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[Alisiea]

---

I don’t mind eating what they call “pizza.” Truth be told, I don’t mind eating most anything these days, but when the waitress at the Traders Retreat told me “Pizza is just like a big cookie." Well, I believed her. But, fact is; its not.

First off, aye its round, tis true, I’ll give it that, but its got things on it I’ve never seen on a cookie; like mushrooms. I ain’t never heard of an Oatmeal Mushroom cookie and hope I never do. Second off, it has this runny red stuff on it. “Sauce” she called it. With cheese all melted into it. Now cheese I do like, just not on cookies. But, being hungry the way I am all the time now, I ate it.

Now, before I could start eating it, I had to pick off all the mushrooms. Mushrooms, everyone knows, gives ya visions; at least among my people. And goddess knows I’ve had enough of those. So I picks them off and rather than pile them up on the table in front of everyone, since that might be rude, I drops them on the floor under the table. That way the house dog or cat or whatever small creature they have sleeping in the dark, dusty, corner can come out later and have a feast and maybe a vision or two to keep it company for a time. So here I am eating this pizza-cookie and what happens? I drop some of that sauce stuff right on the new dress Lord Nythrax bought for me this very evening. Well ain’t that just fine. Here he is sitting right next to me and I’m tossing food all over this fine new dress. No wonder I’ll never be a proper lady. And I still can’t read or write, even after people have tired. But everyone who starts teaching me either quits, gets too busy or just disappears. Lord Striker from Ashencrosse. He started me on the letters, he was good too, but now he’s gone off somewhere. Then Uncle Tibs gave me a few more letters and Gaius too, but then Demi got me a real teacher, and what happens? Demi up and disappears and the teacher with her.

These are strange times. Everyone talks in hushed tones or in whispers like there’s some terrible secret floating about that no one is supposed to say aloud. I try to pick pizza bits off my dress but only make it worse. I wish Paine were here. He’d know what to do. So I do the best I can and try not to drop anymore on myself. Then things got busy. A bunch of folk I ain’t never seen before come in and sit together at a table. A couple of handsome men sit at the bar. Then some women come in and walk around taking to people. I like watching people. Its one of the reasons I go to New Haven so much. I can sit for hours in the open air tavern and just watch. All kinds of people. Hunters, fighters, mages, Lords and Ladies all coming and going. And talk; lots of talk. If you sit there long enough you might hear just about anything. There’s talk about the new King. About the riots. About famine. About … well, dark, unwholesome things too.

The blue hat people from Tokuno come in. They wear funny looking clothes. “Pajamas” Uncle Tibs calls them. And they always seem so serious, but they drink a lot so I kind of like them, but they keep to themselves and that’s fine with me too.

Then Gaius up and leaves. He confuses me. I like him. He’s kind to me. Lets me live in his house for free and all, but he wants more than I think I’m ready to give. Asked me to marry him he did. Just like that, snap, right out of the blue mind you. I can’t even think of what that means. He says it’s so Celestia will have a father and not be a bastard. But then I think; aren’t we all bastards in the end? Aren’t we all left without parents? Thinking about it makes me sad, so I finish my pizza-cookie, sit back in the chair and let the voices and the sounds of clinking mugs and goblets wash over me. Celestia stirs inside me and that makes me smile so I hum to her. She likes that. Nythrax is watching me, I can feel it. So is Jolicia. I know they worry about me but I worry about them too. No one knows what’s going to happen next. Anything could happen and without warning, so I watch the door and in walks Uncle Tibs. Uncle Tibs always makes me laugh. He does a jig at the bar and everyone cheers. Where does he get those clothes?

Uncle Tibs makes cookies. Good cookies, no, great cookies. Oatmeal raisin, lemon sugar and others that I don’t really eat but he makes them anyway, “for other people” he says. Then somebody from Tokuno wants to talk to Tibs. They go outside. More hushed talk and whispers. Someone draws a Kriss. I hear it hiss from its scabbard. A woman holds it and brags a little. People drink a lot at these gatherings. Makes it so almost anything can happen. I sit up and look around for anyone with no hair and wearing a red robe. Nothing. I sit back and try not to think about that night. Then I think of Aingeal. Where she could be. What is happening to her? They are after her now too. I shiver. Try to think about nice things. Like the dress Lord Nythrax bought me. I glance in his direction. He is deep in conversation with Judas. They talk about stuff I cannot begin to understand. Something about Gypsies building cities? I shake my head. Never heard of such a thing. I can feel myself getting tired and my feet hurt. They hurt a lot lately.

“All part of the process,” the Mid-wife said.

Judas and Jolicia leave. Tibs is still outside talking with whomever. Faeryl leaves too. She spoke hardly at all the entire evening. I like her, but don’t know much about her except that she and Lord Nythrax were friends but don’t seem to be now. People. Full of passion and dreams. All jumbled up in a potion that can bring sadness and death along with happiness and life and we all seem to get a little of both or, in some cases, a lot of one or the other. But no matter how it ends or even how it begins; I want to believe; need to believe; there will always be cookies.

[Alisiea]

---

Mrs. Naomi Baxter Miller held the young Gypsy girls wrist gently between her thumb and forefinger and counted to herself.

“Your heart is racing,” she said as she gave the girl a sideways glance. Smiling, she added in a teasing tone, “You remember what we said about getting overly excited, yes?”

Alisiea nodded and tucked a lock of tangled auburn hair behind her ear.

Naomi slid her hand to the girls belly and let it rest there a moment.

“And how is your Gaius?”

“He is not my Gaius,” Ali retorted sharply.

“But, did he not offer to wed you?”

“Aye, he did.” Ali answered quietly as she stuck her finger in her navel. “My bellybutton is turning inside out.” She observed.

Naomi calmly removed the girl’s hand. “But you refused him. Why?”

Alisiea shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Naomi nodded and sat back in her oversized chair to study the girl.

“I have been a Mid-wife for over twenty-five years and judging from our conversations over this past four moons I think I understand you a bit better now.”

Alisiea looked at the woman. “Do tell?” She answered. She had heard that expression used by "proper" ladies when they seem vexed and she like how it sounded.

“Yes,” Naomi continued. “You are not attracted to Gaius the way you were attracted to your first lover because, in my opinion dear girl, you are drawn inexorably, to men who have, what we ‘older’ women sometimes call: an ‘edge’. These are men who have a aura of power and danger to their personalities, be it sexual power or physical or, in some cases, magical. Men who are not afraid to face battle or death and are confident in their power. Like Judas. You were drawn to him sexually at first were you not?”

Alisiea blushed and nodded.

Naomi smiled. It was difficult not to like this girl. Her youth and sexual vigor, coupled with her mysterious innate abilities or ‘curse’, for lack of a better word, and her pure willingness to trust without condition made her irresistible. One just wanted to protect her, from almost anything, including herself. Naomi brushed these thoughts aside as she studied the girl and returned to her more clinical demeanor.

“But,” she continued, “Paine held something else that drew you to him. Something Judas lacked or, perhaps, refused to acknowledge. Something mysterious, dangerous, and terribly sexual all at the same time. Is this not true?”

Alisiea sat on the edge of the examination table and dropped her gaze. Her long tangled locks half-covering her face hid her smile as she recalled those moments when she and Paine laughed and played in the bed-chamber or wrestled in the bath. She could feel her face grow hot at the memory. She dropped her hand to her hip and pinched herself hard.

Naomi shook her head and smiled.

“So tell me little miss. Who has gotten your attention this time?”

