Rhaina's Story: Search for Information

[Rheyna]

I'm heading back to Stormwind tomorrow. It's been, um, interesting to be home for the last three weeks. Mama is still so committed to her vision of me leading services in the Cathedral of Light that she can't seem to hear me explain myself. It's hard to disappoint her, but would be harder still not to follow where the Light takes me. I did promise to stop off and visit her cousin in Hillsbrad, who has recently married a more distant family connection. I guess I will do that first before I go back to my work in Desolace.

. . .

Sigh. *Sigh*. BIG GIANT SIGH.

Family visits are so very tedious sometimes, especially when the family I am visiting is trying too hard to prove she's up to the challenge of having married a keep-holder. Mama's cousin Freyja is TIRING! Her husband, Lord Vanyel, is less tiring, but doesn't restrain her at all. I'm tempted to make a snide observation about the foolishness of older men marrying younger women, but will refrain. This time.

Luckily, this visit is nearly over. One good thing is that it's made me downright look forward to returning to my campaign against the undead horrors in southern Desolace.

The other good thing is that my cousin's step-son arrived home today, causing all kinds of ruckus by bringing a Night Elf with him. Lady Freyja has turned her attention to trying to impress her step-son, who strikes me as both unimpressible and also so entranced by his Night Elf friend that I am not sure he's even noticed that his father has a new wife.

Still, when he has a moment to pay attention to me, Pavel is interesting and personable. He claims to remember meeting me when I was still in diapers at some family event, and I pretend to believe him. At least talking to him is not very wearing.

. . .

There's a new druid in our group. I feel sure I know her from somewhere, but I can't place it. She's different than I remember, even though I can't recall exactly where I met her. My memory swears that she used to light up the rooms she was in, and now she's so contained, so calm.

. . .

I've been feeling bereft now that I have left Free Artisan Alliance. I had no choice, of course, but it's a far emptier world I wander than it was even a week ago. Tonight, I ran into Sorcha at the mailbox in Gadgetzan. We decided to head into the hills and cook our own dinner, neither of us feeling up to dealing with (or ignoring, I suppose) the crush of unwashed bodies in the inn.

I was sad to find that she, too, has left the Artisans. I think whatever happened to Lod must have broken that fellowship right down the middle. Of course, Sorcha doesn't have any interest in the skirmishes with the Horde, either, so I can see why she felt the need to leave.

Anyway, there, under the stars, we found that having left the Artisans, we both lack a homebase at the moment. For the time being, we've decided to share a lodging in Ironforge. Neither of us expects to spend much time there, but we can reduce our expenses and provide at least the illusion of fellowship, even if we don't see one another often. And I know we have each found in the other the kind of restful companionship that doesn't require conversation to feel connected.

. . .

It has fallen to me to represent my mother's family at the wedding of a distant connection. I recall that visit to Lady Freyja as tedium only relieved at the end by the arrival of her step-son, who at least offered decent conversation and an instinctive understanding of why I stand in the Light. It is that step-son who is getting married.

When I arrived here last night, I suddenly remembered where I have met Sorcha before: she's the Night Elf who came with Pavel the last time I was here. That's not who he's marrying, though. I wonder what happened. I would have sworn they were one of Fate's destined couples, wholly committed to one another in ways that went beyond this lifetime.

On the surface, he appears to be happy about what is also frankly acknowledged to be an arranged marriage. Only once, as he turned away from his fiancee, have I caught a glimpse of the man who loved Sorcha so much; the pain on his face hurt just to look at, it froze the breath in my chest for the moment it was visible on his face, but was gone almost before I could be sure it was there.

Luckily, the wedding is tomorrow and then I can leave. I feel a little disloyal to my friend Sorcha, celebrating a marriage I can only imagine is painful beyond words to her.

. . .

By the Light, I hate this place! Lady Freyja gets on my nerves!

. . .

I was eating my evening meal when Sorcha stumbled into the room, holding a letter out to me, wordless as she so often is. Dear heavens, the news is dire! Something has happened to my cousin Pavel and his new bride, and they want Sorcha to do something about it!

Not on my watch, she doesn't. Something is badly wrong, and I fear for her safety if she just leaps in and does what they ask. I leave tonight for Vanyel's Keep, to try to find out what is really happening. A priestess fully vested with her powers is more likely to be able to deal with a problem involving the Forsaken than a druid still midway in her training. And this is my family we're talking about. I have every right to involve myself, and every need to protect my friend from what I sense is true danger for her.

. . .

Mila took me to the dower manor today so I could help deal with the dead there. It's entirely clear that the slain fell to the Forsaken; most bodies had been partially cannibalized. I've been praying non-stop as we collected and burned the remains of the servants of the house. I'm physically and spiritually exhausted, but hope my efforts have helped these souls find repose.

Somehow I need to find a way to spend time with the priest who has been scrying for Lord Vanyel. I'm disturbed by the idea that a priest is scrying at all, and worried about the degree of control he seems to have over my cousin's husband.

. . .

Mila is truly distraught by what has happened. I found her near tears tonight, and coaxed her to confide in me. She believes herself to be at fault for creating this situation. In her upset, she has convinced herself that if Pavel had not married, this would not have happened. And since it was she who acted as agent for the family in arranging the marriage, she blames herself for everything that followed.

I cannot agree with this assessment, of course, but I realized when we were talking that I have, rather oddly, not given one moment's thought to Essa. She, too, has disappeared from the manor. One would think that she is as much as victim as Pavel, and yet, I have not thought of her at all. In fact, I find it hard to write about her now, or to hold the idea of her in my thoughts at all. It is very strange.

I need to ask Mila to tell me more of Essa's history. She struck me as so non-descript at the wedding, and yet the difficulty I have focusing my thoughts on her suggests that she may be a key to this mystery.

. . .

