Perhaps you saw them? They went in that direction.” Talkative One pointed off to the west which made his question illogical as José and Elizabeth had approached him from the east.

“Party, party, party, we must party. We must throw dirt together and make the joy of dirt together.”

“We will be back soon. Where can we meet you?”

“On the other side of the dirt is a valley, the valley of us, us who live in the valley of us. Meet us there.”

“May we see this valley of yours?”

“It is the valley of us and could be the valley of you!”

Talkative One began walking around the dirt field.

José dismounted and tied the reins of both horses to a sapling.

Elizabeth took a mirror from a pocket, removed the linen protective handkerchief around it and flashed a quick signal to their group. She sent the “performing recon with stranger. Will report back in a quarter hour.”

Talkative One did not notice the dust he was walking through but both Elizabeth and José did. They had been raised in the stark cleanliness of their quarters in the Assassins Guild House. The Assassins were always aware of the threat from poison and defended against it using cleanliness as one of their defenses. Despite having been on the road for four months and not having bathed very often, the dust offended them.

As promised, there was wide valley behind the dust field. The walls of the valley had doors, shuttered windows and were connected by sturdy looking ladders and walkways between various doors. This was some serious construction and this seemed at odds with the dirt throwers.

Then again, the Mystics had lived a strict life of study, prayer and work within their home. The idea of strange fun, especially when the fun might be enhanced by being stoned, was unknown to them.

What shocked them was the possibility of flash floods. The habitations were close enough to the base of the valley that flash flood could afflict these dwellings.

“What about flash floods?”

“Floods come, floods go, only we remains. We remains, we remains, we keep door shut and shut shutters, shutter shutters, when the wind blows and the rain falls and the rain blows and the water rushes in the bottom of the valley. ‘The valley so low’”, Talkative One sang.

“Tomorrow, you come back and feast we prepare, prepare we a feast!”

A woman had walked up from some underground location and nodded politely to the two outsiders. She was clearly quite sober.

“I am called Tersia,” she said. My talkative husband is often quite sober but not today; today is ‘dirt day’!”

“Why isn’t it ‘dirt day’ for you?” Elizabeth was curious.

“Because ‘dirt day’ is followed by ‘laundry day’ for me”, Tersia replied in a very dry voice.

“Can we come back tomorrow?”

Elizabeth was the one who organized events for the two of them; legally, José and Elizabeth were not married but they had shared their lives, their bed and their bodies with each other since puberty. Given they had to flee their home, it was probably for the best their daily pills were highly effective birth control measures.

They retrieved their horses and had an uneventful return to their group.

“What did you see?” Dent spoke for the group.

“There are some very strange people up ahead. A number of them are racing around in a large dirt field throwing handfuls of dirt into the air. We talked to a very strange man who called himself ‘Talkative One’. I can’t say he is insane but I don’t know…

José then took up from where Elizabeth had paused. “I believe his behavior meets the characteristics of what our teachers described as ‘being stoned’ on certain drugs. He certainly spoke strangely.”

They then presented a very accurate rendition of their conversation. Eidetic memory was one of the changes the Mages had made in the Mystics’ germ plasm.

Someone suggested these strange people be given the name “People of the Valley”.

They were not reassured by the ‘People of the Valley’ not coming forth to check them out. This could mean no curiosity, or plans to make a night time recon or a feeling among the ‘People of the Valley’ that they were so strong as to fear no threats or they saw no threats.

They knew their presence was probably known but not knowing about the “People of the Valley” bothered them. Also, there was the unknown threat from the folks who had allegedly visited the “People of the Valley”.

They made a cold camp, without fires and ate some of the last of the combat rations they had stolen so long before from the Thieves’ storehouse. This would later prove to be a pointless exercise in caution. They set a two person rotating watch that night. Then, Dent assigned his two best scouts, Ten and José to make a covert recon of the “People of the Valley” village.

Their creators or rather those who had revised them prenatally, had gifted the Mystics with physical enhancements. These enhancements included highly sensitive hearing and the ability for their hearing to restore itself after suffering damage from loud noises. Another modification was incredible visual acuity; this visual acuity gave them night vision between that of an average human and an average house cat. They had almost never known what it meant to “be in the dark” and had to seek out very dark places to know what being ‘In the dark meant.

They avoided truly dark places for the death threats they feared they were.

Part of their garb was a long shirt that fell onto the ground behind them and swept out any foot prints they may have made.

When they got to the dirt field, they scouted out a passage through the grass around the field. First, they rolled up each other’s shirts and tied them off the haversacks each wore. (They wore the haversacks from the military tradition they had been taught rather than any actual need.) The grass proved to just be grass.

There were no traps, snares or trip wires designed to release noise making devices.

They got to the rim of the valley and watched through open windows as people went about their lives. They smelled food cooking, saw folks wandering between dwellings on the walkways, saw folks forcing small children to walk hand in hand with older folks on the walkways and simply behaved like people having a perfectly peaceful evening.

These “People of the Valley” were doing exactly that.

In the distance, at least a day’s ride away, the strangers “Talkative One” had referred to were enjoying their peaceful evening. These people had been away from home far too long and were looking forward to a returning fête.

Both young men were filled with homesickness and missed not only their parents but their teachers and the other children they had been raised with. They had been raised with Orcs, Elves, Half Elves and Humans. One of their minders had been a Hobbit named Oiada.

This was yet another way they were different from nearly all humans.

They secured their camp and moved to within a half mile of the “People of the Valley” village.

They were met by Talkative One and Tersia. The first thing they noticed was that “Talkative One” looked quite sober.

Elizabeth introduced Dent and the other Mystics to both Talkative One and Tersia.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Dent opened with.

“It is”, the Talkative One replied.

“We met your friends José and Elizabeth yesterday. They are a lovely couple and how long have they been married? We have been looking forward to meeting the rest of you.”

“José and Elizabeth had been a married couple since their late teens. How about you two? Are you married?”

“Yes, for years”, the not so Talkative One replied.

“Oh, we’ve been a couple for many, many years”, Tersia responded. “Perhaps you would like to see our village?”

“Here is our field of dirt, the place where we have our dirt feasible. Deep in those woods (she pointed to their right) is some of our fields of mushrooms, cannabis, and our edible tree nuts trees. In the valley ahead is our village. Beyond the rise are our various fields. We grow everything we need and have little need to trade with outsiders.”

“Very few outsiders come here”, the Talkative One interjected.

“When they do, they like to trade metal coins for items. We have so many coins and they are so useless that we’re happy to be rid of them. Besides, their looks of greed are highly amusing. We prefer to trade for crops and seeds.”

“We have some seeds you might find of interest”, a female Mystic named Glenda Jane murmured.[i]

“Then we look forward to seeing them!”

They were young and fit, especially after running alongside their wagon and occasionally sprinting ahead and then back of their caravan and found it an easy walk. The People of the Valley had been walking their grounds since they could walk and thought it so natural as to be unworthy of mention.

These people had hundreds of acres of wonderful crops. There were wind powered water pumps and sturdy horses and oxen for working the fields.

“This is the second growing season of this farming year”, Tersia told them. “This is the time for schooling our children and for resting from the second planting season. We will have a festival when we bring in the next crop. Perhaps you can visit?”

“I hope we can.”

“Bring stories and outside novelties”, the Talkative One interjected.

“We will try to do both”, Dent said knowing they would not be returning.

After returning to the “dirt field”, Dent said “of all the things we have, we might have something of interest to you. We traded (in a manner of speaking) for items several days ago. One thing was a keg of seeds marked “Pain Stopper”. We don’t know how hard these seeds are to germinate and to grow. We would be honored to give you some.”

“Thank you,” Tersia replied, “we will give you some of those ‘shiny coins’ that you outsiders treasure so dearly.”

“We would be honored to make this trade.” Dent would never learn how little enthusiasm he had shown for the coins. This would work to his advantage.

Knowing there was little need to hurry, Dent road his horse back to their encampment, where five of his people were standing guard. Dent took one of the kegs of “Pain Stopper” seeds with him.

“These seem like decent folks and I hope to get everyone to their village to visit.”

Dent knew how socially inbred his people were and how badly they needed the change of faces.

Dent brought the keg to Tersia and opened it.

“We never found out the tricks of getting these seeds to grow. Would you like some anyway? You and your people are superb farmers and I’m sure you can easily master these seeds.”

“I believe you are correct,” Tersia replied. “I’ll get a container.”

Talkative One brought over a lidded jar with perhaps half the capacity of Dent’s keg. Then Tersia delicately poured out about a third of the seeds into the container her husband was holding and waited while Dent resealed his keg and sealed their jar.

They spent some time talking about possible ways to start the seeds and ways to grow small test plots. The Talkative One returned with a leather bag of slightly larger volume than the seed jar. The bag was quite heavy and clanked. Without comment, Dent put the bag of coins into a saddle bag on his horse.

“Thank you for these gifts”, Dent solemnly said.

“Thank you for your gifts”, Tersia replied.

“Now, if you’ll forgive us, we need to make our preparations for the feast we shall make for you. Are there any items you allergic to?“

This question would later haunt Dent.

“Nothing that we know of.”

“Where is your camp, Dent?”

“Our wagons are just down the road” and Dent pointed towards his wagons.

It was becoming early autumn in this area and the afternoon promised to be a mild one. The crops had been very well along and the leaves had not yet started to turn but Dent knew the days of high summer were over for this year.

Birds were beginning to head north for the winter. They were in a fine farming area but they were also north of the great continent spanning equatorial desert. There simply was nothing to feed the birds at that low latitude.

On the other side of the road was a large pasture that apparently was several fields allowed to go fallow. There were rich fields of flowers, swarms of bees and the look of something long ignored. These fields were not being ignored, it was simply that the farming People of the Valley didn’t need them.

Dent supervised his people moving the wagons to the field and watched as this did a yeoman like job of turning them out.

Shortly after a lunch of dried venison, hard tack that had been soaking in tea and wild apples gathered from trees along the road, Dent spoke to his people in an unwantedly somber tone.

“I have a premonition of bad things happening. I want everyone to write one final letter to the kin folk. I don’t know when we’ll be able to send these letters home but don’t forget anyone when you write.”

Dent and his people had been raised in a Monastic Setting and were scholars at heart. They were also highly trained fighters and knowledgeable in a number of the violent arts. For now, they reverted back to the scholar aspects of their characters.

There letters were grammatically correct for their period and expressed their emotions with poetic grace. (This grace would seem embarrassingly quaint centuries later but then styles change and would change for the people in the future…)

Dent left two of his women at the encampment. They planned on coming to the party later.

Their hosts, still quite sober, brought out kegs of Mead and strong Ale. This was somewhat more than Dent and his family were used to as they drank tea generally and water than had been boiled the night before and left to cool to ambient temperatures. They simply were a bit overwhelmed.

They were served wonderful salads with some type of dressing. Then, they had fish and some kind of meat (later they learned it was well marinated goat), couscous, potatoes, three types of vegetables and a kind of pudding for desert. Plates or bowls of this were sent back to the two women with the wagons.

Dent gave a speech thanking everyone for their hospitality.

Talkative One had regained his voice and gave an even longer speech of thanks for Dent’s people gracing their village with their presence.

This is when Dent et al should have left but their God did not choose to reveal the future…

The final course of the night was an alcoholic tea made solely for the occasion. That the children and teens of the People of the Valley were not allowed to sip this tea should have caused Dent and his people to question why

The tea was sweet like Mead and had a density of flavor like good Mead, albeit with stranger hints of flavor. They drank this tea and chased it with the strong Ale also being served.

Then, Dent started to have strange visions and passed out.

Dent awoke the next afternoon with both his ladies from their camp checking him. The Adults of the People of the Valley were also hovering over Dent and most of his people.

“Are you well? How do you feel? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“What happened?”

“Dent, we’re terribly sorry but all of your people seemed to have reacted to the last drink last night.”

“What was in it?”

“A mild tea, strong Mead and powdered mushrooms. It could not have been the tea as we obtained it from you; you drank the Mead without problems and we have grown those mushrooms in special caves for 19 generations. We don’t know what could have afflicted you people.”

“So, this is all safe for Humans?”

“We’re not completely human. Is there more bad news?”

The caregivers, both from Dent’s group and from their hosts, looked at each other and clearly came to a decision: tell the patients nothing. “Ignorance Is Bliss” appeared to be the order of the day…

Dent awoke once during the night in desperate need of relieving his bladder. As he sat up, one of his hosts guided him through the familiar actions of using a night soil pot.

The next morning, Dent was given soft boiled eggs, steaming hot couscous fresh fruit and cold water. A bit later, he was given cow’s milk boiled with more couscous.

“I feel like I’m back feeding my children when they were ill”, Dent remarked wryly.

This remark scored points with their hosts, who had been very troubled by Dent’s inebriated remark about being “not completely human”.

“How many died?” This remark scored him points for thinking of possible consequences and for having the courage to ask.

“None of your people died, Dent”, Tersia gentle advised. “We have hope for eleven of them.”

Dent didn’t comprehend her words at first.

“Why do you ‘have hope for eleven of them’”?

“None of you are responding to these rather harmless drugs the way people normally do. I wish we had known you were not ‘fully human’”?

“Please show me the mushrooms you served us.”

The raw mushrooms these people brought in were on the “Poison” list in the Assassins Guild. Dent did not know just how to respond.

