Forgotten Shadows

[Nezz]

After a full day of fasting, prayer, and meditation, Airich felt that he might have finally regained the balance he needed to function properly. He'd spent hours in the cathedral, praying silently, listening to Mass, watching the other congregants partake of Holy Communion. It sometimes surprised him that the Lord did not strike him dead for daring to set foot in any church or cathedral, but it seemed proof that God still held out some hope for sinners that He let them enter His house and seek salvation, or damn themselves with their own pride.

Airich didn't think he was damned. At least, he hoped he wasn't damned. Of course, if he were to die suddenly, three years worth of unshriven sins would quite easily drag his soul down to the bottom-most pits of eternal darkness.

With evenfall, he'd returned to his room at the boarding house and supped upon a small bowl of soup, then continued his meditations and prayer. He knelt before the cross of his sword, as he'd done while keeping vigil to receive his spurs—hands on quillons and head resting against the pommel—and pushed through the aching of his head, sorting through the thoughts and images within his mind.

Last night had nearly done him in. Between those ghastly dreams and that terrifying loss of self, he'd almost given up hope of finding his way back to reality. But Amy had brought him back from the brink of madness. Amy had given him back his name and bestowed upon him a solid anchor to cling to. She'd aroused desires of the flesh to shine a beacon into the darkness and help him find his physical self once more.

Not unlike what she'd done for Washburn Morgan when she'd brought him back from the brink of death some years ago.

Airich let loose a slight chuckle. It wasn't a conscious effort on her part to keep her patients happy—he'd discovered that much for himself during their rapport yesterday. It was her empathy that let her feel the pain of those around her, and her compassion that gave her a need to soothe that pain, and if soothing required the use of her lovely young body, then so be it, that's what she would do.

Airich wasn't one to complain. It had been pleasant and it had done the job she'd needed it to. Just like when Robert got an eyeful of her curves while she fed him soup.

Malleable, indeed.

It was well that Amy had stopped them from taking their kiss to its logical conclusion. She had spent years worrying about Wash, a nameless figure from her past. Airich did not want to replace Wash as the man she would worry herself sick over for the next four years.

Of course, when it came to matters of love, no man in his right mind would want to try to replace Wash Morgan. That would be asking for a bruised ego for the man and massive disappointment for the woman. Or so the ladies in Rhemuth would have one believe.

Where had Wash gotten off to, anyway? It felt to Airich as if he'd been on the road for many months looking for the man instead of only half of the summer. Coroth, Rhemuth, Morgan Manor... Wash had been at none of the places Airich knew to look. It hadn't been a totally wasted excursion, though: he'd had an excellent visit with his good friend Kenric Morgan, Wash's nephew. And Kelsonie, Kenric's twin sister. Ah, Kelsonie, would that you were a little less noble than a King's granddaughter or I were a little more noble than an earl's youngest.

But it had been at the schola in Rhemuth where he'd stumbled upon a bit of information when he'd been looking through the library. It had implied that certain abilities—the existence of which was only whispered of in the back carrols of the schola library—could actually be learned, rather than inherited. And if Airich could discover the secret of ridding himself of his own Deryni blood, then he wouldn't need to bother one of the few healers in the entirety of the Eleven Kingdoms to find out what he knew about it.

Which was how he'd then found himself in Grecotha, following up on that research. And having precious little luck. And now he was sidetracked by those blasted Willimites. They weren't happy enough causing trouble in the south, no, they had to spread their ugliness here as well.

But that incident last night had reminded him that, Willimites notwithstanding, he had matters that required his attention. Airich didn't want to see anyone else beaten to death... or hanged... or burned... but he wouldn't be of use to anyone if he were lost in that nebulous place between memories and dreams. He had to get back to his quest.

Airich yawned and lowered himself to sit on his feet. His knees were sore. He rested his sword hilt upon his shoulder and considered whether he'd been kneeling long enough. Much longer and he'd be too tired to pick himself up off the floor.

He wondered if he would be able to talk Amy into returning with him to Rhemuth, where she could be tested for the Healing gift at the schola. Her sense of empathy was so strong, it might be a natural release for a healer unaware of her Deryni gifts. And finding another healer would be an asset to the kingdom, as well as raising Amy's status beyond that of a mere barmaid. Or physicker's assistant. Or daughter of a mayor. Her options in life would become much improved.

It had been a deep and satisfying rapport yesterday, he reflected. To be honest, *bad* rapport was rare: once you saw that far into a person, it was easy to accept the faults and sins along with the good. Amy had very little by way of bad, and a great amount of good. And that imagery with the fishes and the sea lion... . He smiled. He hadn't expected her to take him so literally when he'd suggested she try swimming through his mind. But the procedure had been successful, and Elspeth had seemed satisfied with the progress she saw in Robert's hand. And Airich had gotten the opportunity to share minds with a beautiful person, inside as well as out.

It was a shame he'd never get the chance to do it again.

Dammit, even thinking about such a deep rapport was beginning to throw off his mental alignment. He needed to focus, to balance, to continue sorting and packing away the thoughts and memories that grew heavier each time he used his Deryni abilities. Memories he had no business possessing. Memories he would do anything to get rid of, including sacrificing his own Deryni gifts.

His Shields were up now, and locked tight. Nothing would get out, and—more importantly—nothing could get in. No other minds to confuse him and upset the delicate balance between himself and his not-self.

If no one needed him tomorrow, he should probably repeat today's activities: meditation, prayer, fasting. He yawned, his brain growing foggy for more typically mundane reasons.

And sleep, he couldn't forget good sleep, that was often helpful for a head that ached. He needed to get to bed. Morgan would want to leave by sunup, and would not accept a hangover as an excuse for not having the horses ready.

[Laurna]

It was before dawn, Amy snuck out of Elspeth's and her room to use the garderobe. She had worked later than she thought for a Sunday night. It seemed the students did not abide by Sundays and less entertaining drinking than she thought that they ought. She supposed it was because the university classes were not running Monday morning as they would be in another week. She just realized  that flier had claimed a burning of a Deryni would be held on the first days of the opening of the curriculum. What a horrible way to start the term. Neither she nor Muirea had learned anything last night. But then she had been busy learning the new ways of working the pub.  Quite a different clientele from the Broken Mast, much younger and much louder. She would have to temper her caustic remarks to the younger boys' lewd advances. They were not like the seaman she was used to dealing with.

A few steps out of the garderobe and she looked down the long hall. Airich's door was at the far end. Did she dare look to see how he was doing?  Elspeth had only said she had given him a bowl to eat, he had taken it to his room, and no one saw him again before everyone else went to sleep. Sneaking was a talent she had learned at a young age and she was proud that she had not yet lost her touch. ((Amy uses sneaky to go to Airich's room 3d6 5 + 5 + 3 success)) Down the hall, quiet as a fish swimming up stream. She giggled at the idea of it, then looked around suspicious that someone would have heard her giggle. So far, she was good.

She pulled the string to pull up the inner latch of his room door.  She was going to have to remind him that he was supposed to pull the string inside to keep someone from sneaking in like this. He was on his bed sleeping restlessly, she tried opening her mind to him, but she could feel nothing: no dreams, no emotions.  She was learning about shields and his was firm as stone. His sword was on the floor at the edge of his bed and he was still fully dressed. She was terrified to wake him. But she was afraid to leave him in this state of dreaming, for his eyes under his lids were moving in quick repeats.