Alisiea shot a look at the Mid-wife that was half surprise and half embarrassment.

“Whatever do you mean?” She asked, trying to sound indignant.

Naomi only scoffed at her retort. “Come now girl. Do you think me a fool? Anyone can see it. Your demeanor and the way you coyly try to hide your face. Someone has gotten your attention. So, unless you are willing to sit here all day, I will not let you leave until you tell me. Only because I am interested in your health and that of the child’s. You remember what I told you about intimate relations during this time?”

Ali nodded and brushed her hair back focusing her one gray and one green eye on the Mid-wife.

“Aye, I remember.”

“Well?” Naomi asked.

Alisiea dropped her gaze again and rested her hand along her neck.

“I cannot say,” she whispered.

Naomi frowned. “I see. But is he a man like your Paine was?”

“Aye,” Ali whispered. Then looked up. “But different. Somehow.”

“Ah, yes of course. He would have to be.” Naomi reasoned. “Well then, let’s see …”

The Mid-wife took out a small journal and jotted down some notations.

“You are now in your fourth moon of childbearing, so if you desire to have intimate relations, I would say you could do so comfortably until the sixth moon of your childbearing or the “Fallen Leaf Moon” as I think your people call it, of this year. Is that correct?”

“Aye, mostly.” Alisiea responded.

Naomi watched the girl closely. She seemed more at ease now that the nightmares had passed. But there was still an undercurrent of tension and worry.

“Tell me girl. Is Gaius aware of your … interest in this other person?”

Alisiea shrugged. “I do not know. I mean I brought him home for a visit the other night and …”

“You brought this person home? You mean to Gaius’s house?” Naomi questioned.

“Aye.”

“And Gaius was there?”

“Of course.”

Naomi shook her head. Was the girl daft or did she really have such an innocent nature about her?

“And how did Gaius feel about that?”

“What do you mean?” Ali asked.

Naomi sat back, exhaled slowly, and studied her hands for a moment. She then looked directly at the girl.

“It is clear that this Gaius cares deeply about you. One might venture to say he might even feel love for you. How do you think it made him feel that you brought your new ‘interest’ to his home? I mean, did Gaius stay and chit-chat with him or did he leave?”

Alisiea frowned. “He left.”

“You see?” Naomi retorted. “Is it your intention to bring hurt and anguish to Gaius? A man who has opened his house and his heart to you? Can you be that cold?”

Alisiea frowned. This was beginning to sound very, very confusing.

“Let me put it this way,” The Mid-wife continued. “Suppose, when you were living with Paine during that happy time in your life, he suddenly brought a strange woman home to spend time with. How would you feel?”

Alisiea mulled it over.

“Paine would never have done that.” She countered.

“Just pretend for a moment he did. How would that make you feel?”

Ali pondered this question and reached inside for her feelings. Glancing up she whispered;

“It would hurt.”

“Aye,” Naomi affirmed. “Indeed it would.”

“But Gaius knows I do not love him that way and he knows I cannot wed him. I mean I love him as a friend but not … well … not like that.”

“Still,” Naomi countered. “It hurts when someone you care deeply about does not return that same feeling.”

Alisiea frowned creasing her forehead.

“But what am I to do? Must I stop feeling completely?”

“Perhaps living with Gaius is not the best thing right now. Especially if you wish to continue focusing you attention on this other person.” Naomi suggested.

“You mean move somewhere else?” Alisiea asked. The confusion and dismay apparent on her face.

Naomi only shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps it might be best for a time. Just until you decide how involved you want to get with this new person. Besides, in two more moons you will not be able to travel here to Umbra. It will be necessary for me to come to you. Where does this Gaius live?”

Alisiea, still deep in thought and distracted by this new revelation, whispered: “Malas”

Naomi leaned forward. “Where in Malas dear?”

“I’m not sure exactly. I have never wandered around the area. Somewhere up the West Road from here, I think.”

Naomi sat back in her chair and made a few more notes in her journal. When she finished, she closed the journal and stood. She helped Alisiea, still perplexed and deep in thought, down from the table and waited while the girl dressed. A few minutes later she was standing in the doorway waving to the young Gypsy girl as she walked west towards the moongate. Once the girl was out of sight, Naomi Baxter Miller, Mid-wife and part-time counselor, returned to her bedroom where she removed the human hair wig hiding her freshly shaven scalp. She donned the scarlet robes of her cult and moved to her writing desk where she sat down and took out parchment. Using a surgical knife she pricked her finger and let some of her blood drip into an empty ink well. With quill in hand she dipped it in the blood and began writing a short note. Satisfied the note was written properly with the correct words in the correct order; she folded and sealed it.

Humming a jaunty tune, Naomi donned her cloak, stepped outside and locked the door to her house. It would take her the rest of the day to walk to the town of Ashencrosse. There she would hide the note under a large stone near the burned-out house where the Gypsy girl had lived. Crossing the East Bridge she walked at a brisk pace through the city of Umbra. She was light of foot and high of spirit, for she knew that her reward for her service; for providing even for this tiny bit of information, would be great indeed.

[Judas D'arc]

---

As it turned out, finding the Baratarian had actually been the easiest part of their expedition into the dungeon known as Khaldun.

********

"When is the Samurai Empire not the Samurai Empire?"

The question had been posed by one of the riddles left in the ruins of Jolicia's former Ashencrosse home. At first, Judas had assumed that the demons in pursuit of Alisiea and her unborn child planned to strike against the leader of the Tokunese people. Except, while such a drastic change in Tokuno's government could potentially occur in the future, the history books contained a far more obvious answer. Before the existence of the Empire of Tokuno, it was known as the Lands of the Feudal Lords, ruled by the ancient castles of Barataria and Rondorin. It was in the distant past that the Samurai Empire was not the Samurai Empire.

A time and place presumably linked to the man known as the Baratarian.

********

A group of nine, each with their own motivations for being there, and they set off from the Salty Dog Tavern together. Anna Evanovich, a devout warrior. Faeryl Tyr'athem, an elven knight of the Crux Ansata. Gaius Atius Tria, a fighter and protector. Jolicia, a formidable mage. Judas, a wandering bard. Nythrax, a provocative necromancer. Oroboros, a scholar and adventurer. Quinn Morgan, a painted hunter. Rye Lockman, a ranger of Yew. Later, a tenth, Genevieve Troyes, a swordswoman of Ashencrosse, also came to join them in their quest. From Britain of Trammel to Moonglow of Felucca to Papua of Felucca and then finally to the dreaded Khaldun.

The Baratrian was waiting there, eyes closed and cross-legged on the ground, in front of the dungeon entrance. Or Balric of Barataria, as he introduced himself to them. Unfortunately, while news of Alisiea's unborn child seemed to slightly arouse his curiosity, he remained convinced that with the death of his Celestia, it was too late to prevent the coming darkness. When they pushed for information his response simply was:

"If one seeks to battle demons then they need to understand the secrets of Khaldun."

********

Khaldun was truly a nightmare for this strange assortment of individuals that were unpracticed and unused to fighting alongside one another. Besides the hordes of undead minions wielding weapons and magic, there were strange fiends composed entirely of shadow, haunted suits of armor that floated through the air, and zealots that served the sinister forces which had irrevocably tainted this lost tomb of Felucca. Not to mention the spirits of Grimmoch Drummel, Lysander Gathenwale, Morg Bergen, Tavara Sewel, and various unnamed others, the remnants of the lost expedition that had previously failed to unlock the dungeon's secrets.

And then there were the tentacles.

********

"A legacy falls to harrowing hands."