“You said you have been using these mushrooms for, what was it, 19 generations?”

“Well, yes”, Tersia admitted.

“Were there storied about being becoming sick from them?”

“There are very old history text, superstition almost, of our ancestors from perhaps 20 generations ago becoming sick from these mushrooms. The story states that Mages from the Central Kingdom cast spells which made those in the next generation safe from these mushrooms. It is just a myth.”

“I don’t think so, Tersia”, replied Dent. “How do you feel if you have not had some of these mushrooms for a while?”

“We feel ill but then feel fine once we drink the tea made from these mushrooms.”

“A side effect of the spells was to make the mushroom safe for your people by making them something you need. Please do not serve this to any other outsiders again ever! Write this down and pass this information to your descendants for as long as you remain in this valley.”

The following day, Dent was healthy enough to raise from his bed and look at his comatose people. To his dismay, he realized he had effectively lost 8 men and three women and was down to 9 men and 24 women. This made reproduction of his strain of humans extremely problematical.

He was the last of his people to become healthy enough to get around. His people were moving by routine and taking the charity of the People of the Valley with their thanks.

When Dent went to visit his 11 comatose relatives, he noticed a tube of some sort of strange material had been inserted in their nostrils. One of the teenagers was carefully pumping what appeared to be almost predigested food down the tubes.

“An expert, like his Mother, is needed to ensure that the tube goes directly to the stomach.”

“Why do you have such expertise?”

“Mages from the Central Kingdom visit yearly and give us medical training.”

“What if a person is very ill?”

“If necessary, they are taken back to the Central Kingdom where they have the finest Medical Mages.”

“When are they due to return?”

“Not for at least a month, Sire.”

"Never give an order that can't be obeyed."

— General Douglas MacArthur

“All leadership is influence.”

— John C. Maxwell
Injoy, Inc.

“Some decisions a leader must make himself and some must be made with his people’s consent.”

— Dent
Temple of the Way, The City

In the late afternoon, Dent convened his people for a special meeting. His survivors, all 32 of them, were seated in front of him in the formal meeting hall of the People of the Valley and were waiting for Dent to speak. This room was in the top tier of dugout rooms in the side of the valley closest to the road.

“We must decide what to do now. I could choose for all of us but that would be wrong. We must form a total consensus. Do I hear any disagreement?”

He was greeted with dead silence.

“I have not taken my pills for two days. The Mages in the House told me that I would start going through “the change” after several days. I fear the drug we were accidentally given has accelerated my change. Has anyone taken their pills since the last time we distributed them?”

Again he was greeted with dead silence.

“I remember being told that once ‘The Change’ starts, resuming the pills could make us quite ill. After our reactions to those mushrooms, I don’t know if we can trust the pills any longer. Also, we have only about 3 days of pills left so why risk sickness and death when we would just go through the change anyway?”

Another of his people commented “I was under the impression ‘the change’ was being delayed to prevent those around us from figuring out we are different. That is pretty much ancient history now…”

“Shall we dispose of the pills, then”, Dent asked with genuine curiosity.

Two of the People of the Valley, Tersia and her husband, had walked into the room and quietly taken seats.

“I believe we should give most of these pills to our hosts. These are very strong drugs and might be of use to our hosts. What do you think, Tersia?”

“We will be pleased to take these drugs from as they may help us treat your brethren. Do you agree?”

Dent spoke “do I hear a motion to give Tersia all of our remaining pills?”

Ten said “I so move.”

Jose said “I second.”

“Now, I need your help. Please count the show of hands for me.”

“Close your eyes and hold your right hands if you agree with the motion.”

All right hands came up and stayed there.

“Please lower your hands and if you are opposed, raise your right hands.”

No one raised their hands.

“By the rules as I understand them, every one of you voted to give us the pills.”

Dent spoke: “I mean no offense Tersia but we must be absolutely sure of the outcome of this motion. Did anyone vote against it?”

No one raised their hands.

Tersia then said “may I ask some questions”?

After a pause, Tersia spoke again “how many of you want to move to the west again?”

All raised their hands.

“How many think they are healthy enough to move on tomorrow?”

All raised their hands.

“How many are willing to leave your family members under our care?”

There was hesitation this time and a number of the Mystics did not raise their hands.

“If I may”, the Talkative One spoke, “I sympathize with all of you. You don’t know if you can trust us with the health of all eleven of your brethren? I swear by our Gods that we will do all we can to protect and care for your brethren. If we are with luck, your family members will return to us and we will be able to return them to you. If they do not return to us or are too weak to travel, we expect a visit from the Mages of the Central Kingdom. They can truly work miracles. We don’t want to and won’t tell you how to live. “

Talkative One looked at his wife and she said “we will leave if you wish?”

“You are welcome to bear witness for you are family to us,” so spoke Dent.

Then, the group had a long but not fractious discussion. The outcome was they would attempt to leave the next day.

They had a very bland dinner of vegetable soup, a small amount of lean meat, mashed potatoes and a cooked fruit custard desert. They were served some of their own white wine with the dinner and water with the desert.

After the dinner, Dent and his people were formerly adopted into the People of the Valley.

“It is very good to know we have a home again,” Dent said in a broken voice. “We feel the strong need to continue on our journey and wish we could stay with you. We know our family will be safe with you. You, our new family members, can give them the care we cannot.”

“We always treat our kith and kin with great care, the same care we give to people we come upon the road.” The Talkative One glanced at his wife.

We follow what is called the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as they would have you do unto them.”

“We share with you this belief.”

“I suspect we are going through ‘the change’ but I can’t tell.”

“Dent,” Tersia spoke gently, “all of you appear to be going ‘through the change’ as you said. You were one of the last to awaken and it looks like your sclera is already a very light yellow. Your joints are beginning to expand in size. This means they are getting bigger without arthritis; you can expect to be stronger due to better leverage. There have to be other changes we cannot forecast.”

One of the younger women muttered: “I have some body issues and this – swollen knuckles – is just what I need!”

“Perhaps we should all call it a night?” Dent politely nodded to his hosts and went off to the quarters assigned to him and other “unaccompanied” men (men without lovers). The others split up according to their natures and the housing assigned to them.

Tersia and her husband stood watching, smiling gently, as the Mystics wandered off.

“You didn’t tell them about the new body odour”, he said.

“They’ll get used to it as the stench increases and they probably won’t notice”, she said. “They have enough pain without knowing this!”

Their new family members helped the Mystics attach their oxen, saddle their horses and then helped a few into their saddles. There days of walking and running along the caravan were temporarily over. They put two, some three, on the seat of the five wagons. The rest were able to climb onto their saddles; none the less, their new family watched carefully.

Both groups contemplated what they had gained from the other.

The Mystics knew the People of the Valley saw coinage as simply very pretty, metallic, sculptures with little value. After all, there were no stores to spend the coins in, few came by with anything to sell and there were no governments to send their thieving tax collectors around. That was only fair as there were no governments offering them any services and none trying to extort pretty coins from them!

The People of the Valley were absolutely stunned by the “Pain Stopper“ seeds that had so freely been given. Some of their people were gifted in dealing with seeds. They had determined how to grow exact copies of the seeds, how to change the chemicals produced, how to make the future plants produce a strong painkiller, a very strong painkiller and a lethal painkiller. They knew they had drugs to treat headaches, to allow truly pain free dentistry work, how to make painkillers that would lead to painless deliveries for woman and herd animals . There was also the hint of incredible undiscovered drugs that could only be fantasized about.

That they had been given these treasures was simply stunning.

By as much as life can be a dream, the reality can be less enthralling.

Dent and his group moved very slowly. The got almost two miles before everyone stopped and literally laid down on the grass of the road for naps. They were not surprised when the People of the Valley walked up with lunch.

They were helped onto their horses and back onto their wagon seats and began the trek again. They managed a heroic three miles that first day and sat their horses or on their wagon seats drooping with fatigue and unable to plan their next moves, let alone perform them.

It being early afternoon, the People of the Valley made camp for the Mystics, cared for their animals and feed them before helping them settle in for the night. Different shifts of the People of the Valley stood watch during the night.

Tersia and several medics did quick checks of the Mystics to ensure they were healthy. They had no way of judging how far they were in “their change” and could only hope for the best.

Dent woke early, saw that they were being guarded by the young farmers of the People of the Valley and went back to sleep. It did not occur to him then to wonder why farmers would be apparently competent in some of the military arts.

They awoke to the smell of fish frying in bacon grease, potatoes frying in more bacon grease and after they had “gone behind the bush”, they sat on the ground. The two groups – Mystics and People of the Valley – were intermingled and enjoyed themselves whilst they ate the bacon, trout, potatoes and eggs boiled in deep bacon grease. Their hosts boiled coffee and all enjoyed themselves.

Once again, the People of the Valley helped the Mystics prepare to depart and so they did.

They made good almost 5 miles before taking a break for a scratch lunch of left over fish, potatoes and water from a barrel. They managed another five miles before stopping at a large pasture their friends from the Valley said was commonly used as a camping ground by the few folks who came through the area. The Mystics were once again strong enough to tend to their animals and when the People of the Valley arrived (as planned that morning) the Mystics had prepared an evening meal.

The Mystics had dug deep in their treasured supplies and brought out various spices. Thus, they had chicken with rare spices, rice with sapren, a salad made from materials found along the way and custard over apple pie. They also brought out a wheel of cheese and added this to the apple pie.

“What is this?” One of the Mystics’ guests pointed at the cheese.

“It is made from milk. It is a nice way to store the nutrition of milk without the bulk,” replied a Mystic. “You do have to have the correct yeast to start the cheese and must use the correct procedures to produce it.”

“Oh, well I like it.”

The Mystics knew how to produce dozens of types of cheese as cheese production along with making beer, bread and wine has been parts of their education. The two groups spent the waning hours until sunset explaining cheese production to the interested teenagers and their parents. Later, the People of the Valley took their notes home with them.

Both groups pitched in to clean the dishes, pots, and glasses dirtied in the dinner.

Just before the People of the Valley left, the youngest of the Mystics took aside several mischievous teenagers.

“Brothers, there is one secret cheese we never talk about. We didn’t bring any with us because we wanted cheese we could eat. Some of our relatives used this to show hatred of our enemies when we were forced to make nice with them.”

“Are we your enemies?”

“No, brother, you are not. You are all family. Don’t you have any enemies, people who have hurt you or would do you harm?”

“Well, yes,” one lad replied, “our ancestors did not move out here because they wanted to live in the ass end of the empire. They were running from someone.”

The Mystic knew this boy had heard these sentiments from parents and other relatives. He also knew he would have to tell the about “Casu marzu”.

”You know the geography of this area but do you know the bigger geography of our world? We live in a very large continent with a great sea coming from the world ocean well to the west across the area north of us. At the far eastern end is The City. There are five major cities west of The City. North of the Great Sea is a wooded area filled with savages and monsters. Our people never go there. (This Mystic would never learn the area north of the Great Sea was actually quite nice and had some pleasant people. There were also a vast number of savages.) There is a big island in the sea filled with people who make a disgusting form of cheese. Would you like me to tell you about it?”

“Of course the boys wanted to know about it”, the Mystic, who was a very young man himself, thought.

“This is called “casu marzu” and is a word in the tongue of a savage people. It means “rotten cheese”. I have never seen it but I was told about it by a teacher who said he had seen it. They make a big wheel of sheep cheese. When the cheese wheel is ready to be eaten by normal people, it is slashed over and flies are encouraged to enter the cheese. The flies mate in the cheese and leave maggots which eat the cheese and leave their shit behind…”

The boys were talking in tones of pure disgust and could not help but later repeat what they had heard. The stories would be repeated by teenaged boys for generations to come and when the teenaged girls heard the stories, they came up with even more disgusting versions. Perhaps “casu sanguis” would have been an appropriate name for the girl’s versions…

The farewell that evening was brief but very emotional.

“This reminds us all of when we had to flee our city months ago. We will miss you but will try to send you letters when we can,” promised Dent.

It was hard but Dent’s people went back to their previous routines.

“Why are you smiling?” Tersia asked her son as they rode home in a buggy.

“It is nothing, Mom.” Tersia knew it was something.

“Well, Mom, one of our new cousins told me this nasty story.”

“Well, son, why don’t you tell us,” the Talkative One calmly spoke.

“It’ll disgust you. It’ll turn your stomach. What he said was… Then, with embellishments, out came the story of “casu marzu”.

After they go home, Tersia said to her husband “that story was not as bad as our son thought it would be.”

“True, but it gives me a great idea. When the tax collectors come and we pretend to be so poor, why not give them some of this ‘maggot cheese’ and say it is our best food?”

Two years later, the tax collectors of a short lived nation came by to demand taxes. The People of the Valley had offered them the “maggot cheese”, said it was their best food and watched the tax collectors flee in disgust.

The morning meal consisted of eggs stolen from late season birds, some wonderful bread their new family had given them and coffee stored in one of their water kegs. It was a simple meal but suited them and was easy to clean up after.

For the next week, they headed in a generally northerly direction in accordance with their maps. They found and explored several farm houses before realizing they had no right to take anything from these houses.

Dent recalled vividly exploring one house.

“There is nothing worth salvaging here,” Ten stated in an angry voice.

“You’re right,” Dent replied calmly, “and I knew this when I had us stop. I wanted to see what kind of people are in this region., For example, those book shelves are empty. Does this mean these people did not have books or did looters take the books? Those hooks on the wall must have been used for cast iron cooking pans.