Near his head she leaned down, not daring to touch him. She only whispered  "Sir Airich,  Airich O'Flynn, turn your dreams to pleasant days; flowers on the hills of your homeland. Sir Airich, be yourself and turn your dreams to warm nights before the hearth with your siblings." 

She sat back and waited to see if he would awake. But he did not.  But after a moment his eyes under his lids stopped moving and his breathing seemed to settle.

Satisfied, she snuck out of his room, and back down half the hallway and into her own room with Elspeth. If Elspeth had awakened and noticed her, she did not seem to show it. Amy slipped back into her cot and fell asleep praying the poor knight would start feeling better. ((Amy uses sneaking to get back into her own room unseen. 3d6 2 + 3 + 6 success))

[Bynw]

A spark becomes a flame and then an engulfing inferno as it quickly heats up. It begins as a cry of mercy, it turns to a scream of agony and alarm both vocal and psychic before silence falls.

The light of the fire and the screams of agony and alarm awaken the city's fire brigade. They rush to put out the flames before any embers can threaten the city itself.

Fortunately no buildings will be lost to the flames as they are isolated to patch of ground commonly used for an outdoor temporary market place.

But in the dead of night a stake was raised and soaked with oil and a briar built around it. In what would have been the summer market place.

A man has lost his life. His burned and contorted body is not fully consumed by the flames as the crowd starts to gather in the time when it is the blackest, just before the dawn.

The city watch is calling for order as the flames are extinguished. Everyone is being kept away. The smell of smoke and oil is everywhere. Along with it the chocking smell of burned flesh.

A sight and smell no one should have to witness, causing many to cross themselves at the horror of the sight before them.

[Laurna]

Amy screamed when the voice in her head screamed in agony.

After climbing in bed she had slept with her shields partially open, wanting to get a response, any response, from Airich. But what she was open to, now made her bolt out of bed and fall to her knees on the floor. Elspeth was up and kneeling beside her, looking at anguish marching across her friend's face.

"What's happened?"

"I'm not sure; Fire, it's horrid,"  Amy managed to say.

Both women bundled up with their bed blankets around their shoulders and were about to go out into the hall, when Bede and Edwin burst into their room.

"I heard you scream," Bede called.

"I heard what you heard," Edwin said, his own face stricken as he saw that Amy had experienced it too.

All four looked at each other.  "Airich?!" Someone called, and all four pounded down the hall and burst into the knight's room. 

Airich started awake at the noise of four persons bursting into his room. He relaxed when he saw who it was and rubbed his forehead. "What's a man got to do to get some uninterrupted sl—"

"Didn't you hear it?" Amy asked. The shaking in her voice told Airich enough.

He bounded out of bed and was across the room in two strides. He gently held Amy by the shoulders, "What did you hear?"

"How did you not hear it?" Edwin asked, and his voice sounded just as unnerved as Amy's.

"Elspeth, Bede, did you hear anything?"

"Just that unnatural howl from Edwin," Bede said.

"I didn't hear what Amy heard," Elspeth admitted.

It was a psychic cry, then, only heard by Deryni. And Airich, with his Shield closed tight, had heard nothing. He grasped Edwin's forearm and reluctantly dropped his Shields just enough to communicate with the two of them. Can you share it with me? he asked Edwin and Amy.

Amy tried to dampen her link with Airich, terrified that this would add to his nightmares, but how do you dampen physic terror? Edwin had no reason to down-play this mental agony of a man succumbing to a violent death. One could only allow that it was strong and abruptly ending.

Even expecting it, the intensity of the scream came as a shock. Airich flinched and shuddered, fighting the urge to gag. Dear God, is that what it's like to die in a fire? And he was only getting the impression second-hand: Amy and Edwin had just gotten hit with this full strength.

Grateful that he'd been sleeping in his clothes, Airich shrugged on his mail shirt and buckled on his sword belt. "I'm going to scout around. You stay, please. This could be a trap to draw out other Deryni." He was out the door before anyone could argue, bumping into Muirea, who'd been awakened by the noise.

"Stay with the others," he called back to her as he took the stairs three at a time.

"What's going on, why is everyone in—" Muirea began but found herself in the way of Amy, who was trying to follow Airich.

"Airich, stop!" Amy yelled, but he was already out the front door.

Elspeth grabbed Bede's bare shoulder. At least the archer had managed pants and a belt. "Follow him, keep him out of trouble. I am counting on you Bede." Bede stopped only long enough to grab his boots and a shirt but not shove them on. And then he was racing down the stairwell after the knight. Elspeth took Muirea and Amy in both of her hands and then looked straight at Edwin.

"Now tell me exactly what has happened."

[Marc_du_Temple]

[Brief introduction from Laurna and then without further ado...]

It took little effort to figure out in which direction to find the source of the scream. The smell of burnt flesh mingled with wood and oil. It came from the approximate direction of the cathedral. Running up the street, Bede chased after the knight, he detected the faintest glow from a side street up again. Airich stopped halfway there to let Bede catch up to him. "Looks to be in the Market square," he said before moving forward once more. Bede attempted to pull on his second boot before jumping into the unknown. Airich didn't seem to notice Bede's delay, causing the archer to curse a good round of words as he jammed his toes into his boot and then raced forward to be at Sir Airich's side.

Together they passed by Cathedral Square and rounded the corner into the market square, a large empty spot in the center of the city.

"Lord Almighty!" Airich exclaimed. Bede's interjection was more colorful. A roaring bonfire raged in the otherwise empty Market square. Flames leapt up around a center pole, the lower portion of a man's body was engulfed in those flames. A pair of guardsmen were using long poles to break the briar apart. They managed to tug a few boughs and branches away from the main mass, but it looked like a futile attempt. Airich ran forward, shoved his sword into the lower bunch of woodland debris, and hefted it out.  The burning wood loosely piled fell toward him. Bede grabbed the knight back, yelling "The sword is too short, put it away, use this!" and shoved another long pole into his hand. Bede had grabbed another pole from the stack of tent pieces that would make up a seller's stall in the morning. Both men worked on their side of the pyre shoving burning bits away as fast as they dared. The city bells were now ringing and soon more men were coming to help.

To Bede, the flames seemed like Satan laughing at them from below, chortling with an ill-gotten meal on a wooden tongue. And they were hot. He took a moment to wipe his brow before gripping his pole with renewed determination. As he and Airich stabbed at the briar logs like farmers pitching straw, the crudely formed, glowing pieces spun overhead like leaves in a dust devil, yet they fell like stones. While they were careful, they were not artisans in this terrible and strange circumstance, able to predict the fall of the logs, but they could react accordingly. ((Vigilance to intervene 3d6 3 + 6 + 3 = Success.)) Bede saw the hell-logs seemingly converging on him and the knight, and so with no warning but a shout of "Ho!" he turned the shaft of his pole on the knight while he moved, guiding them away from the flagstones where glowing splinters exploded, singeing their clothes. Airich said no thank yous, not out of ingratitude, but focused on immediately returning the favor. He twitched his head, and then Bede was pleasantly surprised to notice the smokey heat that came over their heads in the moment he took to breathe was cast aside at their feet, again leaving them singed but unharmed.((Telekinesis to keep a log from falling on Airich. Normal. 2, 6 = Success.)) Then they dove back into the work until it was soon completed, and the fire put out by locals the captain of the guard had commanded to return with buckets of water.

