"All Role Playing Gamers dream of stepping into the shoes of their characters.  But when Simon Brewer finds himself really living the life of his favorite character, the saucy thief Foxglove, he discovers that Dungeons are no fun in real life, and Dragons are hazardous to your health!"

FOXGLOVE


or,
Reflections in a Gorgon's Eye
A Transgendered Fantasy

This story is dedicated every Gamer who had a really great game ruined by the unwanted intrusion of crass reality.

Edited by Steve Zink

 

Chapter 34 My Dinner With The Sphinx

Everyone looked at Zohar. “Hey, what are you looking at ME for?”

“Well, you DO call yourself ‘Zohar’,” Foxglove pointed out. “The Zohar-“ she explained to J’Mira and Avon, who where making ‘hunh?’ faces, “-is the main compilation of Kabbalic lore. So, Doc, between your name, the sephiroth design on your shirt, the bit about the meaning of ‘Baalshem’, and the info-dump about Rabbi Lowe and his Golem, it isn’t all that big an assumption that you know something about Kabbalism. So, any ideas of what Baalshem is doing here?”

Zohar gave it some thought. “Well, three possibilities come to mind, right off the bat: First, all these similarities are a matter of some kind of Universal Archetypes that have nothing to do with the cultural specifics that brought them about on both this world and ours. Second, the similarities are sheer coincidence. Which, is not as impossible as it sounds - look at the ‘canals’ on Mars, or those geological formations in New England that everyone thought were Norse rune markers for a while. Third, he resembles a classically trained Kabbalist because he IS a classically trained Kabbalist from our world, who came here somehow.”

“Came here,” J’Mira commented, “or was brought here. Sound familiar?”

“Oh, you think that maybe this ‘Kabbalist’ is a player, like us?” Foxgove said, all too innocently. “Gee, waddayou think, Kit?”

Foxglove turned to look for Kitsune. “Kit? Where-” then she saw Kitsune’s shinobi-zue lodged across the window, with some of her saffron robe tied at the middle, dangling out from the sill. “Oh, for the luvvakrist…”

Foxglove beat the others to the window and looked out the window. Way down the side of the tower, she just managed to spot a dark smudge hopping from the top of one window to another. Nnnnggg… “Way to be a team-player, Kit.”

*****

Much later, there was a tugging at the improvised rope. J’Mira and Foxglove looked out and spotted Kitsune clambering up the rope. Together they began hauling up the rope, and Kitsune along with it. As soon as Kit was safely inside, they reeled in the ‘rope’, which she promptly started returning to its role as monk’s robes.

“So, ninja-girl,” Foxglove snarled, fists on hips, “since you may very well have completely blown our entire mission here by violating Hospitality - which people in this cultural framework take very seriously - you had better have learned more than it’s real hard to hide wearing black, when the stone in this tower is white!”

Kitsune grinned, “Well, for one thing, I learned that the stone that this tower is made of, isn’t just white, it’s seamless.”

“Which must have made the climb all that much harder.”

“The Tower may be seamless, but those domes aren’t.”

“You got into one of the domes?”

“More to the point, I got into Baalshem’s workshop.”

“Dammit, Kit, that’s real nice,” Foxglove snarled, “but you were takin’ a great thumpin’ chance with our mission, going off like that! We’re expected for dinner!”

“Not to worry, Red - I spotted Mrs. Baalshem getting the food ready to be cooked. It’s gonna be a while.”

“Oh? Where’s she getting the food?”

“After dinner, Foxy, believe me, you’ll be glad of it.” Before the others could raise any more questions, Kitsune waved that topic aside. “But that’s not the really important thing - I saw Baalshem’s workshop. And he’s got it set up like a factory assembly line, even down to the conveyor belt.”

“That doesn’t sound very Kabbalic,” Zohar said worriedly. “The tradition is that each work is supposed to be unique, with each part painstakingly researched and then crafted, with each possible portent and possible context thoroughly meditated and reflected upon, with all its myriad possible meanings taken into account. The assembly line conveyor belt method just doesn’t fit.”

“You’re still missing the point, Doc. The assembly line is significant, but what’s really important is what I saw ON the assembly line.”

Avon gave Foxglove a nasty look. “See what you’ve started?”

“Pipe down,” she replied. “At least she isn’t giving us this information in the form of Charlie Chan’s Greatest Hits.” Foxglove turned to Kitsune. “And exactly what WAS on the assembly line, dear?”

“Those freaky Hummelware from Hell Knights. Dozens, scores, maybe even hundreds of ‘em. All moving along, being assembled from wet clay by other animated statues. When they’re assembled, Baalshem animates them and they walk through a big long processing kiln to be fired. Then they’re glazed and they go through the kiln again.”

Zohar sat down heavily. “No. That’s wrong. That can’t be right! That’s not the way that Kabbalah works!”

“Hell,” J’Mira grumped, “that’s not even the way mundane manufacturing works in this time period! That’s Mass Production, complete with a Henry Ford Assembly Line!”

“THAT MAKES NO SENSE!” Zohar screamed. “In order to animate a golem, you have to write the Word of Truth on ether a tablet or the golem’s forehead! How could Baalshem do THAT on an industrial basis?”

“Oh, he did it,” Kitsune breezed, “I saw him do it myself.”

“HOW?” Zohar screamed, his face a red mask of intellectual frustration.

“AFTER dinner.” Kitsune tapped her sometimes lover on the nose. “Believe me, it’s for your own good.”

“ooh, Well Played!” Foxglove gloated, as Zohar stomped over to the chambers that he and Avon had been assigned. “So, Kit, any ideas as to why he’s beefing up his forces like this?”

“I’m not sure, but there is something about the soldiers he’s making right now that’s different from the ones we saw on the parade ground.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, the ones on the parade ground had all those Artsy-Craftsy flowers and birds and stuff on them, painted on and then glazed over. I saw soldiers going in for their final coat with absolutely NOTHING. Matte black.”

Foxglove leaned back and chewed on that one. Then she looked at Avon and J’Mira, who only shook their heads. “Okay, this means something. WHAT it means, I have no idea. Any clue, Kit?”

“Hell, no. Heck, I dunno why he paints all that oofty shit on his regular units in the first place.”

“Maybe his wife does that,” Avon muttered. J’Mira gave him an irritated slap. “What?”

“He’s right, Jam-pot,” Foxglove said. “Think about it this way - those decal things look just like what you’d see in a suburban ceramics class, and Rachel’s gotta do something with herself on all those lonely afternoons. But that only raises more questions. These new soldier-golems aren’t all prettied up - Why? It can’t be because Baalshem is trying to build ‘deniable asset’ units; those golems are pretty damn distinctive no matter what. Is he trying to hide the build-up from Rachel? If so, why?”

“OR, maybe he just has some kind of deadline that he has to meet,” Kitsune offered, “and he can’t afford to waste the time letting Rachel pretty them up.”

“If so, then he has a pretty damn good reason for the build up. Is he expecting trouble with the Ysfarren Elves? Does he think the Darklings will divert their forces and attack his tower? Does he intend to make some sort of move against Seth-Barrack, making the most of the invasion?”

The problem with trying to make deductions with so little information is that you keep running around, building entire universes that depend on an ‘if’.

Foxglove decided to risk it, and used Mornsong’s ‘Instant Makeover’ spell to gussy up J’Mira, Kitsune and herself for dinner. “And what about me?” Avon asked.

“In order to be any good, Avon,” Foxglove murmured as she adjusted the drape on her shoulders, “you gotta put that ol’ Galliard charm to work on Rachel. If you come on all fashion plate-like, the Rabbi might get the wrong idea. Or, worse, Rachel might, and we’d really be in the soup.”

Finally, one of the animated statues came for them and guided them down to dinner. The dining room was small but homey, and Rachel had obviously had to improvise for guests. Zohar could tell that the table was set out for a Kosher meal. Rachel bustled in with the food, bubbling with enthusiasm for the upcoming meal. She was bursting with questions about the cut of the ladies’ gowns, what the latest styles in Seth-Barak were, and what the latest gossip was.

“I can tell that you’re interested,” Avon asked, “why don’t you travel to Seth-Barak, and present yourselves to the Court? I’m sure that Prince Setacius would receive you-”

Baalshem held up an imperious hand. “We refuse to be dragged into nonsensical posturing and meaningless dramas. And I suggest that you do as well.”

“Well,” Foxglove spread her hands, “we’re already involved in them. I’d rather avoid it, and get on with our mission-”

“And what do you think your mission really IS?”

J’Mira laughed, “And what do YOU think it is?”

“I think that you are children, playing with toys that are too dangerous for you, with playmates that you think are harmless, but are not. You even play with the wrong players.”

“And what games are YOU playing at, Wise One?” Kitsune inquired with a winsome look.

“A very long, very painstaking, and very slow paced one. One that I’m sure you children would find excruciatingly tedious.”

Avon didn’t like the way that this was going. Playing subtle word games with the Rabbi was giving him the advantage. They could be haring off after abstractions all night, and still not have the slightest idea of where the Rabbi was coming from. Well, one of the cardinal rules is, when they Zig, you Zag. *ahem!* “So, Rabbi, what exactly is it that you DO here?”

“I explore the manifold implications of The Name,” Baalshem replied sagely.

“The Name?” Kitsune asked. “Which Name?”

“The One Name. The Name that is The Word.”

“And you KNOW The Name?” Kitsune asked, apparently getting something that the others weren’t.

“I hold the power of The Name in the palm of my hand.”

J’Mira tried to get into the game. “So, is this place somehow conducive to exploring the power of The Name? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, it has to be, ‘cause NOBODY would move here for the scenery.”

Foxglove tried to shush J’Mira, but the Rabbi didn’t seem insulted. “When I came here, The Blight was already here. Indeed, I came here for The Blight. The Blight kept worse things far from me. Here, I could work without that which would try to seize the power of The Name from me.”

Avon tried to get the conversation back on track. “Wise One, you must know that an entire army of darkling raiders is coming through the frontiers toward Seth-Barrak.”

“One dream intrudes on another dream. One dreamer dreams of pleasant things and carefree days. Another dreamer dreams deep passionate dreams that include blood and darkness What is it to a seeker of wisdom?”

Foxglove saw an opening. “So, it’s all sort of a game? And you aren’t interested in playing?”

“I don’t like the rules or the stakes. Or, to be honest, the players.”

“Well, if you don’t like the game, why did you join?”

“I didn’t.”

'Oh-kaaayyy...' Foxglove thought to herself, 'this is either the best bit of luck we’ve ever had, or it’s another of the World-keeper’s ploys.' After all, old W.K. was pretty damn insistent that they come here and hear this. “Very well, Wise One, can we sum up your position that you don’t care what happens, and won’t interfere with whatever happens?”

“No. My position is that, that which has been set, must remain set. The Word is The Word, no matter how it may catch in your throat. An agreement made is an agreement that must be met. The Sun cannot turn back in its course, simply because you want the morning again. They have ridden out, and they cannot be called back. The chick-”

“We get your point,” Avon cut him off. “But still, is there anything more that you have to say, honored one?”

“Yes,” Baalshem said without blinking, “you can ask yourself what your true role is. Even the stone under our feet is not what it seems.” And that was all that they got from him, for the rest of the dinner. Rebecca tried to keep the conversation lively, but preparing a dinner that large seemed to take a lot out of her, and she was nodding off into the dessert.

Baalshem gave his permission for J’Mira and Kitsune to help Rebecca up to her bedchamber. As the three women preceded them, Baalshem said, “Oh! Isn’t that the way it always is? There’s always something more that needs saying. Reflect on this: in the gaze of the monster, who is the monster?”

When Rebecca was well tucked away, Baalshem showed them to their chambers and bade them goodnight. After the door shut, Foxglove waited a sixty-count, and then touched the door. “He’s put a Sealing Spell on it. Think he intends to keep us here a while?”

Avon shook his head. “I doubt it. Baalshem has offered us Hospitality, and until we do something to violate it-” he paused to glare at Kitsune, “-or, at least, until he finds OUT about us violating it, he won’t do anything to violate that hospitality himself. He’s a Mystic, and as I remember, they tend to take such things very seriously.” He spared Kitsune another glare. “Or, at least some of them do.”

“More to the point,” Kitsune said serenely, “some of us realize that Hospitality is merely an artifice. A socially useful artifice, but still an artifice. And, more to the point, I know at least part of the answer to that mish-mosh that Baalshem was talking about.”