“I agree. There are grease rings on the wall that could have come from the pans,”

Dent was pleased that Ten had considered the evidence of the grease rings as a hypothesis rather than a theory.

“The beds are here are the bedding is not. The mattresses have not been used by rodents so this structure is still intact. These people must have gone fairly recently and either took what they could or the house was looted after the owners left.”

Dent and his people left soon afterwards. Although they carefully shut the doors, the house lasted only a few years more before frustrated looters burnt it from spite.

Dent and his people had made full recoveries from there drug ingestion and from “the change” Their weapons practice were longer, their martial arts practice also longer and their warm up exercises only a bit longer. Once you are doing a hundred pushups in the morning, there is no point in doing 110 pushups in the morning.

Dent quickly got used to leading his people in morning runs as it only took five riders to control the wagons and with the horses tied to the wagons, there was no need for riders.

They had begun to pass lone riders or walkers who had little news to impart. Dent decided it was time for a change in strategy.

‘“We are approaching City 5, also known as ‘The City of Last Refuge’. This may be a good thing or it could be very bad. I don’t’ know. I do know we would be wise to come up with a better legend for why we are here.”

“We could try the wondering Monks story,” Ten said.

“Would these Monks have the number of wagons we do? Would they have as many horses?” A Mystic spoke

“They might, it depends on their Temple Rules.” Ten had replied.

“Aren’t Monks required to give away their property to the poor?” Another Mystic had spoken.

“Could be say we’re a traveling band of mercenaries?” Ten was oddly curious.

“No,” replied Dent, “mercenaries have weapons were are not allowed to possess. Also, mercenaries being soldiers, have armour.” Dent smiled grimly.

‘What about calling ourselves ‘traveling merchants’?”

The objections immediately started. They had too many people, too many horses, merchandise they were not willing to part with and too many people. Finally, the Mystics, being Monks, were simply in too good shape for merchants.

There was one final reason this would fail. The Mystics simply were not human enough to pass as simple merchants. They were clearly “different” and in their world, “different” automatically meant dangerous.

Finally, after heated discussion, José proposed a solution.

“Our new friends were telling me of the main threats they faced this far from ‘civilization’. The main threat is…tax collectors! Yes, tax collectors. We could pass ourselves off as tax collectors.”

He was roundly appualded for this idea.

“An improvement, if I may,” Elizabeth interjected. “If we say we’re tax collectors, we could be overrun by bandits. However, if we say we’re surveying the road for the tax department, we could seem more plausible.”

“The same objection pertains, Elizabeth. We could say we’re surveying the road to see who might need charity from the state and from religious charities in City 4. We could find out much information from them.”

“What do we say about the excess number of horses? We have enough horses for a much larger group?” Dent believed in stirring the pot occasionally.

Dent had been about to give the number who had left The City and the number who were still with his group. He had no faith the 11 left with the People of the Valley would recover and if they did, how long it would take them to catch up. Dent and his people had been careful to leave as little trace of their passage as they could and if it were not for the maps provided by Emma of the Central Kingdom, they could have wondered down a great many paths.

“We can say we’re taking the horses to City 5 for the government. We can also say we’re Monks going to a new Temple in The City of Last Refuge.”

“We can’t all be Monks, Ten. At least two of us must pretend to be the charity surveyors.” Elizabeth frowned in thought after speaking.

“Why can’t Monks also be charity surveyors?”

“I am beginning to think they can, Dent.” Elizabeth responded.

“So, what do we need to do for this to happen?”

“We need records of what we have surveyed. We have the paper and pens.”

“We also need to consider what we truly are,” Dent said. “We’re members of a Sect and have been trained in all aspects of being Monks. However, we have been trained in the ways of fighters, thieves and had some training in Assassin technique. We were really never allowed to deal with the public as Monks.”

There was a pause for thought.

“So, are you saying to begin giving charity as we can?”

“Yes, I am Ten. We can find ways to help. We can doing it tomorrow.”

“Until then, we will continue with our lives. Assume the lotus position (all did this) and begin our meditations.”

Dent lead the group in spoken meditations and then Ten lead. It was a short ceremony but served to link them back with their heritage and their families and was something that they had done nightly.

The next morning was an efficient, coordinated, effort with some preparing their morning meal, some tending to the oxen and yoking them and others tending to the horses and saddling them. They were still in country that allowed them to forage their animals at will.

Although they passed several persons on foot or horseback, all fled on sight. Dent was beginning to wonder why.

As they were thinking of stopping for lunch, they meandered past someone who stopped at looked at them with puzzlement.

“Greetings,” Dent spoke.

“Who are you people?”

“We’re Monks on a pilgrimage. Why do you ask?”

“You’re coming from the badlands and don’t exhibit any fear. In fact, you seem like you could destroy anyone who dared to attack you. We’ve heard stories about you!”

“What stories have you heard?” Dent was puzzled; he had not noticed very many people on the road.

“Some stories are about Monks running in military formation. Other stories are of Monks practicing combat skills on the road. You look like Monks but behave like Palace Guards out training.”

“That is very interesting,” Dent murmured.

“You post guards at night. I’ve heard stories of guards at your wagons and roving guards wandering about at night. Haven’t you noticed people riding by on horse? Haven’t you noticed they don’t stop to talk with you?”

Since Dent had not been posting roving guards and his night time guard were more people with insomnia, he was a bit surprised. Still, if a little fear could hold off attacks, well, he didn’t mind.

“We really are Monks and we really are on a pilgrimage.”

Dent was not amused when Ten, who had been listening, shouted “fall out for lunch. Duty section, see to preparing lunch. Everyone else, forage for animal feed.”

Then Ten walked up to Dent, braced to attention and reported “Sir! We are preparing for lunch.” Ten then did an about face and strutted off.

The walker looked at Dent and said “I now believe you really are Monks on a pilgrimage!”

“Why?”

“I saw your friend listening and his ‘military act’ was too contrived, too much of an act.”

“You were military then?”

“Yes, I was a soldier in the Army of City 4. I left when the government was taken over by thieves and something called ‘special forces’. I think those ‘special forces’ were sent by the Emperor of the Inner Kingdom.”

“They were taking over the city?”

“No, they seemed to be operating in accordance with the desires of the Mayor of City 4 and someone else. We could not tell who that someone else was but we feared the worst and I left.”

“I would like to know the answer to that myself,” Dent said softly.

The stranger nodded slowly.

“Then, why not have lunch with us?”

Shortly thereafter, several people walked by. Dent invited them to lunch with is people. Dent gave these visitors copper coins and the advice “hide this wealth well my friends!”

Those getting the coppers knew they had little value and this reinforced the notion that Dent and company were Monks.

“What else do you know about the land between here and The City of Last Refuge?”

“Give me a pen and ink and I’ll draw you a map.”

“We need to go, sit on a wagon.” This response made the stranger begin to wonder if Dent and company were military after all.

He sat on the seat of a wagon and drew a careful map. On it, he showed hamlets, a small city at a distance that was serviced by better roads, taverns, a Temple of the New Way (a daughter of the Temple where Dent and his family had studied at) and stables and lagers for the animals. There were also stores where Dent and company could obtain supplies.

“I suggest you obtain supplies at this dry goods store.”

“Why that one?” Dent asked.

“The people out here have very little coin and therefore cannot shop much. The storekeepers are subsidized by city merchants simply to gain some sales.”

“What about this Temple?”

“They were formed after a schism with the Mother Temple in The City, the city so far east of here.”

“How far are we from the City of Last Refuge?”

“How far can you go daily?”

“Perhaps fifteen miles, at most.”

“Then, Monk Dent, you are about three days from the City of Last Refuge. You can reach the Temple of the New Way before high noon tomorrow. They have a large lager for animals and are known for the table they set. You should like it.”

“Thank you and we shall go there.”

“Also,” here the stranger hesitated, “they will help you do something about your eyes. Perhaps they can give you smoked glass to put in front of your eyes. Some people have noticed and are wondering if you are the vanguard of an invading army?”

“That had never occurred to me,” Dent said with a mixture of amusement and shock.

“Tell them that Vyes of Aisne sent you. They have known me for years since they gave me sanctuary after I left the Army. I know you probably disapprove of desertion but consider this: sometimes you must leave an evil place.”

“We understand that all too well Vyes of Aisne”, Dent responded. “May your God or Gods give you comfort, long life, prosperity, a good marriage and many healthy children.”

“May the same blessing apply to you, Dent of the Temple of the Way”

Vyes of Aisne left them at a fast walk with neither expecting to see the other again.

That evening, Dent and his Mystics went past a small tavern with attached barn. Dent and Ten went inside.

“How much do you charge for my people and for my animals?”

“You have 5 wagons, 4 oxen per wagon or 20 oxen and how many people and horses?”

“I have 47 horses and 33 people.”

“Does that 33 include yourself?”

“Yes.”

“I ask as I am going to charge you for meals and ale for tonight and a morning meal with tea tomorrow morning. You don’t have to pay for meals but if you don’t, I don’t allow cooking in my rooms and don’t take kindly to guests sneaking into the dining area. This is a wooden building and fires are a threat.”

“How much?”

“One copper for each animal, this covered feeding them, cleaning their stalls and harnessing them in the morning. This is 67 coppers. I charge one silver per person and that makes 33 silver for you and your people. Remember, this includes clean rooms, find food tonight and tomorrow morning, ale tonight fit for an Army officer and fine entertainment. You can take extra food with you tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll have to retrieve the coins.”

When Dent and Ten got outside, Dent said “we can stable the animals for a copper each and we can sleep here tonight. The food and ale with the bed will be 1 silver piece each. We’re looking at 67 copper pieces and 33 silver pieces for tonight.”

They had lived in a monastic setting their entire lives and the concept of money actually had as little meaning to them as it did to the People of the Valley.

“We can’t expect lower prices anywhere near here as there is no other place near here.” Ten was a bit fatalistic; he also did not know the Tavern was charging perhaps a fifth that anyone else would charge. It was, after all, a courier stop for an intelligence collection organization.

When Dent and Ten returned to the Tavern Keeper, they gave him 34 silver pieces. The Tavern Keeper was most careful to give him the 133 copper pieces in change. Then, in a soft voice, the Tavern Keeper advised Dent: “Young man, I know officers in the Corps are casual with their coinage. I caution you to keep and use smaller denominations whenever possible. This will reduce the chance you will need to fight for your life.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“There is your change, young man. Now, why don’t we have my boys take your wagons to a protected location?”

The wagons were driven to the protected location, which appeared fortified from the inside. The oxen and horses were taken to barn, where they were given VIP treatment.

“Why are you giving us such excellent service?”

“That should be obvious but since you seem to be testing my knowledge, I’ll answer your question. You are clearly intelligence agents of the Grandfather of Assassins from The City. Your eyes give it away. These markings on your wagons give it away.”

“Very good, young man,” Dent replied. “Here is a little token of my appreciation of your knowledge.” Dent gave the stable boy a gold coin,. This firmly established that not only was this a troop of the Grandfather of Assassins intelligence people, but, Dent was a well-paid senior officer. Clearly, Dent was no one to trifle with.

It was still short of the time for the evening meal so Dent and his people went to their assigned rooms. There they were stunned by the comfort in these rooms. It took some effort to refrain from napping.

The evening meal was in a large room filled with candles. The food included boiled onions, boiled cabbage and boiled carrots, a novelty, baked bread, rice, mutton and some kind of fish. The desert consisted of apples, pears and strawberries.

The ale tasted different from what they were used to as it was brewed in the tavern.

Dent then did something he had not needed to do on this journey. He asked the Tavern Keeper to wake him and his group at dawn. The Tavern Keeper hid his smile at this very predictable response of a soldier who had slept on the ground too many times suddenly facing the luxurity of soft beds.

The morning meal consisted of boiled oats, a small amount of lamb, strawberries, the massive luxury of honey, coffee, apples, a hard cheese and a soft cheese and leavened bread with honey.

As expected, Dent and party asked for fruit, cheese and leavened bread to take with them. They got this in hemp sacks.

Their wagons with oxen attached and horses were brought around to the front of the Tavern. The horses were tied off to the back of the wagons by the staple boys once those wishing to ride had mounted.

Dent bowed to the Tavern Keeper: “We thank you good sir for your hospitality.”

“You are quite welcome, young officer. May the Grandfather [of Assassins] rule forever!”

“I share your prayer for the Grandfather!”

Dent had been raised seeing the Grandfather of Assassins as a friendly figure. This was obvious to the Tavern Keeper who assumed the Grandfather of Assassins could have been this “young officer’s” actual Grandfather. He was fairly close…

With their point of view changed in the past two days, Dent and his company made their way quickly to the Temple of the New Way.

Interlude: at the People of the Valley

Left behind but not forgotten, the 8 men and 3 women revived. About 10 days after the Mystics departure, the first of the comatose woke. It took a couple of days before they all revived.

“Where am I” was the classic opening remark of each of the 11.

“You are in the hospital of the People of the Valley. You were quite sick and we hope you will recover fully.”

It took weeks for them to be able to stay awake for more than several hours a day. When they did, their recover was quick.

Gathered together as a group, they wanted answers.

“Where are we? OK, we know where we are. But what happened to us?”

Tersia sighed for answers to questions like this were very hard for her.

“What do you remember?”