They leaned on their poles for support in the immediate aftermath, sucking in what air the fire did not consume. Airich pulled Bede close suddenly and told him, "I need your help. He may be dead, but there are still things a Deryni can learn if he's quick enough, like ..."

"Like smoke," Bede nodded.

"Or lines in the sand before they're swept to nothing," Airich decided. He would rather not be reminded any more of the smoke than he had to be. He slapped Bede's back, goading him towards the stake. "Bring him to me, please, and let us see what we can do for him still. Let me worry about the guards."

((Bede Sneaks up to the body 3d6: 3 + 3 + 2))Thus emboldened, Bede staggered up to the body, climbing with difficulty over the embers. He was quickly noticed, but true to his word, Sir Airich interceded before Captain Phineas and his men could stop the vagabond guard, flashing his warrant and assuring them that Bede had one just like it. At any rate, Bede reached the stake, where he got a good look at the charred husk. ((Bede tries Perception on the body: 2d6 1 + 6))

The hair had been the first to go, followed by the clothes he wore. Residual scraps of the leathers the man had worn had fused into the flesh. Although Bede was not sure he was looking at a man at all. All he knew was that beneath the fatally severe burns was evidence of earlier torments. The legs were broken at the ankles, the skull fractured mushily, and the arms seemed to have been the last to be broken, seemingly snapped by the very bindings Bede was cutting with Edwin's parchment knife. All other considerations aside, the body was surprisingly light in his hands as he carried it over to Airich wordlessly. All he could think about was how it reminded him of the war, and unpleasantly so.

[Jerusha]

Written with a nice contribution from Revanne.

"Dear God in Heaven!" Elspeth exclaimed and crossed herself as Edwin and Amy finished telling of their shared experience. She had dealt with women screaming in agony during childbirth, and that moment of horrible silence when it all went wrong.  But she could not fathom the agony of death in the flames, and again, the abrupt silence when life ended that Edwin and Amy had described to her.  It shook her to the core of her soul.

"Elspeth, we must do something to help Airich!" Amy cried urgently.

"And Bede!" Muirea added sharply.

Elspeth chose her words carefully, knowing they would not satisfy the two women facing her. 

"If we go charging after them, when we find them we will either get in their way, or divert their attention from what needs to be done."  She had been right; neither Amy or Muirea liked what she was saying.  "We could put them in danger they might otherwise avoid without our presence there.  And," Elspeth added gently, "we could be putting ourselves in danger.  Neither Airich or Bede would thank us for that."

"We can't just do nothing!" Amy looked at Edwin in desperation.

Edwin took a deep breath.  He was afraid to make this suggestion, but he would not slip back into the specter of cowardice by not making it. 

"I can follow them, but keep  a discreet distance away.  I'll watch for anyone who may show a keen  interest in what Airich and Bede are doing.  Or anyone who views what happened with satisfaction, or shows no emotion at all."  Edwin looked hopefully at Elspeth.

"You could be putting yourself in danger, and what I said previously still applies." Elspeth did not look willing to bend.

"Look at it this way," Edwin said urgently.  "I'm known as a student here, and it would be normal for me to be there to see what has happened.  I'm not known as a Deryni here; I'm just a border lad who gets into the occasional brawl in a student tavern.  Trust me, there is nothing noteworthy about that!"

"We're wasting time, Speth," Amy said, taking hold of the older woman's arm.  "If Edwin gets into any difficulty, he will be able to contact me."

"Not by normal means, I assume," Elspeth said dryly.  "But you are right; we are wasting time." 

She turned to Edwin.  "Go and be careful.  Keep Amy informed.  If you come to any harm, it will be me that takes you to task. 

"If anything would convince me to be careful, Mistress, it's exactly that!  Lock the door behind me."  Elspeth watched Amy and Edwin grasp hands for just a second, both with eyes looking into the other's. They must have formed some connection.

After they dropped hands Edwin stood hesitantly for a second then began to fumble with the ties of his cotte. Both Amy and Elspeth stared at him with amazement which quickly turned to irritation. "What on earth are you doing? Which bit of there's no time to waste don't you understand?"

Elspeth spoke for both women, and the sharpness in her tone was enough to bring Edwin up short. He coloured and stopped what he was doing before stammering, "I was going to take Airich's shirt off in case it got damaged but I'm being stupid aren't I? It's there so I don't get damaged." The reply to that was so obvious that none was needed.

Gathering his wits Edwin tried to think straight, he was still more shaken than he would ever have admitted by the horror of that scream. He had said that he was just going to watch but even that might be far more dangerous than he had argued. He felt for the archer's knife at his belt; it was in place. Good. He remembered that Airich had his sword, but Bede had run out of the room barely dressed let alone armed. Glancing around he saw the archer's bow and arrows propped in the corner of the walls and rather gingerly he picked it up, hoping that Bede would take this as sense and not presumption.

Then Edwin dashed out of the door before Elspeth could change her mind, pausing long enough to make sure that the door was indeed locked behind him and the women had pulled the latch string safely within the room.

[Nezz]

Airich accepted the brutalized body from Bede and moved out from the center of the square. He didn't have his cloak and his tunic was underneath his armor, so he laid out the man's body as gently as he could on the flagstones. They wouldn't be in the way, here.

A loud crack sounded from the center, and a section of the wood pile fell in on itself, kicking up a massive array of sparks and embers, starting up part of the fire again. Enough people had gathered into the square now that Airich didn't feel the need to assist. He had other things on his mind now. And he didn't have much time to act.

Despite the darkness and the new activity from the fire, a few people had followed Bede and Airich and now milled about, looking at the body and exclaiming in horror. One man, who seemed more level-headed than the others, knelt beside Airich. "Is he a friend, my lord? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Airich paused only a moment before replying. "He is." He laid his hand on the man's chest, gruesome though it might be. We're kin, you and I. They killed you because of the blood we share. He looked at the man next to him. "Can you fetch a priest and bring him here? There must be one among those gathering, or will be soon."

"With a will, m'lord," and he was away.

"Bede," Airich said. He pulled his sword and handed it to the archer, hilt first. "You've got my back?"

"Anything you need." Bede took the weapon, handling as if he actually knew what he was doing.

"Thanks. Keep the onlookers away, if you can."

Airich forced himself to look at the dead man, at his charred skin and the anguished expression. He could list for himself numerous reasons why a Death Reading was a bad idea. For one thing, he'd never used this spell before. Oh, he knew how to do it well enough. But memories were a tricky business: one mis-step and... Well, there would simply have to be no mis-steps.

The Willimites might, even now, be watching for someone like him to do a Reading on this man, so they could pick out their next victim of the stake. And Airich knew there were Deryni within their midst, Deryni who'd forsworn their "evil ways," but might yet lay some sort of psychic trap on a dead man, and Airich would walk right into it.

It was also quite possible that the man had been drugged with Merasha or worse. Such drugs were not readily available, but the fingers of the Willimites stretched far and certain chapters of the cult were known to have many resources.

Airich gritted his teeth. If Merasha was in this man's body, he would discover it the moment he dropped his Shields, for the merasha would muddle his thoughts instantly. He would then have to waste a great deal of power to wrench himself away from contact with the body, and then take the time to control his own reactions. He honestly didn't know if he dared to afford such a waste of time and effort.

