Black Hart

To Kill A King

Chapter 15 - Encounter at the Ferry

Bermen's skull pounded next morn when Lareng awoke him with a strange, hot drink.
"Kaffay, the Amedians call it!" he declared. "Sailors in Gradsul swear by it to return the senses after a hefty bout like ours."
He smiled, handing the cup to Bermen, who sipped it cautiously. He grimaced at the bitter taste, but drank it nonetheless.
"I think you may want to find Eloi, or should I call him Baron Brandt," he said mockingly. "I'd like to know the result of your enquiries as soon as possible, Bermen, but do not forsake your duties for that. We must find this Ariall, I fear she is the key to it all."
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As Eloi dragged his head from the pillow, he saw a pile on the chair near to the bed. As he regained his focus, he realised it was his clothes, neatly folded and possibly pressed too. On the bedside cabinet was a couple of gold Merkke, a few dozen silver Rittern, and close to a hundred Fennig, plus a cheap gold ring with a small stone set in it.
Eloi had absolutely no recollection of undressing. As he put on his clothes and pocketed the money, Eloi's memories were of lots of card games won and lots of ale pitchers drunk.
He also had no recollection of Bermen returning to the inn, and his bed did not look as though it had been slept in.
Slowly moving downstairs, the bright autumn daylight hurting his eyes, Eloi saw Frederikson seated at a table, with a large breakfast spread of cold meats, cheeses and breads in front of him - a standard Keoish breakfast.
His disgust was soon levelled, however, by the sight of a large tankard of ale awaiting his arrival.
As he sat down to the hair of the dog, Frederikson spoke to him.
"I am somewhat concerned, Baron. Master Bermen has neither returned nor sent word of his whereabouts. "
Eloi sighed as he sat down. This did not make him a happy bunny,
"I only hope that Bermen is enjoying Kro's hospitality and that there is nothing more sinister afoot. Nonetheless I should perhaps head over to Kro's and check it out. Friederikson, you should come too."
Eloi collected his weapon and proceeded to make his way out of the in, pausing at the barkeep on his way out.
"If Mister Wakes returns please inform him that I have had to attend urgent business elsewhere and I will return shortly."
He then left the inn with Friederikson for company, and headed towards Kro's house.

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Next morning Aranon was awakened very early by a knock at the door.
A tall, thin man with silver-grey hair entered when bid to do so, and from his dress and appearance Aranon could tell this is was Werrel. Aranon told him of his plans as he walked over to break fast with his brethren.
"Should be no problem," Werrel said. "About 3 months work I'd say, more if you want the temple done. If you arrange for money to be left for the materials and labour, and my wages of course, I'll set to it immediately. Let me know of any special ideas, designs or plans you had for the temple and I'll see if there's a suitable site nearby."
Aranon agreed to send a letter to his banker that afternoon, and they shook on the deal.

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As Bermen bade him farewell, Lareng seemed to remember something.
"Dolt that I am!" he said. "I nearly forgot - Lord Aranon is on his way, should be in the city some time over the next day or so. Come by for him some time."
With that Bermen left, heading out of the Keisling to the Tarskling area, to the Dark Hole inn. As he entered he saw several short forms lurking in the darkness, obviously hiding from the early morning sun.
"Bermen?" a voice called from the darkness.
Bermen peered into the corner and could barely make out Takke's face.
"Bermen!" he shouted. "Reusen sie euermennschen, Bermen is angeturrnet fuur biere zum trenken!"
At that cry, the slumbering forms seemed to spring to life - for Bermen's benefit a few candles were lit and he soon found himself with a large (even by human standards) tankard overflowing with potent Dwer beer.
Gratte was also there, as was an older battle-scarred Dwer named Tharak, whom Bermen had seen with Euch'tir's men at Aranon's carriage that fateful day. He heard tales of how Teuch'tir's men were in the west, helping the Sterish to reclaim the lands around Istivin from their base of Flen.
Unlike the soldiers to the north, it seemed those fighting the Drow alliance in the west were having little marked success, as they lost almost as much ground each day as they gained. Euch'tir was still in town, but the Dwer were preparing to move out west to help within the next few days.
It was only two or three unusually large and strong beers later that Bermen found himself staggering back through the late morning sun, over bridges and ferries to the Painted Man. He saw the boats and ships docking and unloading, or loading and leaving the teeming docks. Many canal boats plied the deep canals leading up to the Weyrstaff.

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"Bugger!" Eloi thought, staring at Kro's closed-up house.
"I don't particularly want to worry for the moment about Bermen," he said to Friederikson. "Why don't you take a wander around the city to see if you can find him and then return to the inn. I will go back to the inn now as I do not want to miss the opportunity of meeting Wakes."
With that Eloi gladly bid Friederikson farewell and made his way back towards the inn, thinking more of a few ales than Bermen and Wakes' return.
As he got off the second ferry, feeling very unwell at every small movement of the boat, a hooded man who had been seated behind him moved intimately close.
"Eleven bells tonight by the boat pier in the King's Park, just you and Bermen," Wakes whispered, immediately moving away from Eloi.
Eloi continued on as though nothing had happened.