“We were having a wonderful party and then I started to feel very strange”, one replied. “I realized that I was feeling drunk so I drank more of the tea.”

Several others nodded in agreement.

“There was a form of mushroom in the tea. It is a mild intoxicant we have used for perhaps 19 generations. We did not know that you are not completely human. Your brother, Dent, told us about your ‘change of life’. We did not know of this and would not have allowed you to drink it if we had.”

“How can you folks drink this with safety?”

“I fear that we have become immune to these mushrooms because we not fully human ourselves. We think these mushrooms harmed our ancestors perhaps 20 generations ago, when they first moved to this area. We may have changed over the generations.”

“You’ll forgive me if I make some comments that may be offensive,” one of the three women spoke. “Do you have a small population? Do you take very many outsiders into your breeding population?”

“We are a small population,” Tersia admitted, “and we have allowed our people to marry outsiders for perhaps 375 to 400 years.”

“Then,” the same woman continued, “you could be a small population on the road to speciation.”

“That is something we have feared for generations. Still, we are reluctant to bring in outsiders. Our culture is very old and very stable and fear change from outsider contact.”

“Can you protect yourselves? We have spent our lives learning specific fighting techniques.”

“We have some expertise in combat,” Tersia admitted.

“Perhaps we could teach you some of our techniques? One style is often described as simply relaxing exercise. Another style emphasis agility. Other styles are combat styles. We can teach whatever you desire or nothing at all.”

“I don’t know how to ‘sell’ this to my people. They are resistant to change.”

“That resistance to change may not be as strong as you fear. I have had several of your children tell me about ‘maggot cheese’. Is this something your people make?”

“Ah, no, one of your young Monks told some of our boys about ‘maggot cheese’. I’m afraid it became quite the thing to talk about.”

“Then, perhaps you could tell me why some of your girls were giggling about ‘bloody cheese’?”

“Perhaps when you have gotten more of your strength back?”

The last thing she wanted to do was explain an obscene joke to people who had been raised in a cloistered Monastery. Didn’t their parents consider the dangers of such naïve attitudes?

The next day, the eleven asked where their relatives had gone.

“They said they had to go to the west. Why they felt the urge is something they could not explain.”

“Tersia, we all felt the need to ‘go to the west’ ourselves. Since we’ve woke, with the ‘change’ apparently complete, we no longer understand why we felt this drive There was no reason why beyond survival I wonder if we could have gone to the Temple of the Way and sheltered there? Perhaps we could have gone to a Temple in another city. I now think we could have gone south with Emma of the Central Kingdom and lived out our lives there.”

“Did Dent say anything?”

“We had the feeling that all of you were under an external pressure to ‘go west’. You are apart from the group now and maybe there was something in the group that reinforced the need to ‘go west’?”

“Can we find where they went?”

“Directly west of us is the northern tongue of the Central Desert. There may be civilizations there but there is a reason why City 5 is called ‘The City of Last Refuge’. There is nothing west of that city.”

The next day, the eleven Mystics began practicing their Martial Arts on the floor of the valley. At first, they could not do much but recovered their abilities as they healed. They started to attract students and after several months, this training entered the list of classes taught by the Elders.

They were healthy enough to turn out to work in the fields.

They hid when outsiders wandered by.

Then, the people from the Central Kingdom wandered by.

Both these visitors and the Mystics were delighted to see each other.

After conversation, they finally got to what mattered.

“Do you want to go after your people?”

“It has been a long time and we don’t see how we could find them.”

“Neither do we. Would you like to return home?”

“We felt driven from our home and it would simply be too hard to return. It has been less than a year but none of feel any attachment to The City. None at all!”

“We lived in a Monastery where we were taught a great many skills. We did very little outside of our home. Thus, we have no real connection. We have a great deal of connection to the people here.”

“Would you like to join us?”

“We could but we feel accepted here. We would go with you if we are not accepted into the families here.”

“You are accepted!” Tersia walked in with her hands in the air.

That night, the Embassy from the Central Kingdom watched as the eleven Mystics were adopted into the People of the Valley. It was a joyous occasion. The Central Kingdom Ambassadors sent a full report of this event to the Temple of the Way but never heard anything back. The Administration of the Central Kingdom decided they did not know enough of the complicated politics of the Inner Kingdom to pursue this matter…

At the Temple of the New Way…

They made their way to the Temple of the New Way and left their wagons by the front of the Temple. Then, Dent and Ten went to the front entrance and knocked upon the door. When the door was opened, Dent stated: “We need to speak with the Temple Master.”

Both made the High Sign of Greeting and Urgent Request For Aid.

The young Monk who answered the door invited them in and left the two in the Alcove. The Temple Master, slightly out of breath, trotted up.

“I greet both of you. How may we be of service?”

“We lived and trained at a Monastery in The City. The exact location is irrelevant at the moment. My point is we were associated with the Temple of the Way. We were forced from The City and now seek sanctuary while we decide what we should really believe and where we should go.”

“You must be Dent and you fit the description of Ten. Is this correct?”

“Yes, we are the Monks Dent and Ten.”

“Then of course you and your brethren are most welcome at our Temple. I am Brother Stegg and am Temple Master.”

Brother Stegg turned to the young Monk. “Brother Jacques, please direct our visitors to take their animals to the barn. We can move their wagons into secure storage on the way to the barn.”

Their belongings safely secured in the Temple’s building, Dent and Stegg went to Stegg’s office and all took seats in a lounge area.

“Brother Stegg, we wish sanctuary for a limited period.”

“Granted, brothers, granted.”

“What do you know of us?” Ten was often very direct.

“All I know is you know the secret signs and know to ask us for help. Beyond that, while we receive a great deal of news from distant cities, we have not learned of you.”

Brother Stegg went to a closed cupboard, put crystal wine glasses on a small table and poured a red wine into the glasses. He gave a glass of wine to each of his guests and took the third back to his chair.

“A toast to you and your traveling pilgrimage.”

They drank the toast.

“Why are you on the road?”

“We were born and raised in The City at a Monastery in the House of the Grandfather of Assassins. We were never told why we were raised here and somehow never thought to question it.”

Brother Stegg looked at Ten who clearly looked like a man with an opinion and said “what do you think, Ten?”

“Before our creations, our births, the Temple was in disarray after anti-priest riots. These riots supposedly followed a cholera epidemic.”

“So true, people turn to perceived ‘enemies’ when events happen that they do not understand. I remember the riots from when I was a child at the Temple of the Way. I had to use what little knowledge of the Martial Arts I had in order to defend our people. I still see the face of the screaming man I attacked. He was so filled with hate…”

“We were in our quarters when the doors burst open and men attacked us. Fortunately, living in the House of the Grandfather of Assassins, we had received defensive education beyond that given regular Monks. We fled the House and went to a hidden storehouse of the Thieves Guild. There, we took what we thought we needed. It did not occur to us to wonder why we felt the need to flee. We had spent a great deal of time at the Temple of the Way and so we went back there to say our good byes.”

“Allow me to mention some matters,” Ten interjected, “when we got to the Temple and explained what had happened, the Grandfather of Assassins was summoned. He said that outsiders had brought the correct papers and had to be housed in the House. Their eventual attack on our people was done under orders. I hope our relatives in the House took revenue.”

Brother Stegg smiled at this idea.

“The Grandfather had been like a Grandfather to us when we were growing up in the House,” Dent continued with the narrative, “and he swore to look in to who these murderers were and why they had assaulted us. We were allowed to stay in a safe house and left after spending enough time there for attention to die down.”

“Why are you coming west? Weren’t there other places you could have found safety?”

“Yes, I’m certain there are but you need to understand our motives. We, as a group, feel an intense compulsion to continue moving west. Why all of us feel this is beyond our understanding but it is real. There is another matter. You may have noticed our joints are growing larger and our eyes are changing colour?”

“I wasn’t going to mention that. I am hoping this is genetic and not a disease.”

“The ‘change of life’ is something we were warned would be coming if we stopped taking a daily pill. The pill has the nice side effect of acting as an anti-conception agent.”

“How effective is that?” Brother Stegg asked.

“I am one of the oldest of our people. My wife and I married and we had four children. We were taking a different pill that allowed these blessed events.”

“Don’t you want to return to your family, Brother?”

“More than you’ll ever know, Brother. Despite this, the urge, the need, to go west is even stronger.”

“We have effective anti-conception drugs and barrier methods we will provide your people. We are supported by nobility and lay persons alike and can easily take you in for as long as you need.”

“How long might that be?”

“As long as you need it to be, Brother Dent. Our gardener came here as a scared 14 year running from an abusive family., He is now 90 years old and his children and grandchildren and great grandchildren live in the Temple or in the surrounding village. We were thinking of informally naming this Temple after him.”

There was a pause while Brother Stegg brought over the wine bottle and refilled their glasses,

“Have you considered that the compulsion you feel is a continuing message from our God?”

“Yes.”

Brother Stegg didn’t mention the alternative hypothesis that the compulsion was implanted into each of them at the Temple and had nothing to do with their God. Sometimes, he thought, it is better to allow a possibly false clarity to persist rather than suggest a darker possibility reality. It was not his place to say…

They chatted for a while until one of Brother Stegg’s assistants politely knocked and reminded Brother Stegg that he had other appointments. Brother Stegg then asked his assistant to take all their visitors to the Temple Healers. When Dent and his party went there, they were given effective anti-conception pills for both the men and women and barrier devices for both sexes. They were also interviewed at length to find their old and their new medical histories. Copies of these records would later be sent to the Temple of the Way where they were misfiled with Temple of the New Way documents…

The next day, Brother Stegg invited Dent and Ten to his private office. There, he had a map.

“This map presents locations and objects from the Temple to the Great Sea. Here are various villages, here is the City of Last Refuge and well to the west is a large village called ‘House of the Fish’. This was once a large house and fish processing plant owned and operated by Half Elves. They supposedly did the actual fishing and a tribe or Orcs and Half Orcs processed the fish. Since then, humans have moved in and now run a boatyard, some Elves maintain a lighthouse and a mixture of Elves and Humans run a Coast Guard of sorts. They ask fisher folk to provide a sail plan before going out to sea. If someone fails to tell them that they have returned safely, they mount searches for them. Should someone return safely and fail to close out their sail plan, then one of the Humans or Elves take a couple of the Orcs from the boatyard and impress on those feckless few the fallacy of failing to obey the rules.

Dent addressed his people and tried to ignore that where they had once be 60 was now a mere 24 women and 9 men. He feared this number would decrease before they found sanctuary in the west. By now, he no longer quested their drive to move west…

“We are about as far west as we can really get. To the north is City 5, also known as ‘The City of Last Refuge’. West of there is a small fishing village named ‘House of the Fish’. This is a town based around fishing, fish processing and support groups. They have a number of retirees who apparently live there for the retirement benefits and for fear of City 5. I suggest we go to this ‘Fish Town’ and see if that is where we were meant to be. If not, we can always return to the People of the Valley and probably can make contact with the Central Kingdom. I am certain that Emma of that City would take us in.”

“What can we do in this Fish Town,” Elizabeth asked?

“We can see who contacts us, and try to make contacts of our own. The worst that could happen is probably not making contact. In that case, we can return to the Valley or seek out Emma.”

“What do we know of City 5 and what is our tactical goal is going there?”

“We don’t actually know a lot of the city proper but we know some about the slums on the southwest side. Our tactical goals will be to find out any gossip in the Thieves bars, to find out if there are any of those ‘special soldiers’ around and see if we can ask them questions and to listen for any news from The City and other cities along the road. I don’t like being so ignorant.”

“Can the Temple ask questions for us?”

“Brother Stegg went to the garrison commander this morning to ask about news from the east. He said it was for a sermon that he was writing.”

“Do you believe him”, asked one Mystic?

“Absolutely,” Dent replied.

When Brother Stegg returned, Dent asked him to speak with all of Dent’s group.

“Please tell us what you may have heard,” Dent asked.

“There is a story of a fight in City 3 that was initially covered up. It seems that ‘special soldiers’ from an Army Division near The City had assaulted a group of merchants who were leaving City 3. This group of merchants fought back successfully. Perhaps one of the merchants and an eight man Army squad were killed. The local Army Watch Commander decided to not pursue these merchants.”

Brother Stegg smirked.

“What is funny? Ten was genuinely puzzled.

“The Watch Commander is a Half Orc who very strongly resembles his human Mother. He has lead his Company through some of the worst weather anyone has seen to ‘catch his man’. He obviously did not want to catch these merchants.”

“It was two of us that was killed”, one of Dent’s ladies said.

“I know, I read Brother Dent’s field report to the Mother Chapter at the Temple of the Way in The City. You have our sympathy.”

“Why is someone hushing up the news regarding us”, someone asked.

“Perhaps the folks who sent the attackers don’t want to be seen as having failed to murder a group of sleeping Monks? Perhaps other groups or other forces have entered the fray and are mucking up the water? Who can say?” Elizabeth threw up her hands after speaking.

Perhaps the simplest explanation was one that no one had thought of: the ant farm had been stirred by a short branch and now the “scientists” were waiting to see the results. The ‘special soldiers’ were simply a one-time follow on attack meant to “stir the pot” one final time.

“What can we do in this Fish Town,” Elizabeth asked?

“We can see who contacts us, and try to make contacts of our own. The worst that could happen is probably not making contact. In that case, we can return to the Valley or seek out Emma.”