But—and this fact made these risks seem worthwhile—unlike those who'd beaten Alfie to death, those who'd killed this man had deliberately planned murder. They may not have hidden their faces and identities. And they were unlikely to be lackeys: these men would be leaders, fanatically dedicated to their cause.

He desperately hoped that this was what he might find. He found it nigh unbearable that this man should have died in vain.

Airich settled on his knees—bruised and protesting from yesterday's kneeling—and folded his hands over the dead man's chest. Bede should be able to pick up on the nature of what Airich was doing and intercede when the priest arrived or if anyone else tried talking to him.

Adopting an attitude of prayer for the sake of anyone watching, he reached out, reached deep, searching into the farthest recesses of the dead man's fading presence¹. He was rewarded by the feeling of a tiny, nearly indistinguishable pop within the man's head, followed a few seconds later by another. Good, he wasn't too late. Airich settled into the darkness and followed the pops down, further into the space of nothingness.

The tendrils of memories floated intangibly as smoke, wispy and incoherent. Threads drifted by, broken and torn, nothing to hold onto. Until... there. Airich felt it, a more substantial thread not yet burnt at either end. When he followed the thread, he came out into glorious spring morning...

The sun shines as Lucas Whittington, known as 'Leopold The Great,' leaves Nyford behind him forever. These Brothers of Saint Willim, as they style themselves, have grown bold, and Lucas wants no part of that, so he travels north. The farther the better, as far as he's concerned. And he's heard good things about summer in Grecotha....

..."feats of amazing dexterity," the barker calls out, and Leopold the Great uses his right foot to fling another dagger into the group of sharp cutlery he juggles. He uses his powers to help keep the blades aloft and stop the weapons from cutting him, and so he is able to throw them higher than any juggling act this audience has seen, and his complex patterns stun them. He finishes his act with a flourish and a bow, and his audience responds with applause and a pelting of coins at his feet....

...possibly a little bit too much to drink, but he's still able to continue the act. Not a cut on him. That cleaver hangs in the air a little bit too long, though, and the crowd seems uneasy. "Deryni magic, Lords and Ladies, just a small sample of Deryni magic!" They laugh and applaud and believe it to be a new part of the act. Those two men in the back didn't look particularly amused, though....

...the door breaks down and bodies burst through, one after another. They drag him from his narrow pallet and set on him with clubs and fists and boots. Voices in the hall, "go back to bed," "wanted criminal," "you'll get the same." Lucas is unarmed but if he can summon that cleaver, he might be able to... a heavy club connects against his forearm and he will never juggle again. Another club to the side of the head and the darkness takes him, even as they continue beating on him....

...he comes to as something cold and wet is sloshed over him, and he is outside in the dark on the cobbled street. The pain in all parts of his body cries out that they didn't entirely stop their beating just because he couldn't feel it. He is parched and licks some of the water they threw over him, but retches as he discovers it isn't water but oil. He can scarce understand why they would douse him in oil, but that quickly becomes a secondary concern as they lift him by the arms and force him down the street. He cannot stay conscious for more than a few seconds at a time as they push him on and finally resort to dragging him....

...They drag him until they reach a pile of brambles, and there they release his arms and he falls. Hundreds of needle-sharp daggers scratch his face and hands, and he hears the laughter behind him. They pick him up again and propel him forward, through a path in the briar. A chunk of thorn is caught in his hair over his brow. They come to piles of wood upon the ground and more briars and just beyond stands an upright stake and the true purpose of the oil has suddenly become far too clear....

...He begs now, where before he could only moan. Begs for his life, begs for a less horrific death, begs for a priest. More laughter follows, and curses spat at him. Through the pain he suddenly finds the strength to fight for his freedom, but it is too little and too late. They tie his wrists around the stake behind him and he prays for the pain from his broken forearm to take him to unconsciousness, but it is not to be. They wrap thick, hard rope around him and the stake, rope that won't burn quickly but will hold his body upright long after he has breathed his last....

...Mother of God, please! he begs them, and they respond by throwing more oil on him and on the surrounding wood. "Consider this a taste of the hell you will spend eternity in," one says, his voice low and distinct. Lucas tries to pray, surely a loving God will not refuse him heaven, for he has done no serious wrong, Our Father, Our Father, oh what are the words, Our Father Who art in Heaven...

The spark, then the flame, and the oil ignites and burns quickly and suddenly he is engulfed and the heat and the pain are more than he can bear and yet he has no choice and he has no breath to scream and the flame MOTHER MARY THE FLAME MAKE IT STOP and it doesn't stop but eventually he has no air to breathe and oblivion claims him sweet oblivion into thy hands o lord...

Airich gasped, a sudden intake of breath as his body realized it had stopped breathing with Lucas. He shuddered, trying to come to grips with the pain and terror of that hateful murder. It had felt so real, the dying. Even now, he could feel the sheer horror of what was to come, the pain of the beating, the intense heat that came with the flames licking body...

"...and if you can ever make it to rustic Gwernach, you would see that the shoe kicks just as sharply on the other foot. Isn't that right, m'lord?" Bede nudged Airich hard and Airich jumped, suddenly aware of his surroundings. A priest standing near Lucas' head was staring at him, as well as two other men close by.

"As you can see, Father, he's too distraught by his friend's murder," Bede continued, then turned back to Airich. "Can you tell the good father his name, m'lord?"

"Oh. Aye." Airich still struggled to get his breath back. "His name is Lucas Whittington. He came from Nyford."

The priest continued with Lucas' last rites. Airich whispered, "He preferred 'Leopold the Great,'" but the priest did not hear.
¹What the hey, let's do this thing: Death Reading, Normal 2d6: 1, 6 Success

[Marc_du_Temple]

[This is all Revanne's work. Unfortunately, she is preoccupied, but she asked one of us to post it for her. Hope you enjoy it!]

As soon as he stepped outside the house Edwin's senses were assaulted. From the direction of the Cathedral and the Market Square which lay beyond there was the sound of raised voices, shouting, baying and laughing - laughing at what for God's sake!  As he drew closer his stomach heaved at the smell of burnt flesh, a smell which in the circumstances of a hog roast would have been appetising, a thought which only served to make it a real struggle to stop his guts from emptying themselves. He stopped for a moment to steady himself, and his hand reached to the embroidery on Airich's shirt, a reminder of goodness and prayer before he turned to face the evil that inhabited the square.

The scene that awaited him was even more chaotic than he had expected. As far as he could tell in the half-darkness, lit only by the remains of the still smouldering fire, the torches of the watch and the last silvery glow of the setting moon, there appeared to be several different groups of people yelling and gesticulating at the fire and at each other. He tried to see if he could recognise any of them but it was impossible (perception 3+3) and he did not dare to approach any of them too closely (sneaky 3+1). The watch seemed distracted between tearing apart what remained of the burning brushwood and ensuring that the tension between the different groups did not escalate into rioting.

As his eyes became adjusted to the gloom he saw a small group of people gathered near to the fire, who seemed to be the main focus of the commotion. There was a man in priest's robes stooping over what looked like a heap of singed rags, and two others who he recognised as his companions. He considered trying to get to them (sneaky 2+4) but as he began to edge in their direction a voice rang out "So will all Deryni be purified in flame."