From a bloody pool in eastern Khaldun they emerged, these monstrosities writhing rhythmically in their forever-dance of perversion. The twisted fingers of an unimaginable evil of the pit, constantly feeling and touching and probing for the slightest hint of weakness that would allow it to enter these lands. They were the tentacles of the Harrower -- its harrowing hands -- but what legacy would come to fall to their might?

********

Their journals littered the floors and the corpses. Grimmoch Drummel, Tavara Sewel, and Lysander Gathenwale had all kept detailed writings of their experiences. Of how they had initially arrived filled with optimism and a thirst for discovery, but within a few short weeks, the madness of Khaldun had destroyed them all. Most significantly, were the two simple words that appeared responsible for their downfall:

"Khal Ankur."

********

"If you succeed, then seek me out again," Balric had advised them. "There's an inn in the land called Ilshenar. It's near the forest of pixies. If you survive. If you learn the secrets of Khaldun -- then I'll be there."

Shortly after hearing these words, the group descended into the depths of Khaldun.

********

Based upon his brief glimpse at the writings of those that had preceded them, Judas came to understand that Khaldun was the resting place for a mysterious evil called Khal Ankur. His vast legion of followers were known as the Keepers of the Seventh Death, and upon the eventual demise of their master, his most faithful had chosen to seal the entire cult inside of his tomb. The bard was deeply curious if these Keepers were related to the demon worshipers that previously troubled them. Jolicia, in particular, seemed fixated on collecting and studying the journals of these fallen explorers, and Judas could only hope that her efforts might provide further insight into their many questions.

********

Unlike Grimmoch Drummel, Lysander Gathenwale, Morg Bergen, Tavara Sewel, and all the rest, the group from the Salty Dog had survived their visit to Khaldun intact. They had learned about the dungeon's original purpose, discovered the fate of the lost expedition, and had even faced the tentacles of the Harrower. They had walked the path requested and uncovered all of the secrets that they could. And when next their paths crossed with Balric of Barataria, they expected answers ...

[Lady Avella]

---

The setting sun sets the sky ablaze as autumn rain clouds gathered overhead. A chill wind shoves fallen leaves of Oak and Ash across the hard ground of the Moonglow cemetery. A rustling whisper like the hushed voices of young women sharing a secret of love and misadventure rolls over the headstones. There will be no moon this night to light the darkened corners and reflect off the eyes of those who hunt in darkness.

Cold marble. Half-opened steel doors, their iron locks, broken and shattered, reveal lichen covered stairs leading down into the cold, damp depths of the largest family crypt in the Moonglow cemetery. The name chiseled into the marble porticos with care and precision reads:

“LaVoler”

A proud family who only recently lost a loving daughter to a strange and sudden illness. She lies asleep in the family crypt. Gone but not forgotten.

The harsh scraping of granite echoes through the dimly lit chamber as the lid to a sarcophagus is pushed aside. On the stairs, leading up to the world of the living, a dark-haired woman stands. She holds no candle or torch to light her way; she has no need of either, for she can see in the night as clearly as any leopard or wolf. Silently she watches as the stone lid is pushed aside and a young woman rises. The dark-haired woman smiles and beckons. Calling the sleeping woman forth with wordless commands, she waits as the girl emerges from her tomb. Overhead a bevy of bats wheel and screech then exit through the broken doors spilling out into the night to hunt, feed, and exist in the manner for which they were created. At the feet of the dark-haired woman squirm large stinging insects, vermin and rats that squeal and bite at each other, making the floor of the crypt appear a living organism. The dark-haired woman emits an unholy hiss and the vermin scatter to the far corners of the musty, moldering chamber where they pile upon themselves and leap upon the walls in a failed attempt to escape.

Extending her hand to the young girl the dark-haired woman leads her up to the outer world, to the night and all it glory. She watches calmly as the girl, newly awakened to another reality, wanders the graveyard like a newborn child. The night sounds and sights thrill her as she basks in a light, soaking rain. She raises her arms to the sky and listens to the throb of living creatures. The night shall become her world and the blood of the living; her salvation.

Quietly they wander through the graveyard as the dark-haired woman instructs the newborn in the ways of mortal men. The dangers and pleasures of this reality are laid out before her. When and where to find nourishment and how to live among them unseen. And who, exactly, she is to find. And how, exactly, she is to deal with them. There is vengeance to be had and a House to be reclaimed. There are many enemies to be avoided or killed, but there are allies as well. Those who sympathize and are willing to aide them in their efforts. All of this the young girl absorbs and bends her knee in obedience as the dark-haired woman envelops her in a loving embrace.

Across the sky the dark, rain swollen clouds swing west as the east wind drives them. In the cities, the lights of the living and the fires of their heaths warm the chill from their flesh. A young woman strolls, unhurried, along the narrow lanes and alleys. She smiles to passerby’s and flirts with well-heeled Lords. She enters a noisy tavern and takes a seat in a shadowed corner. Calmly she waits, like a she-spider in its den. A fly will soon swing by and notice her beauty. Like honey she will draw him close, feel his warmth and kiss his willing lips. They will leave this unnamed tavern and walk, arm in arm, into the night where they will pledge to each other their undying love. But one will certainly forget their promise, for he will be found by friends, lying unconscious from drink, in an ally on the rain soaked cobblestones; his happy encounter forgotten.

The young woman smiles upon him, blesses him for his sacrifice and turns away to find another, for the night now races towards dawn and her hunger has yet to be satisfied.

[Hawk]

---

Watching from the shadowy woods I watch as the demons depart on another feeding run, their arrogance of power gives them the feeling of invulnerability. I move quickly from the shadows to the hidden entrance, slipping in to gather information and to find how they enter our world.

Upon entering the basement through the secret passage, my nose is filled with the stench of rotting decay and death, these discussing creatures have no sense of hygiene or cleanliness. I head for the door leading to the stairs for the upper levels, when something catches my senses; “Blood”, fresh human blood.

I follow my nose to the holding cells; I can hear fait breathing as the smell of liquid food grows stronger. As I enter the outer holding cell, I can see a form along the wall of the inner cell. As I open the door, I can see the women, she spiked to the wall covered in blood and sweat I look her over and check for a pulse. My touch awakens her. She speaks in a low rasping voice; “water!”

I notice that she has been tortured and abused by these winged freaks from the abyss. Needles have been placed under her nails, her scalp, though joints. While I exam her, my eyes fall upon her face. I know this person, a friend of the human Judas.

I reach up and pull the spikes, the woman slumps to the floor. I pick her up as gently as I can, and move from the cells, heading back out of the way I came. Once in the safety of the woods, I take us to the only place I know where to find the man Judas, the tavern in eastern Britannia.

I kick the doors open and enter; I turn to my left and lay the woman on the table. I turn and scan the room. My eyes fall upon Judas and his female companion Jolicia. I step closer to them speaking; she needs a healer! Jolicia looks at me with her angered eyes and states; “Did you turn her?” No I say, this is the demons work. The view the woman and call her by name, she is in a bad way.

We move her to the healers in west Britannia. Judas talks to the healers but they state they can do nothing for her, I offer my services but am declined. Judas departs, stating he shall get help. A few minutes later he returns with many people. They ask a few questions which I have little to no answers for. As they work upon her, I sense something from one of them, unsure what it is. The man Nythrax, there is something different about him but I cannot figure it out, his mind is powerful and remains for the most part unspeaking, unmoving.

