Damien stood, smiling politely, and shook the hands of both men. Vaselle noted that as he stood, he had twisted his hands and moved his mouth ever so slightly to invoke his wizard sight.
The three exchanged greetings before all four sat down again. As they did so, the serving wench came back with two mugs of stout. After setting them down, she stared impassively at Teragdor and Stevos. Teragdor didn’t seem to notice her poor manners, but Stevos seemed slightly taken aback.
“What’s Thadwall tossing on the platters tonight, Darla?” Teragdor asked.
“Yak rib and turnips, mutton and bread or the sausage, cheese and bread platter,” Darla replied with marginally more enthusiasm towards Teragdor than she had shown to Vaselle.
“Oooh. Yak?” Teragdor nodded happily before glancing to Stevos. “The yak ribs are actually quite good. I’ve had them several times.” He grinned at Darla. “I’ll have those and the dark beer.” Darla nodded.
“Hmm, well then.” Stevos said with a smile. “I shall do the same.”
Darla shrugged and headed back towards the bar.
“She is lively,” Stevos noted.
Teragdor blinked and then smiled, realizing that Stevos was being ironic. “She’s just grumpy because Tessa, the other server who should be working tonight, gave birth two days ago and won’t be back to work until tomorrow. And of course, leading up to that, Darla had had to pick up some slack. So she is doing twice her normal work.”
“Ah.” Stevos nodded.
Damien was looking a bit wide-eyed at Teragdor. “The other serving maid gave birth two days ago and will be returning to work tomorrow?” The wizard sounded rather shocked, which Vaselle could understand.
Apparently Teragdor misinterpreted the shock. “Yes, I know, an unusually long time, but Thadwall’s the father, and the baby is a boy, so he’s feeling pretty generous.”
Stevos raised an eyebrow at this. Vaselle got the impression that the older man felt similar to Damien and himself in terms of how quickly the girl should be returning.
“So, as I understand it, you work for this Lord Edwyrd, Vaselle?” Stevos asked, making conversation.
“Yes, that’s true.” Vaselle nodded in agreement.
“As I understand it, Lord Edwyrd is hunting down demons that escaped from Freehold?” Stevos asked.
“Uhm, yes.” Vaselle nodded again. That was the story that Damien was using.
“He must be a very powerful animage if he is able to rein in demons,” Teragdor said. “As I understand it, summoning is quite dangerous compared to conjuring.”
“That is generally true,” Vaselle said. “Which is why wizardry is the preferred mechanism for dealing with demons. However, Lord Edwyrd does employ Rune Magic, which technically predates modern wizardry.” All true, Vaselle thought to himself, although, obviously, that was not how his master controlled demons.
Stevos sniffed a few times. “Speaking of demons, is that sulfur I smell?”
Damien grimaced. Vaselle suddenly realized they were still wearing the same clothes they’d been wearing at Mount Doom, where there was quite a bit of sulfur in the air.
“My apologies,” Damien said. “While Edwyrd is an animage, I am a conjuror and earlier today I’d been measuring out and packing small bags of sulfur for use in spellcraft.”
Stevos smiled politely. “Well, this is quite interesting for us. Given our line of work within the Church of Tiernon, we don’t often get to talk with those who work with demonic forces.”
Vaselle smiled tightly. He was fairly certain that was a slight rebuke. He knew full well that Etonian priests did not approve of conjury. Which was why he would have loved to bring up the High Priest Verigas, who had summoned his master. However, that would probably not be a good idea.
Damien smiled. “The same is true for us. I would say we have an excellent opportunity for stimulating conversation.”
Arch-Diocate Iskerus woke with a start from a very unusual dream. Awake, he could not remember exactly what the dream had been about, other than that he had felt a far deeper and more intimate communion with his god than he had ever felt before. And yet, at the same time, his heart was racing in his chest as if he had experienced a massive adrenaline rush. It was not fear, however. It was more like exhilaration or excitement.
He shook his head; it was almost like an unthinkably powerful blessing spell. His ears suddenly detected quite a bit of commotion in the camp. It was the middle of night, yet the sound of the entire camp rising was filling his ears. He grimaced in puzzlement and pulled back the covers on his bed.
Getting out of bed, he quickly summoned a Globe of Holy Light and reached for his robe. He fastened it and made towards the door of his tent.
As he stepped outside, it was clear that much of the camp was up. Lights, both torches and Globes of Holy Light, were quickly coming on. He spotted one of his aides coming quickly towards him.
“Hewitt? What is going on?” The Arch-Diocate asked.
“I am not sure, Your Holiness; I have only talked with a few others,” Hewitt replied, hurrying up to him. “For myself, I was woken from my sleep feeling an overwhelming presence.” He frowned. “A presence that was at once comforting, yet frightening. It was clearly a religious experience, but unlike any I have ever had. I have overheard others saying the same.”
Iskerus shook his head in puzzlement. This was extremely odd. His blood drained from his head. Was an Intercession imminent? They had been expecting one, but it had not occurred, and as time had passed so had the concern.
Suddenly there was a commotion over by the tent which held Talarius’s possessions. His actual tent had been destroyed by Ruiden’s metamorphosis, so they had moved the rest of his equipment to a new tent. Iskerus moved over to it; the guards that were stationed there to guard Excrathadorus Mortis and the other possessions seemed to be frantically searching the area, going in and out of the tent.
“What is the matter?” Iskerus demanded as he came up to the guards.
“My lord!” One of the guards came to attention, looking very pale. Iskerus nodded for her to continue. “Excrathadorus Mortis is missing!”
“Missing?” Iskerus asked incredulously.
The guard looked quite shaken. “We were standing guard when suddenly, and without warning, we were overwhelmed—”
“Overwhelmed?” Iskerus asked.
The woman looked at a loss. “Yes, we all suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of — Presence. I have no other word for it. All four of us swooned, nearly falling in place. When we recovered, others in the camp were also rousing. I went in to check on the locked-glass top case with the dagger in it.” She paused as if lost.
“And…?” Iskerus prodded.
“The case was there, undisturbed, completely locked, with your personal seal intact — yet the dagger was missing from inside!”
Iskerus shook his head in disbelief. The box had been locked; only he had the key. He had also placed his own seal on it to detect tampering; he’d then shielded it with a Holy Warding. He would have known if the warding had been broken. He had felt nothing.
“Let me see,” Iskerus said, moving around the guard towards the tent.
Iskerus entered the tent to see the fine wooden case with the glass-paneled lid sitting where he had last left it. He used his Holy Sight to check the wards. As the guard had said, the wards were in place, in no way disturbed. His seal was unbroken. Yet the silk cloth upon which the blade had rested within the box was empty. The dagger was gone.
Iskerus used every detection ritual he could think of, but he could not detect the normally obvious magical presence of the Holy Artifact. He frowned and dispelled his wards. He then removed the chain around his neck with the key to the lock, and unlocked the box. He opened the lid, cracking the seal. It had been absolutely intact. This made no sense. He reached in and felt around the box, removing the cloth. The dagger was very clearly not there!