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Chapter Five

The night the lights went out in Hangdri

Ursula awoke with a start, aware both of the fact that she had slept in a very awkward position that had her neck aching and that someone near by was moving with the intent not to be heard. She forced herself not to move as she opened her eyes to slits to peer through the lashes. The new elf lay on the sofa in the common room they had been given, the fire now down to embers that glowed an orange-red as someone passed between her and the fire.

It was Bobby, Ursula realized, once again wearing that damned felt princess dress it had taken two days to talk her into changing out of. The elf’s ears caught the sound of Lawrence’s voice evidently in the throws of passion over the distressed creaking of a rope bed. Bobby froze for a moment before she could identify the sound that had probably woken Ursula before she crept over to the door of the common room and slipped out into the corridor.

Ursula fought to keep her temper before she made sure of her daggers and rose silently; determined to follow the priestess. “I am not going to be stranded here,” she muttered to herself as she silently opened the door and peered out. Bobby’s shadow was just turning the corner of the round stairway that led down into the main portions of the Big House. As silent as a shadow, Ursula followed.

The priestess led her a merry chase towards what were obviously the nicer portions of the keep. Ursula managed to keep up, keeping a wary distance so as not to be seen, her suspicion rapidly becoming anger.

At last, Bobby was challenged outside the doors to what Ursula took to be the Duke’s personal bedchamber. The Elf’s sharp ears let her pick up a snatch of the conversation that took place and what she heard let her anger over ride her common sense for a moment.

Ursula’s toe banged into the brass planter pot.

The guard who was grilling Bobby looked up and the two locked eyes for a moment. “You there!” the guard shouted. “Halt!”

Ursula’s instincts took over and she fled before Bobby could even turn to follow the guard’s gaze. Her heart pounding in her chest, Ursula ran with a speed and silence that amazed the still rational part of her mind. At the first window she came to the Elf ducked through the open shutters, thankful there was no glass window to slow her movement.

The ledge was perhaps half a foot wide and over looked the lower floors from a dizzying height to the streets hundreds of feet below. Before she fully realized what she was doing, Ursula had leapt out into the night.

The world hung in slow motion through the fall before her fingers found the ledge and arrested her movement. She hung for moment then once more her body was in motion, pulling her up into a handstand as she rolled into the open window, the cartwheel ending in a crouch.

“Holy shit,” she breathed in amazement at what she had done.

Before she could begin to fully comprehend her feat of gymnastics, her sharp ears picked up the iron in the door latch turning; someone was entering this room. Her legs unfolded from the crouch, rolling her behind a couch, as the room was flooded with light from a hand held lantern one of the two men who had entered was carrying.

“You’re certain you weren’t followed?” demanded one, his voice low and raspy.

“Of course,” the other responded this one a light tenor that had a nearly musical quality to it. “You worry too much.”

Over the soft clatter of the latch being returned the first voice chuckled an evil chuckle. “And you don’t worry enough. What have you discovered of our Duke’s new guests?”

Ursula felt the hackles on the back of her neck rise as one of the men came over to the window to pull the shutters closed. “More than you’re likely to believe,” the tenor responded. “That they are not of this world whatsoever, despite the forms they take.”

“I know a dragon when I see one,” the raspy voice countered from the door.

“Less than a week has the boy worn that form,” the second replied. “Not that you would know it by looking, my lord. I scarcely believed it myself when I heard it from the Duke’s own page; playing the braggart to the scullery maid. I know not where they might hail from, but I cannot think they are as dangerous as they seem.”

“Aria would not have brought them here if they were not at least as dangerous as they seem, if not more.” There was a long pause before he continued. “I don’t like it. It’s too close to our plans coming to fruition to be happenstance.”

“But they have no knowledge…” the tenor started.

“Don’t add assumption to your list of indiscretions,” the other interrupted. “Do we know how long they will be here? Or what his grace talked with their leader about in that meeting?”