“What do we know of City 5 and what is our tactical goal is going there?”

Dent brought out a piece of paper. “Here is how I see our tactical plan”.

“We scout into the slums around the southwest corner of City 5. Our goals are to find a thieves tavern or bar, identify ourselves by sign and ask for news. We can enter the city to judge the attitudes of the people and to see how many guards and Army here are.”

No one considered the amount of hubris in Dent’s plan, had they done so, they would have rejected this plan.

“If there is no information to be gained, the scouts would then rejoin the wagons and we would go to this Fish Village. I think we know how to act in a city but I don’t know enough about scouting a village.”

“I need comment and especially any negative comment.” There was no criticism of these plans. The sad truth was they knew very little about scouting a city but quite a bit about scouting a town. After all, the House and the Temple they had been raised in were basically villages…

The next day was spent in morning exercise and mid-morning unarmed combat training. That afternoon, the best of the Mystics Martial Arts experts helped teach the students at this Temple. They found comfort in their religious exercises. They also found comfort in rehearsing for their planned recon of City 4.

The next day, they had a very large breakfast and studied the maps once more. Rehearsals assured them that everyone was as prepared for contingencies as they could be.

They reloaded their wagons, added fresh supplies from the Temple and made their good byes.

Dent realized that as a Monk, he was not supposed to have much money. In fact, he was supposed to give away much of the wealth he had beyond what was needed for survival. He supposed his family counted as minions but he would never have dared call them that!

Dent gave Brother Stegg most of the gold and platinum that had gotten from the People of the Valley. Stegg was stunned by this generosity; Dent had not really thought of the economic value of the coins and was happy that Stegg liked them.

They arrived at their “muster point” southwest of City 5 near sunset. This trip had gone quicker than expected as two men from the Temple had ridden along with them. These two gave the Mystics their blessings and turned their donkeys away, heading back to their Temple. It was a safe trip since no thought that someone as poor looking as these two could have carried valuables.

They had not carried valuables. Their real secret was they were Monks and very skillful in unarmed combat and with the short staffs they carried.

Perhaps their strongest weapon was the physical presence they had; they projected a clear YOU DO NOT WANT TO FUCK WITH US attitude.

Dent had not wanted to spend time with an evening meal but he was getting hungry. He had thought of buying meals at any Thieves Taverns but realized that he probably should not have given his coins to Brother Stegg. He still had the coins from his homeland but spending that seemed wrong.

Dent gathered his people together and said: “I think we need to patrol in with four couples, for tonight I’d like male female couples” (He had several same sex couples.) I need volunteers. If no one is willing, we can come up with a different patrol configuration.”

He took his four couples and began a meandering entry through the slums of City 5.

He did a personal recon of each of four different taverns that displayed the Thieves Signs, with one displaying both Thieves and Assassins Signs. Then, he dropped off a couple in each. He believed these couples could engage in conversation and find out the news.

To reach the last Tavern, Dent had to climb four flights of stairs. It was at this last Tavern, Dent realized how badly he had analyzed the situation when they were attacked. The couple he was with went down hard, fighting with distinction and taking several attackers with them. Dent had always been a superior fighter.

The fight, Dent’s Point of View:

One attacker approached Dent after stabbing Dent’s brother in the back.

Dent had just broken a man’s arm and then broken his knee. The killer lunged at Dent from behind. But Dent had grown old in various combat strategies and could not be taken from behind.

Dent spun in a quick circle that both moved him from the attacker and brushed aside the attacker’s knife with his cloak.

Dent kicked the killer in the groin and slashed the man’s throat with his dagger.

Dent roared in Orc “kill”!

He thought he heard a guttural voice respond with “kill them”.

Dent was then beset upon by another attacker. Dent fended him off with a flurry of left handed hand attacks and smashed this attacker’s throat with an extended knuckle punch. Dent had lost his Monkish desire for Peace and his inner Assassin came out as he roared in Orc “blood kill for my family”!

He knew he heard a guttural voice respond with “blood kill blood kill”.

A man dressed in soldier uniform with insignia Dent recognize charged into the Tavern with short sword raised. The man should have kept his distance, sounded the alert and kept from the fight. Instead, he attacked Dent with his short sword.

“A pity,” went through Dent’s mind, “he should never have involved himself in this fight.”

Dent used a groin kick to distract the young soldier. This young “warrior” had been wearing banded armour over boiled leather armour and a padded helmet. It would have defended him against an attack to his torso. (The armour did not protect his groin, arms or legs.)

Dent held his dagger back against his right forearm, swept his arm up and almost gently slid the blade into his victim’s body next to his left collar bone. The knife nicked the left pulmonary artery and penetrated the left atrium almost to the mitral valve. Dent swept the blade back and forth before withdrawing it. The sweeping was unnecessary as his victim had gone into shock and was bleeding out internally.

As he quickly wiped his blade on the dead soldier’s cloak, Dent realized that an Orc was killing the last of the assailants in the room. Although, he thought, the Orc might have just killed someone who had the misfortune to be in the wrong place. It did not matter…

When he had been forced into combat, the shock had snapped Dent into a battle fugue. He felt utterly calm. He felt no emotions other than the desire to inflict his will on those attacking his people.

The Orc both recognized Dent’s Battle Fugue for it was a common thing among Orcs and realized that Dent was probably not a true Human. These were factors in Dent’s favour.

Then Dent screamed “my people. I left my family in Taverns.”

Dent ran to the nearest window, which was open. Throwing himself outside the window, he was able to slither down the wall with greater speed than if he had tried the stairs. The Orc looked out the window and remember how Dent had killed, especially with the last kill, the Orc knew he had seen an Expert Assassin in murderous action.

The Orc liked this…

In the closest Tavern, Dent found his people dead and the Tavern attackers holding off Orcs.

“What shall we do with them,” one Orc snarled.

“Kill them all!” Dent roared back in Orc.

The Orcs quickly accomplished this task. When Dent checked the other three Taverns, he found his people dead and the Orcs, who easily recognized Dent’s people if only by smell, had slaughtered the remaining Humans. From the sounds in the surrounding area, it was clear the Orcs were killing other Humans.

Still fully in Battle Fugue, this amused Dent…

Dent found one of his ladies still alive and picked her up and began to trot back towards their wagons. The Orcs, helpful to their own, retrieved the eight dead Mystics and, putting them into a wagon attached to a small horse, began to ride towards where they knew the other strange possible humans were.

The Fight, killer’s Point of View

The man was a fighter, a one-time soldier who was "down on his luck", who made his "Rent Money" by taking on caravan guarding jobs, way laying the occasional rider who looked a bit too prosperous for his own good and slitting the purse string and taking the purse of drunken fools. He did this very seldom and only if he believed no one from the thief's guild could see him.

Someone from the City Government had spread the word of strange looking outsiders who were asking snoopy questions. These outsiders were "enemies of the state" and were to be brought to the "special soldiers" alive. If not alive because they had fought too much, then the reward money would be paid for dead "enemies of the state".

The fighter worshiped a God who favoured those who took for themselves and who did not hold dear the notions of human life (or non-human lives)] having any great value.

It was a violent religion for a violent people and would have unfortunate results in the afterlife for the religion's adherents for their religion was a lie…

The fighter approached one of the strangers, apparently a woman of a species new to the fighter, who was holding off two men with remarkable hand and foot strikes. These strikes, as impressive as they were, could not defend her from an unexpected smashing blow to the head. After that, her attackers had no trouble in catching her falling body and slashing her throat.

One of the regulars in this Tavern turned on the fighter with the intent to claim the fighter as "one of the outsiders". The fighter took a light cross bow from the ground and put a quarrel through his attacker's stomach. A solar plexus strike simply shuts down the body.

The fighter lunged at Dent from behind. But Dent had grown old in various combat strategies and could not be taken from behind. This was something the fighter had not expected.

Dent spun in a quick circle that both moved him from the attacker and brushed aside the attacker’s knife with his cloak. Desperately, the fighter tried to back off.

Dent kicked him in the groin and slashed the fighter’s throat with his dagger.

When the fighter awoke in his personal afterlife, he found to be quite different from his expectations. He spent a very long and painful time repenting…

The Fight, Coward’s Point of View

He lived behind a wall in a dry good store, in a long forgotten hallway boarded up generations before. He had a nice blanket and a mattress stolen from an old couple who had forgotten they had a spare bedroom. This spare bedroom had provided his wardrobe and the trunks in their attic had provided fine clothing. Well he had thought at the time, fine when his grandparents had been very young.

He had gone for a walk in the fine mid-day to look about the city. Actually, he thought, why not be honest with myself and admit I “acquired” a couple of blankets and a pillow to replace the one I vomited on last week. (That pillow was beginning to stink…)

Why, a store had left out some food just for him. (He thought, if I’m being honest with myself, then I should admit the food was in an iced box and it was only “out just for me” because I took it out.) “Ah, well”, he thought, “it had been out for him and beggars can no be choosey!”

He worked at a Tavern for small wagers as the “bus boy”. He saw it as a civic duty to help the woman washing dishes to drink any wine or ale or mead left in glasses and to eat any food left on plates. It was positively a civic duty and he could no see why no one recognized his philanthropy. Sometimes, he could score big in return for a bit of “the old in-out”. The men conducting “the old in-out” always gave him coin, copper and occasionally silver. He really scored when they gave him decent meals, with enough to fill his stomach (sometime more than food and drink filled his stomach) and food enough to take home to his hallway.

It was a good life for him and the only life he could remember; he simply was not intelligent enough to recognize how pathetic he was.

He had emptied the glasses and was hoping to score when a strange looking man, probably a fighter pushing into middle age, gave the room the look over that body guards were famous for. A slightly younger couple came in and took a seat. They looked around and quietly spoke to each other. Others in the room were not so quietly talking and looking at this couple.

Even a blind chicken can get a piece of corn and even he could see this was not going to end well.

The others in the room stood and moved slowly towards the door. Then, they attacked the outsiders.

The man and the woman stood back to back and fought with remarkable skill. The older man roared something and began to fight himself. That was the last he saw as he drove under a table, bit his lips to keep them tight shut and prayed to every God he thought he had heard of for his safe delivery from this fight.

It got quiet in the Tavern and he thought it might be safe to come out.

He was wrong, there were Orcs and Half Elves waiting quietly for him when he stuck his head out.

They had begun questioning him and it went painfully for him since they did not believe he would have hid under a small table when he could have escaped through the open Tavern door…

The Orcs walked their wagon to where the Mystics were. Before they arrived, all the Mystics were in defensive positions behind their wagons.

The oldest of the Orcs spoke: “Here are your brothers. We helped your oldest brother kill them that killed your brothers.”

Ten, being the next eldest, walked out to face the Orcs and spoke in Orc: “We thank you for returning our brothers. Did you kill them that murdered out brothers?”

The Orc replied: “We killed them.”

Ten replied: “Our clan thanks you. We will return the favor.”

A Half Elven suddenly appeared in the dim light so deep in the twilight: “Go back to the clan leader. He needs you now.”

The Orcs immediately obeyed.

“Who are you people and why are you out on this road? What happened to your relatives?”

“We’re not particularly in the mood to talk with strangers.”

Dent stumbled up, holding his dead young lady. He was clearly in shock.

“We were attacked without warning. I did not foresee this and now I’ve killed 8 more of us.”

“No, you did not! You should not have been attacked in those Taverns. I will not accept self-criticism from you!”

“Who are you,” Ten asked.

“My Orcs, my Half Elves and I are not from around here. We can talk about that later.”

“Why?” Dent asked for the group.

“Because it was foretold to us that you would come to us! I just wish the prophesy had been better!”

“We will take you to a place of safety. But first, we need to go to a seaport; you’ll understand.”

“Why a seaport,” Dent asked?

“It is a safe jumping off point”, then Half Elven woman replied.

It took most of the night to arrive in the “House of the Fish”. There Dent and his people were taken to emergency shelter. Some was on fishing boats, some in barns, some in the few houses big enough to shelter them.

The Mystics slept horribly but not as badly as they had before the deaths or incapacitations of their kin folk.

In the late morning, Dent and his people gathered at a large wood working facility that had been cleaned during the night. Then, the locals introduced themselves: there were Humans, Half Elves, Orcs and a few others in the group. For about an hour, this eclectic group conducted funeral ceremonies for the eight dead of the Mystics and for the others who had died on their pilgrimage.

Dent stood and with difficulty speaking, thanked this group.

“Once again, we must depend on the kindness of very well meaning strangers. I understand you are planning on a sea voyage for us? Would this mean going to the land north of the Great Sea?”

The woman who spoke for the group had called herself Rinda, daughter of Samantha.

“No it does not. I said that knowing we were probably being listened to. We are going deep into the northern tongue of the Central Desert where we have our home land. We hope you will find peace there.”

“Thank you. I fear we cannot go home.” Dent looked at each of his followers and asked “do you want to go with Rinda, daughter of Samantha?”

“All of my people are willing to go with you in hopes of finding peace and safety and healing.”

“We will try this.”

“I would like to send an urgent, perhaps harsh, letter to our people in The City. I ask all of my brothers and sisters to write letters as well. How can they be sent?”

“There are two paths to get your messages to The City. The first is to send a fishing ship across the southern edge of the Great Sea. This is very dangerous as we still lose a ship or two a week onto the rocks or due to massive waves. The safest path is to visit the Way Temple in City 4. They can send couriers with military escort to The City.”

