From: aaron@atlantis.uucp
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [SQ/MG]: A Chat At The Inn
Date: 12 Feb 93 18:55:22 GMT

Characters Involved: Ornigan, a doorman at Karl's, Maleiu, Mistletoe,
                     Bronwen 

Ornigan shook his head.  He felt a bit dazed.  He suddenly realized that
he'd spent almost the entire evening talking to Thorn.  He still couldn't
figure out what it was about the man that was so charming.  But there was
something...

The party was definitely dissipating now.  He looked around for possiby
suitable female companionship, but the last one was leaving on Thorn's
arm.  Ah, well.  Then he caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall.  The
others would probably have left long before now, and be at the Dragon's Inn
already.  Just to be sure, he approached the doorman.  "Excuse me, my good
man," he said, "would you happen to have witnessed the departures of
Maleiu, Mistletoe, and Bronwen?"

The doorman consulted his book.  "Maleiu and Bronwen left an hour or so
ago, but I don't have a record of a Mistletoe..."

Ornigan smiled.  "Small women, silver hair, with a large black man."

The doorman's face cleared.  "Ah, yes.  She signed in as Hildegarde.  What
did you say her name was?"

"Never mind, my good man," Ornigan said.  "That will do as well as any. 
Could you summon a carriage for me?  Viscount Ornigan of Maybold."

"Certainly, sir," the doorman said.  Ornigan peered outside, to see a
carriage pull up and Thorn and his female companion get into it.  Ah, well.

Ornigan passed the time chatting with the doorman, and discovered that Karl
hadn't been an Emissary of Generica for very long.  Also, Verden, Third
Merchant of Generica, had disappeared and all the clues pointed to
Rameshanders.  Rameshanders also appeared to be to blame for several other
slayings around the city.  The Guards were investigating it, but little had
been accomplished so far...

Then the carriage arrived.  Ornigan said, "Well, my good man, thank you for
your stimulating conversation.  Perhaps we shall meet again in future.  Oh,
before I go--may I have my weapon, please?"

The doorman consulted another list and then retrieved a leather whip from
the room where it had been stored.  "Thank you again," Ornigan said.  He 
considered for a moment, then took one of the two gold pieces that he had
taken from a pirate corpse and pressed it into the man's hand.  Then,
without another word, he left and stepped into his carriage.

Left to himself, Ornigan's thoughts roamed eastward.  He had to send a
letter back to Rheanna soon and find out what had happened in Maybold since
he was last there.  The previous night he had woken from a dream that his
father was dead and his brother Jorek was painting the hills with blood. 
He would also have to check out the local library and see if they had any
useful works on the hill tribes.  Or on his namesake, since so many others
were curious about him...

The carriage wheels suddenly made a much different sound, as if they were
rolling on metal instead of paving-stone.  "Dragon's Inn, sir," the driver
said as they rolled to a stop.  Ornigan got out of the carriage, gave his
remaining gold piece to the driver, and stepped down on the Plaza of
Glittering Steel.  And he would have to find out how this bizarre thing got
created.

The Inn was no worse than any other of its kin in the many cities that
Ornigan had passed through on his travels.  But there were differences
nonetheless.  Through some strange geometrical fault, the Inn contained a
large number of right-angle corners, almost all sunk deep into shadow, with
mysterious figures sitting inscrutably.  And there was a subtle sense of
temporal discontinuity, which few would have sensed.  People on one side of
the Inn weren't talking at quite the same speed as on the other side.

"Over here, nitwit!" Mistletoe yelled.  She and the others were sitting at
a table close to the bar.  Ornigan lifted his hand in acknowledgement and
weaved gracefully through the tables towards them, and sat down.

He grinned at Maleiu.  "Well, dark man.  How have you been?  I'm sorry not
to have asked you earlier, but events, you know.  This place looks to be a
goldmine of knowledge, just waiting to be tapped.  But then, you've been
here longer than any of us.  What do you think of Generica?"

Maleiu thought for several moments, then he shrugged.  "It is a city like
any other.  Perhaps it is more of a city than most.  The Low City of
Generica is a more extreme example than most cities possess, but all cities
have something that resembles it to some degree.  There are many
adventurers here, many honourable souls, and many dishonourable souls.  But
those can be found anywhere.  Generica is merely urbanity in its most
concentrated form."

Ornigan sat a moment, considering this, and then applauded.  "Bravo,
Maleiu!  I don't know whether it's love or Generica which has affected you
so, but you have become either a poet or a philosopher--I can't decide
which."

