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From: tolsen@leland.Stanford.EDU (Tanya Ann Olsen)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [Cernborn] {At the Inn} The Morning After
Date: 7 Mar 1995 14:15:11 -0800
Organization: Stanford University, CA 94305, USA
Lines: 193
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NNTP-Posting-Host: elaine12.stanford.edu

Cernborn re-entered the commons room shortly before dawn.  Gone were
the fine silks of the evening before.  In their place, he wore
well-worn breeches, a tunic made of homespun wool, and high leather
boots.  A two-handed sword was strapped to his back, and a long sword
was belted to his waist.  Numerous small pouches were also hanging
from his belt.   A long, heavy cloak with a cowl was draped over his
bad arm.  Looking around the room, he saw that the table from the
night before was empty.  He laid the cloak down on the bench and sat
down to wait.
 
Bob Littlefair was managing things at this time in the morning.  Few
patrons ever got up this early, so he was the only one there to
provide service.  "Would you like some small beer or ale and breakfast
this morning?" he asked Cernborn.
 
"Yes.  Ale would be fine.  If thou wouldst, also bring some hard
cheese, bread, and any fresh fruits thou mayst have...enough for two."
Bob nodded and headed off to the kitchen.
 
Cernborn gazed out the window.  The thunderstorm of the previous
evening was gone, but in its place, the weather had turned gray and
drizzly.  He scowled at no one in particular and dug into one of his
belt pouches.  Bob Littlefair returned with the ale, "The rest will be
out shortly."
 
"Thank you," muttered Cernborn, hardly acknowledging Bob's presence.
He withdrew a small, shiny, dark-green leaf from his pouch.  Crushing
the leaf in his left hand, he spoke quietly in a language that Bob at
least did not recognize right off.  He made several small precise
gestures and then appeared to stare into nothingness for several
minutes.  The leaf dropped soundlessly on the table top. Bob quietly
returned with the bread, cheese, and fruit and  placed the platter
carefully on the table so as not to disturb him and  retreated back
behind the bar.
 
Cernborn's scowl deepened as he came out of his short trance.  He
cursed softly under his breath, "Damn weather!  Nothing is going to
be easy on this trip."  Noticing the ale for the first time,  he
took a sip and continued to stare out the window as he waited for
Athorbalo.

As he waited, Cernborn noticed a woman with a badly scarred face
coming down the stairs and approaching his table. 

"May I sit down, sir? I believe I have information that you would be
interested in hearing," said the woman in brown robes.

Cernborn stood up, "By all means, please."  He gestured to an empty
seat and sat down again after she did.

"My name is Mi'cha Ning'ra. Last night, I could not but help overhear
part of your conversation. I was about to go to bed when I heard you
describe Marque.   I have seen this man in Generica, only two days
past."

"Two days?!"  Cernborn interrupted.  

"Yes," Mi'cha continued, "two days.  I was walking in the market when
I rounded a corner and ran face first into him.  He first raised a
glove as if to give challenge, noticed who or maybe what I was, and
evidently decided I wasn't worth the effort for anything.  He muttered
something rude and obnoxious and walked on, not even bothering to ask
if I was harmed in any way."  She paused, "And he dropped this." She
withdrew a piece of torn paper from her worn backpack. 

Cernborn reached for the paper.  "No!" Mi'cha slapped his hand lightly.
"In exchange for this, I would like to accompany you on this
little chase. I am a scholar and I would like to write down this story
for the King's  Library. You need not fear that I will drag your party
down, I am quite able to provide for and take care of myself."

She signaled for Littlefair as Cernborn thought over what she had
said.  "Yes, milady?" Bob asked, scurrying over.

"Some fruit and nuts, a loaf of bread and ale, please."
 
Cernborn was about to make his reply when he noticed the dark-skinned
man who had been eavsdroping the night before making his way toward
them. The man stopped near the table and raised his right hand,
touching the fingers to his forehead as he said, "Lord Captain
Cernborn, may the Light of Urr illume and guide you."  He then bowed
deeply as he proceeded, "My name is Gyles Dormani.  I am a Knight from
a distant land, and I believe we seek a common goal.  May I join you
and your companion and discuss the matter?"

Cernborn took a moment and studied the man.  He was not used to such
forwardness.  Being a stranger in a strange land himself, it was hard
to determine whom he could trust.  Often those who volunteered so
readily were the least likely to be truthful.  He had found this
out the hard way and paid dearly for it.  He felt though that both of
these people were quite sincere in their intentions.  Finally deciding to
trust in his intuition, he replied to the stranger, "Prithee, sit down
and join us."  He waved at the chair next to him.