They work to remove the needles from the women and heal her wounds. I feel that my presence is no longer required, I bid my farewells and am stopped at the door by their voice. They thank me for what I have done for their friend. I simply nod and depart.

[Judas D'arc]

---

"Bob?" She questioned as she allowed her long blue skirt to fall to the floor. "I don't think I'm built like a Bob. No Bob parts here. I'd like something more feminine and mysterious."

Judas had quickly averted his gaze at the briefest glimpse of Shelley's bare thighs. The two of them were alone in the basement of the Salty Dog Tavern in Britain, and the wrong impression was easy to be had by any unexpected visitors. "You certainly are a mystery."

"The Mistress of Shadows."

"Too dramatic," the bard commented.

"Queen of Darkness."

"Too ... much," he sighed irritably.

"What do you think of Lady British? I'd wager our new king would hate it," she smirked. Or at least that was what he imagined her mouth was doing since he continued to avoid the sight of her.

"Lady British?" The bard groaned. "I have never heard of a more foolish notion. Are you decent yet, Shelley?"

"Clothed if not decent," his employer quipped in retaliation.

Judas turned and saw she had spoken truly. The pug-nosed peasant girl had been replaced by a brown-haired woman in her early thirties. The only indication that they were one and the same was the familiar pair of too-green eyes that stared back at him. He had always considered her penchant for emeralds symbols to be her one vain indulgence. "Jolicia told me you intend to make changes."

"We've a new king and new means and ends. From what I've heard, you're not unfamiliar with what Blackthorn's been up to?"

"You could say that," he nodded. "Our king has not departed from his philosophy of embracing other races as equal. There have been envoys of peace sent to rat-men and orcs, and even conflicts with those that seek to destroy anything non-human. Humanists, they call themselves, although I do not think they have demonstrated much humanity. He also assisted with Skara Brae's crop failure and asked us to investigate a mage who that came into disagreement with the Moonglow Mage Guild. Overall, I think a strong argument exists that Blackthorn has inherited quite the difficult situation."

"I don't disagree," Shelley said. "Still, priorities need shifting. Before there was the risk for too much chaos and that's bad for business. Too much power in the throne is also bad for business."

"What are you suggesting, exactly?"

She shook her head. "Just keep me aware."

Judas took a small, tentative step towards one of his oldest friends. "Is there something troubling you? You have been on edge lately, and your tone has grown harsher. I appreciate your help with finding a safe place for Aingeal and asking Lucas to keep her protected, but you almost seemed annoyed by my request. In fact, ever since I saw you and Cubbins together in Vesper ..."

Her words were led by a scowl. "Don't question me, Judas. Not when there's too much work that's been unattended. I've been waiting weeks for your group to get organized."

"We have been a bit overwhelmed by --"

"Do it," Shelley harshly demanded, "or I'll find someone that will. For now, I'll be spending more time in Britain. If you need me just leave a message here at the Salty Dog. And no more bothering Cubbins, he's got too many other matters that need attention."

"Very well," Judas replied, before slightly bowing his head in a mockery of respect. "With your leave, your highness, I request permission to ask a question of you."

"If you must."

"We are set to meet with the Bartarian soon, and I was wondering if you had managed to learn anything about those demon worshipers that attacked Alisiea and Jolicia's home."

"Unfortunately not," the female thief confessed. "I've a location for someone that might know all about your Khal Ankur and harrowing hands and Seven Deaths, but I don't think you'll be pleased."

"Who ...?" He asked, already knowing he would regret it.

"It's Garrott," Shelley stated, already anticipating the bard's reaction.

His face visibly paled. "Surely he must be dead by now ...?"

"We're a hardier breed than you give us credit for, Judas," she countered. "You and me, Lucas and Cubbins, even old testicless Sokus is still out there somewhere. And Garrott, for all his madness and perversion, he always was a survivor. So it's a yes or a no? He's the only lead I've got."

"F*ck."

[Lady Avella]

---

First it was the birds that vanished from the cemetery at Moonglow. No song of Thrush or chirp of Chickadee was heard by either day or night. Then the small rodents vanished. Squirrels, rats and mice; gone. Neither fox nor owl would run or fly across the cemetery grounds. For weeks no sign of life was seen or heard within the gates. And then … from the small hamlet south of the cemetery; livestock vanished. Pets, dogs and cats; gone. No sign or trace was ever found, until …

**********

Avella drained the last, sweet, bloody nectar from the mans convulsing body, leaving but a single drop. Tossing him aside she watched as the Daemon Wolf drank the man's soul.

“How much longer?” She hissed. “How much longer must I grind away my time in this pitiful land?” She floated through the leaf strewn forest tasting the air for signs of another soul, another mortal.

“How much longer must I wait for my vengeance to be fulfilled? I grow weary of betrayal and sick of lies. Must I bleed the entire population of this Island Nation before my questions are answered?”

**********

Weeks passed. And with each setting of the sun, farmers secured their livestock. Mothers called in their children and churches barred their doors. Along the entire southern coast of Moonglow, commerce ground to a halt. Rumors of pestilence, plague and disease ran ramped. Ships refused to dock and those that did found sailors missing or dead with the rising of the sun. Tales of a Daemon Wolf stalking the forests south of the Royal Zoo circulated among the locals. Nothing moved. No one ventured out.

And then … as quickly as it began; it stopped. Wildlife returned to the forest. Deer and Elk roamed the hillsides. Fox and Owl hunted once more in the cemetery grounds. No sailors went missing. No children wailed in fear. The doors and windows were opened and the taverns once again were full. It seemed, to those who claimed to know the truth; the Daemon Wolf was gone, taken back to hell. Regardless, the people were thankful the nightmare was ended and life returned to its normal pace.

**********

A steady evening breeze set the sails to full as the three masted sloop “Brainard” plowed the open waters northwest of Moonglow. A crew of twelve and six paying passengers had left the docks of Moonglow late that afternoon headed for the Island Nation of Nujel’m. If the wind kept they would arrive there this time tomorrow. Three men and three women signed the passenger list and all but one now dined with the captain. “An illness” she said kept her locked in her stateroom all afternoon. Now, just after sunset, she stood on the foredeck looking out over the vast expanse of ocean. The sea-born wind carried memories of another era, another time as it lifted her ebony hair behind her like a banner. A large dog, her constant companion, stood obediently at her side.

“Does he bite?” The gentleman asked in good humor as he approached. A businessman out of Nujel’m only now returning to his home after concluding business in Moonglow. Supper over, the passengers were left to their own entertainment. A beautiful woman, standing alone on the foredeck of a passenger ship, was excuse enough for his inquiry. The woman turned. Her eyes, black as night and devoid of all compassion, studied the man while her unnatural beauty caused him pause. She smiled a beguiling smile that failed to conform to anything polite society might expect.

“Only when he is teased,” she replied. “Only, when he is teased.”

[Judas D'arc]

---

"The past is done. The future written. Today no longer cares."

Another of the riddles solved? Or was it simply prophecy?

As promised, Balric of Barataria was waiting for Judas and his friends at the Twin Oaks Tavern. It was a pleasant enough establishment, a refuge from the many dangers that plagued Ilshnear. Except for Nythrax, whose very presence seemed to stir the pixies and Ki-Rin that populated the nearby forest into mindless rage. The bard had not expected much to come from this meeting. Since Alisiea's pregnancy and the appearance of the demons that so zealously hunted her unborn child, answers had been a rarity. But if anything, Balric was forthcoming. Unfortunately, his tale only raised more questions.