“I know only that his grace gave his own personal colors to a page to present to the elf. Beyond that would be assuming…”

The sound of a heavy glove striking flesh interrupted the tenor’s sarcasm. “Now,” the raspy voice continued. “You listen carefully and mark my words, whelp. I have plotted too long for this to be undone by a cockerel who thinks playing at words is amusing.”

There was anger in the tenor’s voice when it spoke again, yet it was careful to hold respect as well. “What would you have me do, my lord?”

“For starters, you keep your arrogant eyes on those other worlders. If they even begin to suspect…”

“I’ll see to it there is a spy in their midst before nightfall tomorrow.” Tenor would have continued but the door was thrown open.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded the raspy voice. The guard who had challenged Ursula was the next voice and it caused her to try and become one with the stone floor.

“Beg your pardon, milords,” the guard started, mail gauntlet banging against the spangle helm he wore in salute. “There’s a thief in the castle, we’re searching room by room.”

“There’s no thief here,” Tenor snapped at the guard, then seemed to reconsider. “I should see to this, with your leave, my lord?” The light left with the voices as the door was closed once more. Ursula took the time to try and calm her racing heart before she cautiously peeked around the bottom corner of the sofa. Her sharp eyes found they had no need of the light that was blocked by the shuttered window to see that she was alone in the room.

Cautiously she stood and considered her options. Clearly the castle was in a major uproar of her flight from the hallway of the Duke’s personal chambers. The hallways would be crawling with guards and as she didn’t have what ever sigil the Duke had given John, it was likely if they laid hands on her she’d be spending the night in the dungeons; or worse.

Ursula made her way to the window, opened the shutters once more and looked out. The tower that had been given over to her and her friends was on the far side of the Big House from here, several stories up and no clear way at least, a clear way that was sane. “You’re a generalist thief,” Ursula whispered to herself as she stood in the ledge and began to examine the stone work of the castle itself. “You can do this.”

She found that mortar must be extremely expensive in the local economy as it was only used well back in the stonework. This had the effect of making the wall like the easy section of an indoor rock-climbing wall. The wall might as well have been covered in handles and rungs of a ladder. Ursula took an experimental step out and found literally thousands of crevasses that served as hand and foot holds.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “It’s just like a rock wall,” she told herself and began to climb in earnest. A few minutes work got her to the roof of this section where she was able to stand erect and run across the clay tiles to the tower they called home. There she found as many ways up as before and continued her climb. In short order she was outside John’s bedroom just as someone was banging on the door.

Ursula scrambled through the window and was able to get a hand over Johns’ mouth to quell his shout of surprise. “I’ve been here all night,” she whispered urgently as she dove under the covers and did her best to appear to be asleep.

John recovered from his shock sufficiently to open the door and demand, “What?” to the guard he found there.

“Begging your pardon, sir, there’s a thief in the castle,” the guard introduced himself. “Are you alone?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. And my bed mate has been here all night.” John mustered up his best roadside stop scowl at the guard who paled slightly.

“Your pardon for the interruption, sir,” he managed. “Good night.”

Once John was certain they were alone once more he went back over to his bed and pulled the covers away. “What was all that about?” he demanded softly. Ursula hesitated for a moment before pulling off her leather jerkin and tossing it near the pile of his own clothing.

“Climb in and I’ll tell you,” she invited in a quiet voice.

* * *

Bobby watched the guard tear after a shadow and was torn for a moment between following her patron’s orders and helping with this new threat. If there was combat, doubtlessly she would be needed to heal injuries, however, she wasn’t entirely sure how the Lover would take this latest act of defiance. They had already lost their paladin and the loss of her healing magic would be a blow the party may not recover from.

So, steeling herself to what she was about to do, Bobby returned to the Duke’s door and knocked with a confidence she wished she felt. After a moment the door was thrown open, revealing the Duke’s muscular form, bare chest-ed and modesty only preserved by a pair of soft looking home spun trews. “My lady?” he asked in surprise, obviously not expected to be confronted with who was at his door.