[Marc_du_Temple]

Edwin, Airich, Bede and the rest of the market's agitated inhabitants were shifted on the inside, in one direction or another, by that diabolical declaration, and they were joined by one present only in mind, not body: Amy. Like the men of the group, she did not like what she heard through Edwin's ears. The crowds were more divided: some outraged like her, others approvingly quietly or loudly now.  As the words were first uttered, Edwin looked around in bewilderment, not seeing what she saw.((Amy looking through Edwin's eyes. can she tell a bad guy 2d6 5 + 2)) A proud, portly man in poorly matched but well-fitted and common clothes had bellowed the words before thinking to fade back into the crowd, covered by approving arms like palm fronds. Did you see that? she asked Edwin from afar, her voice like a thought not his own.

I saw nothing, Edwin answered truthfully with his own thought as he shifted the weight of the weapons in his arms and closed the distance between himself, Airich and Bede. The archer could not believe what he was becoming, to have left his bow behind at a time like this, but he simply shook Edwin's hand in gratitude as he slung it and his arrows in their proper places. Leaning closer, he whispered a simple plan, for like Amy, he too had seen the agitator and had marked him well.((Bede Perceives the Taunter 2d6 6 + 1)) Edwin did not like it overmuch, but his condition was simple: "Promise not to shoot him."

"Only if I have to," Bede nodded ambiguously, and they set off, leaving Airich shifting his sheathed sword for better balance while glaring at the mob. Let a single member of this mob attempt to get through to Leopold's body and they would discover how quickly it could go from sheathed in its scabbard to sheathed in someone's innards.

((Bede Sneaks up on the Taunter 3d6 3 + 2 + 1 & Rolled for Edwin for sneaky 2d6 3+1)) They split up and mingled their way through the crowd, Bede guided by his instincts, and Edwin by the guidance of an unseen woman. While both of these methods were enough to get them in reach of their target, neither could keep the man from seeing them. That they looked little stranger and no more authoritative than any other at a glance worked to their advantage; their upset expressions did not. For a moment all froze, unsure of the other's intentions.

Meanwhile, more of the watch had relieved Airich of his vigil. He subtly banished his fatigue, ((Airich does Fatigue Banishing at Disadvantage (since he's already super tired (but not Exhausted) 1d6 6)) and successfully petitioned Captain Phineas to be ready to intervene to save his new friends. Warily, they watched.

Then Edwin remembered that he was a student first and foremost. Surely, an intellectual greater than any rabble. He crossed his arms, leaned back on his heels, and spoke, "So, you can tell the future, man? Are some yet unknown number of our neighbors to be burned alive?"

The man did not think twice. "No Deryni would long be a neighbor of mine!"

Amy whispered something in Edwin's head, and he countered with, "I believe you. The gifts of a Deryni are gifts of the mind. You would be dull company for one, indeed."

"If the Deryni are so gifted, then what need they of our city?" the man bellowed, now red in the face and no longer caring who looked at him.

"Good question!" Edwin admitted. "Maybe it is love for the people, including your wife if you've got one. A love not reciprocated by bile slurpers such as you, my choleric friend. Perhaps it is charity that they do not coalesce into a duchy or kingdom of their own."

The man stomped a foot and thundered, "It is the Willimites who keep them in check, not themselves! And leave my family out of this; they've been sullied enough by the tricky Deryni here!" An alarming number of people in the crowd murmured in agreement.

Bede had heard enough.((Bede Vigilantly leaps upon the Taunter 3d6 1 + 5 + 3)) He suddenly seized the man, who writhed resistingly like a frightened pig. A punch to the jaw and then one to the gut settled the matter, while the onrushing guards made it a decree. In the heat of the moment, Edwin surprised himself by staying exactly where he was.

Airich shouted, "Bring him here, lads! He talks as one familiar with our friend would." While they dragged the wretch toward the center of the square, Airich's face grew darker, yet sharper in its nobility.

[Nezz]

Airich met them in front of the still-glowing remains of the fire. He didn't pause but pulled the choleric bile slurper from his captors' hands. He twisted the man's collar chokingly tight and brought him face to face, until the man barely remained on his toes. He held his dagger under his chin.

"You're afraid of Deryni, are you?" Airich asked, his voice quiet and eyes narrowed¹. He hid all trace of fury from his voice and demeanor. "Were you afraid of Leopold? Him and his little knives?" He lightly traced a line with his dagger just below the jaw. "What about a man with a big knife? Are you afraid of such? I can teach you to be." He stopped near the jugular and exerted just enough pressure to pierce the skin. The man's defiant expression changed to nervousness. Doubtless he could feel the trickle of blood running down his neck. It was twin to the trickle of sweat running from his forehead.

Airich continued, his voice still perfectly mild. "I can teach you to fear a man with a knife far more than you fear Deryni. I can teach you just how deep a knife can be inserted without killing. I can teach you how a shallow cut can still cause excruciating pain. I can even teach you how to skin a man; I tell you, my friend, it's a lot like skinning a chicken.

"And when I'm finished, the very act of looking at a knife will have you pissing yourself and sniveling as you crawl back into the hole you crawled out of. You will happily beg a Deryni healer to put you back together."

He was a little surprised by how dispassionately he was able to threaten this man. He felt no sympathy as the man lost all composure and began blubbering and pleading for mercy²; in his mind's eye, Airich saw him standing at the back of Leopold's final show, watching suspiciously and whispering to his partner before slipping out.

He twisted the collar a little bit tighter, and encouraged a second trickle of blood to flow. "Who is your contact with the Willimites?" he asked.

"P-P-Pietre de Guerra, milord, please don't—"

"And your name, friend?"

"Lewis Elmore, milord, I didn't know—"

"Lewis Elmore, your actions sent an innocent man to a hideous death. I suggest that you spend the rest of your days praying earnestly to your God for forgiveness. And thanking Him that I am not Deryni."

"Yes, milord, thank you, milord," he wept as Airich dropped him.

Airich turned to Captain Phineas as he signaled the men of the watch to take him into custody. "Do your best to find anything to charge him with, if you would," he said to the captain.

"I think inciting a mob towards more killin' should about do it," the Captain responded.
¹Hey Airich, think you can intimidate the dude with your Dagger skill? Advantage 3d6=4, 5, 2 Success
²Bileslurper's Saving Roll 1d6=2 Fail

[revanne]

Edwin owes most of his defiance and courage in this scene to Nezz

Airich turned back towards Bede and Edwin. Bede was full-out arguing with several men who insisted that Lewis had the right of it. "You all talk so mightily of catching a lone man unawares, but I'd wager less than half of you know what it means to march, or swing a real blade, or fight a man openly and honestly. You're not bears, or wolves, even. You're vultures, and you don't deserve a second thought." 

And Bede found himself wishing that the war had carried him here, to rid the world of this weakness calling itself strength. But it had been a defensive war, as he told himself too many times to count. He smirked, no longer able to take the men seriously so long as they knew not where he slept, and added, "Betrayal, hatred, and the murder of a Christian neighbor ... that's a tight packing of sins, no? How hot do ye want the coals under yer hell-pots to be? Don't think we won't send you there if you try this again." Then he was laughing like a jester and returning to Airich's side. 

Edwin thought Bede's argument had been excellent and was disgusted when the anti-Deryn folks started up again. He suddenly found his voice. "Is this Grecotha?" he cried out. "Is this the home of the greatest university in Gwynedd? No! The shining city of knowledge that the world looks up to? No! I look at you, and I see men too swallowed up in their own ignorance to be enlightened. You don't deserve this city, you don't—" 

A disturbing sight caught his eye: to his left, where most of the anti-Deryni mob had gathered, stood a smattering of learned priests he recognized all too well, by name as his teachers, as well as for their status of authority in the University. A dozen students stood by them, and all looked grim. Edwin stood stunned. That his own professors would join the ranks of these monsters, who would watch one of their own students burn. It was too much. 