“Which part? It was all pretty moshy.”

“The part where he said - and I quote - ‘I explore the manifold implications of The Name.’ When you asked ‘which name?’, he replied, ‘The One Name. The Name that is The Word.’ And then he said, ‘I hold the power of The Name in the palm of my hand.’”

Avon nodded. “An almost precise recitation of what was said. And now, I say, ‘So What?’”

Kitsune grinned. “Zohar, earlier you had your knickers in a twist about how Baalshem could produce these animated statues through mass production-”

“That’s because you CAN’T DO IT! Mass Production is existentially incompatible with the basic dynamic of Kabbalic Alchemy! You must meditate upon the Word of Truth, seeing the cosmic implications in both Word and the primal concept-”

“The Word is not ‘Truth’, the Word is The Name.”

“Excuse me?”

“The Word that Baalshem uses isn’t ‘Truth’, it’s The Name.”

“The name of who or what?”

“Well, from what he said, I’d say that it’s probably the name of the World Keeper, which in this world, pretty much comes down to the Name of God.”

Zohar sat down and blinked for a good long while. “Well, yeah, I guess you could do it that way. Kinda overkill, I’d say. Still, his name does mean, ‘Master of the Name’, so that sorta follows.” He refocused. “But that STILL doesn’t mean that you can go around mass producing golems! If anything, it’s worse, because each and every golem would have to be inscribed with the Name of God! How does anyone inscribe the Name of God on an industrial basis?”

“Simple!” Kitsune twinkled, “With a stamp!”

Zohar did a classic blank-out for a second, and then he opened his mouth and screamed,

“WHAT?”

He got up and started half pacing and half running about the room. “That is OBSCENE! I have never heard such a revolting, blasphemous concept in all my LIFE! HOW can you have the Name of GOD on a stamp?”

Kitsune shrugged and said, “Hey, don’t ask ME, I didn’t make this idiocy up, I just saw it. I was checking out his workshop, I saw a company of those Hummleware warriors, still wet, and well, kinda saggy. They all have their tongues stuck out. He reaches into this case, pulls out this little gold metal stamp and stamps them on the tongue, one at a time. They jerk, pull in their tongues, and march into the kiln to harden. Man, was that creepy!”

J’Mira smirked, “Girl, on this world we’ve seen legions of walking dead, houses full of dead body parts, the ugliest statue on wheels, and a giant brass duck. But you’re creeped out by walking piles of clay?”

“No, I’m creeped out by one of the most powerful magics known to Man, being used in such a cavalier way.”

“The Name. Of God. On a Stamp.” Zohar was still giving himself a headache cramming the concept into his head. “Do you have an IDEA of how POWERFUL that stamp IS? Any enchantment created using that stamp would effectively become an act of God! Any curse would be un-removable, the very Wrath of God.”

“On the flip side,” Kitsune remarked off-handedly, “it makes what we just ate sit a lot more easily in the old breadbasket.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, while I was down there, I saw Mrs. Baalshem making dinner. Making dinner didn’t start with taking the meat and veggies out of the pantry.”

“Oh? And what does this have to do with anything?”

“It started with molding the meat, veggies and bread out of red clay, and having Hubby stamp them, changing them into food.”

Avon went green. “You mean...we ate... *choke!*...”

“Several heaping helpings of clay. Yeah, well, no, not really. The whole ‘Name of God’ thing means that when they went into the oven, they were, by the Grace of God, real, edible foodstuffs. At least, now we know where they get their food from. They literally mine it from the clay deposits here. On the upside, from what I could tell, Rebecca keeps a kosher kitchen.”

“Which is all more the reason to figure out why he slipped his wife that mickey,” Foxglove said.

“What?”

“During dinner, while Rebecca was busy playing the Perfect Hostess, I saw the Rabbi pour himself a drink, and then set it next to his wife’s cup. Then when she was distracted, he picked up her cup, which was almost identical to his, poured another drink into it, and kept that as his own. Then she drank from her cup, and about a half hour later, she started to wilt. You do the math.”

Avon searched his memory. “Come to think of it, the Rabbi said that he didn’t want us here, as he had important plans for tonight.”

“And whatever it is, Occam’s Razor suggests that it involves those unmarked clay warriors, down in his workshop.” Zohar was still pacing. “It’s likely that Rebecca didn’t know about them, or at least wasn’t involved in creating them, as she was with the others. So, whatever it is that he has planned for tonight, he doesn’t want either Rebecca OR us involved in, and it has something to do with those ‘blank shield’ warriors. We can’t blithely assume that whatever Baalshem has planned, that it has nothing to do with us. Even if it means violating Hospitality, we HAVE to know what’s going on. Kitsune-” Zohar looked to where the ‘Monk’ had been sitting, but there was only a puddle of saffron robes. The shutters on the window were open, and a strip of silk was tied to a stick set across the window. Zohar glared at Foxglove. “I blame YOU for this.”

 

Chapter 35 No, No, Ninjette

Kitsune had learned a good deal from her first reconnaissance of the tower, and skittered down the smooth structure like a spider. She was able to take advantage of avenues that would normally be the equivalent of dropping an armload of dishes. All of Baalshem’s defenses were aimed outwards. The only people that she had to worry about were the Rabbi and his wife, and Baalshem himself had taken his own wife out of the equation. As long as Kit didn’t either set off any mystic reverberations, or do anything so outrageous that even a distracted academic would notice it, she was golden.

The first thing that she noticed was that the gate-less outer complex had formed itself into an arching moon-gate. The red pottery warriors were standing in ranks, with each fifth one of them holding a lantern. A double column of them was filing out, to form a doubled cordon around the entire place. Apparently, Baalshem was expecting visitors.

There was a body of the black unpainted warriors standing, unmoving, at the rear of the courtyard. Baalshem was floating over them on that cloud of his, only visible in the gloom by the light of the lantern that he was carrying.

The exiting warriors completed their circuit of the tower complex, and the moon-gate adjusted itself into a seamless, portal-less wall. Baalshem set down on the portico of the tower, and settled in to wait.

‘Okay, this could take a while,’ Kitsune thought to herself, ‘and no matter what happens, I really doubt that sticking around is a good idea, so...’ She went off in search of Zohar’s flying rug.

Actually, finding the rug, their weapons, and even the jar that Baalshem had sealed Foxglove’s imp familiar in, wasn’t that hard. They were stored in a room right off the tower’s front door. Kitsune used one of Foxglove’s knives to open a hole in the bottom of the jar, and literally peeled the imp out of it without breaking the seal.

Scintilla uncurled herself out of the small ball that she’d been wrapped up in, and let out a cavernous yawn. Then she looked around curiously. “Hey! Wuzzup? Where’s the Boss? What’s goin’ on, shadowpants?”

“Shush! Something weird is going on, and one way or another, we’re going to have to get out of here ASAP.” She unrolled the flying carpet, placed their weapons in the middle and rolled it back up again. “I’m going to haul this out to a window ledge. You, you little radish, go climb up four windows, and tell Zohar to summon his carpet.” She hauled the rug up on one shoulder.

“What are you gonna be doing?”

“What ninjas DO. I’m gonna find out what the hell is going on here.”

“Hey, don’cha think that someone who’s a little more...compact than you might do a better job of that?”

“I think you can do a better job of scaling this sheer wall than I can. So, scoot!”

“Oh, very Zen,” Scintilla groused. But she immediately headed for the window and disappeared.

As soon as she had the carpet securely on the window ledge, Kitsune started dashing around open areas of the tower, looking for the best way to get to the wall unseen. It wasn’t easy. Baalshem had planned the layout so that there was a large open stretch between the tower and the outbuildings. Her best bet was the comparatively small gap between the two attached domes and one of the outbuildings. Maybe that was the idea? Maybe it was a trap, an obvious access that led to some sort of snare or inescapable box?

No, the gap from the outbuilding was closest to a very steep slope of the dome. Anyone trying to get from the outbuilding to the dome would slide off the slope and drop at least three stories. That was the trap. But, it only worked if you were trying to get from the outbuilding to the dome, not the other way around. Baalshem had arranged this with an idea to keeping people from sneaking IN, not the other way around.

Kitsune used the slope of the dome to build up speed, and added that to the force of the Ki-jump that took her to the outbuilding. From the outbuilding, getting to the wall was easy. The wall was, indeed, built from hundreds, if not thousands of inter-linked animated, if currently dormant, statues. Hiding among them was simply a matter of rolling around in the fine layer of ceramic dust that was everywhere, until you were caked with it, and blended in.

As she peeked over the top of the wall, she could see one statue rising up above the others. Sentries. But they were all posted looking outwards. Baalshem was expecting still more guests.

Kitsune’s first sign of the new visitors came on the wind. There was a strange smell, as of too much perfume, trying to overcome an underlying reek. Kitsune made a note of the wind, and careful to avoid the sentries, headed toward the wind. From that direction, came the sound of heavy wagons, traveling quickly. The sound grew louder, traveling over the barren desolation.

The sound of wagons got louder, but there was no sound of thundering hooves, or jingling harness, or the loud breaths of horses. Eventually, silent riders emerged from the gloom into the dim light, followed by a train of ten wagons. Only the wagons made any noise. There were about four mounted riders for each train, and there was something about them that pricked Kitsune’s recollection. Then five riders advanced and approached the tower outer wall. A ball of witchfire lit over the standard that one of them was carrying, and Kitsune caught her breath. It was the red-flaming-sword-on-black device of the War Horseman.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” piped a small, high voice at Kitsune’s shoulder.

“Scintilla! What are you doing here? I sent you to tell-”

“Already done! Herself sent me t’see what was up!”

One rider advanced ahead of the others and pulled back the hood of her riding cloak. Kitsune immediately recognized the ‘goth vixen’ features of the vampiric sorceress, whom she’d last seen scurrying away as a vapor. The undead spell mistress looked up at Baalshem, riding high above the wall on his cloud. “Mystic! We come, as per the agreement! Have you completed your side of the bargain?”

“I have, Catspaw!” Baalshem roared back. “But I’ll see your side of the bargain first!”

“Damnation, Mystic! We have no time for merchant’s games! There are only so many hours of night left for us to travel in! And even undead horses can only drag fully loaded wagons so quickly!”

“He who coddles a viper must be wary of its fangs! Show me your Master’s handiwork!”

“Show me your handiwork!”

Baalshem tapped his staff upon his cloud, and the wall arched up, revealing the phalanx of unmarked pottery soldiers. “Make good your side of the bargain, travesty, or you’ll get a closer look at my handiwork than you’d be comfortable with!” The ‘blank shield’ warriors advanced several steps menacingly.

The vampire riders didn’t seem eager to skirmish with opponents who didn’t bleed. The vampire lady snapped her fingers imperiously, and another cloaked rider came forward. The vampiress pulled the cloak’s hood back.

It was Rebecca. She gazed forward with the serene unconcern of a sleepwalker.

“Okay, now I’m officially confused,” Kitsune muttered to herself.

The blood-witch grinned, and lovingly caressed Rebecca’s cheek. “Behold! My master’s Magnum Opus! Perfect, in every detail, surpassing even your greatest achievement! Alive, breathing, with a Soul even, lacking only a mind! Look at her, Mystic! Isn’t she lovely?”

Baalshem flew down to the ground, just behind his red knights, and just ahead of the black ones. “Send her over here, so I that I can inspect her directly!”

“Oh, and then I suppose that I’m supposed to rely on your good word, that you’ll hand over the controlling device!”

“Yes, Whore! I am The Master of The Name! I have given my word in this bargain, and I am bound by it! As is your master, and he whom we would bring down! That which has been writ, shall be, whether we want it to or not! If there is treachery tonight, it will be by YOUR doing, not mine! Send her over, NOW! Or the bargain is broken, and I will take her by force!” Bestial figures stirred, separated themselves from the wall, and set as to pounce.

Kitsune’s Zen listening skills barely made out the vampiress’ comment of, “All right, all right, don’t get your knickers in a twist...” The Vampiress dismounted and helped the somnambulant ‘Rebecca’ down from her horse. She stood by the sleepwalker and raised one sculpted eyebrow.

Baalshem reached into his sash and produced a golden amulet. The unpainted warriors snapped to attention.

The vampiress gave a toothy grin and said with venom tinged treacle, “Well, go to him, Rebecca. Can’t you see that he’s waiting for you?”