“Your pardon, please, your Grace. I was…” and here Bobby stuttered to a stop, not entirely sure how to put in words her mission. “May I come in?”

The Duke wordlessly stepped to one side and Bobby cautiously entered a room both Spartan in its appointments as it was comfortable in what was there. She found herself in an anteroom that served as a sitting room containing a small clutch of comfortable looking chairs and a large table whose lack of adornment could not hide the fact that it was extremely well made for the era.

The Duke withdrew to a cabinet as he pulled on a fur lined robe to make himself a bit more presentable and withdrew a flagon of pewter with two matching goblets. The only light in the room was from a large fireplace on the wall with what appeared to be his bed chamber so that both rooms would be warmed by the single fire. “Wine?” he offered from the flagon he was bringing to the table.

“Please,” she said, stepping forward to take a chair at his right hand. “I’m sorry to have woken you, and it’s rather a long story I’m afraid.”

Reginald poured the wine to the somewhat distant chimes of the cathedrals clock tolling out midnight. “We seem to have some time before dawn,” he said with a chuckle as he presented the pewter goblet. “How can I help you?”

Bobby swallowed a mouthful of the excellent wine and steeled herself for the coming statement. “Actually, I’ve come to help you,” she managed to say.

“Indeed?” he asked with a sip of his own. “And which of my many issues are you volunteering to take over?”

“Your happiness,” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster.

For the briefest of moments confusion played across his features, before a realization flickered into his eyes. “I’m deeply flattered, my lady, but I’m afraid I must decline your generous offer. I am, after all, a married man.”

“To a wife that arguably is no longer human,” Bobby found herself saying. “That must be very trying…” Before the amazement of what she was saying could set in, there was a flash that filled the room and Aria had appeared.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Power demanded, her normally lovely features contorted into rage. “How dare you…?”

The Lover stepped out of Bobby’s form, much to the young accountant’s relief. The two Powers regarded each other, Aria’s eyes practically smoldering with anger while the Lover wore the aloof expression of an experienced tomcat caught in the cream. “Oh, stop thinking like a mortal, Aria. You should be thankful I’m looking out for your widower.”

“I’m not dead,” Aria hissed through clinched teeth.

The Lover smirked. “You are to him. High time you realized it.” She looked at the two gawking mortals and tsked between her perfect teeth. “This isn’t the place to have this discussion,” she announced before they both vanished and Bobby and Reginald were alone once more.

“People come and go so quickly here,” muttered Bobby to herself.

“Now I’m confused,” Reginald declared to his goblet. After a long drought he refreshed both cups and turned to his startled guest. “What exactly was that all about?”

Bobby shrugged as she appreciated the wine. “The Lover came to me earlier tonight and told me that you were suffering and putting up a brave face alone. There was more, but that’s what it boiled down to. Part of the reason Louis lost his paladin-hood was because I turned him away so as an act of penance I had to come here and…well, you know….”

The Duke’s chuckle was interrupted by a huge yawn. “I’d never thought of myself as an act of penance before. I suppose I should be flattered.”

Bobby felt a blush color her cheeks as she demurely replied, “I can think of many worse things, but nothing better.” She drained the cup and held it out to him. “I should go so you can get some sleep.”

He took it and electricity danced as their fingers touched. Tiredness gave way to far more primal emotions. She was in his arms and not resisting, her face turned up in expectation of his kiss. He was mumbling something as his face haltingly lowered, not that she could determine what he was saying. Their lips met and sparks were traded for flames.

* * *

Tom growled to himself as for the third time that night the noises from Lawrence’s room, adjacent to his own, woke him from the shallow nap he could manage. It was obvious from the volume that both were doing their best to be quiet but that didn’t lighten his mood any. “Even a train has to stop,” he snarled to himself as he gave up and sat up in the bed.

Now more awake he caught a whiff of Ursula’s scent through the open window as his sharp ears just over heard a hoarse whisper of, “I’ve been here all night.”