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And when Bermen arrived, Eloi and Frederikson were nowhere to be found. He slumped down at a table, trying to sleep off the effects of the previous night and that morning.
A short while later Eloi entered the inn - Bermen could smell the Baron before he noticed him. As Eloi approached, he lifted his head and gave Eloi a brief summary of his night's actions.
"Oh yeah," Bermen muttered, apparently remembering something important. "Apparently Aranon's arriving back today."
His supreme effort complete, Bermen's head fell back to the table with a hollow clunk.
Bermen surveyed his drunken companion with dismay. He asked the barman the time of day.
"Just recently heard the Cathedral bells ring out midday," he replied.
Eloi slapped Bermen on the face.
"You have to get sober big man, we have a very important date this evening."
He dropped Bermen back down on the table and left him in his stupor, sitting down to wait for Friederikson to return. The squire was at least two hours in arrival, and from the dust that covered him from head to toe he must have dutifully searched the entire city.
"Friederikson, I wish you to look after Bermen while I am gone. Make sure that another drop of alcohol does not pass his lips. I will be back in a few hours."

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What had once been the banqueting hall of the Hostel was now filled to overflowing with refugees. The food was basic and hardly sufficient, but it would have to do for now. As Aranon sat down a familiar voice greeted him from behind.
"Well it seems one can't even enjoy the meagre fare here without bumping into rogues and rascals," the old man said, hobbling onto the bench beside Aranon.
"Kyrus!"
Aranon said, pleased to see his old acquaintance. Kyrus Larpun had been Guildmaster of the Guild of Law, and their representative to the Council of Elders back when Aranon was fighting a hidden war against the Warlord. Quickly their talk turned to the new Council.
"Well, yes," Kyrus said. "I am still on it, but it is very different from the one you knew, and we both hated. All the faces have changed, not least since half of them were hanged or fled when you found them out as worshippers of Iuz. It is not so oppressive, although you may have heard the extreme measures we took, cutting the armies and territories and all that. Personally I voted against it all, but we must make the most of it now."
Kyrus looked a bit singed, and told Aranon how his house had burned down in the battle. He had enough money to build a new one, but pitied those who did not. They talked more, and soon Tumbry arrived, looking very tired and claiming not to have slept well.
About half an hour later a messenger arrived from Kurawei Keep, from Berran. He told Aranon that he could arrange for him and Tumbry to be sent to Niole Dra that afternoon, if they would meet him at the Keep then. On his way, Aranon dropped in on Bularric, and told him his ideas for a new temple at Oakhart.
Bularric listened intently to Aranon and agreed to his wishes.
Aranon handed over the pouch of gems to Bularric, reluctantly, as apart from some travelling money, and that he had set aside for the repairs to the keep, it was all he had left.
He would desperately need to earn more before starting the temple.
Bidding Bularric a good day, Aranon returned to Tumbry, and the duo wandered around to Kurawei Keep, where they were allowed in to meet Berran.
"It is a good thing that you came today," Berran said. "I am leaving for Greyhawk tonight. News has just reached us that an attempt was made on the King's life two nights ago, and but for your friends he would be dead."
He smiled, saying, "At least my choice was good. They are now seeking out the traitor who attempted on his life."
Berran then went on to describe the events of that night
He then led Aranon and Tumbry into the circular conjuring hall, at the top of one of the two sea-facing towers. The room was lit well by torches, and there was a diminutive Olven woman there - pretty in a faerie sort of way, with long flaxen hair and sea-blue eyes. She speaks with a singing voice, and Aranon recognises her as one of the mages from here, Aastal Khar-Bachyil.
"Greetings Lord Aranon. A moments preparation, then I will have you safely on your way to Keoland," she said.
Aranon watched her graceful preparations. He recalled being there at a dinner with her, one stormy night years ago, when Fimuth was Thieves' Guildmaster here.
Aranon and Tumbry joined hands. Aastal began her chanting, there was a shimmering, and then the pair found themselves somewhere different.