“You did not mention it but we will protect your people by not talking of your city in the deep desert. A year ago, there were 60 of us, 30 men and 30 women. When we left our Monastery in the House of the Grandfather of Assassins we were 28 women and 19 men and now we are 20 women and 5 men. We are a ‘merely a variation becoming a species’[ii]. When we were 60, there was a chance for us to begin speciation but not today.”

“You will not despair, my old friend,” Elizabeth informed him. “With our God, all things are possible!”

Absolutely no one in the room disagreed with Elizabeth’s statement.

For the people of “House of the Fish”, there was no urgency to take to the sea to find fish. They were willing to spend time with the last of the Mystics…

Among the letters was that of Dent. It ended with:

“…we are tired. We are tired from having been forced out of our Monastery in the House, tired of being attacked in the cities west of The City, tired of not knowing who are enemies are, tired of living in fear and tired of not having a home. We plan on taking to the Mother Ocean to proceed to the north. Perhaps in the safety of these strangers, we can find Peace.”

Dent, Monk of

The House

The Temple of the Way

People of the Valley

The Temple of the New Way

Temple of the Way (3 months before present)

It had been a typical day of training, teaching and practicing his musical instruments for Pitrov. Actually, he thought, his daughter and the youngest Monks enjoyed laughing at his playing and insisted on making suggestions. It would be some years before they learned that Pitrov demonstrated a great deal of skill in his ability to seemingly play poorly and then “improve” under his student’s “instruction”.

As young Monks under instruction obtained a certain level of expertise, they could fall down walls if and only if they were within a foot of a wall. This was something no one could explain but it was something Monks under instruction learned. Today was training day…

The walls around the training floor were taken with rooms. Monks centuries before had removed the wall from one of these rooms and allowed access to the open air above the training floor. To keep children out, they had put a very stout door in place. This door was just under 20 feet from the floor. On wall climbing training day, very soft and thick mats were placed on the floor below. (These mats were generally covered by tired trainees and very small children had a habit of demanding their right to use the mats for naps.

Pitrov, who could safely fall down much higher walls demonstrated his technique by sitting on the floor of the opening, sliding off and turning to face the wall before striking the mats. His son loved being held by his parents as they slid down the wall face. Of course, they told him he fell so nicely. They had to keep careful watch to ensure the children – some in their early teens – did not try this falling technique before they were ready.

The ending pièce de résistance was when several more senior Monks slid down the wall face first.

All of the junior trainees had been belayed by ropes carefully manned to both protect students who had lost faith in their ability to fall and to protect those who simply were not advanced enough to safely fall. Also, the younger children loved to slide down the wall dangling from the ropes.

The ropes having been retrieved and coiled and the door carefully shut and locked, Pitrov and his teacher declared sliding day training over.

The Nannies were invited to bring their charges in to play and sleep on the mats…

The mats were removed late that evening and put in a locked storage area behind one of the walls of the training floor. Access to these mats was controlled to keep them safe from the kids and to keep the kids safe from the mats.

In the early evening, they received a note from the House Mouse requesting an audience with Pitrov ap Gina, Dorna ab Willard and Oiada. Normally, the House Mouse would arrive bearing gifts for the children and then spend time discussing records and methods with the Archivists. The simple truth was the Grandfather of Assassins had been an ally of the Temple of the Way for centuries.

This time, the House Mouse had spent some time with all four Archivists before they went to the meeting room.

The House Mouse had brought wine with him and this simplified the entertainment question.

“We have found the answers to some questions that have plagued our historians for centuries. Have you heard the Myth of the Western Grandfather? We now think he was real. Your Archivists found some letters and a codex under the name of ‘Emma’. I spoke with Emma of the Central Kingdom, who told me much of this ‘Western Grandfather’. I brought ten copies of the most recently translated document from the lost Mystics. I fear it will be hard for you to read. It certainly was for me. Even the Grandfather of Assassins was troubled by what he read; I have never heard him mutter ‘so unnecessary, so unnecessary’ before.”

While the others were reading this history, the House Mouse amused himself by playing an Eastern Game called Go with Gen. He found the boy surprisingly good at the game and gave him a hard play. Debra ab Pitrov had wondered in when she learned the House Mouse was in the House and fetched her little brother, Stephen ab Dorna, for they both enjoyed playing with the House Mouse. “Uncle Mouse” had brought appropriate toys for the two children, which they enjoyed…

Finally, all but Oiada was finished with reading the material he had brought.

“Oiada, I fear there is still more material to read.” The House Mouse reached into the sack he had carried the missives in and handed Oiata letters bundled together with yarn. “We have not opened these letters.”

There were letters written to Oiada that had been left sealed. Oiada[iii] opened them, reading them one at a time and wept.

“Why are you crying”, Dorna asked gently.

“These are love letters from my little ones.”

Dorna and Pitrov read the letters and he said: “These are the kinds of letters a person writes when they fear their deaths are imminent and want to say goodbye to their favourite Grandmother.”

To no one’s surprise, Oiada gathered up Debra, Stephen and Gen to her breast and hugged them tightly.

“Did you know what was in the letters?”

“We did not, Dorna, but I feared it would be farewell letters. Hence, red wine bottled about the time her ‘little ones’ had left their lives in the city.”

The Archivists sighed and the Senior one began to speak:

“There was a very thick letter from Emma of the Central Kingdom to the Temple Master written years after the Mystics disappeared into the West. We haven’t really had time to digest what me found. We asked Mouse to visit us and showed him these ancient and misfiled records when he arrived today…

“We do not wish to speculate as to why these records were misfiled upon receipt and are embarrassed. On the sunny side, we are reexamining all our archives and have gotten some of the young ones involved in this work.”

The next day, the three senior Monks (including the Senior Nanny) were invited to visit with the Grandfather Of Assassins’ staff shortly after their noon meal.

When Pitrov ap Gina, Dorna ab WIlard and Oiada arrived, they were taken to a central location with a plaque reading “Briefing Room” on the door.

The House Mouse, several advisors and one of the Senior Officers of the Palace Guard were waiting.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” said the House Mouse. “We need to know if you are willing to help us determine who is bringing strange forms of what must be “Pain Ender” into the Inner Kingdom. We’d like to know the distribution network being used. If what we think is correct, then we may have useful information regarding both your ancestor and the person or persons called ‘The Western Grandfather.’ From our viewpoint, learning about this ‘Western Grandfather’ is of most pressing interest to us.”

The Senior Guard Officer then spoke: “Will you be willing to go on a fact finding mission to explore these issues? You would be away from The City for perhaps two months. If you do go, we will provide a Field Grade Officer with a large amount of field experience. He is a Paladin and cannot be in this building. We were thinking of asking for thieves to help with the mission.”

“Then thieves will be unacceptable to this Paladin; they cannot bear the presence of ‘evil’. What about Mages and Monks instead?”

“Acceptable with caveats regarding cross over skills.”

“Perhaps you need to discuss this trip in private?” The House Mouse paused.

“That is quite all right, Mouse, I can see the need for this trip,” Dorna said. “I do insist that my husband come back safely!”

“Very well then,” the House Mouse said. “Our advisors have briefed the Regimental Commander and I. Perhaps you can nominate a couple of Monks and we can provide a couple of Mages.”

With the nods of agreement, the House Mouse lead his party of Regimental Commander, two Monks and the Nanny (who had been a Monk most of her very long life and who had a number of other skills).

They walked to a building with an open air café and entered. Across from this building was a large building marked “Central Communications Station”. They entered “the white room with black curtains near the station”[iv], where five others were awaiting them.

“Gentlemen, I introduce you to the Monk, Master of Dragons Pitrov ap Gina. He is the Senior Teacher of Arts at the Temple of the Way; The next Monk is Master of the North wind, Dorna ab Willard, who is Pitrov’s wife; the final Monk is…”

“The Nanny, just the Nanny,” Oiada yelled to no avail.

“…Master of Summer, Oiada. She is the Senior Monk in the Inner Kingdom. She has also taken leave of absence from the Mother Temple to serve as Nanny in the Temple of the Way.”

“I did not want any of you to know my rank and thus change your manner towards me.”

“My wife is senior to me and I have always suspected that you were as well, Oiada. You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I don’t change my behavior.”

“Good” and Oiada smiled.

“I wish to introduce the senior Paladin, Justiciar Robin Winton, commander of the 19^th Battalion; the Mage, Warlock Merlyn; the Phantasmist Strength of the Ocean, an Illusionist and two Masters, both Monks from the Old City, which is the Second City of the Central Kingdom. Their names are Miken ap Emma and Data ap Emma. Yes, they are both the sons of our Emma of the Central Kingdom. Both are Masters.

“We have been obtaining a pain killer called “morfina” from some source in the far west. We have never been able to determine the source although we have been looking for centuries. Lately, we began noticing a far more addictive form of this drug and again, we do not know where it is coming from or who is producing it. What is most troubling is the appearance of a substance labeled as “morfina” that is highly addictive. We believe the users of this substance reach a point where the difference between the dosage required for effective usage and the lethal dosage is very slim. Some of my Mages have taken to calling it ‘lethale’ or ‘lethal’“.

“The Ambassador of the Central Kingdom, Emma, told her sons of some interesting history, some very old and very interesting history. I’m sure you already know most of this already,” Justiciar Winton, looked at the two junior Monks. “These young Monks are the sons of Emma and hopefully their Mother has given them useful information.”

“My brother and I are not used to being around high ranking Monks, Paladins and Priests (he meant The House Mouse) so I hope you’ll forgive our nervousness. We’re somewhat scared of a Master of Summer and a Master of Dragons and a Justiciar. What Mother learned is the Mystics who left the Temple of the Way moved into a country far west of The City of Last Refuge. There was mention of a Fish Village and later a social grouping called “The Twenty and the Four”. Some years after that, someone or someone’s called the ‘Western Grandfather’ came into existence.” Miken stopped speaking.

Data ap Emma continued with “there were jokes about ‘speciation’ and ‘those damn elves’ and later, a visit from the Western Grandfather to the People of the Valley.”

Justiciar Winton frowned in concentration before speaking. “I remember taking a patrol past the Valley of the People when I was a Defender. They did not seem very intelligent and offered us something called of “casu marzu” or maggot cheese. From their amusement at our disgust, I began to think they were having fun at our expense. We have excellent hearing and heard children laughing. Several minutes later, they offered us something called ‘casu sanguis’. This roughly translated to ‘blood cheese’. We thanked them for their kind offer but said we did not want to deprive them of this treasured cheese. The spokesman said ‘but we want you to have it! I replied ‘you are simply too intelligent for our safety and might be able to talk us into trying this ‘“casu sanguis‘. ‘Do you plan on reporting this conversation to anyone? Only to our Senior Paladin Commanding. This conversation will be placed under the seal. I was told to report this conversation to you if I thought it necessary. They then allowed us to escape, obviously.“

“I hope this information will not spread beyond this meeting. We know you Monks are required to make a formal report of these events. We hope you’ll restrict access for a reasonably long period of time.”

“I believe I am the Senior Operational Monk”, Pitrov said and looked at his wife and his Nanny. “Am I still the Senior Operational Monk?”

“Yes, you are Pitrov and I expect no change in your behaviour,” Oiada replied.

“Thank you, I think”, Pitrov said.

“Then, what is our mission?” Justician Winton disliked possible military operations without an operational plan complete with alternatives and escape options.

“We have sent thieves to City 3, now called ‘Springfield’ and City 5, long called ‘The City Of Last Refuge’. We are hoping these thieves can find useable information. Of course, if the ‘Western Grandfather’ owns the Thieves, then there is no telling how they could react.”

“Perhaps an obvious approach is needed. If we send an excessively blatant team, there could be trouble. If we send a plausible group to Cities 3 and 5, then we might find out something. We might even get direct contact with those conducting these importations.”

“So, we are going to use a two pronged approach. First, the thieves contacting the city thieves and second, our little group is going to wonder through both Cities 3 and 5 and ask questions?”

“Yes and more important, you are going to be obvious. Hopefully, you will bring representatives of the importers to ask you ‘what are you doing’?”

“We can tell the truth,” Justician Winton said, “that we are looking for the reason a poison is moving through the Inner Kingdom cities. If we lie initially, we will be accused of lying when we tell the truth.”

“I agree,” Pitrov said.

“How many in here agree with the Justician?”

All of the Monks and the Illusionist agreed.

“Warlock Merlyn, what do you propose?”

“I suggest we simply say what we must at the time we’re asked. We would need to speak in accordance with what we have said and who we are with. Actually, I don’t know any correct way to respond. In retrospect, I now join the group encouraging a completely honest approach. This approach simply makes me feel nervous.”

“How would we travel to cities 3 and 5? Would this be by boat? I’ve been told we are entering a most dangerous season for traveling by boat. Would we travel by horse or camel? Would our party consist solely of the six of us? What about our combat skills? Our Justician is a highly trained and skilled soldier. All three Monks are highly trained in close combat and can be expected to use light crossbows as well. What about the Mage and Illusionist?

The two spoke quickly and one said “We aren’t soldiers but we can fight if we need to.”

“We need a plan for this and a support organization for this trip. I would like to see better goals that what we have heard. We should plan our approach routes and retreat routes. I would like some way to report back and some sort of armed backup.”