Something was wrong, the bruin decided, bad wrong. His improved eyesight let him find his buckskin trousers and breech-cloth that he quickly pulled on. Making sure of the claws in their hanger on his belt he snatched open the door just as a guard was about to knock. “What?” he growled, making sure to show as much teeth as he could.

There were four of them, but in the confined space of the hall their pole arms would be useless. The leader stammered out the same story Tom had heard him give John earlier before the bruin made a production of inhaling mightily through his nose. “There’s no one in this tower who shouldn’t be here,” he snapped, “except the four of you! Get out!”

For a split second Tom thought the guard’s valor would get the better of him, but he wisely decided on discretion and quickly made his exit from the tower. Tom watched them go before hauling himself up the steps to Louis’s room and knocking as loudly as he dared. After a long moment the door was opened to the knight’s form in a pair of leggings as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. “What’s up?” he mumbled through his haze.

“I don’t know yet, but something’s going on. Guards were searching the tower. Get up and get dressed while I go down to the common room and see if I can find something like coffee.”

Louis nodded resignedly and closed the door. Tom descended the stairs to the common room and used the fire there to light the smoky oil lamps to give what light could be had at this hour. A short rummage through the chest of travel rations uncovered a burlap bag full of black, glossy beans and a small grinder. He took these and the bag of sugar from their place and tugged on the servant’s bell before he settled down to the task of grinding.

After several minutes of grinding the main door was opened by a skittish looking girl of about fifteen. “My lord?” she asked in a soft voice that matched the scent of fear that reeked from her form.

“I would like a small decanter of milk, please,” he told the girl, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“Cow, horse or goat’s milk, milord?”

“Cow,” rumbled Tom around a chuckle.

She dropped a curtsy and was gone. Tom looked after her for a moment and then it occurred to him there were probably far more distasteful requests made of servant girls at this hour. The grinding finished, he spent a moment wishing for a filter before pouring out the drawer from the grinder’s contents into a percolator style pot he found in the camp kitchen and hanging it over the fire.

“Where are the others?” managed Louis around a massive yawn as he finished descending the stairs.

“Ursula is in John’s room,” Tom muttered as he poked at the fire with an iron. “Law and his new friend are getting acquainted and Bobby isn’t in the tower. That worries me.” The fire more to his liking, Tom fixed the broken knight with his gaze. “Did she say anything to you about going out?”

Louis shook his head and the wideness of his eyes told the bruin there was no guile in his answer. “No! Are you sure?”

“The newest trail of her scent goes out the door and doesn’t come back,” Tom rumbled. “Damn it, damn it, and now guards are tearing up the place looking for a thief.”

“My fault,” floated Ursula’s voice from the stairwell. Tom looked to see her and John just entering the room, both making final adjustments to clothing as they did so.

Heh, good for you, buddy, thought the mechanic to himself. Out loud he asked, “Do you know where Bobby is?” The elf nodded as she took out the tin coffee mugs from the camp kitchen and brought them over.

“The last I saw of her she was outside the Duke’s bedroom. But we’ve got bigger problems than Bobby not keeping his knees together.”

Louis threw himself into one of the overstuffed chairs with a grunt. “Now what? At least it’s not my fault.”

Briefly, Ursula told her tale about her flight from the Duke’s bed chamber and the conversation she’d overheard. As she finished it, the servant girl returned with a pitcher of milk that she gratefully gave up and left once more. “What would an adventure be without a little political scheming?” groused John as he stirred his coffee and then relinquished the spoon. “You said the guard knew who these two Machiavelli wanna-bes were?”

“He didn’t question why they were in an unused room in the middle of the night,” Ursula replied. “And he addressed them both as ‘my lord’.”

“That could just be middle ages polite,” muttered the deputy. “Of course they could also be fairly high mucky mucks of the local gentry.”

“The younger sounding one is probably the seneschal,” opined Louis from his chair. As the eyes of the room turned to him he shrugged and said, “The guy said he overheard the Duke’s page bragging to the Scullery Maid, right? So, that conversation took place in the kitchen. The Maid is too busy during the day to be wondering around the castle. So, if this guy over heard that, then he’s in the kitchen. The only person of quality who would be in the kitchen would be the seneschal unlocking a spice cabinet for the cook.”