Finally I have found a use for Lady Freyja! She is quite the little gossip, and when I sat with her this evening, she embroidering something useless while I repaired some of my fighting clothes, I was able to get her to talk -- endlessly -- about Essa, and about Pavel.

I am disturbed by what I have learned. I would call these people insane to have taken such a risk with the marriage of their oldest son and heir if I didn't know that their priest had blessed the union and scryed a good outcome. (Why can't I meet this priest? And where on Azeroth did they find a scrying priest? Is he tied to Shadow?)

Essa was an orphan found wandering naked in the woods when she was about 12 or 14 years old. She had no memory of her past or how she came to be in the woods, yet she was clearly well-educated and had some training in the kinds of things girls raised in the gentry and lower aristocracy are trained to do. She was taken in by a family of just that rank and treated as a clan connection.

She never recovered any memory, but grew into young womanhood. Her adoptive family sought a good marriage for her. Around this same time, Lord Vanyel became frustrated with his heir's apparent lack of interest in finding himself a bride and gave him six months to marry, on threat of having a bride found for him if he did not do so.

"You may as well start arranging a marriage now, in that case," Pavel told his father. "I will never seek a bride of my own accord, but you may trust me to do my duty for the family, should such duty be presented to me."

That's when Lord Vanyel sent Mila out to look for a suitable wife for Pavel. His evident lack of enthusiasm, the fact that he had spent many years serving the Light as paladin before retiring to take up his duties as his father's heir, both these things made Mila's task harder. Eventually, she found and negotiated a marriage between Pavel and Essa.

From all reports, Pavel worked hard at the marriage, treating his wife with consideration and affection. I wonder if she knew he could never give her his whole heart? I wonder if anyone knew?

. . .

At last! I have met the priest who is "supporting" the family as they try to deal with the disappearance of their heir. I am more worried than ever. There is no Light in the man. And no Shadow, either. There is nothing there!

I have never met anyone so blank to me. I am afraid to try to probe his mind, afraid he will detect me, and afraid for myself, for what it might do to me. I considered attempting to control his mind, and force him to talk to me instead of delving into his soul myself, but I fear my power will be insufficient to permit me to take full control. And as I said, I am afraid of him, as I have feared no other being in the entire course of my life.

When he speaks, I feel him soothing me, but it is not the mind soothe of any priest I have known. He seems so plausible, but I doubt him. I doubt his intentions, his veracity, and his very being. I fear for my cousin and her husband, since they seem to trust him implicitly.

I need to talk to Mila.

. . .

Mila has returned from wherever it was she went. I felt relieved to see her, but she took one look at me and visibly paled. She asked me what was wrong, and I stared at her in amazement. How could she tell?

And she didn't believe for one second that my questions about the priest were random. I took a deep breath and told her my fears. She reached out and touched my face, offering comfort, I suppose, but nothing can comfort me in this terror.

Luckily, she took my worries seriously. We are agreed that until we learn more, we cannot move against the priest. Nor can we confide in Lord Vanyel and his lady. The priest seems to be their only source of comfort in this disastrous situation.

We don't know what to do now.

. . .

I marvel that the whole reason I came here to help Sorcha was that I did not trust Mila's letter to her! She offered last night to let me place a control on her mind so that I might see that I may trust her entirely. I think we were both shaken by my experience with that priest, and she wanted to offer me the deepest comfort she could think of.

I was reluctant. Shadow magic scares me, perhaps not as much as that priest scares me, but still... Anyway, the offer was enough for me, and I told her as much. I trust her implicitly, and know she trusts me. She must, to be willing to turn control of her body over to me like that.

Today we went back to the dower manor, and tried to find some kind of lead. In the same room that was left untouched during the massacre, we found a chest that contained all of Pavel's armor from his days as a paladin, including the Lightforge set he was so proud of on that long ago visit when I first met Sorcha. Oddly, his Lawbringer set is missing, as is his shield and his Hand of Edward the Odd. I hope that means he at least got to fight for himself, and was not taken in his sleep.

I turned the Lightforge leggings over in my hands, playing idly with the beautiful leatherwork that holds the plate together. I would recognize that craftsmanship anywhere, even if I did not already know that Sorcha is the one who repaired his armor that winter in Darnassus. Is this about Pavel? About Essa? Or is it about Sorcha?

Knowing her as well as I do, I couldn't bring myself to read the letters that had led Mila to write to her in the first place. I know what they say anyway. I wonder if Essa ever saw them? And why did Pavel keep them?

. . .

Mila copied out for me that last letter Sorcha wrote to Pavel, on the occasion of his marriage. It arrived at the dower manor the day before the massacre, and Mila thinks that might not be coincidence. I haven't read it yet; it feels like an invasion of my friend's privacy, but I may yet have to, if it indeed contains any clue to this mess.

. . .

I received a note from Sorcha today, the first she has sent since I came here. She has been dreaming of Pavel as a shrieking Forsaken, and is on the verge of trying to sneak into the Undercity and kill him to put him out of his misery. I have no doubt that her death would follow his very closely, if in fact he is Forsaken and in the Undercity. I cannot let that happen. I fear for her.

I must consult with others. I must find help. Pavel's soul, Essa's soul, and Sorcha's life are at stake.

[Rheyna]

Rhaina slipped into the library, hoping no one would notice her. She still felt overwhelmed by the welcome she had received from the Defenders, and it made her feel a bit shy.

Polly, the high priest of the group, had suggested that she might find information and allies in the Defenders of the heroes she had just joined, and looking around the library, she hoped it was true. Wandering around the room, trying to get a sense of the layout and the contents, she gratefully noticed that she was, for the moment at least, alone.