********

The hour was late, yet Judas could not sleep. Next to him, Jolicia was lost in slumber, her occasional restlessness the only insight he had into her thoughts. The movements of her body had shifted the blankets enough to expose her bare back, and he slowly traced his finger down its curve, gentle enough not to wake her. They lay there together in his (their?) bed in his (their?) bedroom in his (their?) home in Yew, and the bard's thoughts drifted back to their conversation after returning from the Twin Oaks Tavern.

"Whatever it is, it does not matter," the bard had told his lover. She sat upon the chair, still half-dressed; he knelt before her, not at all. At this point in their relationship, discerning emotion from facial expressions and body language was far from difficult, and he ran his tongue along her thigh in an attempt to distract her mood.

"Yes it does." Her response indicated his failure.

"Then please, as our friend the Baratarian said -- enlighten me."

Jolicia shook her head. "You're ready for bed. It can wait."

********

"Once, long ago, the lands of Sosaria were divided into four continents ..." began the tale of Balric of Barataria. Judas was familiar with this first part, at least. In a time long ago, Tokuno had been known as the Land of the Feudal Lords, home to the rival kingdoms of Barataria and Rondorin. According to their story-teller, a demon came to threaten these lands, one that was powerful enough to force even these ancient enemies into an alliance. Each kingdom had a prophet, or spiritual leader, and they agreed to found an order dedicated to putting an end to the onslaught of this evil. However, it was not until they were able to recruit a clan of demon hunters to the north that they found their victory. The demon was defeated, though not destroyed, but not without cost. Most of the order was slain, including the Prophet of Rondorin, and the Prophet of Barataria was soon to follow. While she lay dying, she spoke prophecy about the demon's eventual return and final defeat.

In the years that followed, Balric joined the order, whose surviving members had vowed to await their foe's return, no matter how long it might take. Then came Mondain, his Gem of Immortality, and his attempted conquest of Sosaria. Before the dark wizard fell to the hand of Lord British's Stranger and the continents were split apart by cataclysm, his armies had devastated the Land of the Feudal Lords. Balric's order had dispersed across the world, and he was soon the last of their number. But he refused to forsake his oath, and turned to forbidden magicks to extend his lifespan into the unnatural. Then, after centuries apart, the Land of the Feudal Lords, now Tokuno, was reunited with Britannia, as was Balric.

********

"You didn't make the power connection he was talking about?" Jolicia asked him.

"Hmmm. And if I did?" Judas countered with a question of his own. The thought had, in fact, briefly crossed his mind, but he had hoped she would not come to the same conclusion. If only his heart had chosen a foolish woman instead of a clever one. They were far less bothersome in general.

"Then the selfishness of myself and three others is responsible for this," she continued.

"Well, four I suppose." She referred, of course, to Renthar, and his ritual that turned her, Aurelia Bretane, Dominic Wolfwood, and John Reid from vampire back to human.

"Yes," the bard nodded, deciding it was best to encourage her angst. "Six if you count me. Seven if you include Paine." For it was the late vampire that had first put the idea into his head. "I suppose I could wash my hands of it, all I did was set Aurelia down that path."

Jolicia rubbed her face in frustration, but said nothing.

"You are an evil, selfish woman, Jolicia," he scolded her. "And you should have remained an evil undead creature of the night. There, feel better now?"

"No."

********

Celestia was a woman of extraordinary birth, but of humble upbringing. Her father was a heroic knight and her mother a gypsy sorceress, but they both met tragic ends and she was raised by an uncle who was a servant in Serpent's Hold. There, she befriended Everett Whitethorn, Bartholomew Dragonbane III, also called Bottoms, and Mooky the Talking Mongbat. Together, these four shared a series of grand, childhood adventures. It was during one of these that they encountered Balric, who was able to identify the young woman as the subject of the ancient prophecy. All the signs pointed to her.

The Baratarian trained Celestia in an effort to prepare her for the darkness to come. Her fight would begin within the depths of the dungeon Khaldun, where she would face the spirit of Khal Ankur, leader of the Keepers of the Seventh Death. The path was clear before her, the only question that remained was how soon until Celestia would have to walk it. Not very long at all, it seemed.

A year ago, there were scattered hints of the demon's return. One of its servants stalked Sosaria, stealing the souls of mortals and feeding them to its master. As Celestia prepared herself for the descent into Khaldun, she was found murdered in Serpent's Hold. With her death, Balric surrendered himself to defeat, and more signs of the demon began to appear. Dark portals. Winged monstrosities. A cult of mortal worshipers. And then mere weeks after his student was killed, he detected the occurrence of an unknown incident, one that provided his enemy with an even greater source of power.

********

"If you had known the consequences, would you have done it anyhow?" Judas gave form and substance to that which lingered unspoken.

"I ... don't know," was her honest reply.

The bard turned onto his side, hoping that this might push him from consciousness to rest. With the way that fate seemed to toy with them lately, Jolicia's notion that their efforts had actually benefited the very evil that they struggled against seemed quite possible. Perhaps Renthar's ritual had empowered the Demon, but nothing could change that which had already happened. Judas was more concerned with how this information would erode Jolicia's already dwindling morale, or what affect it might have on Alisiea, Aingeal, Gaius, and all the rest. It seemed as if the world itself was slipping out of their grasp and there was nothing that could stop it. Balric had been convinced that Alisiea's daughter might also fulfill the requirements of the prophecy, and he had agreed to aid them. While he trained the mother-to-be, her friends would retrieve pieces of his order's lost prophecy from deep within the Citadel of Tokuno. But the bard knew that even if they were successful, there would only be more quests and more fighting and more death Closing his eyes once again, he slowly repeated final advice he had earlier offered Jolicia.

"All we can do is what we always do ... and try to be better."

[Judas D'arc]

---

"There is someone else interested in our demon," warned Judas.

"Do tell," came the half-interested response.

It was early morning in the basement of the Salty Dog Tavern. After waking in the bed he shared with Jolicia, the bard had journeyed from Yew to meet with his employer there. True to her word, Shelley had relocated to Britain, but with this increased accessibility came the risk that she desired a more active role in their lives, and Judas was uncertain how felt about the idea. He held a significant amount of trust for his old friend, but their shared history had not always been without conflict. For his sake, as well as that of Jolicia, Alisiea, and Gaius, he hoped the past would not repeat itself.

"A few nights ago, we aided Nythrax in attempting to sabotage the King Blackthorn's efforts to extend a hand of friendship to all the orcs and rats and lizards of Sosaria," the bard explained. "This cause seemed consistent with some of your own recent sentiments, so I thought to take part."

"Good thinking," she nodded her approval.

"Anyhow, we encountered Erollisi, a woman that I know from spending too much time in taverns," he continued. "She was there looking for someone called Chanticleer, who according to my friend Striker, was once a knight of Ashencrosse that left there under strange circumstances. I have heard of the man myself, but no matter."

"Chanticleer, you say?" Shelley asked, her eyes betraying a hint of recognition.

"You know of him as well?"

"I'd like to hear more," was her only reply.

Judas shrugged. "Well, as we learned, he was looking for our friend the Baratarian and trying to uncover more about the same demon that plagues Alisiea. Balric was able to confirm that he encountered the man, but told us that Chanticleer did not leave Khaldun alive. Which is unfortunate, but I am also concerned with the identity of whoever sent him on this quest. Erollisi was reluctant to share, and the only hint I was able to pick up was that Chanticleer was last seen in Vesper. Given all the time you spent in that city, I was hoping you might be able to offer some insight as well."

"If there's something to it, I'll try my best ," the woman promised, before quickly changing the subject. "I've more on that business we discussed the other day."