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Walking through the midday throng, Eloi took some time to reach the docks, although he soon saw the ship Bermen spoke of. To be truthful, there were several ships as large, some even slightly larger, but none so fine.
As he neared, he saw it was flying a familiar flag - the County of Axewood.
The sailors were in uniform and there were marines on board too, some manning the ballista and catapults on board. They appeared to be loading merchandise on board.
The ship's name was the Moonlight Rose, and it had three masts. There indeed, at the rear, was the gold dome Bermen spoke of. About twenty feet high, with a semi-circular balcony outside it to the rear, it was about thirty feet in diameter, but what purpose or function the thing served Eloi had no clue.
Knowing of the eccentric and extravagant Count Fimuth, he thought that perhaps it served no purpose other than to draw rogues away from comfortable inns with lots of soothing alcohol to ease the day.
Eloi approached the ship and looked for a willing seaman who might be agreeable to a conversation.
"So, my friend who might be the owner of this fine ship? Where might the owner be off to then and why in such seeming haste?"
The sailor stopped for a moment, wiping his brow, obviously glad to be distracted from his backbreaking task. He pointed to the Count of Axewood's flag, the emblem of the legendary Tree of Evermore.
"My lord, Count Fimuth of Axewood, sire. This is his flagship, the Moonlight Rose and we sail for Fim-Sular the morn after next. We are in no hurry, it is our usual trading route, bringing goods from the colony to Gradsul and here, then returning with supplies and goods for trade."
The man suddenly became suspicious, perhaps feeling he had said too much.
"Captain Van Der Beyk does not like snoopers much, sire. Might I ask to whom I speak?"
"I am Baron Eloi Brandt a close and personal friend of Count Fimuth. Is he going to be present for the sail? I would like to pass on my personal regards to him whilst I am in the city. Perhaps you could arrange for me to meet the Captain?"
"Well, I dunno about that sir!"
"Have him contact me through my man Frederikson at the Painted Man inn, my good fellow," Eloi said, pressing a silver coin into his hand.
Conscious of the passing time, as the sun slowly fell to the horizon at the end of this fine day, Eloi headed back toward the Painted Man to see if Bermen had returned to the land of the sober as yet.

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They seemed to Aranon to be in a darkened basement room somewhere.
A half-elf sat in the corner of the room. He was tall, slightly built, scruffily dressed, with blond hair and a scruffy beard.
"At last!" the half-elf said, offering his hand to Aranon.
"Lord Aranon, a pleasure to have you here. They shook hands, and then he greeted Tumbry. His beady dark eyes darted from one person to the other.
"Let me introduce myself," he said. "I am Lareng, investigator of the hidden, revealer of secrets, and colleague of Berran. I know he has filled you in on the events of the past weeks."
He repeated Berran's news of the past few days as he continued to lead the pair upstairs. He took Aranon and Tumbry out into a hallway and then into an immaculate lounge, with a view onto the dusty streets of the Keoish capital's Tarskling area. As they sat on his comfortable couch, a young serving girl brought cooled drinks.
"I am here to provide anything you need - equipment, assistance, specialist information - and money too, to a certain extent. Bermen and Eloi are in the city at the moment, although I have not heard from them today. What I will need from you is to get into the King's circle, using your influence with the spymaster and the Count. There is a traitor in Axewood, at least one, and we need to find him out."
As they awaited some word from the others, Aranon, Tumbry and Lareng settled down to a few drinks and some chat. Aranon was quiet, thinking mainly of Elouera and Emarill - how women could change a carefree happy man's life so emphatically. Tumbry chatted with Lareng, trying to fill in the details of everything he had missed. Suddenly, Aranon's attention jumped as Lareng said something strange.
"I wonder how Baron Brandt will handle his new life as a noble?" he said in an amused tone.
"Baron?" Aranon questioned, a quizzical look on his face. "Run that one by me again!"
Lareng laughed.
"Yes, Lord Aranon, a Baron. In return for his services in rescue of the King, and he is now your friend Mordekei's father's neighbour, in the Barony of Amarr near the Rushmoor."
"In fact, his lands include the all but abandoned Rushmoor Castle, cursed home of the Palizier family. I'm sure you've heard of them, but now their curse has struck again and Amarr has seen the end of another noble line to tragedy, as Baron Arganass, who was found dead, apparently killing himself for his part in the attack, was the last of his line."
Aranon still looked as puzzled, as he had never heard of the Paliziers, or this Baron Arganass.
"I have only just heard from Eloi and Bermen last night, but it seems that he hanged himself in grief at his part in the attempted regicide. However even Wissig Arturrsen, the Mareschal in charge of the investigation, believes the Baron was set up. Nonetheless, his magist was arrested and now waits in Dekkanisch for trial and execution, unless you can flush out the real traitor."
"He was a brave man, Arganass." Tumbry declared. "They sing ballads of his courage at Galden Field already, as far away as Fax."
"It sounds like someone needed an easy scapegoat!" Aranon declared.
Lareng nodded and continued.
"I did hear, however, that Wissig had reports of Redemptionists around Niole Dra and Axewood, so possibly they may be connected."
Aranon nodded as he thought it over.
He had heard of Redemption, a minor anarchist group from the troublesome south of Keoland, only notable for two things - one was their success in sinking the navy's flagship in Gradsul several years ago. The other was the success of most of their upper leadership in dying during an ambush a short time later. "Do you consider the Redemptionists to be a danger to the King himself? And what of Thoggin's own agents, who does he have close to the King?"
"Perchance not, if they are no threat," Tumbry said. Lareng tilted his head and shrugged. "However I would not say they were no threat. Their attack on the Umberdtine might have succeeded given a bit of luck."
Lareng saw the puzzled look on both men's faces.
"The Umberdtine?" Aranon said.
"The Admiralty building, home of the Royal Fleet headquarters in Gradsul. Named after King Umberdtos, the King's father."
Aranon shrugged, never having heard of the building or the attempt.
"No, they are popular in the south," Lareng continued. "But they are not very strong or capable and lack direction."
"As to Thoggin's agents, frankly your guess is as good as mine," he said, grinning. Better even since you knew him. So far your friends have reported that our suspects are all mages, Olvenfolk, Scarlet Brotherhood agents, wererats and Drow within a hundred miles of Axewood."
A shiver went down Aranon's spine as he mentioned the Brotherhood, recalling his past encounters with them and their relentless assassins. He was not too happy to hear of the Drow involvement either.
"You've had contact with Redemptionists before? I know that they had their successes, mostly minor and mainly contained, but were patriotically absent during the war. I think if the Mareschal's information about Shebbedd O'Harle is true, they have found themselves a new tooth, and a sharp one at that. They have had no direction, no method until now. If he applies his military mind, Shebbedd O'Harle could mean trouble for the King."
"Shebbed O'Harle is a consideration," Lareng said as he stood up and rang the bell for the servant. "But your friends' main suspects would seem to be someone who was close to the King. This is what we feared all along, but would seem to exclude Shebbedd from the running."
"And apart from the Baron Arganass's hatred of the King after the battle, I can think of no sound reason for him to kill his King. I have not had the details from your friends as yet, but I fear you could be right about the scapegoat."
The servant returned and Lareng gestured for her to pour drinks. The servant poured out another glass of wine for them all.
"I propose a toast," Tumbry declared.
"To days gone by, when things were far, far simpler, and trouble usually had an orc's head on it!"
They drank to his toast, and after a moment's melancholy, Aranon stood up.
"I wonder how the others fare. It would seem they have forgotten us." he told Lareng.
Lareng glanced outside at the failing daylight.
"If they've forgotten you, perhaps you had better go find them. Bermen said they were staying at the Painted Man inn, in the dock area. Not the best of areas, but you'll live."
Lareng grinned.
"I'm sure you've stayed in worse in your day."
Lareng shouted the maid, and gave her instructions in what Aranon presumed was Keoish. A short while later as they finished their drinks a boy appeared, Lareng giving him a handful of copper Fennigs.
"The boy will take you to the Inn. The coins are for the ferries, mind!" Lareng said to the boy.