Locating a shelf of books concerned with priestly matters, Rhaina began a methodical search for some clue. Thinking back, she shivered with the memory of her encounters with that priest in Hillsbrad. The blankness where she should have sensed the presence of a soul. She hadn't felt ANYTHING inside him, and yet he terrified her. Even now, the memory of him attempting to soothe her mind made her shiver, and she pulled her cloak more tightly around herself in a futile attempt to get warm again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord D'ana'no enter the library, and she knew she wasn't ready to meet him yet. Luckily, he seemed intent on his own business, and didn't appear to notice her presence at all. He dropped a heavy black book on the floor, then picked it up and slipped out of the library as quietly as he had come, leaving Rhaina alone again.

She turned back to the book she held. It purported to describe all kinds of priests, but all of them seemed to have some connection to some Power she understood. She stopped, arrested by that thought. Maybe she was going about this all wrong! Maybe she needed to identify the source of his power, and that would lead her to more information about who and what he really was.

Sighing, she replaced the book on the shelf and stood blankly in front of the row of books, idly twisting a strand of hair in her fingers as she thought more about that. Now, where could she find a book that detailed all the different Powers in the world? She didn't even know where to start. Again, she felt overwhelmed. She was just one small priest, up against something so big it haunted her dreams with terror.

She located a shelf full of atlases and travelers' memoirs, and decided to begin there. After all, so many Powers were tied to specific locations in the world. Perhaps she could find something, some clue that would get her moving forward again. Pulling three illustrated memoirs off the shelf, she moved to a table in a corner, and settled in for a good long read.

Gack! This stuff was dry and boring! How could someone make a description of his journeys and experiences sound so DULL? This man had been so many places, and seen so much, and it read like an itemized shopping list. Rhaina stretched, wincing to hear the creaking of her stiff joints. She sighed and leaned back in the chair for a moment. She felt like taking a nap, but the urgency of her search didn't allow for that.

Turning her attention back to her book, Rhaina tried to generate interest in the stilted prose, seeking some answer to the question that had led to weeks of sleepless nights: How can a priest have no soul?

She hardly noticed when the boring book finally sent her off into a doze. She did notice when she fell off her chair and landed in a noisy heap on the floor, with the chair and her books in a pile around her. In the quiet library, the sound of her crashing to the floor along with the books and furniture seemed to echo louder than the bells of Stormwind ever had. By the Light, she hoped no one found her here like this!

Of course, someone did. "Rhaina, are you all right?"

Scrambling to her feet, Rhaina looked around at the sound of the cultured voice speaking her name. Oh, good heavens! Not only had someone found her sitting on the floor, half-asleep, but it was the Lady of Dalaran!

Tall and dark, with black hair pulled back into a neat bun, the woman could not be a more striking contrast to Rhaina herself, the top of whose russet head barely reached to the Lady's shoulder. And unlike the immaculately dressed magician, Rhaina's impromptu nap had rumpled her clothes.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled a little ruefully and took the proffered hand. "Lady Cassidy. How nice to see you. I'm afraid I fell asleep reading this extremely, uh, informative book, and fell off my chair."

The mage looked down at the book Rhaina had dropped on the floor. "A Gnome's Travels In The Lands Of The Not-Gnomes: A History Of Adventures Among Folk Mystical, Magical, and Tall" by Lightwell Cogsprockett? Hmm. No wonder you fell asleep! When I was recently plagued by insomnia, one of the hedge priests recommended this tome to me as bedtime reading, assuring my it would send me off to sleep in no time at all."

Looking at the book that Cassidy held under her arm and the one peeking out of her pocket, Rhaina couldn't help it. Her smile turned to a grin, and as her dimples deepened, she said, "Night Elf cultural history and Night of Fancy. I see your own tastes in reading material are eclectic."

Now it was the other woman's turn to grimace slightly when Rhaina mentioned the light romance novel she had in her pocket. While her face remained impassive, Rhaina could see a flicker of chagrin in Cassidy's eyes, followed by a flash of pain, before the calmness returned to her gaze.

Rhaina pushed aside her curiosity as to what had brought that look of pain to Lady Cassidy's face, as it was obvious the other woman would not welcome intrusion into something so obviously private. Instead, she nodded vigorously,
"You are very right. This book is stultifying in every way. I'm sure it was quite an effective sleeping aid!"

A slight smile played about the Lady's lips, as she replied, "It certainly was. But why are you reading it, my dear Rhaina? Surely you are not trying to put yourself to sleep in the middle of the afternoon?"

Rhaina's eyes clouded as she recalled the reason she was in the Library in the first place. This was so complicated to explain, and so much of it wasn't her tale to tell, precisely. Well, falling asleep reading books that turned out to be useless wasn't helping her move forward. Perhaps the Lady of Dalaran could help her, if she could only figure out how to explain.

"I'm looking for information that I can't figure out where to find, probably because I don't even know what I am looking for."

Peering earnestly at the other woman, Rhaina sighed. "That sounds both foolish and over-dramatic, I know. Just, a few weeks ago I encountered a priest who terrifies me, and who stands between me and something I need to know. I'm trying to find out who or what this so-called priest really is."

She paused for a moment, trying to choose her words carefully. What did someone need to know in order to help her?

"This priest worried me when I had only just heard of him, before I met him in person. He apparently scries, using some device I have not seen. But I have never heard of a scrying priest before. He's involved himself deeply with some family connections of mine, who seem to trust him implicitly, but I don't.

"When I finally met him, I found that I could not sense a soul in him, nor the absence of one, as is often the case with those possessed by demons. He was . . . BLANK, I suppose is a good way to describe it. But he can do things that priests can do. I've seen him use Holy Fire to light a bonfire, and he tried to soothe my mind, which is an ability that comes from Shadow. The thing is, I don't think that it was really Holy or Shadow power. I think it was something else, masquerading as familiar powers.

"Lady, he terrifies me. Lately, he haunts my dreams. And there are lives at stake. I have to understand who he is and where he comes from."