"Which one?"

"The Emerald Trading Company," Shelley said, pausing for his reaction.

The bard slightly smiled. "Quite fitting, all things considered."

"I thought you'd like it," she grinned. "As I mentioned, Lucas will manage our daily affairs. You'll be responsible for the more hands on services -- protections, retrievals and deliveries, and the like. It's the perfect cover for our work. And you've the freedom to take whatever outside jobs you like. Just remember to prioritize the ones I give you."

"But of course ..."

"With Alisiea unfit for duty, I'll be relying on you, Jolicia, and Gaius, as well as any of your friends you're able to recruit or drag along," the thief suggested.

"And we will do as promised. Now then, what of that *other* matter?" This time, it was Judas that shifted the topic of conversation.

"You mean our old friend Garrott?"

"In the absolute loosest sense of the term," the bard stated sharply.

Shelley smirked. "He's agreed to a meeting, but asked for my guarantee he'd come to no harm. So I ask the best behavior from you and Lucas and the others."

"If you recall correctly," he countered, "while we were never particularly close, the only threats that passed between us came from Garrott."

"Then I won't expect a problem."

"None whatsoever." But even as the words escaped his lips, Judas knew better than to believe them.

[Anna Evanovich]

---

I have very little to do. Still, I continue to look for work but, as yet, have found nothing. I have visited a few of the cities, but find them very unlike my own home. Perhaps, now that the Atalan have gone, I could return to Trinsic and find work there. Still, there is much beyond the walls of my holy city yet to see.

I have spent some time traveling with the small band of adventurers led by the Bard Judas. They seem to be competent individuals and it is obvious they enjoy each other’s company. I am not certain why they are so adamant in their quest for answers surrounding the plight of the young girl who is with child, but it is clear they are focused on helping her. I have yet to meet the girl. I think it would be a good idea to meet the person for whom you risk your life. Our last adventure was quite dangerous but did seem to yield some answers if not more questions. I will continue to accompany them as a means to better learn my way around these lands and for the honor of lending my sword for a just cause.

I have seen nothing of Michael Hawk and that is perfectly fine with me. My time in House Isilian, although lucrative, placed me in a position that was diametrically opposite my beliefs. I have confessed my sins and have received absolution. Now I am free to pursue more noble goals and use my skills in a virtuous manner.

Someone asked me, only just yesterday, if I considered myself a Paladin. Although my father was of the Order, I have never considered taking the vows. It is true he trained me in the proper application of the Blade for the good of mankind and those who cannot defend themselves, but I have yet to feel it in my heart. Perhaps in time I will see my path more clearly, but for now, I like the taste of Vodka much too much to swear an oath to sobriety. And there is also the question of chastity. I am certain the Order would be please to take a virgin into its ranks, but I am not so certain I would be as pleased to enter the Order as one. So, once again, I don my leathers, strap my father’s blade around my hip and head out to the Salty Dog to travel abroad with Judas and his band. Perhaps tonight I will be shown my true path.
_________________

[Judas D'arc]

---

"This I recognize," spoke Balric of Barataria to the small audience gathered before him in the basement of the Twin Oaks Inn of Ilshenar. As he leaned against the wooden post, his eyes searched through the ancient text, the cover of which depicted a young woman struggling against a demonic figure. "Of course. It contains parts of the prophecy I told you of."

The group had just returned from the Citadel of Tokuno, which Balric had believed was built upon a site that once belonged to his own long-lost order of the Land of Feudal Lords. In addition to Judas, there were others also associated with the newly-formed Emerald Trading Company, such as Anna Evanovich, Faeryl, Gaius, Jolicia, and Nythrax. They had been joined by Aingeal, recently recovered from her ordeal at the hands of their enemy's servants, Natalya, an old friend of Nythrax who was quite skilled at embarassing him, the mage Oroboros and two of his friends whose names the bard had neglected to learn, and the familiar faces of Quinn and Rye Lockman, who appeared to have formed quite the partnership. After battling their way through endless hordes of Black Order assassins, the adventurers had faced the creature known as the Travesty, the shape-changing peerless that now controlled the fortress and its inhabitants.

They had won.

After disappointing an uncharacteristically concerned Nythrax that he could not provide any further information about the tragic end that the prophecy foretold for Alisiea, mother of the child, the Baratarian turned to the second text retrieved from the Citadel. "Do you recall the story I told you? And the order I served? I mentioned how at first when we faced the demon's forces. We were losing. Until we made a bargain with a clan of demon hunters from the north. These are plans to create one of their weapons. To battle the demons."

"That's... something I'd be interested in getting a look at," Lucas remarked.

"I'll have to decipher the plans. And tell you what ingredients are needed. And then we'd need a master craftsman," Balric informed them. "I'll begin work on deciphering both of these."

"When should we return to check on your progress?" Jolicia asked.

"Within a week," replied the Baratarian.

And with that, the group slowly dispersed, with no choice but to wait for what came next.

[Judas D'arc]

---

Eight Years Ago ...

"I'll kill you for this." A questionable threat from tired and blood-shot eyes.

"Garrott, I -- " Judas struggled for a reason. "I cannot."

"A promise is a promise is a promise!" The other man shouted in retaliation. His spittle, like his rage, was everywhere inside that small room of Shelley's safe house. "And you promised!"

The young bard simply shrugged away the accusations. He wanted to argue. He wished to explain himself. But all he could do was turn his back on his once-friend. "I am leaving."

"Then I'll kill you tomorrow."

Without looking back, Judas continued. "No, I am leaving for good. I have informed Shelley, and while she is ... displeased, I think she understands it."

"Filthy f*cking coward!" Each word hit a higher octave than its predecessor.

"A bit of parting advice, Garrott," The young bard spoke as he placed his hand on the door knob. "These things you do to yourself are destroying your mind. Please, for your own sake ... stop."

The other man emitted a strange giggling noise. "She was right about you, Judas."

He twisted the knob and opened the door.

"You really are no good."

********

"A favor for a favor. A secret for a secret. One that you keep from the world. One that you keep from your friends. And one that you keep from yourself."

This was what awaited Aingeal, Anna Evanovich, Gaius, Jolicia, Judas, Lucas, and Nythrax when they arrived at the meeting with Garrott that Shelley had arranged for them. The small farm house on the southern coast of Verity Isle seemed pleasant and quite the ordinary, until the interior was revealed to be decorated with blood and bones.

"New Tricks ... 'ey, Garrott?" Lucas observed almost immediately after they were greeted.

For the mage was indeed changed. When the bard last saw him, Garrott was a shattered man, his mind and his body withering away from all of the abuses he enjoyed inflicting upon himself. Since that day, almost eight years ago, his physical appearance had improved significantly. All two of them. Through his use of unnatural magicks, the strange mage communicated to them through the elven woman and a young boy that occupied the farm house. His consciousness moved liberally between them, his true self nowhere to be seen.

"I find that sometimes being yourself is boring," Garrott-as-a-female-elf explained to those assembled. "Sometimes I enjoy being other people."

"I've been around," added Garrot-as-a-young-man. "But I've never been a dog. I've also never been a rioter."

The group agreed to his terms -- three secrets each in exchange for whatever Garrott knew about the cult of demon worshipers that plagued them. After sharing their first secret with those gathered, the body-swapping mage split them up into pairs for the second one. Aingeal and Nythrax. Anna and Lucas. Gaius and Jolicia. And, due to the odd number present, Garrott chose Judas for himself. Once this part was completed, each of them met privately with their host for their final confession.

