From alt.pub.dragons-inn Mon May 9 15:15:11 1994 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7244 Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!netcomsv!amd!amdahl!pacbell.com!ihnp4.ucsd.edu!usc!howland.reston.ans.net!math.ohio-state.edu!jussieu.fr!univ-lyon1.fr!ghost.dsi.unimi.it!batcomputer!news.reed.edu!gaia.ucs.orst.edu!news.csos.orst.edu!flop.ENGR.ORST.EDU!viper.CS.ORST.EDU!foleye From: foleye@viper.CS.ORST.EDU (Stilt Man) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [DS][MG][BBD] Crossroads of Schemes Date: 5 May 1994 18:59:36 GMT Organization: Computer Science Department, Oregon State University Lines: 375 Distribution: world Message-ID: <2qbfmoINNqa3@flop.ENGR.ORST.EDU> NNTP-Posting-Host: viper.cs.orst.edu {ADMIN: My goodness, look at how many different brackets we've got now . . . At any rate, this may or may not be a repost, but somebody in the camp said they hadn't seen it yet, so here it is (again?). Thorn appears courtesy of the MG folks. Some kudos to Stephen Hutchinson for supplying writing tweaks.} Meninthis tried as he could to wipe the sweat off his palms as he and his shorter compatriot walked up the stairs of the inn towards the room where she stayed. He did not like wizards whatsoever. His business was to know things, find people. He had many contacts in Generica and its trading partners to this end. This did nothing to endear wizards to him. They were an ill lot, and he saw little about her that made it seem as if she would be any different. She had appeared out of nowhere, by some means gaining control over this inn, and establishing contacts in all manner of locations in the city in an insanely short period of time. He had no inkling of where those contacts might be or who they were; he knew only that she knew many things. What she had assigned him to do was simple: find two people, a man and a woman, he in plain clothes and bandaging his hands, she in black leather fatigues and cloak. A simple task, and they should have stood out like a burning ship at night. Trouble was, he has not been able to find them. The looks the lady gave him whenever he said the slightest little thing that bothered her, as though she would moulder his manhood on the spot or some such, it made him shiver when he thought of how she might react to the bad news. But her money was good, and more of it was promised for his continued work. The man with him was one of her people, he knew. He knew not the exact circumstances under which he had entered her service, but then much about this lady seemed out of the ordinary. He thought it best not to know, to simply give his report, and pray that his payment was gold rather than death. Meninthis accompanied the other as they walked up to the room. The other knocked on his mistress' door. A voice answered, "Enter," rather curtly. The other man opened the door. Arcania Dorval still had the appearance to make his blood rush, Meninthis reflected, but there was still that look in her sapphire blue eyes that made it run cold once again. She was sitting in a chair, reading a scroll of some sort, and continued to look at it for a moment before glancing up to attend to her two guests. The other man closed the door once they were fully within the room. "Greetings, Your Highness," said Meninthis. She was empress of some nation or another, and her people had been quick to make certain of his deference to her. "What is it?" asked Arcania. The tone indicated impatience. Terrific, thought Meninthis. Here it comes. She is going to kill me for this, with this foul mood she is in. She had enough of a temper as it was; she is going to destroy me and devour my soul for this! She cocked her head forward, waving her hand in a circular gesture, questioning his silence when he was bidden to speak. He took a breath and let it all out with a single lungful. "My people haven't been able to find the two you sent me to find. They've looked everywhere in the city, but there's no trace of them," he blurted at last. Here it came. He was dead. She glared at him, her eyes going wide with fury. "Are you quite certain?" "Yes. Their ability to hide is greater than my ability to find them." She stood, advancing upon him. She was fully a head taller than he, and her physical stature was not slight. The glare in her eyes filled him with a dread that made his heart grow small, carving directly into his soul, brutally cutting away all barriers that he might have tried to hold up against her scrutiny. He did not feel dead yet. What was she waiting for? She let out her breath in a long sigh, and slumped back into her chair. Her head found its way into the fingertips of her right hand, and she shook her head in disgust at the floor. "You may go," was all she said. Relief flooded his features, and he anxiously turned to open the door to flee from her presence, closing it behind him, leaving the other man to face her alone. That other stood watching her calmly. "You said that this man was the best in the city, that if anyone could find them, he could," she said absently. The other man shrugged. "He is human. You can only expect so much from them. We could not spare the others from their duties to search by our usual means. Perhaps if you had brought more of us . . ." "You know as well as I that you are incapable of crossing worlds without my assistance, and I must save my strength for the Balroqs when the time comes." Her head rose out of her hand, the blue eyes searching him. "You did not come here to offer excuses for human failures." It was not a question. "No. The man, Thorn, that was to meet here with you, has arrived." "How many are with him?" "Only one. It is noticeably not human, even to our meager divinations. The man Thorn is not taking the effort to hide the creature with any but the rudiments of illusion and plain clothes for modesty. Blank eyes, just sort of looks around and minds its own affairs," explained the Thurlan. "I see," said Arcania. "Like as not his version of a scribe to record the proceedings." She smiled. "What of Thorn himself?" "Archmage of Politics . . . " began the Thurlan. "That I do not already know?" she cut him off. The