Edwin jumped onto a nearby log from the outer edges of the fire. He didn't know where the thunder in his voice came from.  He turned his head towards the men who had been his teachers, who he had supposed to be men of prayer and learning, to whom he had looked up. He pointed his finger at them in turn as he spat out his accusations: "Ignorance! Prejudice! Fear!"

He looked up at the rest of the crowd, the pro-Deryni and the anti-Deryni, together with those who were simply drawn by the lust for trouble.  "As long as the likes of these are allowed to walk hand-in-hand in the cloisters and halls of this beloved university, I will not stay!" He ripped off the colours of the university attached to his cotte and threw them into the remains of the fire. 

He stood, watching the fabric smoulder into flame, and his heart sank, wondering just how much that bit of bravado had cost him. Another rosette suddenly sailed out from the crowd behind him to join its brother in the fire. Then another. Then three more. 

Edwin turned to face the crowd, eyes lit in triumph."Grecotha, clean the filth from your noble halls!" He stepped off the log and pushed his way through the crowd. 

In the mindlink Edwin had forgotten about, Amy whispered Wow. Bede looked at Airich, shrugged, then followed Edwin. Airich gave some final suggestions to Captain Phineas, then set out after the pair. 

[Laurna]

Amy scryed the scene in the market square as if she were there, yet she sat here at the tiny table in her room, her chin leaning heavily on her propped up hands. She felt as tense as the warp thread on a loom. She heard in her own mind Edwin's mental yelling toward the crowd that parted before him. Have these idiots no backbone of their own, could these people not see past their own ineptitude? University study is about knowledge and knowledge is enlightenment. Amy flinched, she had never seen so many unenlightened faces in all her days. Edwin passed them up in his anger, tuning them all out, but Amy watched them keenly.

There to the left were two youths, students by their robes, pushing their way forward through the masses. One had his hand deep inside the opposite sleeve of his robe, clutching something he looked to bring forth. Amy yelled, "Edwin, look out!"  ((Amy 2d6= 4 + 1 Failure))  but had she said that only aloud and not in her rapport; had he not heard her? Edwin's stride did not miss a step.  The two youths were now at Edwin's side, one was reaching to grab him and the other was pulling something long and thin from his sleeve.

Amy panicked! Airich!Save Edwin! She screamed in Rapport ((Amy calling Airich  2d6= 4 + 6 Success))  The knight, no more than a few strides behind, bound forward and knocked his scholarly friend far off to the right. His dagger was at the throat of the man who had grabbed Edwin's arm and he was yelling at the other to drop whatever it was he was pulling from his sleeve. Bede jumped that youth and forced the instrument from his fingers. What fell to the ground clanged with the sound of metal against stone, it was long in a deep shade of gray. As Edwin stared at it, Amy realized it was not the dagger she had been certain it could have been.

"By the philosophy of Dom Edouard¹, what in the devil are you doing here?" Edwin accused the man in Bede's grasp. Then he looked at the man nearly in tears under the pressure of Airich's dagger. "You can let him go, Airich. He is a friend."

"You have strange ways of showing friendships," Airich murmured as he removed his dagger from the boy's neck and then pushed the boy a step before him.
 
The student-friend rubbed his neck and was surprised to find that his hand did not come away with a smear of red. Apparently the knight knew just the right pressure to not draw blood. More slowly, Bede let go of the student he held, but he did not let that student bend down to retrieve the grey metallic item on the cobblestones. The archer was swift to retrieve it himself. It was a long stylized writing instrument that resembled a feather quill but it was made of pewter instead. It could still be very easily used as a weapon and Bede refused to return it to the youth.

"Hide that!" Edwin instantly said, "I will explain later." The quill very quickly disappeared into Bede's tunic.

"You better explain this," Airich whispered between clenched teeth. Amy could see he was in no mood for niceties.

The youth eyed the disappearing quill a moment longer after it was hidden, then finally said, "We need to talk to our friend. But not here."

"He is not going anywhere without us," Airich declared.  A glance between the two students nodded their agreement to this, and then the two were scooting backwards through the crowd. Airich grabbed Edwin's sleeve. "What is going on?"

"That was the symbol of my fraternity. It is a signal that the leader wants to talk to me. We should really go."

Amy held her breath as she saw both Airich and Bede nod in agreement. The three men turned into the crowd and went the way the other two had.

Amy blinked to discover her hands were grasped tight in Elspeth's and Muirea was leaning close, staring at her white-faced and wide eyed. "What is going on?"

"It wasn't what I thought..." she sighed. "But I do not know what it is."

"Are they in danger?"  Elspeth plied.

"Edwin doesn't believe so, but I don't know."

"Don't lose him now, please, not now."

"Agreed."  Amy said her shoulders slumping from the effort to stay in full Rapport. ((Amy avoided fatigue to stay in rapport 2d6 5 + 4 success)) but then she found her strength and returned to her vigilance.
 
¹ Haut Arcanum -  by Dom Edouard, a Gabrilite philosopher

[revanne]

Once again a collaborative piece - posted by me because Edwin is the main character.

"...I figured that since they were the same students that Airich and I kept seeing in the library, that maybe they had some connection with my Literary fraternity," Edwin told Bede as the three of them marched toward the University, following Edwin's contacts. "So I sent the fraternity leader a message, asking for his help. Hopefully he'll have something for us."

"Your fraternity brothers need to find a better way of sending you a secret message," Bede said. "Those two lads came awfully close to being skewered."

Edwin shrugged. "We're students, and we read. We sometimes like to pretend that our lives are more interesting and meaningful than they really are. It isn't as if most of us have two bodyguards ready to kill anything that gets too close."

"Speaking of 'ready to kill'," Airich asked Edwin, "what do you know about Pietre de Guarre?"

"Ugh! What do you want to know about him?"

"The city watch says he's bad news."

"I'm sure the city watch has more experience with him than I do, thankfully" Edwin said. "I've seen him a couple of times, but heard plenty about him. You don't want to cross that fellow. He's a fencing master here at the University. And he's as likely to provoke a duel as look at you cross-eyed. "

"Mmm. He's been fingered as being a Willimite."

"Oh, well of course he would be! The best swordsman and the fellow with the rotten character and a magistrate father is the one we're hunting. It all makes sense." Edwin threw his hands up in mocking despair that was only partly jest.

The two students up ahead had led them directly toward the university library. But at this hour of dawn, Airich wondered if the Library was even open yet. The locked bronze doors at the entrance of the library answered that question. Instead, Edwin followed the boys to a small door at the end of the great stone edifice. The two students knocked and the door inched open and then both students slipped inside. The door shut tight after them.

Bede ran forward to catch the door but it was locked to him. He beat on it with his fist but the door did not shift open one hair. "Hold on, Archer!"  Edwin called forward, quickening his pace to stand beside Bede at the door. Airich turned around and watched for movement in the street behind them.

"Is this a trap?"  he asked, his tension once again rising.