Maleiu smiled.  "Maybe I have always been a poet and a philosopher,
Ornigan, and you have merely failed to notice."  Then his smile faded. 
"But perhaps it is neither love nor this city which has changed me as you
say.  Perhaps it is a knowledge of horrors beyond description."

The table was silent for a minute.  Maleiu's statement hung in the air,
destroying the conversation which had existed before it.

Mistletoe, the least comfortable with silence, was the first to break it. 
"Where's Angus, Bronwen?"

Bronwen sighed.  "He's upstairs sleeping.  We got separate rooms."

"Ah."  Mistletoe caressed Maleiu's shoulder briefly, and the black man put
his arm around her.

Ornigan suddenly giggled as a thought came to him.  "You know what your
children would look like?" he said.  "Some weird offshoot of the drow. 
Think of it."

Mistletoe pointed silently over at a nearby table, where a drow, a grey
elf, and a dwarf were playing a card game.  "It seems that even drow in
this place are different than elsewhere.  But you're right.  It's not like
the thought hasn't occurred to us."  With a brief glance up at Maleiu for
confirmation, she said, "We're going on a quest with Radan to go rescue
Shade, who was lost at sea.  But after that, Maleiu and I are probably
going to get married."

"That's wonderful!" squealed Bronwen.  "Congratulations!"  She leapt up and
threw hugs around both of her friends, and then one around Ornigan for good
measure.

"What kind of marriage?" Ornigan asked.

Mistletoe shrugged.  "We don't know.  I never particularly cared for the
ones in the grey elven style, but then I had to sit through so many of
them.  And I don't know if we can do one of Maleiu's people's properly. 
We'll probably come up with our own.  But we can work that out after we get
back.  Which reminds me..."  She turned to Bronwen.  "Were you serious
about breaking Remi out of jail?"

"Hush!" Maleiu said, looking around.  "More quietly, please.  We are
talking about doing something illegal, here.  This Remi is the pirate
captain, yes?"

Bronwen nodded.  "But I talked with him a lot while he was a prisoner on
the Arcas.  He never meant to become a pirate.  His family were merchants,
but he was forced to turn to piracy when they fell into disfavor with the
Ydoinais King.  It's mostly his first mate, that Rameshander, Vanshar, that
kept him at it.  Otherwise he would probably have settled down somewhere
long ago."  Slightly embarrassed, she subsided.

"How were you planning to do it?" Ornigan asked.  "Or did you have a plan?"

Bronwen smiled.  "Well, do you remember how you broke me out of Juhlavi's?"

-- 
---Alfvaen(Eagerly awaiting "October's Baby")
"Clocks don't bring tomorrow--knives don't bring good news."                       ---Bruce Cockburn
Current Album--The Jesus & Mary Chain:Honey's Dead
Current Read--Sean Stewart:Passion Play



Characters Involved: Ornigan, Bronwen, the Kelsey; Juhlavi bes-Pelmaj, a
 messenger, a guard at Juhlavi's house, Elahmad(Juhlavi's majordomo)


"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Ornigan said again in
Bronwen's room as he arranged the candles.

She nodded.  "I checked with Littlefair, and he doesn't mind.  As long as
things don't get too much out of hand, magic in your rooms is permitted. 
Any violators will get a visit from somebody named Nightstalker."

"That's not what I asked," Ornigan said.  "I mean, are you sure you want to
break Remi out of prison?  I haven't been in this city very long, and I
might want to stay a bit longer without running afoul of the law."

"All you have to do is summon the Kelsey," Bronwen said.  "You can leave
then and say that you had no idea why I asked you to do it."

Ornigan sighed.  He could tell when Bronwen's mind was set on something,
and it was now.  He lit the candles and started preparing for the
summoning.

At the proper moment, Bronwen started chanting in her own tongue.  After a
minute, Ornigan could recognize the Kelsey's name that Mistletoe had
chanted weeks ago in slave quarters in Pashar.  He closed his eyes and
concentrated on sending his mind southward.

He sensed something stirring to the south as it felt the call.  He
amplified the call, aiming it directly at the stirring, and he felt it
moving towards them, slowly at first, then more quickly.  Then it
disappeared, only to reappear moments later much closer.

The window blew open and a shower of light entered, which quickly formed
into a woman's body.  Soon Bronwen stood in the middle of the circle of
candles, clad only in her own flesh.