‘Rebecca’ went forward, step by halting step. The red ceramic knights parted for her, and Baalshem took her by the shoulders. He searched every inch of her face, and peered deep into her eyes. He opened her mouth, and checked her ears. He laid a hand over her heart, and the vampiress jeered, “Now, now, Wise Man! If you’re going to get fresh with her, there are certain niceties that must be observed!”

Baalshem snarled, but took his time in the examination. Finally satisfied, he turned from her and faced the unliving band. “A bargain is a bargain!” He tossed the amulet to the blood-witch, and the ring of red knights parted.

The vampiress held up the amulet and said, “Black Knights, forward!” In ranks of four across, the unpainted ceramic warriors marched forward, and in bands of twenty, filed into the ten wagons.

 

When the last of the bartered warriors was packaged up, the wall closed itself again, and the ring of painted figures sealed the breach in their wall. Baalshem took ‘Rebecca’ onto his cloud and said in his loud voice of command, “Our business is done! Now begone!” Then he turned to ‘Rebecca’ and took her in his arms.

Kitsune saw the vampiress give a lupine grin, and then she saw ‘Rebecca’ reach down and draw a long curved knife from a scarf that had been tied to her thigh. Kitsune bolted from where she was hidden, and ran at them. “BAALSHEM! Look out! She’s got a-” As Baalshem turned from his embrace of ‘Rebecca’ to see what the noise was, Rebecca sneaked the blade between his robes, squarely into his chest.

Baalshem gave a loud horrified gasp, and the cloud dropped to the ground, spilling both of them.

The vampiress grinned widely, and, her eyes sparkling like rubies, said, “Invite us in.”

But Kitsune was already upon them, and with a single fluid sweep of her shinobi-zui, she opened the blade and slashed ‘Rebecca’s’ throat. Kitsune dragged Baalshem onto his cloud and willed it to rise high into the night sky. Gingerly, she pulled the knife from his chest. “Do you have any healing spells?” she asked in a near panic.

Baalshem didn’t seem to hear her. “But how?” Then he looked at Kitsune, and understanding dawned in his eyes. “Treacherous Bitch!”

In a pained voice, Kit asked, “Are you talking about Rebecca, the vampire-bitch, or me?”

Baalshem just grimaced in pain, reached over and swept Scintilla from Kit’s shoulder with a cry of, “Away, Vermin!” Then he looked up into Kitsune’s eyes as she cradled him. “Listen carefully. You can’t deal with him. Trust only those who are not a part of his dream! At the very beginning - yes, I was there at the beginning, even before him - I tried to make a deal with him. But he’s betrayed me at every turn. But, he is still bound by our agreements! Even He can’t break that which has been bound by the Name!” He pressed something into her hands. She looked down, and saw that it was the Seal with the Name of God on it. “When they ride, the game is over! Even He can’t stop that! They must ride!” And with that, Rabbi Aaron Baalshem, Master of The Name, Lord of the Basilisk Tower, gave a rattling cough and died.

Zohar, Foxglove, J’Mira and Avon flew up on Zohar’s rug. “Kitsune!” Zohar said aghast, “What did you DO?”

There was a scream from below, and a bolt of scarlet energy blazed past them. Seen dimly by the light from the lamps of the standing pottery warriors, a large band of bat-winged figures flew up at them, with the shrieking sorceress leading the way. “Well, THAT answers our question nicely!” Foxglove shouted. “Lock and load, people!”

Kitsune tucked the seal up her sleeve. She wasn’t sure what Baalshem meant by ‘trust only those who are not a part of his dream,’ but only a fool doesn’t listen to a Wise Man’s dying words. “No! Just pull back! They can’t enter the tower’s airspace!”

“So?” J’Mira asked as she nimbly leaped from the crowded rug onto the cloud, nocking an arrow as she did. “An active defense is better’n a passive one, I always say!” She let fly. The vampires had shed their armor in order to fly, so the arrow landed squarely in one of their chests without any hampering, and he dropped like a rock.

“Hey, what’s this?” Foxglove shouted as Zohar blasted another vampire from the sky. “What’s Vampir-spella doing here?”

“Later!” Kitsune shouted back. “Hold on, what’s she up to?” The dark sorceress had dropped to the ground. She moved to where the false Rebecca’s body lay. “Oh, shit! Zohar! Torch her! No, not the vamp, Rebecca!”

“Rebecca? What’s she doing here?”

“LATER!”

At the sorceress’ urgings, the false Rebecca ignored her wound and struggled to her feet. Forcing air past the slash in her throat, Rebecca took a deep breath and burbled, “I invite you in,” through the blood in her mouth. Her usefulness spent, the vampiress allowed Rebecca to drop. Then she looked up with one of her vicious grins, fired one of her blood red energy bolts at Zohar’s carpet, and shouted, “ATTACK!”

The vampires began swooping and diving furiously, trading off setting each other up to make a dive at either the carpet or the cloud. They were moving too quickly, and J’Mira quickly ran out of arrows. Zohar could use his Drakylon’s pearl indefinitely, but the rest were limited to their melee weapons, which meant they could only strike when one of the vampires was making a pass.

“We have to retreat to the tower!” J’Mira shouted. “We’ll hold them off there, until sunrise!”

“Why bother?” Foxglove shouted back. “They can get in anywhere, now that they’ve been invited in! If anything, they have the advantage in close quarters!”

Kitsune was about to say something, when suddenly the vampiress literally crawled up the side of the cloud, and jeered, “Hey, You! Get off of my cloud!” She gave Kitsune a shove, almost sending her off the cloud. Kitsune grappled at Baalshem’s body, but only succeeded in pulling his body down with her.

Kitsune managed to perform a perfect acrobatic landing, but Baalshem’s body landed like a sack of wet laundry. But still, he managed to hold onto his staff. His Staff! Kitsune remembered how he’d tapped his staff on the cloud to make the wall move. Well, if the key to controlling the red warriors was in that amulet that the Vampire Sorceress had, maybe the key to controlling the other golems was that staff. It would also explain why the unbreathing bitch had gone for the cloud.

And why she was dropping even now, wings wide, claws out, fangs bared, right at Kitsune.

Kitsune snapped her shinobi-zue up and forced the vampiress to vault over her and go face first into the dirt. As soon as she heard the leech hit the ground, Kitsune broke for where Baalshem’s body was, and pried the staff out of his fingers. The Blood-witch spat a clod of muddy clay out of her mouth, and screamed when she saw that the ninja had beaten her to her prize. She held up the golden amulet and shouted, “Black Knights, Attend!”

The ten wagons literally exploded as the Black Knights, wasting no time with such niceties as doors, burst through the walls. Not bothering to form ranks, they thundered in a herd in Kitsune’s direction.

Kitsune pointedly ignored the sound of thudding footsteps and concentrated on the staff. There was no sense of resistance or organization in the thing, no mental ‘control panel’ to manipulate. Maybe it was so sophisticated that it didn’t need one? Kitsune went for simple, tapped the staff on the ground and said, ‘Defend!”

The earthen-ware warriors snapped to, just in time to intercept their unmarked brothers. Iron-hard fired clay met iron-hard fired clay in a horrible din. At first the charging Black Knights bowled past the Delftware defenders, but reinforcements were quick to take up the slack. One group of the golems threw themselves on the blood-witch, but she flowed out from under the dog pile as a wisp of vapor that retreated to the far side of the battle.

“HEY, KIT!” Kitsune heard J’Mira scream, “How do you steer this fool thing?” Kitsune looked up, and saw that J’Mira was having a difficult time holding on, as Baalshem’s flying cloud was jinking every which way. While this had the virtue of confusing the swooping vampires to no end, it was also fouled up Zohar as he tried to steer his carpet.

Wordlessly, Kit summoned the cloud to her, and it came, like a dog to its master’s whistle. Zohar flew the carpet down to the protection of the golem army. “Okay, what now?” Zohar asked, breathing hard.

“I could control the golems that make up the wall to form a makeshift ‘castle’ around us,” Kitsune offered. “Then all we have to do is wait until sunrise.”

“No good,” J’Mira said. “Check it out - we may have the advantage in sheer numbers, but those Black Knight assholes are kicking our boys’ asses. I guess the Rabbi decided to use his best stuff when he made them.” Indeed, the Black Knights were breaking their gaily-decorated brethren apart, and only taking some nasty cracks in their glazing in return.

“AND the vampires have control of the air, now,” Avon pointed out.

“Okay, who’s controlling those things?” Foxglove asked.

“Our old buddy, Vampyra, Mattress of the Dark. Baalshem traded her an amulet that controls the Black Knights.”

“Why?”

“Later.”

“Okay,” Foxglove nodded, reluctantly damping her curiosity for once, “then we gotta get her. Take out the bitch with the remote control, and these Fiesta-ware Autobots stop fighting, right?" 

“Sounds like a plan, Red. But how?”

Zohar looked at Kitsune’s cloud. “I remember, when we first met Baalshem, there was lightning rolling through that thing. Is it possible you can shoot lighting out of that?"

Kitsune felt around the cloud. “I think so,” she said uncertainly.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Foxglove said, taking the ball. “Kit, Doc and I take to the air. Kit, you see if you can blast her from the air. Zohar and I will take his rug up, and provide some air support for you. Avon, Jam-pot, you two stay down here, see if you can get at Vampyra on the ground. If she’s got her hands full keeping Kit and Zohar from zapping her from on high, maybe you can sneak up on her.”

“But those Vampires will tear us apart in the air!” Zohar complained.

“Not to worry, I've got an idea, but we don’t have time.”

Zohar cleared the immediate airspace with a wide area flare from the Drakylon’s Pearl, and he, Kitsune and Foxglove took to the air. Kit made a few experimental efforts with the cloud, and zapped a vampire on the wing. He took some damage, but it obviously wasn’t as bad as it would have been if he’d been grounded. The vampires began to converge on the flying carpet. “Foxglove, if you have something up your sleeve again, I think this is a good time to play that card!”

Foxglove had her hand mirror out, and was concentrating on it. There was a blurring, and suddenly, there were two carpets with Dr. Zohar and Foxglove on it. And then four. And then eight. And then sixteen. And then thirty-two. The vampires lost track of each other, trying to keep track of all the ‘flying carpets’, and several of them crashed into each other. And those that were keeping track of each other were sitting ducks for Zohar’s dragonfire blasts.

Now sure of her air cover, Kitsune sought out the vampire sorceress from the air. The she spotted her, cowering behind one of the Black Knights. Kitsune sent a lightning bolt from her cloud at the golem knight, to flush the sorceress out. The bolt hit, but the black figure didn’t even flinch.

Oh. Right. Ceramic. Insulator. The bitch was smarter than her taste in clothes suggested.

Then, suddenly, the Black Knight sprouted a pair of bat wings, and shot up at Kitsune’s cloud. The blood-witch began hastily scribbling another Hex Slip, and moved to behind another of the Black Knights. The Black Knight had its huge earthenware sword out, and almost broke one of Kit’s arms with its first stroke. Hovering with its bat-wings, it brought the great sword up for an overhead stroke, and brought it down with savage fury.

Kitsune instinctively blocked the sword with Baalshem’s staff, but the sword cleaved straight through it, cut into Kit’s forearm-

-and hit something.

The penetration stopped dead. Kitsune felt a powerful vibration, as if the entire world had been struck like a great gong. The ceramic sword began to crack, and then it turned into a stream of fine ceramic dust. The Black Knight stiffened, and cracked, and also turned to dust.

And, like great dominos, all the animated statues, Black Knight, Red Knight, or piece of the tower wall, stiffened and began to crumble. The vampiress looked around her in horror as the amulet in her hand shattered, and her army, which had been carving up the defenders, turned into heaps of fine red dust. “What have you DONE?” she shrieked up at Kitsune.

Kitsune fought through the pain, and pulled back her sleeve to where the sword had stopped. There, at the very point where the cut stopped, was the Seal of The Name. In a flash, Kit understood: the Black Knight had, however inadvertently, tried to destroy the very source of its own existence. But the Seal was of The Name, the One True Name, and in so trying to destroy it, the golem had set up some sort of destructive backlash, which was destroying everything in the area that owed its creation to the Seal.

The wall fell, the outbuildings fell, the two domes fell, and every animated statue in the complex fell, all. Except for the Tower itself, which stood firm in its white impenetrability, everything in the complex of the Tower of the Basilisk fell, billowing up in a choking cloud of fine red dust.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Vampyra shrieked again as she grew bat-wings again and flew up at Kitsune.