If Justiciar Winton was bothered by this statement by a Senior Monk, it did not show.

“I agree with Senior Monk Pitrov ap Gina. We need all of these actions planned for. Once we know our travel route, we can decide on the supplies we need. I can send a company of my soldiers to these cities as training exercises. Perhaps two platoons per city may not sound like much but these are superb troops.”

“A suggestion,” Oiada remarked, “don’t split up this company. Send two platoons ahead and follow with two platoons. Can you attach distant viewers or telepaths to your platoons. I don’t know how you would deploy your platoons and speak directly with these communicators but I believe it can be done.”

“Where would we find such military qualified personnel?”

“I can make arrangements,” Master of Summer Oiada assured everyone.

“We can ask our Archivists to do directed record searches to find what we can about these cities. Justiciar Winton can spend some small amount of time in directing these searches?”

“I can but only for a short while. Going on a trip like this means I’ll have to turn over command to me Battalion second in command. There are simply details I need to share with him. While he can handle the administrative details and training operations of my Battalion, there are political areas that have changed since he last held command.”

“Since he last held command,” a junior Monk asked?

“If I take a furlough, I must temporarily assign command to him.”

The House Mouse cleared his throat and said “I suggest we meet back here in two days’ time. The Mage and Illusionist might enjoy spending time with their fellows here in the House.”

Pitrov immediately spoke with “We have a great deal of room the Temple of the Way. The Sons of Emma are welcome to share meals with us and to live with us.”

One of the two junior Monks replied: “We are honored to receive this invitation and will be delighted to spend time visiting with you.”

“It cannot hurt that you probably heard our Archivists are noted for the White Zinfandel and brown ale they create.”

“Do your Archivists enjoy a whiskey sometimes called ‘Bourbon’?” The Paladin asked.

“Yes, I believe they do,” replied Dorna.

“I’ll have two bottles brought down for your Archivist.” The House Mouse looked at the Paladin. “With your permission?”

The Paladin laughed and said “we’re not anti-alcohol drinking, we just believe in moderation and I did give you a case of ‘Bourbon’ this morning!”

Dorna and Oiada were speaking quietly and Dorna said: “Husband, we will allow you to go on this pilgrimage. However, we insist on fully preparing you. We fully expect you to return safely and to bring your people back safely!”

“Yes, dear.”

Even the Paladin smiled at this meek response…

When they returned to the Temple, their two visitors were introduced to all the Monks. They immediately hit it off with their peers and with the permission of their Senior Instructor, went to a few Taverns and a suitable restaurant for a meal away from the Temple. (They had not been told these places were carefully watched by the Temple’s External Guard, who were expecting them…)

The Paladin entered the Temple and told the Door Guard the Archivists were expecting him. He also asked that Pitrov ap Gina be informed that The Paladin had come to visit with the Archivists. The Gate Guard was expecting The Paladin and motioned one young Monk under instruction to escort The Paladin to the Archivists.

The Archivists already had the requested material ready. They were happy when The Paladin broke out the two bottles of “Bourbon” and they sampled it. Laster Pitrov ap Gina wandered in to greet the guest and enjoyed some “Bourbon”. The Paladin mused that Monks were required to be “Monastic Aesthetics” but the exact details of this seemed to be a bit open to interpretation…

===================== ==================== ==================

The next day, Pitrov lead his students in meditations and calisthenics. His wife and Oiada lead different levels of students in martial arts training. Pitrov lead his two temporary Monks through routines and various exercises in order to determine their true skill levels. Neither seemed to mind and he was pleased with what he saw…

The next day, Justiciar Robin Winton and the Monks Miken ap Emma and his brother Data ap Emma met with Pitrov ap Gina to discuss important matters. These matters had to do with their preferred weapons and preferred musical instruments.

“Part of our plan is to pretend to be a traveling group of musicians and a Troubadour or two. First, weapons: I’m fond of the quarterstaff, long dagger and light crossbow. Miken and Data, your preferred weapons are?” Pitrov was leading this meeting.

“Miken likes quarterstaff, throwing knives and long dagger. I refer the bo stick, dagger and sling. Justiciar?”

“My main weapon is the bastard sword. I carry a short sword as a secondary weapon and a dagger. I was once quite skilled with the heavy crossbow but that was before I assumed command of a company and was no longer allowed to fight as a regular soldier on the battlefield. My skill remains and I compete in archery contests.”

The Monks were stunned by this calm revelation of the Paladin’s skills.

“Now, let us discuss music in the reverse order. What are your musical skills, Robin?”

“I would not say I have any great musical skills but I do play guitar, tuba and have sung on occasion. And you, Miken?”

“My brother and I have some skill with the violin, Sir, as well as the flute and bagpipes. Monk Pitrov, what are your instruments, Sir?”

“My instruments are violin, guitar, flute and I like to think, my voice.”

There was a pause.

“I have written some music and poems that I have tried setting to music.”

“Perhaps we can hear some of your compositions,” the Paladin asked with slight smile.

“Perhaps no, Good Knight, my attempts at Courtly Poetry have not been well received.”

“We have a number of musical instruments here in the temple and I believe we could some instruments elsewhere. Where are our Magic Users?”

“Both are in rooms at the building across from the Central Communications Station. One is inn a ‘white room with black curtains’ and the other in a ‘black room with white curtains’.”

Pitrov took pen to paper and wrote a brief note. Then, he rang a bell and a young Monk under instruction entered.

“Please take this note to the men on this envelope.”

“At once, sir.”

“Shall we take a tour of my Temple, gentlemen?”

They then visited the Temple from top to the first basement. Pitrov was not surprised when no one commented on the tour not visiting basements 2 through 8. They had finished this tour and were in a dining room enjoying light snacks when the reply came back.

Both the Mage and the Illusionist stated they had weapons they were accustomed to using and stated the Mage liked the tuba and the Illusionist liked the drums.

After the Paladin left, to return to his quarters, the two young visiting Monks ate their evening meal in the refractory and joined the junior Monks for an evening together. Pitrov retired to his quarters to spend a quiet evening with his wife and both children.

The next morning, the six met at the building across from the Communications Center. The House Mouse

“Comrades, we have finalized our plans and I hope they will survive contact with the six of you.”

“No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.” The House Mouse wasn’t thrilled that Justiciar Robin Winton had so spoken.

“Those of us who practice martial arts in the temple are fond of this adage as well”, said Pitrov ap Gina.

Their Mage nodded in agreement as did the Illusionist.

“So all of you are pessimists”, the House Mouse growled.

“All of us have engaged in combat or intense training unbarred training and we have all gone into this combat with battle plans. Even Mages and Illusionist,” spoke the Illusionist.

“There are mysteries we would like to solve. What do they mean by “Elves”. We have not heard of any Elven or Half Elven enclaves in the west. Then there is this business of the ‘Western Grandfather’. That suggests a ‘Grandfather of Assassins’ in the far west. Or, it could be an official going by that title; an official who controls another organization.”

“I find your ‘Western Grandfather’ as being the Master of Assassins and assorted extras in the Western lands. If no one knows of him, we should be very leery of contact with him.” Winton was scrolling during and after these remarks.

“A ‘Grandfather of Assassins’ does not have to be a ‘man’; this Grandfather could be a woman.” So spoke the Illusionist.

“Here is the proposed plan. We need to meet at the main Military pier. So, bring your weapons and musical instruments. I don’t know if any of you Monks have ever needed to pack equipment for an extended visit to the woods. You’ll be on horseback part of the time, thus you’ll need supplies on pack animals. You should bring clothing that will allow you to blend into the general populations. After the visit to City 3, you’ll re-board the courier boat and leave it about 10 miles east of City 5. We know of several Taverns there, including one associated with a Bard House.”

“What other supplies will be need to provide,” the Paladin asked.

“I have a list of what we suggest you bring. This list includes trail foods, extra clothing, cooking gear, water, wine, medical supplies and assorted other items. Let me know if you want anything added to deleted.”

The House Mouse passed the list around and it was studied by all six members of the part. After a few minutes, the House Mouse was given the list back and commented: “From the lack of comments, I will accept that all six of you approve the list. We will pick horses and packs suited for you.”

“I was not under the impress we would be taking a land trip without going to sea”, Pitrov asked.

“Our finest weather Mages assure us there will be no dangerous weather for the next week to ten days. You’ll take advanced courier boat to just east of City 3. You’ll be able to spend a night getting over any seasickness and can then survey the city the next day.”

“What will be looking for”, asked the Illusionist, a man who lived with illusions every day.

“Things that stand out,” the House Mouse replied.

Every one of the six thought a variation of “we will stand out!”

“I don’t think we can get the equipment gathered before the tide today. I would like to meet here just after sunrise tomorrow. We can have your supplies put together. I would like each of you watch as we empty and then reload the personal packs. This should not take long.

“You mentioned we would stop at a Bard House east of City 5. We will do a recon of the city and then find Thief Taverns to ask for information.”

It didn’t occur to them that Bards had an eclectic education and had to obtain moderate skills as a fighter, and then as a thief, study to be a druid and after gaining skill with this third field of endeavor, begin training as a Bard. In fact, they did not know just when and where the Bard clans were formed. This would have been helpful to know. &n bsp; &n bsp; &n bsp; &n bsp; &n bsp; &n bsp;

“Perhaps we can plan immediate action drills,” the Paladin suggested.

“What kind do you have in mind”, the Mage asked.

“Ambush, frontal assault against us, rear assault against us, and long range riding. These are soldier skills and I don’t know how much we will need them.”

“I suspect these skills would be more useful between leaving City 3 and regaining or re-boarding our boat for trip to City 5. I don’t know where we’ll go after leaving City 5. That is the most problematic matter. If you make useful contact, you could be leaving City 5 to an unknown location to meet those in command. Or, you could be disappeared. We hope this does not happen.”

“Monks have some unusual training, Robin. We might be concerned with street violence. We should talk about detecting tails in the city, likely places where city attack could happen, seating arrangements and how the wrong seat could be lethal and the right sea much safer. There are other skill sets we need but are matters we can discuss. It takes practice. However, if we discuss these matters, we can at least have awareness.”

As was becoming the norm, Pitrov had spoken for the Monks.

“I suggest we have these discussions and wait for our hosts to tell us when they will be ready for us to review our gear. I assume the Monks will be best qualified for this instruction?” The Mage had some good points, Pitrov thought.

“Some of a Paladin’s training teaches us about city threats and responses to these threats.” Several of the other five looked skeptical. “Part of helping us decide if we truly want to be Paladins is seeing how well we deal with that Den of Inequity called a city.

“Then, let us begin,” Pitrov suggested.

Their discussion lasted a couple of hours and took them through two bottles of a red wine. When it looked like discussion had tapered off, the House Mouse suggested they come with him. The various workers in the House had assembled the required equipment. The packs were disassembled for each team member, discussed and reassembled. Then, each team member had to empty their packs, discuss the importance of each item and reassemble their packs.

It was a tiring task but each felt better prepared after doing this.

The packs had included items of clothing. Someone in the Assassin Guild House was concerned with proper attire for their people and had decided what each of the six would wear.

“Morning high tide will be at 10 am tomorrow morning. You will be leaving from one of the Emperor’s Military Piers shortly after 10 am. There will be a number of persons there so it is not a violation of security for your families to watch our departure. I know that Pitrov and Robin are the only ones of you who have families in The City.

“We are visitors in your City; our families simply know we’re on a mission of some sort. I hope the Monks will bring their families to see us off. We have listened to your two young Monks, who apparently have been somewhat adopted by the Monks of the Temple of the Way, talking about their friends there. Adoption might be appropriate for them.”

“My Nanny has informed me that I would adopt them if they ask. My wife has told me both boys have asked. We will go through the adoption ceremonies after returning; there simply isn’t time to perform this suitably before we leave tomorrow morning.”

“Then,” said the House Mouse, “I suggest we will meet here a 9 am tomorrow morning. I will have the packing done and the packs and horses taken to the courier boat. None of you have asked but you are going to be rewarded handsomely. We know Monks and Paladins can only keep small amounts of money so we hope to get around these restrictions with donations to your parent Houses and payment on an annuity basis.”

No one objected to these arrangements.

“I suggest we take our new uniforms and wear them when we leave our abodes tomorrow morning,” the Paladin suggested. “I believe the House left some coin in the purses on our trousers. This should pay for some dinners and breakfasts. I look forward to the morning and I look forward to a glorious but safe campaign. Gentlemen!”

The Paladin and the Senior Monk gathered up their uniforms slowly and were still in the meeting room a minute or two after the others left.

“May I ask you a question, Pitrov?”

“Yes.”

“Did your wife and your ultimate leader tell you to adopt these boys?”

“No, they didn’t, Robin. They told me that wanted me to adopt but it was clearly my wife and our Nanny – our perhaps the Grandmother – asking me to support their desire for two older sons. It also helped that my 9 year old daughter is insisting on them being her brothers and my 3 year old son apparently thinks they are wonderful people to play with.”

“My own daughters would want them as well. My girls are 7, 5 and 2 and like to think the world revolves around them.”

“Then, you have a good family to go home to, my friend.”

Shortly thereafter, the two Mages wondered to their rooms, the Paladin to his lodgings and the Monks to their Monastery.

In the midafternoon, Pitrov was discussing the current situation when his wife said “I think our daughter has found something interesting.”

“What did she find?” Pitrov was delighted.