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When Bermen awakened but an hour later, he felt in wonderful form, as though he had slept for ten hours. He was somewhat dismayed to find from Friederikson that Eloi had left for the docks without him. Grabbing his belongings, he headed for the door, Friederikson accompanying him.
As they walked briskly towards the Weyrstaff, Bermen spoke with Friederikson, and found him to be an agreeable sort.
"Have you been to Niole Dra before, Friederikson? Know anywhere the girl could be hiding?"
"A few times with my master, Master Bermen," Frederikson replied. "I guess I know it quite well, but there's plenty places a lass could hide if she put her mind to it. And from the seem of things, she has the blessing of them thieves at the dock, so I'd reckon it would make her pretty hard to find."
As they walked towards the first ferry, Bermen saw a face he recognised through the crowd. The King's Chamberlain, Lominstrall!
He was dressed as a gentleman, not a noble, with a large hat and light cloak to disguise him, and seemed to be walking unescorted along the street in front of him.
Suddenly, Bermen became aware of a man standing in a doorway ahead of Lominstrall who, despite pretending otherwise, was taking a decided interest in the half-Olven nobleman. Bermen caught the man, who despite the grimy cloak he wore seemed to be wearing a soldier's uniform of some type, gesturing to someone who seemed to be behind Bermen.
"I'm afraid I have little idea of where to start looking," Frederikson said, distracting Bermen momentarily.
When he glanced back up there was another man who also seemed to be soldierly, this one walking along behind Lominstrall to his left.
The sun was slowly dropping to the horizon, and in the distance a church's bells rang out nine o'clock.
Bermen moved onto the ferry about ten feet from Lominstrall, whom he imagined would not recognise him anyway. Quickly scanning he saw one soldier at the far end of the boat, and as the soldier moved he could see a crossbow concealed within his cloak.
Behind him now were the two other soldiers, both concealing something beneath their cloaks. He also saw a further man who just made it onto the ferry, who did not appear to have anything hidden beneath his cloak.
These men were definitely all together, and Lominstrall was oblivious to their existence. The four men settled down, apparently content to wait for now. Their confident manner betrayed their obvious battle experience.