Kitsune tucked the Seal into her sash, and ducked into the dense cloud of billowing smoke, trusting to her Zen senses to steer her through what the vampiress couldn’t see through.

Then, there was another great shaking. Barely perceptible through the haze of red, the Tower, the huge, overwhelming presence, which only a moment ago seemed impervious to anything, shook. Impossibly, it rose up. The ground underneath the tower split open, and a titanic misshapen knob rose out of the split, resting upon a ridiculously slender column. The head dwarfed the tower atop it. The tower shook, split, and fell away in sections. A huge golden crown unfolded and glowed, adding a note of blasphemous royalty to the overwhelming monstrosity. A lengthwise split formed in the knob, and a hiss that spoke of a vicious, existential hatred for all life issued forth, turning the billowing of red dust into a storm.

“Turn your eyes!” Avon screamed, “For the Love of God, turn your eyes!”

Kitsune had the presence of mind to turn her eyes. The Blood-Witch wasn’t so lucky. As Kitsune watched, ‘Vampyra’s’ face distorted in a rictus of sheer horror, and her alabaster skin took on a sheen, as if true alabaster. She stiffened, to the point where her bat wings, now made of stone were no longer beating and she fell. Even over the roar of the wind and the vile hiss of the thing, Kitsune heard her land. And break.

“To the ground!” Kitsune heard Foxglove’s voice. “Into the clouds, and to the ground!”

Through the dust storm, Kitsune followed the sound of Foxglove’s voice. When she found Foxglove, and Avon and J’Mira found them all, J’Mira asked, “What IS that thing?”

“Why do you think Baalshem called his place ‘The Tower of the Basilisk’?” Avon answered.

“But Basilisks aren’t that BIG!” Zohar, ever the ‘Rules Lawyer’ complained. “It’s HUGE, and most of it is still underground!”

“Hey, tell HIM that,” Avon replied flatly.

“We can’t just let that thing go wherever it wants!” J’Mira shouted. “It’ll destroy everything for MILES!”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s already poisoned everything for miles.”

“Oh? And we’re supposed to assume that it’s just going to go back to sleep?”

“No, we can’t,” Foxglove said sternly. “Kit, can you fly that thing with your eyes closed?”

“Yes, so what?”

Foxglove pulled out her mirror. “As I see it, we have exactly ONE trick up our sleeves, and I’m gonna havta be real close to play it.” She shifted her seating from Zohar’s carpet onto Kitsune’s cloud. “Doc, you take Avon and J’Mira and head out of this cloud as fast and far as this thing will take you. When it’s over, and the Basilisk is dead, use your Pearl to let us know where you are.”

“How will we know?”

“Oh, don’t worry - you’ll know.”

Kitsune started to lift off, but Foxglove made her pause, as she plucked Scintilla from her shoulder and handed her to Zohar. “But, Boooosss…!”

“STAY.”

Kitsune lifted off, and headed in the general direction of where her supernal - but not visual - senses told her the Basilisk’s head was. “ah, Foxy, not that I’m questioning your ingenuity, but exactly HOW are you going to reflect the Basilisk’s gaze back at itself with that dinky little mirror of yours? I mean, that thing is HYOOOJ!”

“I can increase its size, when I want to. Here’s the plan. We fly up to that thing’s eye level - our eyes firmly closed of course - and you zap it with one of this cloud’s lightning bolts.”

“But that’ll only make that thing MAD!”

“Exactly. You tell me when it’s gonna give us both barrels. Just as it does that, I open the mirror up as wide as it will go, shielding both of us. If Bullfinch’s Mythology is correct, the mirror will send the power of the Basilisk’s gaze right back at it, killing it.”

“And if Bullfinch was WRONG?”

“Well, then, we were screwed anyway. You’re the monk - try and take it philosophically.”

Sparing a squint to make sure that Foxglove’s eyes were firmly shut (they were), Kitsune reached into her sash and pulled out the Seal of The Name. Not a bad idea, all things considered, but she had an idea that might give it the kick that it might need. She flew the cloud up through the billows of red, charging up an ever more powerful lightning bolt as she flew. She sensed the Basilisk, less by sound or its effect on the wind, than by the sheer venomous primordial Hatred of which the King of Serpents reeked.

When she couldn’t stand the malodorous malevolence anymore, she gave Foxglove her cue, and let off the lightning bolt. It was a blaze of heavenly wrath that almost blinded them, even through their closed eyes. The Basilisk didn’t so much as flinch. Kitsune felt the colossal head turn, and couldn't help but know that in the huge eyes, the petrifying rancor was building up. She could feel it build to its peak, so she grabbed the hand mirror and shouted, “NOW!”

Foxglove willed the mirror to grow, and keep growing. The mirror grew until it completely shielded them, and Kitsune could barely hold onto the edge. “STOP!”

Just before the Basilisk gave them the full fury of its gaze, Kitsune placed the Seal of The Name in front of the mirror. The Basilisk’s gaze hit the mirror and was not only reflected back at it by the mirror, but it was also changed in some way by the power of The Name. The Basilisk gave a shriek that filled the Desolation with the full clangor of its fury, hatred and pain. The Basilisk writhed and turned against itself, and lost all sense of form or substance. It became a whirling column of malevolence, lashing out at everything, including - or especially - itself.

Kitsune pulled the cloud away, and put everything that she had into making it move. “Don’t look, Red! Believe me...just...don’t look...” 

The cloud just barely outpaced the red winds that the maelstrom whipped up, until they were out of the Desolation. When Kitsune finally felt that it was safe to look back, she saw that the loathsome whirlwind was staying in one place, and seemed to be stabilizing. Maybe it was some lingering affect left by whatever enchantment had bound the Basilisk there in the first place. “So, now what?” Kitsune asked.

“Now, we find the others, we get you some healing potion for those wounds, and then we get a little sleep,” Foxglove said dully.

“Sleep?” Kitsune asked.

“Sure! Do you honestly think that anything that we have to worry is going to come anywhere near THAT?” She jerked a thumb at the maelstrom in the distance.

Chapter 36 The Neeners of the Righteous

It took them several hours to find the others, and everyone was all for a few hours sleep. In the morning, they discovered that, among its other talents, Baalshem’s cloud (now Kitsune’s cloud) had the virtue of being able to remove the red dust with which they had all become encrusted.

Not having had anything to eat since the previous day, they flew to the nearest tavern (which was some two hours away by air), and ate there. Zohar insisted that they eat on the table outside. “Okay, now that we’re no longer in immediate danger of being ripped apart or turned into stone, what the hell HAPPENED last night? Just so that we aren’t tripping all over each other, when we explain all of this to Setacius?”

Kitsune took a deep breath, and described what she had seen.

“So, Baalshem made those black figures for the Thaumaturge?” Avon asked. “But why?”

“Like I said, for that second Rebecca. WHY Baalshem wanted a duplicate, I dunno. And, if he wanted a duplicate of his wife, why he couldn’t just make one himself, I don’t know either.”

“Okay, one more mystery,” Zohar summed up. “Next question, hopefully one to which we can give Setacius an intelligent answer, is WHY the whole shootin’ match went up like that, all of a sudden.”

Kitsune had a fleeting urge to tell them about the Seal of The Name, but Baalshem’s warning came back to her. “I’m not really sure,” she lied, “Vamprya sent that winged warrior at me, and it was doing a good job of chopping me to bits. I managed to block its second slash with Baalshem’s staff, and it broke the staff. Then things started to fall apart.”

“Why would they fall apart when Baalshem’s staff was broken?” J’mira wondered.

“Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense,” Foxglove agreed. “Now, if it had broken that seal that you were talking about, THAT would make some sense. It would have destroyed the true source of its own being, as well as everything else there.” Kitsune tensed at her friend getting too close to an uncomfortable truth.

“No, no,” Zohar wasn’t having any of it, “you couldn’t destroy a seal with the Name of God on it, not with a simple sword. It’s much more likely that the entire complex was being held together by Baalshem’s will, and it fell apart when he died.”

“Sorry, Z,” Avon corrected him, “but Baalshem died pretty much as we got there; the statues didn’t start falling apart until just about when Kit said the staff got busted.”

“So? The staff was probably the focus of Baalshem’s will. After he died, it was the only thing keeping everything together. If that warrior hadn’t broken the staff, the complex would have fallen apart anyway, just at a more leisurely pace.”

Kitsune relaxed as Zohar rationalized her lie for her.

“But,” Zohar continued, “that does beg the question: where IS the seal? Kitsune, did Baalshem have it on him?”

Kit made a disparaging noise. “Oh, PLEASE! He was going to deal with a clutch of treacherous vampires in the middle of the night. What sort of moron takes a hugely powerful, even miraculous relic, but one that has NO use in combat, with him into that sort of situation?”

“But why would he suspect them of treachery?”

“Hey, they were vampires - treachery is kind of part of the package deal, no?”

“What baffles me is WHY anyone would build their stronghold on top of a sleeping monster,” J’Mira growled. “I mean, even bound up and unconscious, it still poisoned everything within a mile of it!”

“Well, judging from the way the tower itself didn’t just collapse when everything else did, maybe Baalshem didn’t build the tower itself,” Zohar postulated. “Maybe it was there, and he just moved in, and built the rest from the clay around him.”

“But WHY would he even move in?”

“Well, from the way that the tower fell away from that freaky crown,” Foxglove guessed, “I’d say the Basilisk’s crown was some sort of mystic power manifestation, like an angel’s halo. The tower bound up the power of the crown, making the Basilisk impotent. Maybe Baalshem moved there to tap into the magical power of the crown. Remember, Rebecca called her husband ‘the master of the Basilisk Tower’. Not the builder, but the master. When Baalshem died, his mastery of the tower failed, and since he’d probably made his mastery of the tower a part of the binding, when he died, the binding failed.”

“Hey this is all very well and good,” Avon cut in, “but we’re ignoring the really BIG point here: WHERE is that freaky SEAL? I mean, can you imagine what the Thaumaturge could do, if he had that?”

“Well,” Kitsune sighed, “if _I_ had a relic that powerful, I’d keep it in a special, magically warded vault, made of the most impenetrable material that I could get, and keep the vault - and the seal - in my workshop.”

“And what’s left of Baalshem’s workshop is back in the middle of that mess,” Foxglove summed up. “Maybe the seal is what’s keeping that thing in place. On one hand, there’s no way in hell we can get at the seal. On the other hand, at least this minimized the damage we’ve done.”

“So, it’s a Null-All set,” Zohar said. “We don’t have the seal, the Thaumaturge doesn’t have the seal-”

“And the World-Keeper doesn’t have the seal,” J’Mira finished for him.

“The World-Keeper again?” Zohar asked exasperatedly.

“Zohar, you gotta admit, it’s pretty damn convenient, that Setacius sends us out to visit Baalshem on what he’s GOT to know is a fool’s errand, just as the Rabbi is expecting a strategically vital visit.”

Zohar nodded. “Baalshem: gone.” He counted off on his fingers. “The Black Knights: destroyed. The War Horseman’s first sorceress: dead. Or at least, deader. The access to Seth-Barrak from the Ysfarren Woods through the Desolation: closed. Man, talk about a full night’s work!” He hung his head slightly. “You’re right. There’s no way all of that could be just coincidence. Someone planned that. Someone who knows a LOT more about what’s really going on than we do.”

“In a word: the World-keeper,” Foxglove finished for him, with obvious relish. Zohar nodded grudgingly.

Foxglove cocked an eyebrow at Avon. Avon sighed deeply. “Yeah, I’m on board, too. We are being egregiously HAD, and the World-keeper is the obvious suspect.”

Foxglove smiled smugly, and said, “Excuse me, but I'm going to gloat now. I promise to keep it short, and be very quiet while I do it.” She just said there, openly enjoying the delicious vindication of being right. She kept it up until Kitsune threw a breakfast roll at her head.  

Chapter 37 Operation Overkill

Prince Setacius kept the audience to a minimum, just the ‘Reconnaissance Mission’, Grand Marshal Pildash, and a few Ministers. Setacius listened gravely as Avon described how their mission fared. When the he came to the part where Kitsune had gone out alone, Avon passed the baton over to her. Setacius listened to her with the same grave interest that he’d given the bard. When she described the false Rebecca, he asked, “Why would the Mystic want an exact replica of his wife? Was she tired of him, and planning to leave him?”