He faced Mi'cha, looking her squarely in the eye, "My lady, Ning'ra, I
will accept your offer if you prove satisfactorily to me that you are
indeed capable of taking care of yourself."  He turned back to Gyles.
"The same goes for you as well if our goals prove compatible.

Upon hearing the challenge, Mi'cha stood up from the table and placed
her mug of ale on a table across the room. Walking slowly and
deliberately to the other side of the room, she stopped and appeared
to be concentrating. Her hands rose to her stomach and what appeared
to be a large ball of rocks and mud sat in her hands. She aimed and
with deadly accuracy hit the mug of ale,  causing it to shatter into
little pieces. She dropped 3 gold pieces on the counter next to Bob
Littlefair and returned to her seat.

"Are you convinced I can take care of myself now?" she asked smugly.
 
"Not totally.  But I can see that you have some uncommon ability of which
I have not heard before."  Cernborn could see the confidence and
determination in her face.  "Very well, I accept your offer, but on
one condition:  you do not take on Marque alone, and you do not get
yourself purposefully into such a situation.  Understood?"

He turned to face Gyles who seemed to be quite at ease watching the
exchange.  "And you, Sir Knight, what uncommon ability might you have
to convince me that I may be in need of your aid and what do you
believe is our common goal?"  Cernborn's tone was quite challenging.

Gyles smiled, his snow-white teeth in sharp contrast to his dark olive
skin.  "Please, allow me to tell you of myself.  Then, perhaps you
will understand.  I am from the land of Al'Hazzod.  There, I  serve my
king as a Knight of the Order of the Jackal.  My King sent me on a
quest to find an evil man named Jezzail and bring him to justice.  I
and ten of my brother knights searched for many long weeks before we
found Jezzail and his band of outlaws.  After a protracted melee, we
cornered the scoundrel and demanded his surrender.  He laughed at us
and called upon his dark powers.  A great and violent storm erupted
from the air around us.  I was separated from my fellows and then I
fell unconscious.  When I awoke, I was laying in a forest glade not
far from this town.

"As I made my way into town, I noticed a man standing on the far side
of the street.  He was talking with someone, but I could not hear the
conversation.  I was drawn to him because he seemed very familiar.
Before I could reach him, a throng of passing people caught me up and
swept me along.  When I finally returned to the spot, the man was 
nowhere to be found.  One thing that struck me about the man is that he
carried two rapiers, one with the jeweled hilt as you described to
your companion last night.  After this incident, I made my way to this
Inn where I took notice of you and your companion, Athorbalo I believe
her name was.  I meant no disrespect, but I did overhear your story
last night.

"I believe that the man I saw in town was this Marque that you are
pursuing.  I also think that he is in some way related to Jezzail, and
therefore related to helping me return home.  I would be most grateful
if you allowed me to accompany you on this quest.  As Salim would say
'Solitude is the enemy of success.' "

Gyles motioned and caught the attention of Bob Littlefair who was
returning with Mi'cha's order.  "Innkeep, a bowl of porridge, fresh
fruit, and some cold lavender tea please." Bob nodded as he moved back
to the kitchen to see what he could dig up.

"That is all well and good," Cernborn replied, "but, you still have
not *shown* me that you are capable of fending for yourself."

Gyles stood, dropped his cloak and said, " By the cunning of Kali, I
can hold my own!  Watch that chair."  As Gyles pointed to a chair at a
corner table, it smashed itself against the wall and splintered into a
thousand fragments.   In a span of seconds, four shining blades
appeared in Gyles hands and where hurled at the larger falling pieces
of falling debris.  Each found its mark.  Gyles turned back to
Cerborn, bowed and then retrieved his blades.  He returned and seated
himself.

Bob returned after Gyles was finished with the food he had requested.
Gyles looked at Bob and said, "May the strength of Nafra protect you
and your family, good Innkeep."  Bob gave Gyles an odd look and
replied, "Thank you milord."

"That was quite impressive, Sir," Cernborn said approvingly after Bob
had gone.  "I apologize if I have offended you in asking of your
ability.  I see fate has provided me with interesting companions for
this venture.  I will also accept your aid.  However, before we
discuss this matter further, I must wait for Athorbalo, the lady with
whom I dined last night.  If she is also interested, she will be here
shortly.  Prithee, partake of the bread and cheese." With that stated,
Cernborn tore off a healthy hunk of bread, cut off some cheese with
his long knife, and leaned back in his chair taking alternate bites of
bread and cheese while his eyes scrutinized his table companions.  The
drizzle outside had once again turned into a healthy rain.

---------------------------------------------
Lord Captain Cernborn    tolsen@leland.stanford.edu
Mi'Cha Ning'ra           jmc@ataxia.confusion.net
Gyles Dormani            virtuesr@gps1.laafb.af.mil