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As he waited at the last ferry on the way back to the inn, Eloi became concerned at one of the men standing at the side of him, waiting to join the ferry over.
The man was of average height, slim build, wearing a long, worn cape of the sort favoured by cavalry soldiers. He seemed tired and dusty from a long ride, and what aggravated Eloi was that he was concealing something beneath his cloak, while peering anxiously across the water.
Then he caught him glancing at another man, similarly dressed, on the other side of him. This man also had something hidden, and as he moved, Eloi saw it appeared to be a crossbow!
The two were very similarly dressed, and looked like nothing so much as soldiers.
The closest man caught Eloi's eye for a second, immediately glancing away. Had he been watching Eloi?
Eloi's mind was racing, at least it was as close to racing as Eloi's mind ever got.
What was going on? A robbery? A hit?
In the far distance a church bell was ringing out nine o'clock

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Lareng bid Aranon and Tumbry farewell, and the boy lead them out of the Tarskling area, into the even seedier Weyrkling area. This 'water place' held Niole Dra's docks, where the large merchant ships that plied the Sheldomar docked, this being as far north as they could go.
In fact, as they passed the docks Aranon could pick out one of Fimuth's ships - a distinctive three-mast ship with a golden dome at the rear -subtle as ever! This ship was Fimuth's own flagship, used to trade goods from the Amedio for supplies to sell to his people in Fim-Sular.
The docks connected to the main city, the Keisling, but the water gate or Weyrstaff, via the many canals of the Weyrkling. And of course one of the larger canals was the Mittelkreuze canal, the massive feat of Dwer engineering that ran across Keoland from Niole Dra to Cryllor on the Javan.
They crossed many bridges and a ferry, past the pubs that were overflowing with drunken sailors, tarts, adventurers and other lowlife scum.
"One more ferry, sir, then we's on the island where the Painted Man is," the boy said.
Sure enough they soon approached another ferry as the sun headed down to the horizon, far away a church bell ringing out nine o'clock.
As they got closer, Aranon saw none other than Eloi standing near to the back of the ferry queue. He was about to shout the Baron when he noticed him glance in a concerned manner from side to side, scanning the crowd in front. Then he saw him watching a nearby man, dressed in a long cavalry soldier's cloak, dusty and worn.
The man was concealing something under his cloak.

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Looking to the far shore, but a couple of minutes away, Bermen picked out two other men who were with this group, and as he scanned he saw Eloi also standing there, waiting to come back across!
A man muttered something to Bermen in Keoish, holding out his hand.
Bermen stared at him, and the man said with a frown, in common now, "Your Fennig please, sir."
Bermen gave the man two copper coins, one for each of them.
"Imps of Kelanen!" thought Bermen. "What in Hell is Lominstrall doing here? Either he's up to no good or these men are protecting him. Nah, those bastards aren't up to anything legit. Well, this makes things interesting."
Bermen scratched at his stomach, looking around the rest of the occupants of the ferry, trying to judge the leeway for any melee that might ensue.
"Now if these guys are going to lift Lominstrall for ransom or simply do away with him then it looks like it'll be as soon as he steps off the ferry with those other men waiting on the far shore. If I just stand back and see what's going on then he could be dead before we know it. I don't like going into this situation blind but I'm going to have to intervene here. "
Bermen turned to Frederikson, and clapping his arm around his shoulder steered him over to the rail of the ferry, he whispered into his ear as quietly as possible.
"There's a half-Olven gentleman over there and we're going to protect him. There's four nasty types who look like they may try to kill him and I think they're fairly handy - and there are two others waiting on the far side. Just follow my lead and look out for Eloi on the far side too."
Bermen gave Frederikson a tight grin and nudged him in the ribs.
"Come on..."
Moving across the ferry, Bermen led Frederikson over close to Lominstrall at a sauntering pace. Judging when they were just about to arrive at the far shore Bermen turned to the chamberlain.
"Excuse me, goodsir. My name is Zladek and I wonder if you could do me the honour of recommending a respectable lodging for myself and my squire..."
Bermen's brain was now racing, desperately trying to keep the drivel coming while beginning to position himself between Lominstrall and the crossbow man.
The calculations were racing around in Bermen's head.
"If they jump us now then I'll just have to grab Lominstrall and see if I can hold them off - don't want him panicking and running into their arms. I hope Friederikson's up to these bastards. That crossbow man's got to get missiled first though. I definitely don't want a bolt up the arse. If we make it onto the shore without being jumped then we're going to have to take the initiative ourselves and bundle Lominstrall away. No sense in waiting for answers. I'll just shout to Eloi to back us up and we can make for the hills"