“I will be dipped in shit,” muttered Tom. “He’s probably right.”

“Probably, but that doesn’t help our position any,” John sighed. “If the head of the house is scheming against the Duke…” he trailed off uncertainly. “God damn what I wouldn’t pay for a cliff notes version of the local history!”

“You are the cliff notes version,” shot back Ursula. “Aria said she put all the knowledge of the world in your head.”

“Not exactly an unbiased source,” groused John. “I know that the Duke’s relations with the Elves to the south are in the shitter because the elves don’t fancy a major city on their boarder. The human kingdom the Duke owes fealty to is separated by the mountains to the north and a marshy river to the east. This duchy has always been a frontier kind of place. Not as big of a concern to the Elves, but now Hangdri has grown into a major city, worse, a major city with a reputation of learning so the trade is picking up making slugging all the way out here appealing to folks looking to better themselves while still staying loyal to the King.”

“Manifest destiny,” muttered Tom. “It’s only a matter of time before the Elves come to blows with the ‘growing’ Duchy. And with separation like what you’re talking about it wouldn’t take much for Reggie to decide he likes to be addressed as your majesty rather than your grace.”

“And he’s got all the resources he’d need,” John replied after an appreciate sip of the coffee. “This area is extremely fertile so he’s got both grains and livestock. There’s a thriving tanning industry for trade goods…”

“As if we could miss the smell,” Louis complained.

“The mountains to the north are practically soaked with iron, nickel silver and tin, not to mention a fair amount of gem stones. The local dwarves are actually vassals of the Duke thanks to a war four generations back when the Duke’s ancestor defeated that year’s King Under The Mountain and they’re now controlled by a Count who owes Reggie fealty. They could revolt, but as this is a family of paladins they have no reason to and the trade has made the petty nobles who would organize it disgustingly rich so they’re probably not interested.”

“So, leather, food, grains and beer go into the mountain and refined products and gold coins come out?” asked Ursula. John nodded thoughtfully as he polished off his first cup and went back for a second. “Never mind kingdom, if Reggie starts flexing his muscle and defeats the Elves he has the footing in place for an Empire.”

“So, who wants to upset the apple cart?” demanded Louis. Once more the eyes of the group came to him and he shrugged his broad shoulders. “If it’s as rosy as you say, why is anyone plotting against this guy? Sounds to me like he’s an Emperor in the making, all he has to do is sally forth, and his back is covered by a conquered nation that loves him for it. Hell, they’d probably muster troops on general dwarf/elf hostility. So, why is this politicking going on? Dollars to donuts the Duke doesn’t want any of that and so someone is trying to stir up things so he has to. Or replace him once things are in motion so they get to be High Mucky Muck.”

“Two for two!” chuckled Tom.

“I was a poli-sci major,” the knight replied primly.

“This from the guy who was defeated in an unopposed student government election…”

“I still say it wasn’t fair that I couldn’t vote because I was a candidate.”

John finished stirring his coffee and took a thoughtful sip. Finally, he said, “Be that as it may, Louis' political ambitions aren't the issue here. Reggie's are and if he doesn't have any, someone is going to a lot of trouble to put him into a position of where he has to get some or get killed. I talked with him for about three hours before dinner tonight and if he's aware of what's spinning around him he sure didn't let on. That makes me feel he doesn't have a clue that he's getting played.”

“And the drag queen is in there doing this and that with him,” muttered Louis sullenly.

“And I thought you were improving,” rumbled Tom menacingly.

“Hey, I didn't ask for any of this...!” started Louis.

“Well you certainly were the first on the list when it was offered,” snapped Ursula. “And if Bobby and the Duke are an item now, the last thing we need is for you to start dropping hints his new squeeze used to piss standing up!”