Looking at the pile of books on the table, Rhaina sighed more heavily. "I was hoping that perhaps one of these intrepid explorers had encountered something of this nature, but if my new friend Mr.CogSprockett is any indication of what this genre of reading is like, I'll never stay awake to find the clue, even if it exists."

Surprised at how much better it felt not to be so alone with her search, Rhaina looked hopefully at Cassidy. "Do you, then, know where to find information on blank-souled men, who appear to be priests, but who aren't -- and what power they might truly be wielding?"

"Well, not exactly, but perhaps instead of seeking answers from those who have traveled a great deal, you might profit from reading about the different kinds of magical constructs that wizards, magicians, sorcerers, ad warlocks can create.

Rhaina followed Cassidy to another section of the library, feeling a sudden hope arise that perhaps she might at least discover something, and grateful that someone who actually knew something about the Arcane was willing to help her sort through the rather large collection of tomes on that subject. As Dalaran's Lady pulled volumes from the shelf and described some possibilities, Rhaina's mind began to whirl.

"Well, if it is a golem or an animated dead body, then I suppose I have even more reason to be wary. Surely the kind of power it would take to make such a thing appear to be human would be enormous! Believe me, the priest looked and acted completely human."

She looked at the pile of books Cassidy was making on the table. Even though there was a lot of reading ahead of her, she felt more confident that these books might actually help her. She was just about to express her gratitude for the assistance when she was struck by a sudden thought.

"Lady Cassidy, do you know off the top of your head how far away someone can be and still control a golem?"

"I do not," the taller woman replied. "I'm afraid my own magical studies have been more conventional. A little fire, a little ice, some arcane blasts. That sort of thing."

She tilted her head as she gazed down at Rhaina. "Are you in some kind of trouble? Is there something that the Defenders can do to help you?"

Rhaina took a deep breath. "I don't know. I wish I did." She sighed heavily. "If you are willing to help me, I think the least I can do is to tell you what you're helping me with."

She picked up the pile of books Cassidy had chosen for her. "If you prefer to read about it, rather than listen to me talk, I can show you my notes." Turning to look at the taller woman, she added, "Or we can find somewhere comfortable to sit, and I can tell you about it."

"Well, all things go better with a cup of tea and some cookies, I always say," remarked the magician, as she reached out to tug on a bell pull at the end of the row of shelves. She instructed the servant who appeared in response to bring tea, fruit, and come cookies, and then walked over to a pair of comfortable chairs set in a small bay window overlooking the lawns and pastures. Rhaina picked up the largish pile of books that Cassidy had selected for her and followed her.

Rhaina placed the books she held on the table behind one of the chairs and settled herself into the chair that Lady Cassidy was not using. She thought for a moment about where to start, and then began to speak.

A cousin of my mother's is married to another family connection, the Lord of a keep in the foothills of Hillsbrad. Since my mother is rather inexplicably fond of this cousin of hers, I have been visiting them from time to time over the years. Lord Vanyel has several sons from his first marriage, the oldest of whom, Pavel, is a paladin who lately gave up wandering the world and returned to his family home to take up his duties as heir to his father.

While he was adventuring, he had met and fallen in love with a Night Elf. I gather it was one of those epic romances, the kind that tales are written about and songs sung to recount. The problem was that they have fundamentally different understandings of the world, and in the end, they were unable to reconcile these views of the how things are, and more importantly, their beliefs about how the world ought to be. She sent him away, and he went.

I have never spoken to him about this, but through a series of coincidences, she later became my friend, and I know that for her, Pavel is all there will ever be. She has become a druid, and has also recently joined this company. Perhaps you have met her? Sorcha'Rei?

Parting from Pavel changed her, Lady. Where she had been open and outgoing, she has become reserved, contained, and very slow to get to know new people. Where she was once the kind of spirit that infused a gathering with laughter and joy, she is now the one you turn to when you need the solace of unspoken comfort.

Anyway, recently, Lord Vanyel arranged a marriage for his son. The bride was the ward of another family connection. No one knows who she really is; she had been found in the woods when she was a young girl and adopted by this family who had sons but no daughters. As far as I have been able to determine, she had no memories of her life before she was discovered in the woods.

Pavel agreed to marry her. He knew, I gather, that Sorcha would not ever marry him, and he was aware that he had a duty to his family to produce his own heirs. Although he had only been corresponding casually with Sorcha since they parted, he sent her a long letter to tell her of his upcoming marriage. I haven't seen this letter, so I don't know what was in it, but I do know that she wrote him a long letter in response to it.

I went to the wedding, at my mother's behest, since she is failing in health and is unable to travel for family celebrations anymore. It was awkward for me, of course, knowing and loving Sorcha as I do, but my mother had no way of knowing that, and it seemed wrong of me to tell Pavel's story to one who did not already know it. So I went.

On the surface, all seemed well. Essa was a giddy piece of fluff, but clearly well-trained in the duties of a Lord's wife. I don't imagine she would have been able to cope with the high aristocracy, but the world of those who hold the border Keeps and watch over the gentry, farmers, and tradesmen of such a district was one in which she seemed to move with ease. She spoke of decorating her new home, holding household, making sure that their tenants were doing well, and her latest sewing and drawing projects.

Pavel was all solicitude towards his fiancee, and seemed the picture of a man who, if not deeply in love, was perfectly satisfied with his arranged marriage. I was there for five days, and only once did I see any sign that he regretted his circumstances, or that he still loved Sorcha. But, Lady, there is no doubt in my mind that he was simply making the best of what was left for him after he lost Sorcha.

The marriage was performed by a priest who lives in the village near Lord Vanyel's Keep, and who seems to have been instrumental in helping Lord Vanyel find and negotiate the marriage for his son. I left after Pavel and Essa were married, but apparently they moved to a dower estate some distance from his father's Keep and began their life together.