When they were alone in the back room, Judas began his telling. "Another secret ..."

Garrott-as-a-female-elf shook her head. "I got enough earlier. Share a drink with me, and we'll leave it at that." They briefly touched their drinks together, and the mage watched as the bard sipped from one of the bottles of wine he had provided to his visitors. "We can join the others."

********

At the first touch of daylight, Judas slowly stirred from slumber. His head was a dull pain, his nipples unusually sore, and the rest of his body ached throughout. Quietly, he slipped from their bed, trying his best not to disturb Jolicia. He dressed quickly, but was dismayed by discomfort of the clothes against his body. The bard stepped outside the bedroom and onto the patio that led to the rest of his Yew home. He took a deep breath and tried to determine what exactly was bothering him.

Not all of their group had reacted well to the information provided by Garrott. The mad mage had warned them that Khal Ankur, the evil spirit of Khaldun, walked the lands of Sosaria. The Keepers of the Seventh Death, his followers, also thrived, rapidly increasing their numbers from the ranks of those inclined to worship demons. Khal Ankkur served a more powerful master, a demon king that was their true enemy in all of this. Garrott offered to help them locate this cult, but his words had not been enough for Gaius and Nythrax who considered the entire encounter an exercise in futility. While Judas did not agree with their conclusions, he was troubled by the ever-present lack of morale amongst his friends.

The bard emitted a deep sigh as his bladder alerted him that it was time to empty itself. He turned to the face the edge of the patio, hoping that neither Jolicia nor any of his fellow denizens of Yew would awaken before he completed this task. He closed his eyes, pulled down his unusually tight fitting pants, and then allowed himself release.

It was not until a few moments later, when he felt the hot stream of urine running along his thigh, that Judas realized something was terribly wrong ...

[Anna Evanovich]

---

Things were starting to make a bit more sense now that Anna had spent more time traveling with the loyal band of adventures. Their quest to find answers to the horror that plagued the young gypsy girl to whom they seemed completely devoted, inspired her. Their willingness to sacrifice, even their most passionate secrets in order to gain a foothold against what was becoming increasingly more obvious to her, pure evil; was heroic and selfless. Anna had done the same. Gave up her own secrets to what was a completely twisted individual who practiced the vilest and most corrupt Magick imaginable. And she had done so willingly. An hour in the confessional did not seem enough to wash the sin from her soul; but it helped.

As she sat in the Salty Dog partaking of her afternoon meal of Borsht, brown bread and vodka, she thought back over the teachings of her faith. She recalled her father once talking about the occurrence, every millennium or so, of a person born into innocence who is destined to suffer many hardships in order to atone for the sins of all mankind. She never put much stock in this story until now. What she was able to glean from listening to the conversations of her new friends; this girl had gone through much suffering despite her apparent innocent nature. Was it possible? Could such a thing be accepted purely on faith alone? Such debates should be left to wiser persons, but Anna could not ignore the fact that daemons now walked Sosaria and were causing much unrest. Could these daemons and their cultist be behind the political unrest that has been raging now for nearly a year? And what relationship did these events have on the rise of the new King and his decree to make peace with the Orcs and Ratmen?

Anna shook her head in dismay as all these questions only spawned more questions rather than answers. These were troubling times indeed and anyone who though otherwise was a fool. Finishing off the bottle of vodka with one last swallow, Anna sat back and furrowed her brow. Could there truly be something even more terrible than daemons and cultist waiting out there? Could any of this be ignored any longer?

Anna turned, stretched her legs out and lifted one boot to the seat of the table behind her. Pulling her boot-dagger she studied the blade. Silver, polished to a high gleam, it held the engraved symbols of her secret faith. Turning the blade over and over in her hand she wondered where her destiny lay and if she had somehow been chosen to help this gypsy girl find salvation. Perhaps that is why she was put in the path of these loyal adventures; to aide them in their quest and the eventual destruction of the evil that now threatened Sosaria.

Anna slid the silver dagger back into her boot and stood. It was time. She would ride to Trinsic. Seek out the Patriarchal Knight, leader of the remaining Paladin Order, and there, with her father’s sword in hand; take the Vows. She would become a Knight of the Order and with the Virtues to aide her, she would pledge her sword and her faith to the coming struggle.
_________________

[Jolicia]

---

Jolicia looked at Judas with tears streaming down her face, "I can't lose another person I love Judas... I can't lose you."

It was the beginning of the end, almost a week ago now, when Judas showed her the letter he had received. Their fighting had escalated to the point where Jolicia felt lost, breaking again. She walked away from him, down to their room and started packing her clothes up. Thankfully for her and him, Judas could generally counter her tremendous stubbornness and even rivaled it at times.

Judas kneeled down in front of her and took her hands, "What I hate is watching what all of this does to you. It hurts you in a way it does not hurt me. It breaks you in a way it does not break me..."

If only she had said yes to his offer... yes to the escape.

********************************************

Shelley seemed dismissive at first about Jolicia's concern, "He's got a rambling aspect to him though, and I don't mean verbally".

True, this was the Judas that she first met and even the one that came out in the past experiences he had shared with her. It was not, however, the man he had grown to be in the last several months. He was a better man now. "Not in some time," unwavering in her response.

She detailed out the odd things from the previous evening with Garrott. There were the obvious oddities that seemed to disturb everyone and then those that specifically worried Jolicia, especially now that Judas had not returned home. It wasn't until she mentioned the drinks that Shelley's demeanor seemed to change, touching her lips as she thought, "But he knows better than to cross me like this. We had a deal ..."

The doubt in Shelley's voice was more than enough for Jolicia. Even more so once she learned there was no reason for Garrott to show Shelley loyalty anymore. But it was Shelley's insistence that Judas knew what he was getting in to that angered her the most. He was not happy about having to meet with the man... girl.. boy... thing...

Shelley just looked at her a moment and pointed upstairs, "No, but he did what he had to. For Alisiea."

Jolicia looked up and nodded for she knew that already. Judas was always doing what he had to, to help others over himself. Compassion he called it, something that he told her she wasn't good at in their recent talks. Her expression grew colder as she looked back to Shelley, "I will do what I have to as well." There was a pause of silence as she stared at Shelley with a commanding look, "Find him."

********************************************

She startled awake and found she had fallen asleep in the chair, her neck and back aching from the awkward position. Jolicia knew that Shelley needed to be allowed at least a little time to check with her sources. She could not just sit here and do nothing though. Pace a hole in the carpet, worry and fret, drive herself to a breaking point. Jolicia needed to do something as well, something to be prepared just in case.

Quickly she wrote a small note and left it on Judas' desk with the small hope that he would turn up on his own. Whispering the words she recalled away, arriving in front of her home. No, not home... it was simply a house that she owned now. Nothing more. She moved quietly, quickly up to the second floor and into her laboratory, closing and locking the door.

As she looked around she saw the dust had grown from the lack of use. Her eyes landed on the bookcase. Rummaging through the books and shelves she finally found the small compartment. Softly she spoke the required words and what was once closed, was open again. Reaching in she pulled out a old and tattered book, one that she hadn't used in almost a year. Gently she laid it on table and brushed the dust away from the cover as she spoke quietly to herself, "I will do what I have to."

[Alisiea]

---

“You are eating too many sweets,” Naomi Baxter Miller stated as she finished examining Alisiea. “You must cut back on the amount of cookies you are eating,” she turned and, looking over her spectacles, added, “They are not good for the baby.”