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Aranon held up his hand and motioned to the other two to stop.
"Something is up" he said, quietly.
Suddenly his entire demeanour changed. He adjusted his clothing to take on a crumbled, slightly askew appearance, and started leaning to one side. Then, in a perfect impression of a complete drunk, started to weave his way through the passing bodies towards the cavalryman.
"Feck...gerls...drink...mutter mutter mutter"
Bumping into several bystanders, all of the less-than-likely-to-kill-you-for-it sort, and nearly falling down only once, Aranon attempted to circle to the fellow apparently under Eloi's surveillance.
Eloi was so intent on the man with the crossbow that he did not see the drunken Aranon at first.
Aranon muttered to himself, "I hope this is part of the game and is purely the security for our meeting with Ariall!"
Then he decided that perhaps the most appropriate course of action would be to position himself within striking distance of the assailant on his side of the ferry landing. He nonchalantly wandered, seemingly aimlessly, through the crowd waiting on the ferry, whistling tunelessly to himself until he was positioned directly adjacent to the armed man.

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One look told Bermen that the Chamberlain recognised him.
"Ah...em.... Major, I know you Major Zlad..."
Lominstrall had been glancing around nervously, and seemed to see something behind them, to his right. Looking to the back of the boat, Bermen saw another soldier-type gesturing to someone behind him - he did not recognise the battle signals, but felt sure it was a sign to begin something. Behind him there was a woman's scream, and he turned, finding the man with the crossbow was raising it, pointing it at the Chamberlain.
The words spun from Bermen's mouth like new silk, and before the man had loosed his bolt the silvery missiles had left Bermen's fingers, plunging into him and sending him flying from the boat into the water with a splash. In front, a man to Bermen's immediate left fell to the ground, dead, with a quarrel in his chest. Frederikson had drawn his sword and was attacking the soldier who had fired that bolt, who was drawing his own sword.
With a splash, the Chamberlain was gone, into the murky waters. As Bermen thought of pursuing him a quarrel rushed past his face from the other soldier. They both drew their swords and clashed, Bermen immediately cutting the man with a quick strike to his chest.
He briefly saw the soldier at the rear of the short boat, and watched in slow motion as he raised a hand crossbow and levelled it towards him. It flew true, striking Bermen, who stood for a moment, then his vision blurred, and he felt as though he were falling, falling, falling....
Bermen was cold, very cold, and there was darkness all around him. He felt as though he were floating softly down, but as he did it grew colder...

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Aranon made his way quickly to the queue, where the ferry was fast approaching. Heading straight for the man, he saw he soldier was concentrating on the ferry itself, but kept his hands, and whatever else he concealed there, hidden for now.
"Eckshkushe mee, shorry, paaaardon mee shurr"
Suddenly, from the ferry, there was shouting, a ripping noise like an unleashed magic, the twang of crossbows and the screaming started, immediately followed by several splashes.
But Aranon had no time to see what happened - the soldier he watched had pulled the hidden crossbow from his cloak and was aiming it towards the ferry. Quickly swinging his quarterstaff, he cracked the man across the brow, and his bolt flew off across the water harmlessly. A sharp pain in his back told him he had been struck from and he was glad he had worn and not carried his armour.
He had no time to think, as the soldier was drawing his sword.
The sword never left the scabbard! A short jab to the man's face split it wide open, and he fell lifeless to the ground.
Turning, Aranon saw another soldier ten feet away, in similar dress, who had dropped a crossbow and he realised it was a crossbow bolt that had struck him, from this man. Thankfully his armour had mostly deflected the bolt.
As the man drew his sword he grimaced, and blood flew from his mouth, then he too fell dead to the ground. Eloi stood behind him, his dagger dripping with blood, a wide grin that somehow worried the priest, spreading across his face.
Suddenly, the skies above opened, hard rain driving down on the bedlam at the ferry. People were running from the ferry, some jumping into the water to escape the fighting on board, all of them screaming and shouting and the noise was deafening.
Tumbry, his sword drawn, had run down to join them, and they saw on the ferry that Bermen and Frederikson were fighting two men there. Another, at the rear of the short boat, raised a hand crossbow shot Bermen. The ranger stood for a moment, then dropped sideways, plunging from the boat into the water. Eloi, less encumbered than Aranon, jumped quickly into the water after their friend.
Aranon and Tumbry waded into the shallow edge, then jumped up onto the boat. The soldier at the far edge had leapt from the boat, as had the one who was fighting Bermen. Frederikson stood there, a vicious cut above his left eye, over the body of the one he had fought.
On the boat, there lay another dead man, dressed like the ones Aranon, Eloi and Frederikson had killed. Yet another, this one dressed like a peasant and seemingly unarmed, lay dead with a crossbow bolt in him, near to where Bermen had fought. Eloi was dragging Bermen out of the shallow water.
Tumbry grabbed Aranon's arm, shouting above the noise nearby.
"The Guard will be here soon, we have to go - best get back to Lareng's unless you know somewhere better!"
Aranon nodded vehemently as he waved Frederikson, who was picking up Bermen's bastard sword, back to the near shore. Keeping to the back streets, they carried Bermen, who was deeply unconscious, away quickly.
A couple of streets away Aranon shouted them to put him down. He looked over him quickly, but could see no wounds save the small hand crossbow bolt wound.
"Must be poison!" he told them.
From his backpack he pulled a leather scroll case, and from it a fine piece of vellum parchment. As he read the strange words the rain poured down on them, but seemed not to affect the writing, although when he finished the words faded from the sheet.
Bermen's eyes blinked and he looked startled. As they heard the sound of horses clattering down the cobbled street, they pulled Bermen to his feet.