Approximately two weeks after the wedding, a letter arrived for Pavel, from Sorcha. She was responding, at his request, to his letter telling her of his marriage. After reading the letter, he seems to have placed it in a locked drawer in his desk, along with all the other letters she had sent him over the years, both before they parted and since.

The very next night, something happened at the dower estate. No one knows exactly what, but every person in the house except Pavel and Essa was killed. Most of the bodies were at least partially cannibalized, but Lord and Lady Pavel seem to have disappeared. Pavel's steward, who was apparently drinking at a local tavern during the attack, and thus escaped being slaughtered with the rest of the household, rode for Vanyel's Keep as soon as he discovered what had happened.

Vanyel sent a team of people, headed by his own steward, a woman named Mila, to investigate and to find his son. In the course of the investigation, she discovered the pile of letters from Sorcha, but no clues to what had happened beyond the obvious fact that Forsaken had killed and eaten 30 or so people, and that my cousin and his wife were missing.

In desperation, Mila wrote to Sorcha asking her for help. Sorcha let me see Mila's letter, and I was worried, both about what had happened to my cousin Pavel and about my friend. I convinced her to let me go in her place, and extracted a promise from her that she would do nothing until I released her from that promise. Lady, I am convinced that this promise is all that holds her from rushing to the Undercity and trying to find Pavel, for she has been dreaming that he is there. And you know how druids are about their dreams.

In the letter, Mila mentioned that the local priest had been scrying, which I am sure is something you know priests do not generally do, so I admit I was wary of him before I even arrived. When I got there, the situation was as you might imagine it. Lord Vanyel had aged ten years since I had seen him only a few weeks earlier. He seemed to be dependent on this priest of his for support, but for several days, I never seemed to be able to meet the priest.

Mila and I dealt with the bodies -- and now that I think of it, I cannot fathom why a priest would have let them sit for nearly a week before burning them and praying for their souls. I found that as we worked, I could not hold the idea of Essa in my mind. For whatever reason, unless I forced myself, I thought of the victims as the unfortunate dead and Pavel alone. So Essa is one concern for me. I began to worry more about where she had come from in the first place, and what or who she might really be.

After a week, I finally managed to meet this priest, and that was when I began to be truly terrified. He is urbane, charming in a way that I simply do not trust, and utterly, completely blank to me. The whole time we sat in conversation, I could feel him soothing my mind, but it was not the touch of priestly mind soothing that I have felt before.

At first, I thought he might be possessed, or that his soul might be stored elsewhere, but that's not it. He felt solid to me, in some way, as if he has everything he needs, but he is completely opaque. I've seen him use what look like Holy and Shadow powers, but they don't feel right. I don't believe they are anything I have encountered before. And while he was willing to touch me with his mind, I noticed that he would not touch me physically, not even to shake my hand or to escort me into dinner.

My cousin and his wife are wholly in the sway of this priest. They trusted him about the marriage of their son, they saw nothing odd that he did not show any concern for the remains or the souls of those who died, and they believe that he is the only one who can guide them to find Pavel and Essa. They believe this even though he is doing nothing to actually find the missing couple, other than soothing them into their belief in his intentions and his abilities.

After two days of seeing the priest at every meal, I became aware that he was quite worried about me, too. He offered, one night, to scry for me, to help me find my way in whatever I was "really here to do". I considered it, considered the possibility that doing so would give me more information about who and what he is. But I had seen him scry for Lord Vanyel, and he put my cousin in a sort of trance. My courage failed me; I did not trust what might happen to me if I let this man put me into a trance where he controlled me. I politely declined, and when I did, I saw the one spark of emotion I ever saw in the man. Something terrifying flashed in his eyes, but all he said was, "As you will, Rhaina."

With no one there to consult about the ways of priests who feel so "wrong" to me, I left and headed for Stormwind to see if I might find some information there. Mila is back at Lord Pavel's estate, still seeking clues. Until today, she is the only one I have confided in totally. I've given Sorcha enough information to let her know that we are still actively seeking Pavel, and Mila has sent a messenger to Arathi to try to find out more about Essa's background.

While I was in Stormwind, I met Lady Polly and she invited me to join the Defenders. So here I am, trying to find a way forward.

Rhaina took a sip of her cooling tea and looked earnestly at the other woman. "I don't know anything to do besides try to find out what the so-called priest is. I think I need to know who is the real target here, besides the dead of the household. Are Pavel and his wife the primary objective? Or is Essa involved, and Pavel is the main victim? Or is it all just a ploy to lure Sorcha into a trap? And are my cousin and his wife even alive anymore? So many questions, so much death, and I have no real ideas what to do next."

"Are you going back to Vanyel's Keep, Rhaina?"

"Yes, I think so. While I need access to the kind of information in this library, the true mystery can only be sorted out where it happened."

Cassidy nodded slowly, and then surprised Rhaina by asking, "Would you like me to come with you, Rhaina?"

"I would be happy to have both your company and your insights. I know so little of the arcane arts." Rhaina sighed and pushed a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. "I think I should start with the books you picked out for me, but I'll want to do it quickly. I need to be back at Vanyel's Keep soon."

She put her empty teacup down, and looked at the mage. "I know you have many other commitments, but if you can either travel with me or meet me there, I will certainly adjust myself to your schedule. In the meantime, I have some reading to do."

For the first time, a grin appeared on Cassidy's face, "Yes, yes, you do indeed. Might I suggest that you spend a day or two doing research while I take care of some outstanding business, but that we delay no longer? This sounds like the kind of thing that ought not be left to fester."

With a deep sigh of gratitude, Rhaina replied, "Yes, that sounds wise." She placed her empty cup and plate on the small table between them and stood up. "If you will excuse me, I think I will go get started on my assigned reading." She picked up the books, flashed a smile at the other woman, and walked carefully out of the room, making sure not to drop any more books on the floor.