"You might have warned me," the Kelsey said from Bronwen's form.  "As you
can see, I was a little...occupied."

"Assume your own form, Kelsey," Bronwen said.  The other Bronwen shimmered
and shifted into the form of what looked like a small girl.

"Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if poor Juhlavi had a heart attack.  I
mean, I imagine he's not too used to his women disappearing in the middle
of things, if you know what I mean."

Bronwen flushed.  "I have a task for you, Kelsey."

"All business tonight, are we?"  The Kelsey sighed.  "Oh, all right.  What
do you require of me, O Mistress?"

"A pirate captain named Etienne-Remi de Revimer is imprisoned in the
dungeons under Glorshanned Keep.  I want you to free him and bring him
here."

"Geez, nothing easy, eh?  You think I've been here a lot, and knew what
Glorshanned Keep is like, and the prison and all that?  Well, I got news
for you.  It's a bit harder than that.  You got a map of this place or
anything?"

Bronwen faltered, "Well--no..."

"Well, then?  I could get lost or something.  No disrespect, Mistress, I'll
do it if you order me to, but it may take a while.  I somehow suspect that
you don't want this to happen during daylight.  How about you get some info
for me and we'll try this again tomorrow night?"

Bronwen turned to Ornigan.  "What do you think?"

Ornigan shrugged.  "If another day will not put an undue delay on your
plans, then I am for it.  Frankly, I would suspect that if we are sailing
out with an escaped criminal, we might want to break him out just before we
leave.  Wait until Radan and the others are ready to sail, and do it then."

Bronwen sighed.  "Okay, Kelsey.  But now that you're here, you might as
well stay."

"But what about Juhlavi?"

"To hell with Juhlavi!" Bronwen said.

***

INTERLUDE: Pashar

The messenger arrived to find the home of Juhlavi bes-Pelmaj in turmoil. 
He asked one of the guards about it.  After a suitable exchange of funds,
the guard said, "Master bes-Pelmaj died last night.  One of his slave
girls, who was with him at the time, is missing.  We think she may have
killed him, but we're waiting for a physician to find out for sure."

"May I talk with someone in charge of his household?" the messenger asked. 
"I have a message."

The messenger was soon brought before Elahmad, the head of Juhlavi's
household.  "Yes?  What is it?  We are a bit busy here..."  The fat man was
unconsciously wringing his hands.

"I'll come to the point.  Do you have a slave named Ornigan here?"

Elahmad's brow furrowed.  "I'll check, but I think we might have gotten rid
of that one.  I'll consult my books, though."

A little later--"Yes, here it is.  Gifted to the mage Amaan, the slaves
Ornigan and Alameda."  Elahmad, tongue loosened by a flask of wine brought
by a slave, sat back.  "I remember that purchase.  Master Juhlavi, may his
soul rest in eternal paradise, had his eye on a particular girl, and no
other would do.  She begged and pleaded that he buy her friends as well,
and eventually he gave in.  He was bewitched with her, he was.  That's this
Ornigan and Alameda--a young man, salt-and-pepper hair?--yes, that's the
one--and a tiny little slip of a thing, with demon-ears and grey hair."  He
paused.  "Funny thing.  Those two have been gone for weeks now, but the
other one--Bronwen was her name--was the one that disappeared last night."

"Coincidence, I'm sure," the messenger said easily, getting up.  "Thank you
for your help.  Oh, one more thing--where could I find this mage Amaan?"

"Oh, not in Pashar, that's sure.  Cardinal Xar is getting a bit down on
those sorts these days.  Don't blame him, really--make my skin crawl, they
do.  No, I recall that Amaan went northwards, up to Specifica or Generica
or somesuch place.  Good riddance, I say."

"Thank you again," the messenger said, touching his cap.  "May I see myself
out?"

"Wouldn't hear of it," Elahmad said.  "Here, you--escort this gentleman to
the gate.  Hope you find this fellow."

"Me, too," the messenger said.  He never liked to fail his Guild.

He'd been following this trail over most of the continent, it seemed.  The
last trail had led here to Rameshan, where this Ornigan had been sold as a
slave.  And now the trail led northward.  Would this be the end, perhaps? 
If he didn't have his messenger's vow to consider, he would have given up
long ago.  Two of his predecessors had already done so.  But he would not. 
One way or another, Ornigan would get his message.

He just hoped that this message was important enough to warrant all this
trouble.