“What do people do when they are a bit bored or simply want some new information?”

“Drink a beer or cup of coffee or talk or read a magazine or find a good book. Why”

“One of the older Archives mentioned something interesting. I admit he was trying to get our daughter to quit ‘helping’ him. He asked her ‘what magazines do you read, Granddaughter? What would people in the day of Dent had read for recreation’?”

“’I don’t know’ is what our daughter replied.’ Then Dent the Younger said ‘why not look into this. Magazines might be significant. We know magazines communicate ideas.”

“Our daughter said ‘I wonder if anyone is getting intelligence from these magazines’?”

“That is something no one talks about even through magazines have been a useful source of intelligence for generations.”

“Our daughter asked the questions ‘when and where did magazines start’? She recruited several of her friends about two months ago and with the help of Dent the Younger, began looking at the date and place magazines began being published. Are you curious what they found?”

“Yes but I suspect I already know what you’re going to say.”

“The earliest magazines began in the City of Last Refuge about ten years after Dent went west. They were about people in various castes, agriculture, and some analysis of trade. Most interesting is they were finding out and analyzing the movements of the military forces and the stronger sects. One of the first was called ‘Justice’ and talked about violence between the races and debunked rumours about the violence of Orc, Half Orcs and Humans.”

“I rather suspected you would say that after we read the letters from Dent and his people. These earliest magazines, did they have the feel of a Temple tract? Was the publisher listed as ‘Grandfather’?”

“Yes to both questions. Why did you think that?”

“It has been occurring to me that Dent found sanctuary in the ‘Far West’ and wanted to fight against the people who destroyed his. He apparently didn’t realize that most of the attacks appear to be outsiders and basically random encounters. His conclusions were logical but tragically based on false premises.”

“Could he have found correct premises?” The Nanny was curious.

“I don’t think he could have. Who could he have talked to?”

“The people of the Central Kingdom did not have any intelligence penetration of The City. The Grandfather of Assassins knew or thought he knew, who was behind the murders. If he wrote about this, we have never learned this information. There are archives in the Assassin House that no one is allowed to read, not even the House Mouse. This he has told me.”

“What information could be so delicate or so capable of causing severe damage that even the House Mouse didn’t know?”

“That is the real question, isn’t it Dorna?”

“So, what is being held back from us?” Pitrov was bothered by this conversation.

“May be nothing and that would be an interesting thing itself?” Oiada had spoken softly.

“On a different subject,” Dorna said, “did you pick out that uniform you’re going to wear? Why don’t you put it on?”

Pitrov went to their dressing room and put on the uniform selected for him. It felt very different from his workout uniforms, civilian attire and temple robes. It was a loose fitting, dark colored, shirt and trousers arrangement that did not look like a Monk’s attire. Pitrov went to present this new attire.

His son looked at him and said “Daddy pretty, Daddy pretty.”

His daughter laughed and laughed and his wife and Nanny also laughed and laughed and laughed.

Pitrov did not see the humour and that was part of why his family laughed so hard…

A bit later, Oiada told Pitrov and Dorna “perhaps you two need a little time together”. I’ll take the little ones to the training area and see if I can stir up trouble.”

Then she did all of this…

The whole Temple turned out to witness Pitrov take his leave. He made a brief speech about “I will be back soon. I want you to continue to work, study and play hard. Don’t give the Nanny too much grief.”

Emma watched from a distance as Pitrov and his family drove off in a carriage, with the adults looking vaguely embarrassed. She wondered to herself how Pitrov would react if he learned about the original Grandfather. She thought they had a lot in common…

At the military dock, Pitrov, his wife, both children and his two new Monks/sons left their carriage and walked to the Paladin. The Paladin was accompanied by a slender woman in Cleric robes and three little girls demurely dressed. The Mage and Illusionist stood nearby, looking on impassively. (Their families were many miles away and wondered when their men would return home.)

The courier boat was some 90 feet long, 12 feet across the deck and drew 6 feet of water. She had two masts with sails in the classic fore and aft rigging. There was what appeared to be a jib sail but it was furled.

The deck was lined with a perhaps twenty men, who were dressed in cheap work clothing and wore bright orange vests. One of them, with an air of command, left the boat and walked towards them.

The House Mouse joined the group from where ever he had been.

‘I wish to make introductions. This is Captain Carter Syrian, who commands the Courier boat Silent Lucidity. He has a sail plan that he will share with you after you leave harbour. Now, I wish to introduce him to you…

As usual, the boat was towed out by an 8 man rowboat. This was not a long trip and was only necessary due to the very light winds in the protected harbour the courier boat lived in. The “guests” watched as both sails were brought up and the boat sped into the open water. Only when the land was dropping below the horizon did Captain Syrian summon his guests to the table in the ship’s dining area.

“Here is the chart of the southern portion of the sea. It extends as much as 20 miles into the shore and shows cities, rivers, light towers, buoys, reefs and shoals and at sea anchorages. Basically, the threats both at sea, on the shore and on the land. Yes, in case you are wondering, cities are threats.”

“Why are cities threats?” Pitrov asked.

“Because sailboats and fishing boats can leave them at any time and without warning. If we are running fast, we might not see the silly bastards in time.

“Captain, what did you mean by ‘running fast’?”

“Mr. ap Gina, I mean that we sailing propelled only by the wind. When we are ‘running fast’, we are benefiting from our Mage and his ability to increase the winds. I suggest we enjoy lunch before our Mage works his magic.”

Lunch was in shifts to allow the crew and visitors to have a peaceful meal of beef stew with onions, garlic, potatoes, turnips and mushrooms, with dark beer or coffee to drink. After lunch, those who would be working the night watches wandered off to their racks.

The ship’s mage was introduced as Warlock Glen vonGlen. He was polite to the visitors and happier to meet the Mage and Illusionist. The three went to a corner of the little lounge area of the boat to discuss magic.

The ship’s Captain sent his runner to bring his Mage and all the visitors to the deck.

The boat’s Mage held up a quarterstaff engraved with signets and a dagger in the other hand. He chanted and the wind increased noticeably. The boat heeled over in the direction opposite to the wind and the crew were suddenly busy adjusting the sails and the running lines.

“Glen can maintain this for four hours, after which he must rest and study the spells again. It seems that four or five hours of maintaining this spell simply confuses him. I expect him to come back about 8 hours after he has completed four hours of concentration.”

“How fast are we going? We will creeping along at about 12 knots before he incased the winds. We are now doing about 27 knots. The wind increasing spells are a state secret and we trust you’ll not repeat them.”

After a while, with the ship shivering and lurching through the seas, the visitors went below deck and found their racks. These were stacked two high and they rolled almost constantly. Finally, after drifting off to sleep, everything settled down and they watched the Mage Glen vonGlen come to his rack.

A couple of hours later, they were recovering from sea sickness and returned to the table. There, they drank an awful drink someone called “Grog”.

The Mage Glen vonGlen began studying his spells once again. When Glen vonGlen was done refreshing his memory, Warlock Merlyn; the Mage being transported to City 3 – also known as “Springfield” asked Glen to discuss the spells with him. Merlyn then used one of his spells to copy Glen vonGlen’s spells to his spell book. When Glen looked through the book to find a spell he wanted, he also found Warlock Merlyn’s most carefully hidden secret: his first name. Then, Glen realized how inexperienced the other Mage was in real world operations…

Glen spent four hours in the late evening using his wind spells. The Captain only allowed this since it was an unusually quiet sea and the moon was exceptionally bright. The next day was very quiet until mid-morning when the wind spells were used again. Then again in the late afternoon and the boat landed in the early evening.

The entire party mounted their horses and rode several miles to the Tavern they had been sent to,. It took a while before their sea sickness symptoms subsided. They had light dinner and went to separate rooms with nice bed that didn’t move. After a while, some of them awoke feeling ghost motions as if they were still on the ship.

The six put the supplies they did not immediately need and went into Springfield.

The outskirts of the city seemed much nicer than they had been lead to expect from Dent’s report. Clearly, there had been improvements. They were inside the city before they realized that had ridden through the city gate without noticing it. That was when Pitrov and Robin looked at each other and Pitrov said “this is not what I was expecting.”

“Nor I”, the Paladin agreed.

The city was clean, with the streets cleaned of animal waste almost as soon as it was deposited.

After lunch, the team began wandering around the city chatting with folks along the way. They did not learn of any unusual news.

The six went to a randomly chosen Café when they had a light lunch. Later they discussed how they had felt they were being watched…

Both of the younger Monks wondered around talking with the young folks of the city, especially the girls there age, and Robin noticed Pitrov sighing. He had not formally adopted the two boys yet he was behaving like a Father. Robin thought this both touching and amusing. He did not tell Pitrov this but would later tell Pitrov’s wife and “Nanny”. Both would laugh heartily…

They went past the Tavern they hoped would have useful information. Their Illusionist, being the one skilled in present appearances to people and in detecting illusions and lies, entered the Tavern and asked to speak to the owner. This was not his first such transaction.

“I am Randolf and understand you allow musicians to play. I have friends who would like to display their talents this evening.”

“What can they do?”

“We have two singers and depending on the circumstances, one of the singers also plays guitar and tuba, our two youngsters play violin, flute and bagpipes, another plays tuba and I am a drummer. We will have to arrange the instruments depending on what you and your audience find acceptable.”

“I think the guitar, violin, flute and drumming would be fine.”

“Randolf ”wrote down guitar Paladin and Pitrov

Violin both young Monks and Pitrov

Flute both young Monks and Pitrov

Drumming Illusionist

“Why not plan on one guitar as two of us can play it, one or two violins as three of us play it, three flutes as three of us play and I play the drums.”

“Just who are you and your players?”

“We’re a group traveling through the northern cities. I thought it might be useful to get the feel of your city by drinking and playing here tonight.”

The manager made an uncommon Thieves sign and “Randolf”, otherwise known as Strength of the Ocean, made the correct response.

“Perhaps you might wish to arrange which instuments you players will use this evening. It is customary to pay the entertainers in food and drink. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Quite. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

After Strength of the Ocean left, the Manager murmured “curious, curious.”

Strength of the Ocean walked over to the other five. He made no attempts at being sneaky and the five waiting him had made no attempts at being sneaky either.

“The Manager will let us play guitar, violin, flute and drums. Pitrov could play guitar or violin. Robin could play guitar and sing. The lads could play the flute; I know Pitrov plays the flute but I don’t know how well you would play together without practicel I don’t know how much they will like the tuba but bring it anyway.”

A teenaged boy walked up to them and said “Mr Randolf, the Manager said he would like to meet your group.”

“Excellent”, Randolf replied, “let us do so.”

They went back to the Manager’s office who offered then choice of white wine or red wine. Then, the Tavern Manager said: “What would you gentlemen like to play?”

Strength of the Ocean pointed at the other five and said “These two can take turns with the guitar and both can sing, the lads can play the flute and he also plays flute, my brother plays the tuba and I have some skill at drumming.”

“This is all acceptable. Do you prefer to perform before or after dining?”

“We prefer to snack before playing and then to dine after we’re done. We are more relaxed and able to enjoy our food after rather than before, performing for a strange audience.”

“Then, may I expect you two hours after sunset?”

“Certainly,” the Paladin replied.

They wondered around the city a bit longer then mounted up and returned to their Tavern. There they had light snacks and drank excellent coffee.

“I had the feeling of being watched,” the Paladin began. “It is a feeling I have developed in too many dangeroius situations.”

“As did I ,” said their Mage and the Illusionist nodded in agreement.

“So, now what,” remarked Pitrov, who already knew the answer.

“We go to this Tavern and make sweet music!” proclaimed the Mage.

“Then, we had better get some practice!”

They listed the various songs they knew and were pleased and surprised by the overlaps. Then, they practiced for a couple of hours. At that time of day, and given the exclusive clinetelle their hotel had, no one complaigned. Basically, aside from the hotel staff, there simply was no one to be offended…

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

*( Courtly Poem

I gave my love blood poison

And still she did not die.

She thought I did not love her,

If I did not try!

My love returned the favour

With poison in my wine.

She knew this would save e her

Thus making our love true fine.

We spend our days never alone

In endless careful dance

Lust filled from heart to bone

And never give the other an evil choice.

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

By Richard Lovelace 1618–1657 Richard Lovelace

Yet this inconstancy is such

Tell me not (sweet) I am unkind

That from the nunnery

Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind

To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress I now chase

The first foe in the field

And with a stronger faith embrass

A sword, a horse, a shield

Yet this inconstancy is such

As you shall adore

I could not love thee (Dear) so much

Lov’d I not Honour more!

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

Yet this inconstancy is such

[i] This naming is in homage to Senior Chief Glenda Jane Haskell, a person I worked with in Suitland Maryland in the mid 1980s

[ii] “Gulf” by Robert A. Heinlein

[iii] My Maternal Grandmother Emma Maxson is the model for Oiada.

[iv] Line “borrowed” by “White Room” by Cream

My writings, old and new...

Contributors

Monday, November 30, 2015

Victory is Mine!

2015 novel at start of day 30 November 2015

“All leadership is influence.”

— John C. Maxwell
Injoy, Inc.

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

My writings, old and new...

Contributors

Monday, November 30, 2015

Victory is Mine!

2015 novel at start of day 30 November 2015

“All leadership is influence.”

— John C. Maxwell Injoy, Inc.

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

— John C. Maxwell
Injoy, Inc.