[Rheyna]

Rhaina closed the soft brown book, and sighed. She looked down at her notes, and realized that despite how little she still felt she knew, she had learned a great deal reading the books Lady Cassidy had recommended. She stood up and stretched, and pushed her hair back out of her eyes.

A quiet knock sounded at the door to her room; since she was standing anyway, she went over and pulled the heavy wooden door open. A footman stood there, not, she thought, the one she had spoken to earlier.

"Good evening," the man said. "Jeremiah has been called away to his family, but before he left, he asked me to give you this. It's the details of the travel arrangements you asked him to make."

"Thank you," Rhaina said, taking the packet of papers. The man bowed slightly and pulled the door shut behind him as he left.

Returning to her desk, Rhaina rifled through the items in the packet, then sat down to write a note to Lady Cassidy.

My Lady,

Thank you for the reading recommendations. I believe I have learned several interesting things, which we can discuss in detail while we travel. I have taken the liberty of making travel arrangements for us, flexible enough to let us depart at your convenience.

I've booked open tickets on the ferry from Menethil Harbor to Southshore, including a day cabin if we take a day ferry and sleeping cabins should we decide to go on the overnight boat. This method is both faster and safer than riding through Arathi.

Once we arrive in Southshore, we have two choices. We can ride for Vanyel's Keep, a ride of about 6 hours. If we do this, I have arranged for a carter to bring our luggage, which will arrive approximately 2 or 3 hours later than we do. Alternatively, we can take a carriage; one has been reserved, along with outriders. This form of travel will take longer, but will let us arrive much less travel-stained, which may be an advantage.

I have written to Mila, Lord Vanyel's steward, and to my cousin Lady Freyja, to alert them that I will be returning, along with a guest. I've asked Mila to arrange for a serving girl for us who is willing to be placed under a geas not to reveal anything she might learn as a side effect of waiting on us. I know she will use only someone who will volunteer for this, and while it might seem a bit paranoid, I thought it best to make this arrangement. I will install the geas myself, being flat out of trust for strangers at Vanyel's Keep.

As far as the reading I did, I don't know if I learned enough to be certain, but of the two choices you offered me, a reanimated corpse is far more likely. Apparently, golems must be constructed of dirt, metal, or rock -- wholly inanimate materials.

Based on my observations of the priest, he is not a golem unless there is also a deep and powerful illusion laid on him to make him appear to have a normal human skin.

Moreover, for a golem to operate in as sophisticated a manner as the priest does, there would have to be a controlling person within 5 or 10 feet of the golem. I have checked my memory carefully, and there is no person who was always present when I was in the same room as the priest, not even servants. Thus, a golem seems unlikely.

If the priest is an animated corpse, then he will be wearing a focus, that is used by the controlling person to communicate with the animated object. In a case such as this, it would have to be a two-way device of some sort, to allow the controller to track the conversation and use the animated corpse to speak in return. According to what I have been able to learn, such a device must be manufactured by someone who is outstanding in the area of engineering, most likely Gnomish engineering, and attuned by a magician of great power. The good news about this is that if we can find and destroy the focus, the animation will terminate.

It is not entirely clear that we are dealing with an animated corpse, golem, or construct, of course.

Anyway, I write at too great length. We can discuss my other findings and any ideas that may have occurred to you while we travel. Do please let me know your schedule, and I will finalize the arrangements. I can be ready to leave within an hour of your notification.

I am grateful for your help,

Rhaina

Sealing the note, Rhaina left her room. Handing the note to yet another footman and asking him to see the the Lady of Dalaran received it as soon as possible, she set out for the druid wing of the Hall. Before she left, she needed to let Sorcha know where she was going and why.



It was still dark outside when Rhaina tugged the last strap on her traveling trunk and tightened the buckle. The trunk contained the clothes she would need once they arrived at Vanyel's keep, and as many supplies and reference books as she had been able to squeeze into the small space. She looked inside her satchel one more time, to make sure it contained all her notes as well as a few supplies and one change of clothes. Nodding at the footman who was already picking up the trunk, she walked out of her room, out of the Hall, and to the stables.

When she reached the pasture right before the stable block, she climbed up on the fence, put her fingers in her mouth and whistled, just as her brothers had taught her when she was a child. She could not help smiling as two whickering horses came running to get the treats and cuddles they knew awaited them.

In the moonlight, the white horse's hide glowed silver. She ran her hands over Mistrider's flank, making sure that the injury the gelding had gotten on their last trip was indeed healed. He snuffled his nose on her hand, and she giggled as she handed him the three apple cores he wanted.

"I'll be leaving you here this time," she told him. "You deserve a rest."

Turning to the chestnut mare, she added, "That means it's your turn to come with me, Moraga. It will be like old times."

After feeding the mare her share of the treats, Rhaina reached up and attached a lead to the horse's halter, and led her into the stable to be saddled and packed for the trip. While she worked, she reviewed her list of packed items. She had enough candles, and enough incense. Bandages and other healing supplies were packed in as much abundance as she had been able to manage. As well, she had included the disks she had gotten from that old man in the Barrens, the ones that froze the Forsaken in their steps for a few seconds. She had only a few, but she had brought all that she had.

Once Moraga was ready for the journey, she returned to her room, quickly washed the smell of the stable off her body, and dressed in warm traveling clothes. She tucked her pouch of coins into the hidden pocket at the top of her boots, and picked up her staff. Comforted a bit by its glow, she picked up her satchel, closed her door firmly, and went downstairs to meet Lady Cassidy and begin their journey.

[Rheyna]

Rhaina tugged her cloak more tightly around her body as she stood by the railing on the ferry. The thrum thrum thrum of the Gonmish machinery that powered the vessel was faintly detectable through the soles of her feet, but she was only vaguely aware of it. Instead, she stared off across the water, seeing in her mind's eye the landfall they would be making come morning.