“We have no idea. She did seem rather hungry for outside company. He seemed to be quite fond of her, but he also showed certain signs of, having been rather - distracted, on a romantic level. Past that, he only spoke in riddles.”

“Even as he died?”

“Well, he called someone a treacherous bitch, but I’m still not sure if that was aimed at me, the Vampiress, Rebecca, or women in general.” Kitsune continued her description of what happened, with one major improvisation. “Then we flew at the Basilisk, eyes screwed shut. Foxglove used the Gorgon’s Tear, backed by a simple hand mirror, to intercept the Basilisk’s gaze.”

Mornsong started to say something, but Foxglove stepped on her foot and whispered, “Shut it.”

 “It captured the Basilisk’s power,” Kitsune continued, “and glowed with such incredible fury that Foxglove threw it back at the King of Serpents, where it exploded, utterly destroying it, and everything around it. Some sort of conflict of power resulted, creating a vortex of incredibly destructive power.”

“Does this vortex that you speak of endanger Seth-Barrak?”

“I doubt it. We watched it carefully for a long while, and it seems to have become stable over where the Tower used to be. At least it was stable, when we left.”

“And what about the blasphemous seal, of which you spoke?”

“Well, only a fool would have a talisman of such enormous power on him when he went to parlay with darkness, so it must have been in the tower when he died.”

“And you say that the Mystic’s tower turned into a crown when the Basilisk was released?”

“The ‘tower’ was probably a physical manifestation of the binding that kept the Basilisk in check. The Gorgon’s Tear either destroyed the seal along with the Basilisk, or the seal is trapped under that vortex, keeping it in place somehow.”

Setacius settled into his chair and pondered. “You said that the main villainess of that tragedy was this vampiric sorceress, whom you encountered along with the War Horseman and the Priest of the Juggernaut?” Kit nodded. “Why should three such potent worthies risk themselves on a slaving mission so deep in the breast of the Empire?”

“Well, if I were to hazard a guess as to their motives, I’d say that they were on some sort of reconnaissance mission, getting a better understanding of the lay of the land. They were probably picking up slaves and sowing terror as a way of ‘paying their way’, and to provide a plausible excuse for their presence, if anyone caught onto them.”

Setacius nodded. “Now, for the real question. Will the loss of his First Sorceress frustrate the War Horseman’s stratagems? While you were gone, we managed to burn two more bridges across the Yarrow. So, the Army of the Unclean will have to ford at Yarrow Bend. You managed to destroy many of his mages at Flournoy; with his First Sorceress gone, will the Horseman be forced to stop at the Jarrow and find a new way across?”

Kitsune made a moue and shrugged. “Personally, I doubt it. The War Horseman wouldn’t have risked his last Mage on the mission to Baalshem’s tower. If she was the only person who could have gotten him across, he would have nailed her in her coffin, if that was what it took to keep her safe. No, either the Horseman has another mage to do the job, or the Thaumaturge is sending another one to do it, post-haste.”

Setacius gave a deep breath and let it out loudly. “Pildash! Do you see that this changes the plan in any way that we have to deal with?”

Pildash, who looked like a retired front lineman, shook his head. “Not really, M’lord Prince. If anything, this means that we can pull the garrison from the Blighted Road, send a company of infantry to reinforce the garrisons at the Dire Fen and the North Road each, and bring the rest in to bolster our forces on the River. Also, it means that we can expect a little more time, as the Horseman waits for those pottery reinforcements that won’t be coming.”

“Or not,” Justin corrected. “After all, why bring the Black Knights east across the river, just to send them back again? More likely, having them on our side of the river, the Horseman would assemble his forces on his side of the river, and allow us to assemble our forces in a defensive formation on our side. When our forces where neatly arranged, all pointed in one direction, the Sorceress would have sent the Black Knights to attack our rear flank, sending us into disarray. THEN he’d send the Juggernaut across, followed by everything that he has.”

“Besides,” Foxglove spoke up, “all that it would take would be if ONE of those vampires that were the Sorceress’ escort to survive. And, given-” Foxglove almost said ‘Murphy’s Law’ but quickly choked it down, and substituted “-the tendency of Bad Luck to favor the Evil, I’d say that at least ONE of those bloodsuckers made it back to their lines.”

“Hold On!” J’Mira said, “You just said, ‘the plan’; you’ve come up with a plan?”

“Yes, we have agreed on a strategy that should destroy the War Horseman’s major asset, cost him many troops, and deliver a staggering blow to the Darklings’ morale,” Pildash said as he stroked his mustache. “We can’t be sure what the Darklings will do in response, so we’ve left the End Game open.”

“And whose idea was it?” Avon asked suspiciously. When they’d left, less that two days ago, the nobles were just beginning to take the threat seriously. And now they had a plan that appeared to be to the liking of enough to carry the day? With these people, Avon had figured that they’d still be arguing over the seating at the planning table when they got back!

“Why, it was your own Brother Theocles!” Setacius answered, gesturing toward the cleric with a flourish. Theocles preened a bit, but said nothing.

Foxglove, Kitsune, J’Mira, Avon and Zohar all looked at Theocles. “The Brother, in seemly-” and totally uncharacteristic, “-modesty, forewent telling us of this plan. If it please Your Majesty, might we confer with our Ecclesiastic colleague on this matter, before we take this discussion any further?”

Setacius graciously nodded, and the Church Reconnaissance Mission filed out into the halls. Kitsune turned to Theocles. “Brother, would you wait for us? I have a minor matter that I’d like to thrash out with the Mages.”

Theocles shrugged and he, Justin, Hargrim, J’Mira and Avon went ahead. Mornsong started to say something, but Kitsune shushed her. “Scintilla, follow them, make sure they don’t do anything stupid.”

When the imp was safely around the corner, Kitsune whispered, “Red, did you send Scintilla to find me, after I sent her back to you, just after freeing her?”

Foxglove paused, “No, I sort of lost track of her in all the confusion, and I just trusted that she’d manage to keep up with us. She does manage, somehow, usually.”

The others started to say something, but Kitsune held up a restraining hand. “Later.” She fixed her emerald green eyes on Avalyn. “You still have the Gorgon’s Tear?”

            “YES! What was all that destroying the Gorgon’s Tear?”

“Well, we didn’t want to admit that we hadn’t taken it with us to the Basilisk Tower. Also, it’s best if no one else knows that we still have it?”

Mornsong looked at hers suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because it’s a major item of power! What’s the good of having a trump up your sleeve, if everyone knows you’ve got it?”

Mornsong’s eyes sparkled as the idea hit home. “And you think it’ll be important?”

“I think it’s likely that the Horseman has spies asking questions about what happened at the Tower of the Basilisk. If word gets out that the Gorgon’s Tear was destroyed, then he’ll feel it’s safe to try some gambit that he wouldn’t, if he knew that we still had the Gorgon’s Tear.”

Avalyn grinned. “Well played, Kitsune!”

Kit gave her a measuring glance. “You’ve told no one that you’re keeping it? Not your maid, Mirabelle?”

“OF course not! You know how servants gossip!”

“Good. And keep your dragonet, Sweetember, away from it.”

“Why?”

“It interacts with magic, remember? Who knows HOW it would react to the presence of something as magical as a dragonet!” Avalyn’s eyes went wide with apprehension. She started to turn, but Kit grabbed her by the sleeve. “And, if I were you, I’d keep this little fact quiet, just us Mystics, no? If Hargrim heard about it - well, you know how Dwarves are about gemstones, right?”

Avalyn nodded, and was on her way to her chambers.

Zohar looked at Kitsune. “Okay, what was all THAT about? What’s so important about the Gorgon’s Tear?”

Kitsune shrugged. “Not much. Still, you never know when the ‘Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch’ will come in handy. If the World-Keeper thought that it would take out Baalshem and/or the Basilisk, then it must pack a powerful punch, no? No, what I was really doing, was testing a theory.”

“Theory?” Foxglove asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Later. When we’re alone, with Avon and J’Mira. Right now, let’s go and see what idiocy Theocles has cooked up.”

 

*****

Foxglove followed her sense of where Scintilla was, to a large room, lit by large windows. The room was sparsely furnished with only a few chairs, cabinets and tables all set along the walls. The room was dominated by a fresco painted onto the floor and covered with several layers of clear lacquer. The fresco was a remarkably detailed map of the Principality of Barrak and outlying regions. Theocles stood at where the representation of the Jarrow river made an ‘S’ turn. “The key to this situation is the river,” Theocles opened with the tone of a professor speaking as an authority on his subject.

“Well, it’s nice to see that you’ve read ‘Strategy for Dummies’, Theocles,” Foxglove sniped.

Theocles ignored her. “Now, as you may remember, I deduced that the Vampires were only able to travel as far into the Empire as they did on those slaving expeditions, because they had some method of getting across rivers. And, given the number of wagons and slaves that they were dragging around, it’s unlikely that it was something that could just lift a few persons. No! Whatever it is, it has strategic value!”

The adventurers gave each other silent looks as Theocles ruthlessly hogged the glory for Foxglove’s deduction for himself. Well, they knew what really happened, and it wasn’t worth fighting over.

“BUT,” Theocles continued, “the War Horseman doesn’t KNOW that we know about his little party trick. HE will assume that WE will assume that he’ll have to use conventional methods of getting across. And IF he were to use conventional methods, whether trying to ford the stream or building a bridge, as Caesar did to cross the Rhine, then his best bet for this would be here-” he pointed at his feet, “-at Jarrow Bend.”

“We know this;” Foxglove said, a note of weary impatience in her voice, “we covered this with Rhysmarek. Without the vampires’ river crossing trick, or the Juggernaut, Rhysmarek’s best ploy would be to set up lines of his pikemen about a hundred feet from the river’s shore, let the darklings cross, and let the Nachonites use the hundred feet as a kill zone. Use archers to keep them from creating any sort of shield wall, send the Nachonites sweeping through with the classic ‘Norman Wedge’, and use the infantry to keep the enemy within the kill zone. But the Juggernaut would plow through the infantry, even Rhysmarek’s elite pikemen, like they were a sand castle.”

“Precisely,” Theocles said with a smug look that made Foxglove want to gut him. “The One-Two punch of the river crossing technique and the Juggernaut is the Horseman’s Big Gun. And we’re going to use that against him. It’s his big surprise move, and he’s going to throw everything into it, as to make a huge penetrating attack that will get as many of his forces across the river in a single stroke as possible, secure a beachhead, and then get the rest of his force across. And THAT is the key. He’ll throw everything into it, especially as many of his vampires as he can!

“We WANT that. We want him to commit as much of his force as he can to it, so that we can destroy them in one fell swoop!”

“Aaannnnddd- exactly HOW do we destroy them in one fell swoop?” J’Mira asked innocently.

“I have discussed this at length with Dr. Xenophanes, the Court Wizard. In his expert opinion, there are five ways that the vampires and zombies could have crossed those rivers. One: they had their captives carry them across. Not really feasible, under the conditions.  Two: they could have been flown across on some sort of whirlwind that was set first and deposited them on the other side automatically. Again, not feasible, what with the wagons and such. Three: They could have teleported across. Not very feasible with the wagons and all, but doable. Four: they had some sort of ‘solid water’ spell that the sorceress cast, and they simply walked across. This one works. And Five: they have some sort of magical bridge artifact or spell that carries them across. Not as feasible as the ‘solid water’ option, but still possible.

“SO, the plan is this: we make a very obvious stand here, on the east bank of the river, at Jarrow Bend.” Theocles went to one of the cabinets, and removed what looked like large, rather eccentrically carved wooden chessmen, each about a foot tall. “We will erect the standards for the Nachonites, Rhysmarek’s Imperial Pikes, Siegricson’s Dwarves, and the Arimasal’s Guard here.” Theocles placed four white pawns side-by-side on the representation of the bank of the river. He placed what looked like wooden ‘jacks’, as in oversized versions of the children’s toy in front of the pawns. “There will be sharpened spikes, to discourage what’s left of the darkling cavalry, scattered along the beach. Of course, the cavalry commander will send the Undead among his units first, to clear the way for those that still bleed. The spikes are only a cover: the ground just before them will be sprinkled with salt, preventing them from passing.”

Avon shrugged, “So? The Undead ride up and can’t pass the salt. The living Unclean won’t risk trying to clear the spikes, since it will make them sitting ducks for our archers. So, they just hold back and wait for the Juggernaut to break through the spikes AND our front lines.”