Thurlan sighed. "Ours at the complex have been able to find out a few things. As you know, there is a question of power being settled, this Thorn competing with one Dasham, Archmage of Research, for the position of Supreme Archmage of the Guild. Neither is allowing any more knowledge of this to get out than they can help, but any fool with eyes can plainly see what is happening." "Those who want to be the fattest frog on the puddle are usually obvious," observed Arcania. "Their methods, on the other hand, not always. These two are not grotesquely stupid enough to display their knife collection where their enemies can see it any sooner than it will do them no good to know. Is there aught else?" "Not much. He has connections to most of the city, some of which we have been able to match up from information on both ends, others we have to guess at. He is also the man in charge of the relations of the Guild with other guilds and extraplanar beings." "Such as myself," she nodded. "That will be all then. See that he is given something of mediocre quality for his desires; we have no need of announcing my control of this inn." "I understand," said the Thurlan. He opened the door to leave, taking care to step over the body of Meninthis as he made his way through the corridor. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The man appeared pleasant, in his middle years of life. He was thinking carefully, studying writs on the table before him. The man with him would have appeared to be a personal servant, quietly watching the doings of his master. The Thurlan had not exaggerated the meagerness of the spells disguising the demon. The assumption was obvious: if one could divine the presence of demons, they were impossible to disguise. Arcania took note of this for the future. For the part of Thorn, it was a very private setting, and he could well understand what it was that made her wish to meet here. Arcania, on the other hand, could have told him that his appearances of commonness were lost on many of the beings in the inn. This, of course, was because several of them were Thurlans. None who were not sworn to her knew, thus, no one who did not already know who and what he was would learn from looking at him. She shrugged and stepped up to him. He looked up only when she was within the length of an arm from him. When he did, it was sudden, as if she had taken him by surprise. She raised her eyebrows. "I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you," said the woman standing over him. Indeed, he thought, "standing over" was not inaccurate. She was as tall as nearly any man he had ever seen. She was easily one of the most physically attractive women he had ever met. He stared at her openly, looking her up and down. One corner of her red lips curved upward. The blue eyes occasionally cracked their solid wall, allowing a glimpse of the ancient secrets that danced within her mind. Platinum blonde hair fell to her waist, and the sleeves of her tunic were short, revealing arms that had strong albeit not bulky muscle. Indeed, as she lifted a chair to be seated, the muscles rippled beneath the skin. She was slender in appearance, and the feminine curves offset the muscularity well to make a presence that was formidable and beautiful at once. Her face was square of jaw, high in cheek bones, and a necklace of diamonds cut round with a pendant of a crescent shape, also cut of diamond in appearance, curled round her neck. He deliberately glanced across the necklace and dismissed it, clearly preferring to examine her charms than the powerful magic that was barely concealed in that jewelry. She was alone. Or at least, she chose to appear alone. The information he had of her was mostly limited to what her minions were like. He had heard of an uncanny ability to infiltrate, to blend seamlessly into human society. His truesight spell showed nothing unusual in those present in the inn. Yet logic dictated that one or more had to be her special minions. There were people taking up covert guard positions, obvious and expected, but nothing made them stand out in any way. One or two, he recognized as Genericans of the middle-merchant class, by their guild markings. A signal to his amanuensis and a half-second spell by that entity revealed them to be licensed bodyguards, who had never even left the city. He knew she was watching his reactions, and that she saw the spell being cast, so he allowed a line to form between his brows at this discovery. He placed great pride in his ability to tell reality from deception. He almost wished for the chance to examine one of these servants. He manufactured a frank, open smile, once she was completely seated. "Greetings, your ... Highness?" said Thorn, waiting a half-heartbeat for her icy nod. "Ah, good," he half-muttered, "the servants got it right this time." He inclined his head exactly the appropriate amount for an Archmage greeting a visiting Archmage. "I am Thorn. On behalf of the Mages' Guild, the Oligarch Melwis, and the Principality of Generica, I welcome you to our city. Is this a favorite place of yours?" "Yes," replied Arcania evenly. "I find it to be a relaxing locale to grace once in a while. I hope my selection is not out of line." "Oh, but it's perfectly charming, quite appropriate for an informal visit like this one. The more formal places are so stuffy, it's impossible to really talk. Have you taken in any of the local sights?" "Most of them have been interesting thus far. I confess that I have not been able to see many of them, though my friends tell me that this is a wonderful city to visit," she said, extending a slender hand. "I am Arcania Dorval." He took the hand, found it to be strong in its clasp. "What can I do for you?" His eyes searched hers. She was playing an interesting gambit -- she had contacted him, through indirect means, which meant that she wanted something, but she clearly wanted him to find out what it was. "The pleasure of your Highness' company would be enough, but sadly, I have a duty to perform as well. I must inquire as to the nature of your business here. We had heard that you had friends in local business, but