Her belongings were safely stowed in her cabin, and she had come above deck to smell the salt breeze, feel the misty spray on her face, and watch the sun go down over the water. Lady Cassidy was still settling in, but they would be eating a light meal together shortly before retiring for the night while the boat made its way to Southshore. The sunset wasn't going to be particularly spectacular tonight, as a bank of low fog sat on the surface of the water between the boat and the edge of the water where the sun would be disappearing. Nevertheless, Rhaina wanted to watch the sky darken and look for the first star. As a child, she had believed that noticing the first star in the sky at night brought good luck, and Light knew they could use all the luck they could get.

Rhaina could feel the wards placed on her at the start of the journey by her companion, could feel their power, and was grateful once again to have the Defenders and the assistance of so powerful a wielder of the arcane. She had been fascinated, watching Cassidy place them on the two of them, to see how similar the process was -- and yet how different, too -- from the one she would use to place the geas on the as-yet-unknown serving girl who would care for them once they reached Vanyel's Keep.

Soon, now, the sun would set, they would eat, and then sleep through the voyage. After that, it was only a carriage ride with their horses being led by outriders until they arrived back at Pavel's childhood home. Rhaina shivered from more than just the cold, recalling the sensation of being in the presence of the priest.

Her thoughts were so far away that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching her from behind.

"Well, well, Rhaina. I haven't seen you in a long, long time."

Rhaina felt herself flinch as she heard the words of a man she had studied for the priesthood with. His voice was dripping with the same vague threat that had always been there, ever since the day she had made it clear she was not his for the taking. Dammit! This was not what she needed on this trip; protecting herself from Jared's annoying presence would distract her from the business at hand.

"Hullo, Jared," she replied with a calmness she did not feel. "I hope you are doing well. I'm afraid I can't stay and chat, as I am meeting someone for dinner."

His hand reached out and grabbed her arm, and she flinched again at the way he dug his fingers into her flesh. "Oh, I think not," he replied. "We have unfinished business, you and I."

Something cracked open inside Rhaina at that moment. She looked at the man who had made so many priestly gatherings miserable for her and realized that she had far surpassed him in skill and power. She looked out across the water and saw a small island within easy swimming distance. That would do nicely.

"You will remove your hand from my arm now. You will go back down those stairs. And you will never bother me again," she said to him, giving him the chance to avoid a conflict, and watched his face flush with fury at what he obviously considered to be her temerity. He made a sound like a snarl, and moved to grab her with his other hand as well.

Rhaina prayed quickly to the Light, asking for the Shadow to help protect her from her enemies, and reached out with her mind. Finding the weakness in Jared's own mind, she seized control of it. The first thing she did was to remove his hands from her body. Then she simply told his legs to walk him off the boat and into the water. Standing at the railing, she swam him to the island, where she left him with one thought. "You have relied for years on the idea that I was too nice, or too kind, to treat you as you deserved. No more. Stay away from me."

Severing the control over Jared's mind, she turned away from the railing, to see Lady Cassidy standing there, staring at her.

It was clear that the other woman had seen enough of what passed between Rhaina and Jared to have a decent idea of the situation. Without waiting to discuss it with Rhaina, she moved to the railing of the deck and watched Jared finish his swim to the island Rhaina had picked out for him. With a flick of her fingers, she threw a ball of magic at the man on the beach, and Rhaina found herself stifling a giggle as he turned into a sheep.

The first star appeared, and her heart lightened a bit more. "My brothers always told me the first star was a good omen. And there it is."

The mage looked up at the faint star Rhaina pointed out to her, and then her gaze fell lower. Rhaina followed where Cassidy's eyes were looking, at the island and its new inhabitant. "He seems safe enough for the time being. Perhaps we can have a pleasant and uneventful meal?"

Without another word, the two women headed below-decks and were promptly seated at their assigned table. In silence they watched while porters laid a simple meal in front of each of them. And still without speaking, they picked up their forks and began to eat.

Eventually, Cassidy broke the silence, saying, "Rhaina, I know that there are annoying people everywhere, but this is too much of a coincidence for me to simply dismiss it from my mind."

"I know," Rhaina replied with a sigh. "I am nearly certain that it is the result of my meddling in this affair, but I do think I need to keep an open mind about the possibility that I was the target all along."

As she chewed, Rhaina thought more about it, and realized that his actions had been an escalation of his previous behavior. He'd always kept his "attacks" verbal; she didn't think he had ever touched her at all, since that night so long ago . . . But tonight, he had first taken her arm and then tried to grab her other arm, too. And feeling the residual sense of his mind in hers, she knew he had been touched by something.

"I think," she said at last, "that something or someone was using him, and my distrust and dislike of him. He's been a nuisance to me for years, but this was the first time he took any physical action."

"His mind was not untouched," she said slowly. "I don't know how to describe it, but it felt as if something had taken his existing feelings about me and sharpened them into something more dangerous. He felt like a weapon to me, Lady. And I don't know who was wielding the weapon."

She looked down at her plate, where she had idly and without realizing what she was doing, mixed her food together into one uneven mess. She sighed again. "It seems like an awfully complicated plot just to ensnare me -- and with no certainty of doing so. On the other hand, this whole thing is an awfully complicated plan to ensnare Sorcha, or even Pavel. If someone wanted him out of the way, why not simply murder him?"

Carefully, she divided her food back into its constituent parts and tried to eat it, although she really tasted nothing. Looking up again, she said, "I think that is what bothers me most. We are not talking about royalty or even the high aristocracy here. Pavel's family holds a small border keep and my family holds one not much larger or more important. I have no reason to believe that Sorcha is anyone special, either, the affection I have for her notwithstanding. We are ordinary people, so what could possibly justify such a difficult and expensive set of maneuvers?"

She took a bite, chewed it and swallowed it.