Theocles grinned in triumph. “Exactly. That’s what we WANT them to do - have their heavy cavalry trotting alongside the Juggernaut, no doubt followed close behind by their heavy infantry.” Theocles set some black knights alongside a large, incredibly ugly carved figure of a demon, and behind them, some black pawns. He moved the figures to the center of the river. “The Juggernaut is the key to the entire encounter. As long as they have the Juggernaut, they can plow through any shield wall, deflect any cavalry charge, smash through any wall, and scatter any infantry formation. And the average darkling knows that. It’s probably what’s holding that entire army together; the promise of slaughter and loot, as guaranteed to them by that unholy steamroller.

“Now the KEY to the Horseman’s tactic, is surprise. He doesn’t know that I’ve figured out that he can do this. He’s not expecting the Holy Church to be prepared. When the Juggernaut reaches the center of the river, Jehozedak and his best Exorcists-”

“Would these be the same Inquisitors that were until recently under Osdorin’s thumb?” Foxglove asked over-innocently.

“No, the Order of Exorcists is completely separate from the Order of Inquisitors. We’ve tested them, and found them clean of Osdorin’s treacherous taint. They will come forth, and dispel the bridge or water hardening technique.” Theocles knocked the pieces across the floor with a grandiloquent sweep of his arm. “In one fell stroke, we trump the Horseman’s ace-in-the-hole, destroy his elite troops, and on the off chance that the Horseman himself isn’t among them, we discredit his leadership among the surviving darklings on the far shore. Their morale will be destroyed. They may very well turn on each other. And THEN,” he went to the cabinet and produced two white knights, a large rook and several more black pawns, “the coup de grace. Foxglove, you did one thing very well.”

'Gee, thanks, Theo,' Foxglove thought sourly to herself, 'damn nice of you.'

He placed a candle where the bridge at Plandury was represented. “Your ploy to make the Horseman think the bridge at Plandury was destroyed was a stroke of genius, I must admit. It saves the bridge, and sets the Darkling Army’s flank open for a surprise attack.” He placed one knight in Plandury and the other at a sharp but lesser bend in the river. “At a signal from you, Foxglove, Justin and the Nachonites will charge across the bridge from where they’re concealed among the buildings Plandury.” He blew out the candle and moved the knight across the bridge and moved it toward where he’d placed the black pawns. “On the same signal, Seigricson’s Dwarves will come across the bridge here at Rippiraine, and come south. Justin and the Nachonites will come north and attack them from one side. The Dwarves will come south and attack them from the other side. And Rhysmarek’s pikemen will come across the river,” he placed the rook besides the white pawns, “and attack them from that side, just as they’re turning their backs to the river.”

“Hold on!” J’Mira said, “I thought the Dwarves and Nachonites were there at the far side of the bend!”

“No, their Standards will be there, and there will be several of the house troops of the local nobles, standing in for them.”

“Are you INSANE?” Avon roared. “If the darklings manage to make it across, the house troops will be ripped to shreds, without the Nachonites or the Imperial Pikemen!”

“But the darklings will never make it across!”

“And there’s the big flaw in your big plan, Theo,” J’Mira calmly pointed out. “It all hinges on one thing - dunking the Juggernaut. And that’s iffy at best. You don’t know what kind of magic they’ll use. Heck, you don’t even know that it was magic - they may just have some sort of trick that they used to get over the water. After all, the Blood Doll managed to get her guys over the water, right?”

Theocles shook his head. “Most likely, they used the Dyrghul’s manticores - or whatever the Thaumaturge used to replace the ones we killed at Fournoy - to ‘air lift’ them across the river. And as for some device, well, we didn’t find any strange gear in the wagons that we captured from the Slaving party. No, however they got across the rivers and into the heart of the empire, it was almost definitely magical. And there’s no sorcery that can be cast in the field, that the Exorcists of the Holy Church can’t disrupt.”

“What if it’s not Sorcery?” J’Mira shot back. “Remember, that Evil Cleric was there; what if, instead of a ‘solid water’ gimmick, he pulled the ‘Moses parting the Red Sea’ bit? If that spell can part the Red Sea, then parting a river should be a piece of cake! And, it also suggests that the reason that the Horseman was willing to risk that long-toothed bitch of a sorceress of his, was that she was expendable! And we haven’t seen the Cleric, since he got tossed when Zohar pitched the Juggernaut with the obelisk!” J’Mira offered Zohar a ‘high-five’ which he cautiously returned. “Talk about ‘Mine’s bigger’n yours’! HAH!”

“I HAVE considered that option!” Theocles produced two scrolls. “These are scrolls that Arimasal has given me use of. One will part the water, just as in Exodus, and the other will cause water so parted to return to its normal state. When the Priest of the Juggernaut parts the waters, this second scroll will turn his own ploy against him.”

“How convenient,” Foxglove muttered.

“AND tempting Fate,” Zohar said, arms folded across his chest. “Have you thought of this? The Army of Darkness will, of course be traveling by night, when the powers that the Priest of the Juggernaut worships will be at their strongest. Can you be sure, absolutely CERTAIN that a spell from a Scroll will be able to overcome the power of the Priest of the Juggernaut, who’s for intents traveling around in his own mobile temple?”

Foxglove hadn’t thought that Theocles could get any more smug, but he surprised her. “Of COURSE I have faith that the power of the Holy Church will be more than enough to overcome the power of that bloodsucking freak’s devil-god! And no, I’m not relying on that. Faith is faith, but planning is better.” He walked over to the second knight, and placed a wooden board across the river. “The bridge at Rippiraine isn’t really a bridge. It’s a broken dam. Even as we speak, Siegricson’s dwarves are building up the levy so that they can use it as a bridge at the last moment, and they’re reinforcing certain parts of the breakwater. After Siegricson’s dwarves have crossed the river, Hargrim will use his hammer to break a part of the breakwater, releasing the full torrent of the water.”

“The Horseman is sure to send out his dyrghuls on some sort of flying mounts as aerial recon. How do you expect to hide the fact that the river’s backing up to form a fucking LAKE?” Kitsune pointed out.

“The dyrghul will undoubtedly fly at night, to avoid giving away their advance intentions. Even if they can see in the dark, I doubt that they’ll be able to make out that much detail on the ground from on high. They’ll be looking for campfires and sentry fires, not the condition of the river. Besides, they’ll be concentrating their inquiries far south of Rippiraine, as to find a way for the Army to get onto the high road to Seth-Barrak.”

Zohar nodded. “And you’re counting on the force of the released water to either collapse the corridor in the water, or flow over the tops of the ‘walls’ and drown the unbreathing bastards.” He looked up at Theocles. “And what if that still doesn’t work? As I remember Exodus, the ground at the bottom of the Red Sea was dry enough that Pharaoh had no worries in pursuing the Children of Israel with his chariots. That suggests that the ground was completely dry, because all of the water, even the residual moisture that should have clung to the mud, had been forced out by the power of the miracle. What if there ARE no ‘tops’ to flow over?” 

Theocles nodded, even more smugly. “Lady Mornsong tells me that she has a spell that will impart floodwater force to a river, what she calls, ‘Loosing the Horses of the River.” Foxglove had a bad Tolkein moment, but kept her peace. “When Hargrim smashes the dam, Avalyn will summon up the horses, who will add their force to that of the water. Maybe that Juggernaut could have the power to cross the river and keep the water back. Maybe it could do so, and defeat the power of this scroll. Maybe. Maybe it could do all of that in the face of the Order of Exorcists, after all it IS a mobile temple to a devil-god as you say. PERHAPS, it could do all of that and beat back the force of the released river. But to do ALL of that AND keep back the Horses of the River, as it is facing unexpected resistance? Hardly! If it were that powerful, then there would be nothing that we could do at all, and our only sane option would be to evacuate everyone from Seth-Barrak as quickly as we could, and let the Horseman find the Doom Sword.”

Foxglove walked up and down the ‘river’, looking at it. “Maybe, but there’s still a hyoooj hole in your plan, Theo.”

“Which IS?” the priest answered frostily.

“It all hinges on the War Horseman obliging you, and attacking at Jarrow Bend, in the face of assembled troops. Even with the surprise value of his Moses number - IF that’s what it is - why would he give our troops the, say, ten minutes for the Juggernaut to cross, to get their jaws out of the dust and their asses in gear? Why not cross somewhere else, have all his troops on one side, and just grind them into powder when our forces come running to meet them?”

Theocles smiled and held up a finger. “Foxglove, you have put your finger on the very key to this entire plan.”

“Geez Louise, this plan has more keys than a French Bedroom Farce!”

“The reasons that the Horseman will attack Jarrow Bend are twofold. First, if he does so, he will have an excellent chance at crushing the four pillars of our defense in one definitive stroke: Arimasal’s Guards, the Nachonites, the Dwarves, and the Imperial Pikes. Even with the ten minutes that it will take to cross the river, it won’t be enough time for what the Horseman will think are our Elites to escape. Instead of chasing them all over the countryside, with us picking and choosing our times and places of engagement, he’ll have them all in one place, all set up for his nasty surprise. It would destroy our most powerful forces and deliver a stunning blow to our morale - IF we let that happen.

“Also, there is one other thing that will absolutely ensure that they come across at the Bend. You, Foxglove. At Flournoy, both the Juggernaut and its priest suffered a major loss of face at the hands of Lord Martos. When you are the mascot for an army of darklings, any show of weakness is an unbearable burden. The Priest of the Juggernaut will insist that they cross at Jarrow Bend, because-” Theocles paused, went to the cabinet again, and produced what looked like a three foot tall figurine of Lord Martos. He placed it in front of the white pawns. “-because Lord Martos will be at Jarrow Bend, challenging the Juggernaut to face him. Foxglove, you will cast an illusion of Lord Martos. It will give the house troops the morale boost that they will so desperately need, and it will be a challenge that the Priest of the Juggernaut can’t afford to ignore.”

“WHAT?” Foxglove screeched, “Are you INSANE? I can’t do that! Martos is a real part of these people’s theology! Casting an illusion of him would be blasphemy! The only reason I got away with it back at Flournoy was that I didn’t know anything about him. If I knowingly claim to manipulate him, even tacitly, Patriarchal Reconnaissance Mission or not, I’ll be guilty of Hubris! Theocles, I am NOT going to be burned at the stake, just so that you can have your little grandstand stunt!”

“Calm down, Foxglove. I have written permission from Arimasal, that this is for the Greater Good and the Glory of Martos, and as such a special dispensation has been made.”

“Oh, Wonderful! I can just see it - Martos will come down, divine fire spitting out of his eyes, but Hey! It’s Okay! I’ve got a Note!”

“Hey, Theocles,” J’Mira called from where she was leaned against a pillar. “What if the illusion of Martos scares off the Horseman? What if he decides that going up against what might be a demigod is too much of a risk, so he decides to use his little party trick and attack,” J’Mira walked over to the map and found a river port town, “oh, say here?”

“Oh, I’m sure that the Thaumaturge is very aware that we used a trick on them at Plandury by now.”

“Maybe, maybe not, Bro,” J’Mira insisted. “Remember, our Martos doppleganger destroyed one of the Thaumaturge’s Dyrghul things, out in the woods.”

Foxglove stiffened. “What did you just say, Jam-pot?”

“I said that the Thaumaturge thinks that your Martos puppet destroyed one of his Dyrghul thingies. So, he’s probably taking Martos pretty damn seriously.”

Foxglove worked at it for a bit, and snarled in frustration, “Dammit! Almost had it! But I lost it!”

“Lost what?”

“I dunno! I keep getting these really annoying almost-ideas, like I almost put something together but didn’t, and it’s driving me fucking NUTS!”

“Is it important?”

“The last one of these things that I figured out, was when I realized that we weren’t playing a computer game. You tell ME how important that was.”

Theocles loudly cleared his throat. “The POINT here, is that the Horseman NEEDS to defeat ‘Martos’. He leads an Army of Darkness; his authority comes from the twin ideas that he can defeat the armies of Seth-Barrak, and that he is powerful enough to destroy anyone who crosses him. If he appears weak, before ANYTHING, they’ll rip him apart. And, he’ll do it to appease the Priest of the Juggernaut, who needs to regain face even more than the Horseman does.”