they seem to be unavailable?" "The shop vanished when relatives decided to move in on the owner. He was rigid with the sight of them swarming about him," she answered. "I have not spoken with him since, to tell truth. I have heard that one of his old debtors has since cleaned him out." "I have heard a little about that," Thorn replied, "But since it didn't come under our jurisdiction our reports were very sketchy." He noticed her wrinkling her nose. "Does something trouble you, your Highness?" "Your . . . musk seems to be wafting in my direction," she said, eyes narrow. The enchantment spell was not focused. A lesser mage might not have noticed it at all. His expression remained placid. "My apologies, milady. It's an old habit, wearing such perfumes. Allow me to compliment you on that which you carry yourself." "You, at least, can do something about it," she said evenly. "I cannot." Thorn quirked one eyebrow in apparently genuine surprise, and one of her sapphire eyes narrowed still further. He inclined his head, and the spell of enchanted guile waned and disappeared. "That is much better," she said. "I can understand that your trade forces accord with certain customs, but there are always those who will take offense, no matter what the custom." "Now," said Thorn, "that your shopkeeper friend has vanished, what business has brought you here? Making new friends?" "No. What friends I need I brought," said Arcania. She sat forward. "I came this time to write a book." A raise of silvered brows: "A book?" She nodded. "I like to write mysteries about thefts. Not an unusual plot: group of thieves steals jewel from the lord of a neighboring manor, lord crosses fiefs to retrieve it." "Will the lord of their fief interfere, do you think?" Thorn said, smiling. "I wrote an early chapter to introduce the thieves. They are lowly cutpurses in a den out in nothingness," said Arcania. "If I am allowed to write the story as I choose, the ending will be very simple. However, I have been made to understand that there is an editors' guild that controls much of the . . . publishing in this city." "An interesting dilemma," Thorn said, nodding. "I believe that if you did plan to publish the book here, that such a complication might indeed arise. Do you expect that any of the topics in your book would be forbidden by their censors?" "Indeed," said Arcania. "However, you have contacts amongst these editors. I am afraid that I am a new author in these parts, and can do little to influence these editors on my own. I have friends, but none in high places." "I hold a position, purely advisory, you understand, among the various publishers in this city. I could arrange an exchange of favors, if your Highness wishes." He continued to smile, wondering exactly how many friends in high places she was denying having. "I do not wish to see my story edited by a group of picky locals who do not appreciate the art of independent writing," said Arcania. "I wish to keep the story simple. Surely, you can understand this desire. If the editors had their way, things could get complicated. The technicalities that could be introduced . . . the local lord might decide that an army riding across his fief was not acceptable, and meddle in matters outside his affairs when he sees what he takes to be an encroachment. I would like to keep the story simple. If you would be willing to write this story with me, perhaps the editors would leave it intact. There would be royalties involved." Thorn nodded. "Ah, the problems that arise from using the names of actual people in a story. Yet I see the value of having them, for aesthetics and versimilitude. Perhaps," he pondered, "it would help if you could use the services of an aliasing business? Do you know anyone who might serve as a front, who might present an appearance of local respectability, to reduce your profile should the censors become interested?" Arcania was taken aback. "Aliasing business? I have no one in the aliasing business. Sadly, my native friends disappeared when their business closed. I have not been able to find any of them; their relations apparently have them hard at work." "I understand," said Thorn. "How inconvenient. Very well. For a favor to be agreed upon later, I will venture to distract the editorial staff until after your manuscripts are completed and published. How long before your story goes to print?" "Not long at all. Just a few details more," said Arcania. "I look forward to reading it," said Thorn. A chime sounded, and he looked over at his amanuensis, who held a complex-looking pocket watch so that he could see it. "Alas," he said, "I have an urgent appointment. I look forward to seeing you again," he inclined his head again, not concealing the lustful glance across her body. She smiled as he rose and walked from the room with the demon who had doubtless been memorizing every detail of the discussion. She wondered what price the Guild had paid for the service of the creature, but put it from her mind quickly. He was shrewd; that much she could easily see. She could sense him scrying elsewhere even as he walked. He left the inn, and at the end of the street, began to walk in one direction, stopped, and turned at a right angle to go in another. He left an illusory duplicate where he had stopped, calmly minding its own business with its manservant, and he stepped into a hole in the air and vanished. Arcania laughed deep in her throat. "No, I have never seen that one tried before," she said with amusement. The Shrouded One would have been proud of this man were he a student. Alas, Arcania Dorval had fought that enigmatic figure for far too long to be taken in by such an obvious rendition of the trick. He had not fooled her with his leers and his air of too-eager affability, though she credited him for trying. Deception was the blood of life to him, it was plain. She could get to like this one. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + Kryalla Simuel the Shrouded One + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + . . . scribed by the Stilt Man, + + foleye@xanth.cs.orst.edu + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+