"No, it is a test." Edwin replied calmly.  The scholar closed his knuckles and hovered his fist at waist height over the thick oak door. He hummed a rhythm to himself for a second to be sure of his timing and then repeated the rhythm in a very precise knocking order.

They heard the sound of the inner latch releasing through the wood. But just barely, and then the door slipped open one inch. Bede caught the door edge in case it decided to close on them again. Edwin gave a hardened glare; he hated these games, but he understood the need. "Let's  go." he said to his friends and they slipped inside the entrance corridor to the side of the library. There was a shuffling of feet and a door to the right quickly closed. Bede jumped after that door. But then Edwin grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him back. "Not that way." Instead he looked to the left at a narrow stone stair that circled down below ground.

Edwin started down without hesitation, but the archer and the knight paused at the top of the stairs looking down in the darkness below and then at each other. "A trap?" Bede asked. Airich nodded. "A trap that our scholar has the key to."  Bede first and then Airich stepped down following their key.

At the bottom of two full flights of stairs was a short hallway and a door. Only one torch stood in a bracket to light the fully stone room. The air seemed musty as though the room was little used. The door ahead had a grill and a strip of light came from a narrow opening in the grill. Edwin walked up to the grill. Took in a deep breath, exhaled and then in a very courtly voice, intoned to words from an ancient poem.

"Wanting to stay, we go,
all beings here on God's earth,
wherever it is written that we go,
taking our bodies from death's cold bed and up Falling Water from Valoret,
at last to the killing fields of Killingford
and then to an unbroken sleep
that follows life's feast."¹

The scholar finished the quote as modified from the ancient lore of the Bjornhund. Airich knew the words well and Bede had heard them told in the dark night at the fire light by his father.

The light from the grill disappeared abruptly with the closing of the grill door and long held breath by all three men and then they heard the latch release and the ancient oak door swung open.

¹ based on lines from Beowulf

[Jerusha]

Another collaborative effort. I posted this one because it is largely from Elspeth's point of view.

"They're in," Amy announced. "This looks like where they store empty barrels. It looks like one of the cellars of an inn though I can't imagine that they would keep full ones anywhere students have access." Despite her intense concentration her lips twitched in a smile before she continued— "oh, wait, I see a man in scholar's robes. He's sitting on one of the barrels; he looks very full of himself. He is asking for the token, and Edwin is telling Bede to return the pewter quill to this man."

"What could that man possibly have to say? We don't even know why they're there," Muirea said, looking over Amy's shoulder as if she might get a glimpse of what Amy saw.

"Shh." Elspeth put her finger to her lips and whispered, "She can't hear them if she's trying to listen to us."

"Oh, right," Muirea said, and waited for Amy to speak next.

Elspeth watched Amy's face with concern. Her friend's cheeks quivered, her eyes blinked, then Amy's gaze went from Elspeth's face to focusing somewhere far distant behind Elspeth. It was the first time that Elspeth felt a sense of awe and unease at someone else's eyes. Is this what others feel when they look at my eyes?

After a minute, Amy blinked again and said, "The scholar has congratulated Edwin on knowing the code and said he could use the shorter one next time. Edwin's relieved, I can feel that much." A pause between a pair of eye blinks, followed by, "He says he has corralled the students whom the knight would wish most to talk to. Oh, he must mean those students Airich overheard in the courtyard, the ones who were talking about a burning at the stake. Mother Mercy, I hope they're proud of themselves! I hope they were at the square earlier and got a snoot full of what it smelled like."  This time when Amy blinked a tear rolled down her check, but she did not seem aware of it.

More silence from Amy, then, "Okay, A pair of fraternity men have brought forth a younger student. He might be a little older than Robert." That made Elspeth think about her young patient, and she thought that perhaps she might check on him later today.

Amy let out a deep sigh, her eyes suddenly looking straight at Elspeth. "This is a lot more tiring than it looks. I'm only going to relay the important parts."

"That's fine, Ams, don't wear yourself out," Elspeth said, touching Amy's cheek and brushing aside the dampness. "I'm here for you."  Amy let a faint smile part her lips but then her eyes again focused through her mentor and not at her.

Amy mouthed words, without unchanging her distant focus. Elspeth knew nothing about Deryni Rapport and did not know at what cost it was to talk and stay in rapport, but she knew Amy could not see or hear herself and Muirea at this moment. "Edwin and Bede are questioning the boy. Airich is standing at my back, I see his dagger flash between his fingers in the torch light."

"Bede'll get him to talk," Muirea whispered to Elspeth.

"My coin says Edwin makes him break," Elspeth replied.

"Oh, there he goes," Amy said, "He's crying. Bede told him about Leopold and the burning that just happened in the market square. I can't tell if he feels bad or if he's scared they're going to bring him in. Edwin's Truth-Reading him: the boy's telling the truth. He didn't know about it or who did it. He doesn't actually know anything about the Willimites, he's never talked to one so far as he knows."

"I wonder if any of these boys will know anything that might help us," Elspeth said, "or if they were all just going along with the crowd."

"Even if they don't discover anything with these boys, they do have a real clue," Amy said in the break before the next boy came in. "I think they said a man named Pietre de Guarra was likely involved."

"Pietre?" Muirea said, "How is he involved?"

"I think they said he was likely a Willimite."

"Oh, well that makes sense," Muirea said. "He loves harassing others. Thinks he's better than just about everyone, even the King. I imagine he'd enjoy threatening people and making their lives miserable."

"Do you know him well?" Elspeth asked the younger woman.

"Oh no, not well," Muirea said. "The other girls say that he's at the Drunken Parchment almost every night. A lot of the masters go there. What's funny is that he never drinks the wine unless someone else is buying for him. The tavernkeep holds a few bottles of Fianna red behind the counter that belong only to him, Guarra says everything else is swill. And—and this won't surprise Amy—he is incapable of keeping his hands to himself. The owner won't even let most of the girls go near him. There's an older woman who usually sees that he gets his drink."

"He sounds like a winner," Elspeth said, rolling her eyes.

After a few more minutes, Amy said, "They're bringing in the second student now. Same questioning procedure. Oh, that's smart, Bede pointed out how the smell on their clothes is from an actual person, not a roast pig. Oooh, he's describing Leopold's body. Yeah, that did it! Gag, I'm thinking that boy's never going to eat pork again. Oh, sorry, that was disgusting!" Amy looked green around the gills. Her distant viewing dissolved and hands fumbled for a glass of water; she took a drink from the goblet Elspeth handed her like she was a fish on dry land. "That boy's not the only one about to be sick. Edwin's apologizing to me and asks if I want to quit?" She closed her eyes, rubbed her forehead, and her lips parted as if to say, I'm fine. A moment later, her lavender eyes focused again on Elspeth. "Edwin does not seem to regret that I am there. He could close me out anytime he wants, but I think he wants us to be as informed as he is. It is the oddest sensation, but I admit there is a joy to being this close to someone else."

"The closeness is a gift," Elspeth said. "Hang on to it."

Amy sat back and rubbed her forehead again, this time her gaze lost its focus, which told Elspeth she was still in rapport. Still Amy managed to murmur, "My goodness, it's no wonder Airich gets headaches so often, if he's not used to doing this much."

"He gets headaches? He never mentioned it, but then, I doubt he would." She nodded resolutely. "I will make up a potion that will dull the pain, but not his mind. He would not forgive me if I left him helpless, even if it was for his own good."