Theocles pulled three white bishops out of the cabinet. “However, you ARE right about one thing, Foxglove. The Horseman may suspect something and come across the river at another point, as you say.” He set two of the bishop-pieces on the river. “So, we will have Zohar and Kitsune on patrol over the river, keeping an eye out for the Army.” He set the third bishop at a strategic crossroads on the other side of the river. “J’Mira will scout the far side, and let us know which way they’re going with messages carried by her eagle. When the Army tries to cross the river, you will let Kitsune and Zohar know. Zohar will give the signal, Hargrim will smash the dam, and Avalyn will set loose the Horses of the River. And Kitsune will attack the equation at its weakest point: the Juggernaut-Priest.”

“What?” Kitsune blurted. “You’re only mentioning this NOW?”

“We will equip you with a Blessed stake that is dedicated to destroying vampires, and a phial of Water of Retribution.”

“‘Water of Retribution’?”

“Extremely potent Holy Water, also dedicated to destroying vampires. One drop will burn undead flesh like a blast from a furnace.”

“You’re missing the POINT, _Priest _,” Kitsune hissed. “The point is, either I fail or I succeed. If I fail, then I am at the mercy of a vampire cleric on top of a rolling unholy shrine and his acolytes; if I succeed, then the spell holding up all that water falls, and I DROWN.”

“Even now, Dr. Xenophanes is searching his laboratory for a charm that he is sure will allow the wearer to breathe underwater.”

“Truly spoken like someone who isn’t going to get wet,” Kitsune muttered.

“And, you’ll have Zohar providing Air Support. Between Zohar and your cloud, you should be able to get in and do the job, Kitsune.”

Avon walked up and down the picture of the river a few times. “It’s too complicated, Theocles. Too many crucial things that can go wrong, and when they do go wrong, they’d go disastrously wrong. For instance, why not just send Kitsune, Foxglove and J’Mira way behind enemy lines, to destroy the Juggernaut Priest? He’s the one driving the tank, and he’s the one most likely to be the one with the gimmick that will get them across the river. Even if he’s replaced, it would be by an acolyte, and the Blood Priest isn’t the sort to have really competent assistants at his back - they might get ambitious. Even if they can move the Juggernaut, and he left behind a scroll that would part the river - highly dubious, never make yourself replaceable - they still wouldn’t have the raw power to resist the Exorcists trying to turn them. And for that matter, why not do the same for the War Horseman? He’s the big lynchpin for this whole thing?”

The Fox Sisters looked at Avon aghast. “Well, for ONE thing,” J’Mira said acidly, “we ain’t stupid, we ain’t expendable, and we ain’t GOIN’!”

“Besides,” Theocles pointed out, “the Horseman is very well aware of the facts that he and his priest are crucial to the success of this endeavor. Essentially the only time that the Blood Priest would be vulnerable would be when he was crossing the river.”

Foxglove gave Theocles a long, measuring gaze. “Yo, Theo - how long have you been planning this? I mean, we’ve only been gone a couple of days, and this is the absolute first that I’ve heard of it. This is damn complex and DAMN complete, for something thrown together in a couple of days!”

Theocles soared to empyrean new heights of smugness. “Oh, I’ve been batting around a few of these ideas, ever since we first laid eyes on the Juggernaut. But, I was praying for guidance, and suddenly, it all came together. I knew how we could destroy the Army of Darkness in one fell swoop. Also, if finally dawned on me as to WHY the Gods of the Holy Church allowed the Army to form in the first place! They allowed the War Horseman to raise this army, for the sole purpose of destroying it! The Horseman has managed to get every ghoul, demon spawn, bugbear, undead, freak and Unclean west of the Marches, all together under his banner. All of them, all in one place, all looking to one fell creature to lead them. When we destroy the Juggernaut, we destroy the Horseman. When we destroy the Horseman, we destroy his army. And when the Army of Darkness is destroyed, the lands west of the Marches will be open for settlement. The only bands that will remain will be too small and too puny to offer any material resistance. And the people will remember this miracle, go forth and claim these lands in the name of the Faith!”

Avon, Foxglove, J’Mira, Kitsune and Zohar all shared the looks of those who suddenly realize that they’ve been egregiously set up.

 

Chapter 38 Yes, there WILL be a test on this afterwards!

During dinner, amid the usual intense politicking, Kitsune managed to whisper to Foxglove, “We need to talk. Do you know a place where we can talk and not be overheard?”

Foxglove thought it over for a moment. “There is this one little nook, where Avon explained the local politics to J’Mira and me. That was nice and secluded. Tell J’Mira to get Avon and Zohar to where Avon told us about the Land’s Gravy. I’ll take you there. Anyone else we need to bring along?”

Kitsune shook her head. “No, not at this point. But there is one person that I’d appreciate if you made sure wasn’t there.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Your Imp, Scintilla. Give her an errand to keep her busy for a few hours.”

“Well, I could ask her to keep tabs on Avalyn’s lobbying...” Foxglove gave Kitsune the Dick Tracy glare. “Why?”

Kitsune just shook her head. “Later. Not here.”

About an hour later, Kitsune faced her four confreres. “I assume you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here, today.”

“Let me guess,” Foxglove growled, “you’ve always wanted to say that.”

Kitsune shrugged. “Guilty as charged. But the reason I want to talk to you alone, is that something happened at the Basilisk Tower that puzzled me slightly at the time, and there was something else that happened that added to it. Now that I’ve had a chance to think about it, and Foxglove gave me another clue, I think that I’ve got another piece of the puzzle.”

Zohar raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t about Theocles plan?”

J’Mira shook her head. “Hardly. That’s a distraction, something to keep us busy and not thinking. I mean, ‘Divine Inspiration’? How obvious can you get?”

Foxglove leaned forward. “Okay, Kit, I’d love to get a clue here.”

Kitsune sighed. “You won’t like it, Red. But not as much as you won’t like it, Jimmy.”

“Enough dramatic build-up, already! What’s the big deduction, Sherlock?”

“The big mystery regarding the Basilisk Tower was, why did Baalshem want a duplicate of his wife? He obviously didn’t trust the Thaumaturge, and didn’t want to get involved in the invasion on either side. But, he created those black knights for the Thaumaturge, in trade for the duplicate Rebecca. Why? Was his wife sick? If that were the reason, then why didn’t he just use that Seal of his to cure her? And why did the Sorceress betray Baalshem at the last minute like that?”

“What makes you think it was at the last minute? It could have been her orders from either the Horseman or the Thaumaturge from the get-go.”

“The knife the false Rebecca shanked Baalshem with was tied to her thigh with a scarf. Not a sheath, but a scarf, which the Sorceress probably tied to her leg as she helped Rebecca off her horse. That’s a last minute, ‘I-just-thought-of-this’ gambit. But WHY would she take the risk?”

Kitsune basked in their attention for a bit. “Because Scintilla was there.”

“What?” Foxglove bleated, well and truly caught flatfooted by this. “What does Scin have to do with this?”

“Remember, I told Setacius that Baalshem said something about a ‘treacherous bitch’? Well, just before that, he was asking ‘Why?’, and right after that, he reached up and knocked Scintilla off my shoulder, calling her vermin. And after that, he was desperate to try and tell me something, but he couldn’t shake his habit of wrapping things up in mysteries. He said, ‘Trust only those who are not a part of his plan’. Also, remember, when we first got here, he INSISTED that Scintilla be bottled up and sealed away?”

There was a general, ‘Yes, AND?’

Kitsune sighed. “Who controls this world?”

“Well, from what we can tell, the World-Keeper.”

“So, we’re ‘player characters’ in this world, right?”

“uhm, Yeah.”

“What does that make everyone else?”

“er, Non-Player Characters?”

“Exactly. And WHO controls Non-Player Characters?”

Foxglove’s eyes went wide. “The World-Keeper. You mean...Scin?”

“Is a Non-Player Character. Not only that, but keep in mind, Scintilla was finessed onto you from the very beginning, most likely as a way of keeping tabs on you. Not just where you go and what you do, but also to listen in on your conversations, and maybe even have nicely revealing little private conversations with you, so that the World Keeper knows what you’re thinking and what you suspect.”

Kitsune started to pace. “I think the reason that Baalshem wanted a duplicate Rebecca was that he truly loved his wife. But, Rebecca had probably been finessed onto him by the World Keeper, the same way Scintilla had been finessed onto you. So, Rebecca was the World-Keeper’s way of keeping tabs on Baalshem.”

Zohar snapped his fingers. “That’s why Baalshem drugged Rebecca! And why he kept the black knights a secret from her! He didn’t want the World-Keeper to know about his deal with the Thaumaturge.”

“More to the point,” Avon cut in, “it explains WHY he made the deal for the false Rebecca in the first place! Talk about sleeping with the enemy! He loved his wife, but he couldn’t gloss over the fact that the woman who meant so much to him was a pawn of his greatest enemy. So, he’d probably transfer her mind into the new body somehow, thus freeing her of the World-Keeper’s influence.”

“Yeah,” J’Mira grumped as she shifted on her seat, “that also explains the grabby hands. Given how isolated and paranoid Baalshem was, it must have been the first time in centuries that he’d been around a woman who wasn’t working for the opposition.”

Zohar nodded, but didn’t seem to be completely convinced. “Okay so far, but WHY did the Vampiress have the false Rebecca knife Baalshem?”

Kitsune smiled enigmatically. “As I said, because Scintilla was there. For some reason, the World-Keeper doesn’t seem to be able to directly control the Army of Darkness, and by extension, the War Horseman and Thaumaturge. Hell, he probably didn’t know anything about the deal, until I let Scintilla out of her bottle and told her that something was up! Foxy, you didn’t send Scintilla to see what was going on at the battlements, did you?”

“No,” Foxglove said uncertainly, furiously putting it all together in her head.

“But she went, apparently on her own initiative. But she’s an NPC. The only ‘initiative’ that she has, is that which the World-Keeper gives her. The World-Keeper knew that something was up that he didn’t know anything about, and since it concerned Baalshem, it hadda be BIG. So, as soon as he can, he sends Scintilla after me, and sees what’s going on. Since his magic bomb hasn’t gone off yet, he sees a golden opportunity to get rid of Baalshem, and get the Seal of the Name. He probably couldn’t control the Vampiress directly, so he used Scintilla to plant a suggestion in the Sorceress’ mind. A particularly nasty betrayal, right up the bitch’s alley. He’d probably take the opportunity to get rid of one, if not all of us at the same time, but that didn’t pan out.”

“But how would he get the Seal?”

“Like all good Games Masters; he’d improvise. The Sorceress would get the Seal, and then she’d probably run into...something...that would take it from her, and from there, inevitably into his hands.”

“Hold on,” Foxglove interjected, “WHY would the World-Keeper foist a spy on ME, and me alone in the party?”

Kitsune gave a Hercule Poirot smirk. “What makes you think that YOU were singled out? Except for Avon, Hargrim and myself, everyone was presented with a ‘Non-Player Character Follower’, as befit their roles. Foxy, Zee, you got familiars to offer advice and *ahem!*” She gave Zohar a smirking glance, “‘other comforts’. Avalyn not only got that drippy dragonet familiar of hers-”

“Which was why you were so insistent that she never let Sweetember near the Gorgon’s Tear!” Foxglove caught on. “You don’t want the World-Keeper to know that we’ve still got it!”

“Precisely. And, she also got her maid, Mirabelle. Whom Avalyn has kept the Gorgon’s Tear from, on the old principle of never letting your servants know where the valuables are. Theocles got that acolyte of his - by the way, did you notice that there were times when we lost track of Hermod, but whenever he was needed for anything, *boom!*, there he was? Justin got a war horse, a squire and a dog-”

“Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing that dog in the longest while,” J’Mira mused.

“-and YOU, J’Mira, got two wolves and an eagle as your companions.”

J’Mira’s face fell like a soufflé in an earthquake. “You mean - Huey? Angela? Eldridge? They’re...?”

“Working for the enemy,” Kitsune finished for her. “Now you know how Baalshem must have felt.”

“You’re right, Kit.” Foxglove tactfully steered the conversation away from the rather crass betrayals handed the majority of the party. “This is MAJOR. From this, we can do some serious detective work on the World-Keeper. First, we know that he’s not Omniscient. He has to look through the sense of specific individual beings, and he can’t follow what’s going on with people that he’s not ‘viewing’ through at the time. And, while he can pull the strings of anyone within a certain - what is it? Range? Culture? Ethnicity? - well, something, he can’t control the Army of Darkness. If you’re right, he can influence them, but apparently he can only nudge them in the direction that he wants.” Foxglove paused. “I wonder what else we can figure out about him? I mean, how much power does he really HAVE? Okay, he brought us here and changed us - that’s pretty Monty. But what else? And what sort of limitations does he have?”