“Knock it off, everybody!” John shouted. “You,” he barked, pointing the finger of the long arm of the law at Louis, “back off Bobby. I don't care if she's a queer as a three dollar bill and into goats, I don't want to hear another word from you about it! We clear?”

“Ok! Ok!”

The Deputy sighed and turned back to the Bruin. “You knew about Bobby?”

Tom chuckled. “I went to high school with him, of course I knew. Oh he tries to stay in the closet but in the eight years I've known him I've yet to see him with a female and twice there bags from Victoria's Secret in the trash when I went to pitch a beer can.” He shrugged. “Bobby was the reason I didn't flunk algebra and get kicked off the team. I might have been a last round pick, but that scholarship was the difference between going to college and not. Bobby's a class act in my book and I don't care what floats his boat.”

Ursula finished off her cup and set it down. “Now, if we could just get some straight information about what's going here, we'd be doing alright.”

“If it's information you want,” purred the honey contralto of Gwendolyn’s voice from the stairs. The others turned to find her descending them with Law not far behind her. “I have just the place,” she finished with a smile as she helped herself to the coffee.

“And where is the fount of untainted, unbiased wisdom?” demanded Ursula, just shy of sneer on her face.

Gwen, having just had her ashes hauled well was in far too good a mood to rise to the bait. “Lawrence knows,” she purred.

“The Great Library of the Planes,” the wizard said.

“The who of what?” demanded Louis.

“The Great Library of the Planes,” repeated Lawrence as he waited his turn at the coffee pot. “It is the repository of all knowledge and wisdom, throughout the various Planes of Reality. Think of it as an entire world whose only purpose is to be this central collection point of learning, books and scrolls. Getting to it is an adventure in and of itself, but if you make it there is not a spell or bit of learning you can't find there. It's primarily a GM caveat kind of thing.”

“And how...?”

“Wizard,” interrupted the young man tiredly. “It's entirely possible if we could get to the library we could find another way home and tell Aria to stick it as we'd be effectively beyond her reach.”

“I know that you owe this world nothing,” began Gwen hesitantly, “but I would consider it a personal favor if we did not do that at least until Mandrid is dealt with. However, I have joined this party and if the will of it is to do so I will abide by it.”

“You joined…?” sputtered Ursula. John quickly laid a calming hand on her shoulder.

“Tell you, later. In the meantime, Law any idea on how to get to the Library?”

The wizard stirred his cup thoughtfully for a moment. “I’d have figured you’d be the better person to ask, John. If Aria forgot to include that little caveat, there’s got to be more editing she’s done. I can do some research into it with the local libraries in the morning, there should be quite a bit of lore here, this being a university town and all.”

The deputy nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds good, Law. We’ll get started on that in the morning. Unless there’s something else going on, Tom?”

Tom shook his head slowly. “Sorry if I woke you or Law, John. Just figured with the house in an uproar, someone should be up on watch.”

“We have been taking the Duke’s hospitality for granted,” mused Louis.

“There is not a traitorous bone in Duke Reginald’s body,” snapped Gwen. “You need have no fear of knives in the dark from him.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Tom growled. “There are at least two members of the local quality that are busily sharpening knives. I don’t know if they’re just for your buddy Reggie or if they’re addressed ‘To Whom It May Concern”, but what I do know is that my friend is somewhere out in the castle, maybe in trouble, maybe having a good time, and this door,” he said with a rough gesture at the oak and iron clad fixture that separated their apartments from the rest of the castle. “Has no lock on the inside. Now where I’m from folks’ prided themselves on being able to leave the front door unlocked at night, but don’t think for a second I’m going to pick up that habit in my tenure here!”

The Bruin sighed heavily and looked back up at John. “Louis and I will watch until 3 and then I’ll wake you, how’s that?”

“Gwen and I could…”started Law but to his surprise, his paramour cut him off.

“John and I can watch then,” she told him flatly. “You, milord mage, need a full night’s sleep to work your magic. We may need them soon, if we are making our way to Barnsby or the Great Library.” She turned Tom, her voice steady. “Knock once softly upon the door and I shall rise.”

* * *