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Halykk had wakened the party early next morning, and a short time later, after a good breakfast, they were back in the rain, plodding toward the capital. Fortunately now they had borrowed heavier cloaks from Halykk, and the rain was more a nuisance than a real discomfort.
Still, it was a long, pervasive nuisance, and as darkness fell that night they were glad to see the lights of Niole Dra through the driving rain, Akhan thinking fondly of a warm fire and a good large brandy.
As they stood outside the Merkstaff, entrance to the Keisling area, they noticed the City Guard, now thoroughly drenched, was augmented by a platoon of Royal Army soldiers, equally wet. It seemed the market traders who usually plied their wares in the Merkket there had long since gone, driven off by this foul weather.
"Where to?" Hamman asked, grimacing at the rain.
"Well," Mordekei said, "Since I do have a home here, it would seem stupid for us to go elsewhere. I suggest we get ourselves sorted out there, and look for Bermen, Eloi, Lominstrall, the girl and whoever else takes our fancy tomorrow after a good rest."
After the tiring ride nobody was in any mood to disagree, and even less so a half-hour later when they were ensconced within his comfortable townhouse drinking cups of warmed milk which Zakanieth, his apprentice, had made for them. Apart from, that was, Akhan's remonstration at the lack of alcohol in Mordekei's house.

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

Suddenly there was light and the whole world span.
Around him stood Aranon, Eloi, Frederikson and a strange Baklunish man with a beard. Bermen's eyes blinked and he looked startled. As they heard the sound of horses clattering down the cobbled street, the others pulled Bermen to his feet.
"Quickly, we must leave," the strange man shouted.
Pushing Bermen, whose world was still spinning, onward, they moved as fast as they could until they reached the next ferry, which took them to the heart of the docklands. The rain had sent off the crowds so they could not hide among them, but moved as quickly as they could without drawing attention to themselves.
Bermen suddenly realised that he was absolutely drenched, and had a foul dirt-like taste in his mouth. It had started raining heavily at some point, but not so heavy as to soak him so thoroughly as he was. As they reached the Tarskling area, with the daylight almost gone, they heard a temple bell ring out ten o'clock.
A few minutes later a surprised serving girl opened Lareng's door to them, and they promptly pushed past into the living room where Lareng sat, Aranon immediately checking Bermen over for further injuries. Bermen felt sick, but reckoned he was actually getting better by the minute.
Lareng looked at them for a moment without saying anything.