J’Mira stood and held up a finger. “I think I have something to add. Avon, Foxy, remember how we talked about shoes, and woven cloth and glass?” She spelled out for Zohar about how unlikely it was that the castle would have so much perfect glass, and how the fabric was too perfectly even for a vertical loom.

Zohar nodded as he chewed it over. “Yeeesss...I can see that... Quite puzzling. But how does it give us some sort of clue?”

J’Mira grinned. “Well, Avon, do you remember this window?”

Foxglove nodded. “Sure, I remember that it was odd that a window could have that much perfect glass, even if it was in diamond panes.”

“Well, then, you’re gonna LOVE this.” J’Mira pulled back the curtain. The window still had diamond panes, but instead of uniform panes of glass, the panes were wildly dissimilar. Some were of irregular glass, with streaks, specks and bubbles here and there. The glass itself was green and amber, suggesting that they were ‘recycled’ bottles, a suggestion that was helped along by the dimpled circle in a few of the panes, as if they were made from the bottoms of bottles. Some of the panes weren’t even of glass, but horn or alabaster.

“I take it from your expression, that this window wasn’t like that before,” Zohar said in a carefully neutral voice.

“Not hardly!”

“And there’s more! Before dinner, I noticed that some of the drudges were wearing wrappings on their feet instead of the shoes that they’d been wearing before. And, at dinner, I noticed that there wasn’t any glassware - it was all metal goblets and such. Then I noticed that the glass of the bottles was really shoddy, not like it was before.”

“The World-Keeper is trying to cover up his mistakes,” Foxglove mused.

“You’re missing the point, Foxglove,” Zohar said, peering intently at the flawed panes of glass. "The real point is, that the World-Keeper CAN cover up his mistakes. He can alter physical reality.”

“Yeah, but he needs to have his mistakes pointed out to him,” Avon pointed out.

Foxglove raised a finger. “Pointed out. Scintilla was around when we discussed all of these things, right? Maybe he can only pay attention to so many things at one time. If that’s so, then we can use that against him. Good job, ‘Mira!” Foxglove settled her chin in her hand. “But we still don’t know why he brought us here in the first place, or why he’s trying to kill us.”

Zohar stood up straight. “And why are you so certain that he’s trying to kill us?”

Foxglove gave Zohar a withering glance. “Oh, c’mon, Doc! YOU, of all people shouldn’t need to have this explained to you! The bits with the Draklyon and the Unicorn were obviously traps. Not only that, but they were traps designed especially for you and Mornsong.”

“But WHY would he go to all that trouble, just to have Mornsong resurrect me?”

J’Mira snapped her fingers. “Because your resurrection was the bait that lured Mornsong to the Glade of the Unicorn!”

“Okay, I can see that,” Zohar admitted, “but it still doesn’t explain why he allowed me to be brought back, especially if killing us all is such a priority for him.”

Avon snapped his fingers. “Because he said that he would. When he was talking to Avalyn in her vision, he told her that the rite with the unicorn’s horn would bring you back. Having said that, he had to follow through. Remember what Baalshem said at that dinner? ‘That which has been set, must remain set. The Word is The Word, no matter how it may catch in your throat. An agreement made is an agreement that must be met. The Sun cannot turn back in its course, simply because you want the morning again. They have ridden out, and they cannot be called back’. What Baalshem meant, was that when the World-Keeper says that something’s so, then he’s stuck with it, no matter how much it screws him over.”

“But what about the glass and the shoes and-”

“Window dressing. Props. Background. They were there, but the World-keeper himself never made any declaration as to the state of the world, we just made assumptions.”

Foxglove clapped. “Very GOOD, Avon! Way to get with the program!” Foxglove paused. “But now, we gotta figure out what the hell we’re gonna DO with all these breakthroughs.”

“First and foremost, we have to get the others to admit to themselves that they’re in danger,” Zohar said. “The World-keeper isn’t infallible, he’s made mistakes that we were able to pick up on. If we keep pushing their noses in those mistakes, the others will eventually put it together as we did.”

“Even Hargrim?” Foxglove asked plaintively.

“As you pointed out, one of the World- Keepers limitations is focus,” Zohar maintained. “The more of us that there are running around, the harder it is for him to keep tabs on us, and do things to us, especially if we know what he’s up to. So, the fewer there are of us left, the easier it is for him to concentrate on the survivors.”

“Hey, Foxy, you gotta admit, the man makes sense,” Avon said. “So does the part about concentrating. The more of us that wise up, the easier it will be to convince the rest. So, who do we concentrate on converting? Avalyn, Hargrim, Justin, or Theocles?”

“Convince Hargrim?” Foxglove hooted. “The spud’s having too damn much fun! Admitting that something was wrong would mean that he’d have to stop drinking and whoring and being a big shot, and actually have to do something HARD. And Avalyn’s such a ditz that it would take an act of GOD to get her to wise up! And in this world, God isn’t on our side.”

“And speaking of God,” Kitsune offered, “Theocles isn’t going to be much easier. Normally, he’d be the one that I’d target; after all, he doesn’t really believe in the Gods of the Holy Church, so he knows that his spells don’t really come from them. But, the World-Keeper’s playing Theo pretty heavy right about now. I’m sorry, Red, but the process of elimination leaves Justin as our prime target.”

Foxglove scrunched up and grumped, “Do we HAVE to?”

J’Mira laid a comforting hand on Foxglove’s shoulder. “Yes, we have to. Besides, if we convince him, he might get that stick out of his ass, and realize that he doesn’t have to keep any bullshit Vow of Chastity.”

Foxglove brightened considerably at the thought.

 

Chapter 39 All Quiet on the Weirdo Front

Foxglove and the others tried, but they had a hard time getting to talk to Justin, let alone talking to him alone. Even harder was getting him alone without either Karl, his squire, or Scintilla around, without making it obvious. The entire city of Seth-Barrak was in a furious state of preparations, including - heck, especially - the refugees who were swarming in from the Westward Marches. Peasant levees were being trained in the basics of formation fighting, gentry were being formed into cavalry auxiliaries, there were several times daily Masses to assist in the creation of Healing Potions and Scrolls for use later, and Justin was in the thick of it all. Zohar managed to bag Justin as he was on his way from one training session to yet another Mass to create Scrolls to prevent the anticipated effects of the as-yet unseen Third Horseman, the Bringer of Plague.

Justin looked at the five of them. “So, what is this? And why aren’t Avalyn or Hargrim here, or at least Theocles?”

“Theo isn’t...ready...to hear what we have to say,” Foxglove hedged. “And I haven’t the slightest idea of how to get Avalyn to listen to this. We’re hoping that when his big move goes south on him, he’ll get off his high horse and open his ears.”

“Oh, come on, Foxglove! It’s your own fault that he’s showboating like this! You challenged his authority as leader too many times with your showing off!”

“That’s not what this is about, Justin.”

“Okay, his plan is a little convoluted-”

“Convoluted?” Zohar jeered, “It’s a cluster-fuck! It’s the over-involved kind of mischegosche that armchair strategists love, and field commanders abhor! The only reason that Rhysmarek is going along with this idiocy is-”

“I KNOW why Rhysmarek is going along with this,” Justin cut him off sourly. “This way, if Theocles’ plan works, he looks good for assisting in the defense of Seth-Barrak in the face of one of the worst threats to Civilization in centuries. But, since the plan calls for his Pike to move last, if anything goes wrong, he can pull his precious troops out without a scratch, leave us to get chewed apart, and withdraw to wait for Imperial reinforcement.”

“The REASON that Rhysmarek is going along with this,” Foxglove snarled, “is because the World-keeper tells him to!”

“The World-keeper?” Justin sighed, “AGAIN?”

“Why do people keep saying that?” Foxglove asked. “The World-keeper is a Fact, Justin! Someone brought us here! Someone changed us into these forms! Someone equipped us! Someone sent us on this so-called ‘Patriarchal Reconnaissance Mission! That didn’t just happen, someone made it happen!”

“It could have been a local wizard-”

“Oh? Who? Why? And why, after having gone through all that trouble, WHY hasn’t he just walked up and TOLD us what the Hell is going on?”

Zohar walked up. “Justin, any classic Wizard wise and powerful enough to reach into our universe, bring us over and transform us into these patterns would be so powerful that he wouldn’t NEED to seek outside help in dealing with the Thaumaturge. Avon, you’re the storyteller; you fill Justin in on what we left out of our brief to the Prince?”

Justin listened carefully. He gave them a look of bland disbelief. “Seems to me that you’re reading a lot into Foxglove’s familiar. And, let’s face it, the way that you coddle that little hellspawn, should you really be that surprised that she’s undisciplined?”

“Really?” J’Mira shot back. “And what about the shoes?”

Justin shrugged. “So what? I happen to know that there are several very large tanneries in Seth-Barrak, all diligently turning out leather as fast as they can. And, I’ve seen several cobbler’s signs out recently.”

“Exactly,” Kitsune said. “Recently. Like, since we noticed the overabundance of shoes in a culture where they should be a luxury. Oh, and put this in your pipe, Paladin - the first night that we were here in Seth-Barrak, we went for a free-run around the town, and found absolutely NO sign of either tanneries or cobblers.”

“So? You just missed them.”

Kitsune let out an exasperated sigh. “Justin, HOW do you miss a Tannery? Last night, all Foxy and I hadda do was take a deep breath and we found one! Tanneries smell to high heaven! Between the cow dung, the blood, and the tanning solution, a stiff breeze from a tannery could knock a seagull off a garbage scow at a hundred feet! It wasn’t THERE.”

“Save your breath, Kit,” Avon stepped in. “Justin, do you remember back when we first started this light-hearted little spree? And I mean, the very BEGINNING? Zohar here met his cat, Kezaar, Foxglove met Scintilla, J’Mira met her little menagerie - and YOU met your squire, Karl, and your horse, Thunder. AND, one other member of our party. Remember?”

Justin furled his brow for a moment. “You mean Fidelus, my dog?”

“Yeeessss, Fidelus,” Avon purred.  “Do you remember what Fidelus did during that first attack of the Unclean? The one with the Darkbrood Mother?”

“Of course I do! He-”

“Very good. What did he do during the attack of the vampires on our camp?”

Justin opened his mouth, as if he had a ready answer, but paused. He worried his brow for a moment, and then put a crooked finger to his mouth, to remember.

“And what about the Drakylon’s Well? Or the Snake God’s Tower? Or the Glade of the Unicorn? Or our first encounter with the Army of Darkness? What about in Flournoy? Or that long wait in Plandury, waiting for J’Mira, Foxglove and Kitsune? What? Surely you must remember playing with Fidelus to while away the time!” Avon looked at Justin with mock severity. “At the very least, you must remember feeding him! No? Well, then NO WONDER he’s not about!”

Justin looked around confused. “How? How could I forget Fidelus? I’ve always wanted a dog like Fidelus!”

“Always...wanted...” Foxglove murmured, chasing an epiphany that eluded her. She waved the irritating non-thought away. “Well, I’m willing to make a nice little wager that you can get Fidelus back, no problem!”

“What sort of wager?”

Foxglove just leaned back, folded her arms across her chest, and looking him up and down, licked her lips a little.

“I *think* what Foxglove is trying to say,” Zohar offered, “is that all you have to do to find Fidelus, is to go find your squire Karl, and ask him where Fidelus got to.” Foxglove and Kitsune gave Zohar sharp little shots to the arm. “WHAT?”

“Get a clue, Zohar,” J’Mira growled. “But Justin, before you go asking Karl, do yourself a favor. Look everywhere you can possibly think of, for Fidelus. Among the palace hounds, in the stables, down in the kitchen, everywhere. But don’t ask anyone. Just look for yourself.”

“But - but I’m expected at the Mass...”

“Now I ask you, HOW can you sit there, in a nice comfortable cathedral, not knowing where your faithful doggie is?” J’Mira asked over-innocently.

*****

Foxglove tried desperately to not gloat as Justin sat there at dinner, numbly slipping little morsels to Fidelus, under the table.

 

  since 12/16/05