“But …”

Naomi raised her hand. “No buts young lady. You will do as you are told. I will not be responsible for any harm that befalls the child due to your questionable eating habits.” She moved to her large overstuffed chair, sat down heavily and began jotting notations in her little journal. The room was cold despite a large fire roaring in the fireplace and Alisiea, sitting naked on the examination table, shivered. The morning had brought the first hard frost of the season and Alisiea had, more than once, considered the possibility of trying to wear shoes again. She hugged herself against the chill. Unbra was not Fire Island

“May I get dressed?” She asked meekly.

The Midwife only nodded as she focused on her scribbling. Once dressed Alisiea stood with her back to the fire warming herself. Besides the crackling of the fire the only other sounds in the room were the steady ‘tick-tock’ heartbeat of the large grandfather clock in the far corner and the scratching sound made by Naomi’s quill as it traveled across the page. Alisiea let her eyes wander over the room as she waited. She had never actually ‘looked’ at the room, spending only as much time as was needed then leaving the way a child leaves school after being dismissed early. Now, however, as she waited to be dismissed, she took in the rooms details.

On the west wall opposite the fireplace hung what looked like official papers or diplomas of some sort. Framed in black wood they hung side by side in perfect alignment. Below the diplomas was a kind of half table with a bust of some important person in the exact center. Lying around this bust was a set of keys, several books and a jar filled with a yellowish murky liquid.

The north wall was covered entirely by bookshelves from floor to ceiling. All manner and size of books were arranged in what looked to be a haphazard arrangement that Alisiea guessed only Naomi could understand. Tucked here and there on the bookshelves, wherever an empty space was available, were more odd sized jars filled with the same yellowish liquid. Strange shapes floated in the murky waters and Alisiea could not quite make out what they were except one looked for all the world to contain fingers or claws or … eyeballs?

Alisiea grimaced at the thought of what really might be contained in that jar and turned her attention to the wall behind her. The stone fireplace took up most of the wall but on either side hung the banners of Umbra and Minoc. She recognized the Minoc banner because Gaius had one exactly like it hanging in his house. The south wall was made up of tiny square windows covered in heavy crimson curtains which were now pushed aside to allow the daylight in. Below the widow was a small comfortable looking couch with tables on either side. Unlit oil lamps sat on the tables. One of these little tables had several sprigs of what looked like dried flowers or herbs on it and the other held a painted porcelain tea cup and saucer. A tea-stained spoon lay next to it.

As she took in these details her eyes passed over the doorway leading to the living room. The door was closed to provide privacy during examinations, but what caught Alisiea’s eye was what was above the door. She had passed through that door many times but for some reason, never noticed the strange geometric symbol painted on the wall over it. Painted in bright red it appeared to have five sharp corners, four of which seemed to indicate the various directions of travel between the cardinal points. The fifth corner pointed down towards the floor and was longer than the other four giving it an unbalanced look. Alisiea tilted her head as she stared at the strange symbol and for a second she swore it shimmered, but only for a second. She was about to ask Naomi about it when the Midwife spoke:

“Now then. I want you to start eating proper food. Less greasy foul and meats and more fruits and vegetables.” Alisiea grimaced. “And milk. Lots of milk.”

Alisiea curled her lip. “You mean like, from cows?” Ali hated cows. She thought they were probably the dumbest animals’ alive, other than Orcs, and the thought of drinking milk from something so stupid worried her.

“But won’t that make Celestia stupid?” She asked in all seriousness.

Naomi gave the girl a blank look. “Certainly not. But, if you prefer you can substitute goat’s milk.”

“Goats milk!” Alisiea exclaimed. For a second she thought she would gag. Goats were even dumber and uglier than cows. Folding her arm across her chest she kicked at the heavy carpet with her naked foot and frowned. “Cow milk then.” She said pouting.

“Good.” Naomi nodded. “Now, there is one more thing.”

Ali rolled her eyes and looked at the soot smuggled, beamed ceiling from which hung all manner of dried herbs, flowers and what looked like dried carcasses of rodents.

“I want you to drink this beverage every day,” Naomi continued. “This is for both your health and that of the child and it will help you sleep. It is highly nutritious and will keep you from getting sick. Winter is coming and we can’t have you catching a chill.”

Ali wanted to comment on the lack of heat in the examination room but thought better of it. Tearing out a page from her book, Naomi handed a short list, with instructions included, to Ali .

“The items on this list are all available in the wild or from vendors. Those picked fresh by your own hands in the wild are best. Have someone read the list for you and help you gather the ingredients if they want. Make sure you crush them into a fine powder, and mix them in milk. You are to drink this each and every morning so you will have to gather up quite a bit of these ingredients.”

Ali looked at the list and tried to pick out the letters Nytharx had gone over with her the day before. “B” “D” and “A” stood out. Although she recognized all the other letters the arrangement made no sense and she did not see “C” anywhere. She frowned. The absence of “C” made her a little nervous.

“Do you understand girl?” Naomi’s question brought Ali out of her musing.

“Aye,” she nodded and folded the list putting it in her pocket where it nestled with the remnants of several broken sugar cookies.

Naomi lifted herself out of the chair with a bit of effort. She was about to dismiss the girl when she remembered.

“Oh yes, I almost forgot. I will need a rune to Gaius’s house. You will not be able to travel by this time next moon so it will be necessary for me to come to you. Do you have a spare rune with you?” She asked smiling warmly.

Alisiea shook her head. “No Ma’am. I am not living at Gaius’s house anymore.”

As the blood drained from Naomi Miller’s face, a look crossed her eyes that was somewhere between shock and outright fear.

“Not living there anymore?” She coughed in disbelief. Her voice rose an octave before she regained her composure. She cleared her throat. “So then … where ... where are you living child?”

Alisiea smiled. “With Lord Nythrax.”

“I see, “Naomi whispered. “Well regardless, I will need a rune. Do you have an extra one for this Lord Nythrax’s home with you?”

Alisiea blushed and shook her head. “No ma'am, sorry.”

“Well, can you get one to me?” Naomi leaned closer to the girl. Her dark eyes flashed once, then calmed.

“I guess,” Alisiea shrugged.

“You guess?” Naomi scolded. “Girl. It is very important that I am able to examine you. This becomes even more important as your time draws near. How soon can you get me a rune to this Lord Nythrax’s home?”

Alisiea frowned. She did not like to be scolded. Looking up she smiled tightly at the Midwife.

“Soon. A day or two at most.”

Naomi let out a long breath and relaxed. “Good. Good. Very well you may go, but remember to drink the concoction each morning starting tomorrow, understand?”

“Aye,” Alisiea answered as she left the house and turned towards the moongate. She wanted to stop in New Haven and check on Seveta. If Nythrax knew she had traveled to Umbra without the little dragon at her side he would be very angry with her and she didn’t want that. She had enough people angry with her already. Gaius had not spoken to her in weeks, she had not seen Tibs either, and his cookie jar was nearly empty. She quickened her pace and shoved her hands in the pockets of her skirt. Smiling she tugged half a sugar cookie out and popped it in her mouth. She failed to see the small, folded slip of paper fall to the ground to be whisked away by a tiny gust of wind.

**********

Fifteen minutes later, on her way to the town of Ashencrosse, a bald headed Naomi Baxter Miller, her crimson robes flowing around her, found the folded slip of paper and, after reading it, crushed it in her fist. Either the Gypsy girl was completely daft or someone or something unseen was watching over her. Cursing, Naomi tore up the paper and tossed it to the ground where it burst into a hundred tiny sparks and vanished in the breeze.