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"I take it something happened my friends," Lareng said after a while, staring at the out-of-breath, drenched adventurers leaving bloodstains on his settee.
He arose and went over to the nearby bureau, from whence he produced a decanter of brandy and several glasses.
Eloi was somewhat perplexed to see Aranon.
"So, you might want to explain what you happen to be doing here then, Aranon? Bermen and I have an urgent appointment in less than one hour, so we don't have time for long protracted explanations."
"No need for hostilities, Eloi," Aranon said. "Or is it your lordship? I just arrived from Fax, and Berran told me you were staying at the Painted Man. I was on my way to see you both when I noticed the thug with the crossbow across from you - thought he was going to send you to the afterlife, I did. Not that I'd expect you to be grateful or anything, Baron."
He smiled to show his mocking tone was merely humour, and handed a glass of brandy over to the Baron.
"Drink this," he continued. "It'll do you good."
"If you don't mind answering," Lareng asked of the soaking visitors, the steam now pouring off them as they huddled around the blazing fire, "What exactly happened? And where are you off to that's so important, Eloi?"
"Hmmm," Hamman murmured, putting down his brandy. "Any news on the serving girl?"
"I am off to meet up with an acquaintance, Wakes," Eloi replied. "He appears to be the head honcho of the local thieves guild and operates out of The Painted Man Inn. He knows of the location of Ariall, the girl we are trying to find, and has set up this meeting tonight when he will bring us to her."
Eloi looked out of the window searching for the town crier, keen to know the time.
"Do you know of Wakes, Lareng? And is he a man to be trusted?"
Lareng nodded.
"He is a skip in the Weyrkling Guild, and as trustworthy of any of our brethren are. Just watch your step, Eloi. By the way Aranon, what happened to the boy I sent with you to show you the way?"
Aranon and Tumbry both shrugged.
"Never saw him after the fight broke out at the ferry - maybe got scared and ran home?" Tumbry replied.
Lareng seemed unconcerned.
"Should manage to take care of himself. As to what happened at the ferry - do any of you have any idea what was going on?"
"I just got here," Aranon said. "Like I said, going to see Eloi and there's this guy hiding a crossbow under his cloak, looking at Eloi in a funny way. Reckoned he was up to no good so I did a drunk stagger over to him and then a fight broke out on the ferry."
"My guy tries to fire at the ferry so I finished him off, and his colleague shot me from behind. Thankfully Eloi took care of him, but when I look around, there's Bermen and Frederikson fighting these men on the boat. One shoots Bermen with a hand crossbow, poisoned probably, and he fell overboard. You seem to be getting adept at saving folk these days Baron!"
"Anyhow, we got out before the guard arrived, I cast a spell to neutralise the poison, and here we are. Haven't a clue what was going on or why. You folk have any clue?"
Eloi looked over towards Bermen with a concerned look in his eye.
"You are fit Bermen? You realise the importance of our appointment? If you are not fit then I will have to go alone."
"I've been worse Eloi thank you. But pray tell, you have a lead on the girl, Ariall? This is what your meeting is I presume?"
Bermen started hacking and coughing trying to spit out the foul taste in his mouth and seemingly exuding from all his clothes.
"You say you neutralised the poison Aranon? My thanks then, and to the rest of you too. I think I'd have been snoozing in the ooze this evening otherwise. I have something important to tell you all The reason I got on that ferry was that I saw the King's chamberlain, Lominstrall, strolling on to it in some sort of disguise."
"There were some soldiers, who were trying to look inconspicuous too, who were obviously stalking him. You can imagine I was slightly curious so I decided to follow them. When I saw the other soldier waiting on the far bank I decided to intervene and try to stave off any attempt to kidnap Lominstrall or kill him."
"I thought if I could strike up a conversation then I might spirit him away and see what the bloody hell he was up to. Unfortunately the soldiers attacked as soon as I had started speaking to Lominstrall. He recognised me at any rate although I don't know whether that was what triggered the fight. Frederikson and I did for a few of them before I got shot and took a bath, but the crucial thing is that Lominstrall fell or dove into the water. Who knows where he is now and what he's up to?"
"Lareng, you seem to have plenty of contacts - perhaps you could put word out that you were seeking anyone washed up or seen dragging themselves out of the water."
Bermen closed his eyes and finished his shot of brandy. He stood up and went to refill his glass.
Eloi walked away from the window and turned to Bermen.
"Bermen, you are quite right, we have a meeting to attend tonight in which I hope we will have the opportunity to re-acquaint myself with the fair Ariall. I hope that she will be able to provide the information that we require."
"Ah, that gets rid of the taste a treat," Bermen declared as he downed another brandy. "So, we've got a bit of a mystery here. Lominstrall is either dead or possibly up to no good, or even on a secret mission. But I doubt that. Why would the King's Chamberlain risk his neck on secret business?"
"Finding him is obviously important," he continued. "I'd suggest we keep this desperately essential appointment of Eloi's, your majesty."
Bermen bowed to Eloi and grinned suddenly.
"I don't know about you lot but I always find myself immensely cheerful just after I survive a brush with death. If Lareng can set a search in motion for Lominstrall then we can conclude our search for the serving girl one way or another and then see if we can clear up the mystery of the King's Chamberpot."
Bermen sauntered back to his seat and looked over to Aranon.
"You wouldn't believe some of the stuff that's being going on Aranon. I don't suppose you could see to healing these wounds for me, old man."
Aranon smiled at the younger Bermen's friendly use of that phrase, and quickly and easily healed Bermen's wounds.
Eloi grabbed his cloak, putting it on in a swirling motion, and headed to the door.
"Gentlemen, if you would give Bermen and myself your leave, we have important business to attend. Lareng, your comments regarding Wakes are noted, I must admit my own gut feelings were similar. Still, I feel I must trust the man for at this moment he appears to be our only hope of finding Ariall."
Eloi looked towards Bermen to make sure he was fit and making an attempt to gather himself together to go to the meeting
"One other thing. Do not be tempted to follow Bermen and myself. Wakes was very specific that only the two of us attend our meeting. I do not want to provoke an unwelcome response through some misguided heroism on another party's behalf. Wish us luck and hope that we return with some news that may solve the mystery."
Eloi turned towards the door and motioned to Bermen that it was time to leave. He headed out into the streets, towards King's Park and the boat pier, into the darkness and driving rain that had now descended from the north.

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