Amy interrupted, "The last attester is coming in now. Oh, he looks like trouble, older than the others, they're not going to be able to scare him so easily."

[Marc_du_Temple]

[Thanks especially to Nezz for contributing Airich's intervention]

Edwin could tell that Amy felt it when he rubbed his eyes, just as he felt it when she cried. He could not afford any partiality of the mind just now, for his fellows in the fraternity were bringing in the third suspect, who looked most displeased. He was gaunt like the Reaper, something only apparent by looking closely at his concealing and heavy tunic. He was otherwise plain and unadorned in his dress, with a youthful face, varnish-brown hair cropped like he wished to be a monk but lacked the resolution for the tonsure, and eyes like a hungry fox. All three of the investigators subtly made ready for any outcome.

There was an open chair in the middle of the torch-lit storage room, but the man remained standing. With outrage, he demanded, "Do you know who I am?"

Bede Archer took the lead, like the actor in a dramatic play, "I have no notion of who you are. Tell me."

"I am Eddard de Nore, a blood relative of the Oliver de Nore, Primate of Gwynedd in my grandfather's time, and a credit to the family by my own work."

((Bede Perceives 2d6 2 + 4 inconclusive))Your work stinks but Bede could not determine what it smelled of at this distance. Edwin seemed wary even to Bede's eyes, and Airich pulled them in to hear him whisper, "Watch yourselves, lads. I don't know this one like Edwin might, but I know of Primate Oliver and his bloody legacy well enough. The entirety of Nyford's distaste for the Deryni was concentrated into the purest hate in that man."

Bede nodded and turned to say, "I'll take the lead on this one." He faced the man and tried to talk like Airich did. "We are the officially sanctioned investigators into the recent crimes against Grecothans of Deryni blood. Nothing more or less. Why would they bring us you?"

"I make no secret of my opinions," the man snorted haughtily, kicking the chair's leg disdainfully. Perhaps the chair was Deryni. "What happened this morning is only what I have been saying the church itself should be doing."

The trio shared indeterminate glances. Airich nodded. "It is a tradition in his family."

"Yes, indeed," Eddard approved of the knight's knowledge. "Whenever the people lose heart and falter, we are there to snatch the torch from their hands and seal the good work." All could see the fire in his eyes.

Edwin pounced. "Where would that place you this morning?"

Eddard's eyes hardened as he glared at Edwin. "I won't be taking any questions from a ..." Edwin could hear the word, spoken like a foul epithet before it was uttered. It was not to be uttered. "... saboteur. I saw your theatrics in the market square. I could forgive a human who lacked the sense the de Nores do, but I'll be damned if they get in the way, or shame the university like you did."

"If you say so," Edwin said flatly.

"Forget him," Bede tutted like a teacher. "You must admit, for those not steeped in the glory of stakes, it's a startling thing. Good, I have your attention. Now never mind that. Where were you this morning?"

"I was going for a stroll for my health, as I always do beneath the moonlight. I find it peaceful."

"And this morning was no different?'

"No, it was better. I got to watch Lucas Whittington die. Is that a crime in itself?"

Thinking quickly, Airich cleared his throat before Bede could say something regrettable. "He was identified by those who recognized him as 'Leopold the Great'. What makes you say otherwise?"

"Like I said: I saw him burn. His crimes were many, but there were two that damned him, in my view. Being a Deryni is bad enough, but I knew him from Nyford. Everything he did was outside of convention. Any profane communing he may have done as a Deryni was just another manifestation of his self-anathematizing ways. And you know what happens to those outside the light of the church."

"They're condemned to die by any means necessary. Is that what you mean, Ed?"

Eddard had a half-smile on his face now. "What else? And take care to call me by my real name."

"I'll tell you what else. I've robbed a priest and tramped around the Eleven Kingdoms with an anathematized man or two. I've seen Deryni good and bad that would make your friend Lucas look like a human. Most of them are still alive. Can you kill them? Are you in any position to kill me?" Bede was almost confident that failure to mention his feelings of regret or seeking of redemption did not count as false witness.

Feeling his capability challenged, Eddard glowered. "This is not where I would prefer to see you die."

"Och, of course! I'm sure you have other plans for men like me! Almost as severe as the ones you must have made for Lucas."

"You cannot prove that!" he sneered. He did not seem offended by the accusation, but he certainly hated the idea of legal censure of any kind.

"And you cannot prove that you are not surrounded by Deryni every day of your life! Men with a heritage more powerful than your own. How does that make you feel? So long after Loris' handiwork, I'm sure they've had enough time to recuperate their losses. You and your friends may have your damnable work cut out for yourselves."

Bede had struck a nerve. Like the uttering of a secret a man intended to take to the grave, the assertion that not only was Nore not special, but that he was surrounded by what he so despised put him on the defensive. "Be silent, you pretentious scum! The Deryni are everywhere, I know! But I won't let them enslave me."

Airich sauntered to stand before Eddard, whose glare jumped from the commoner to the nobleman with equal disdain.

"You're related to His Excellency Oliver de Nore, the former Archbishop of all Gwynedd of a generation past?"

"I am," de Nore stood taller. "He was my grand-uncle."

"You seem proud of your heritage."

"I am. Like I said, my family has been performing great work in this kingdom that needs to be continued."

"Oh?" Airich acted surprised. "You mean like murdering little boys?"

de Nore's face wrinkled in disgust. "There was no murder, Jorian de Courcy was a valid execution. My grand-uncle had every authority to oversee the justice meted out to him."

Airich waved his hand as if to push these facts away. "That's true. Jorian was a man who willingly risked his life and knew of the possible consequences when he joined the priesthood. No, I'm not talking about your grand-uncle Oliver; I'm talking about your other grand-uncle."

Eddard sputtered. "What do you think you know about any of that?"

Airich weighed his options, wondering how far he could go before the wannabe holy man either walked away or martyred himself in front of them. He was here of his own free will, but also at their pleasure. "My dear Eddard, you are not the only man who had a grand-uncle in Rhemuth that day. My Uncle Trevor was there when they found the body. So as it turns out, I know quite a lot about it. About all of your family's tendencies."

"The lies you allude to first came from the lips of a Deryni Witch. Her foul mouth spouted defamation against our family name. Even the king had to submit to penance in the end," Eddard yelled in heated defense. "Every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess the evil of the Deryni! It's not too late to at least show contrition, so be sure to tell them that while you're feeling glib."

Bede disliked the misuse of scripture. "It's already too late for you unless you give us something useful, Ed."

Eddard gasped with white eyes in his sockets. "'Us'? I should have known!  Fraternal brothers: I call you to witness the fate of these Deryni!" From a sheathe hidden up his sleeve, Eddard de Nore revealed a cruel, glimmering dagger. His hand worked quickly to send it toward Bede's ribs in a thrust like a spearman's. ((Bede's Vigilance feat. The Fray: How to stop a knife 3d6 1 + 6 + 5)) Before Bede knew what he was doing, he flitted inches to the side and put his attacker's arm in a two-handed vise, squeezing like he wished to feel Nore's bones beneath his fingers. With the rabid energy of a truly fearful man, Nore persisted vainly with his weaponless other hand and feet, until Airich put him on the ground in a well-practiced maneuver and Edwin bid him rest by way of a brawler's fist to the face.

Flexing the tension out of his fingers, Bede glanced around at the members of the fraternity. "Did you all witness him trying to kill me? We were just talking, after all."