"The more complicated this gets, the more I learn about the power needed to do some of the things that have been done, the more worried I am about what it all means, and who it's really aimed at. And why."

[Rheyna]

Rhaina peered out the window of the carriage as she tried once more to unobtrusively stretch her muscles. The long carriage ride had been relaxing at first, with a chance to get to know Lady Cassidy a little better as they talked of various things, both related and unrelated to the purpose of their journey. Rhaina had taken the chance to find out more about how the wards the Lady of Dalaran had placed for her worked, and had been fascinated by what she was sure had been a very much simplified explanation. She was grateful that Cassidy was such good company, for journeys such as this could be tedious in the extreme.

They had traveled upland from Southshore, into the hills of Hillsbrad and then beyond, in the direction of the ruined city now occupied by the Forsaken. After awhile, the carriage with its outriders (and the grooms leading her horse and Cassidy's mount) turned off the main road and began to follow a series of smaller waypaths, winding through the hills, as cultivated lands gave way to orchards and then more heavily wooded areas. They passed the dower manor where Pavel and his lady had lived so briefly, and Rhaina had the carriage stop so she could point it out to Cassidy. The fields around the manor were still under cultivation, but the teams of fieldworkers seemed a bit too small to Rhaina's eye, as if there weren't as many people in the area as there once had been.

The landscape grew more remote. As they traveled on, Rhaina reflected once again on the obscurity of this small holding. Why on earth had its heir been chosen as the victim of such a dangerous and elaborate scheme?

Out the window, she could see the village attached to Vanyel's Keep, so she sat back and told Lady Cassidy, "We are almost there. I think it would be wise to keep as low a profile as possible when we arrive." She grinned suddenly, both dimples appearing on her cheeks. "Of course, your accent is a dead give-away that you are not a country girl or even a member of the gentry! I fully expect my cousin Frejya to fawn all over you the second she hears you speak. I'd apologize for that, save that I expect you are both used to it and able to handle it beautifully...."

Her voice trailed off as she thought about the other people they would encounter in the Keep. As she pondered, the carriage passed through the arched gateway into the outer compound. A footman rushed forward to open the door and lower the steps. Rhaina lifted her skirts and stepped down from the carriage. For a second, she swayed a bit as she adjusted to not moving. Then she moved towards the tall blonde standing behind the footman.

"Mila!" she said with a smile. "How lovely to see you again!" Turning to where Cassidy was also alighting from the carriage, she drew the steward forward to introduce the two.

"Mila, this is Cassidy Elphinstone, who has agreed to help me with my project. Cassidy, this is Mila, daughter of Piotr, and steward to Vanyel. She has been my main ally in this project."

Once she made sure the other two women had the small talk of meeting under control, she walked to the back of the carriage to check the horses who had been led for the last few hours. Both Twila and Moraga seemed to be in good spirits, though she ran her hands over the flanks and legs of both, extending her healing senses, to make sure neither had suffered any hidden injuries during the journey. Reassured that their mounts were in good shape, the little priest turned back to the other two.

Waiting for a break in the conversation, she observed the two women, her allies. The tall, black-haired mage with the secret sorrows Rhaina didn't pretend to understand seemed like a beacon of arcane power so strong that it surprised the priest when others took her for a pampered aristo. And the equally tall, slender blonde, exuding a more mundane competence, whose delicate exterior hid a will of thorium and the power of determination in the face of terrible odds.

After a moment or two, Mila said, "Let me take you to your chambers first. I've chosen a suite of rooms for you, with separate sleeping chambers, but a shared parlor, which seemed like it might be useful to you." Turning towards Rhaina, she added, "Bridget, who served you last time you were here, has volunteered to do so again. I've explained to her the need for a geas, and she has agreed to it. I'll have her meet us in your parlor. The sooner you put that in place, the better."

When both visitors nodded in response, Mila moved towards the stone steps leading into the main building of the Keep, and signaled with her hand at a waiting retainer, who moved off in the opposite direction. Moving quickly but calmly along the corridors and up a flight of stairs, she led the mage and the priest to a doorway at the end of a hall. Right next to their door was a servants' stairway, but otherwise, the room was quite isolated.

When they opened the door and entered the room, they found the porters just leaving, having deposited all the luggage in a neat pile in the middle of the room. Before Rhaina could do more than thank the men quickly, the door opened again and a sturdy middle-aged maid entered and curtsied to both visitors before saying to Mila, "Here I am, Steward. Frank said you needed me."

"Yes, Bridget," the steward replied. "Thank you for coming so quickly. You remember Lady Freyja's cousin Rhaina, I believe. And this is Lady Cassidy Elphinstone. You will be serving them during their visit. No one but you is to enter these rooms, please. You will need to lay the fires yourself, and collect deliveries from the door. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," came the reply in the slightly roughened pleasant voice, as the woman curtsied before first Rhaina, and then Cassidy. "I've gone ahead and set myself up in the off-room, so I can sleep here."

Turning to Rhaina, she added, "I hear tell you will be needing to place a binding on me, Mother Priest. I'm ready when you are."

Rhaina grinned at her. "What is this 'Mother Priest' nonsense, Bridget? That is not what you called me last time I was here!"

Bridget smiled back a little shyly. "Well, I know, but you are entitled to be called that even if you are a tiny little thing, too sturdy for your own good, and perfectly willing to answer when I call you 'Miss Rhainie'."

"That's better," said Rhaina, as she rummaged in her satchel for her candles, oils, and spices. "Can you kneel on the floor over here, please, Bridget?"

Rhaina carefully placed seven candles in a circle around the kneeling maidservant, and whispered a prayer under her breath as she lit each one. In each flame she placed a tiny bit of dried aromatic: thyme, rosemary, applewood, cedar bark, citrus peel from Strangelthorn Vale, and a laurel leaf from her mother's own tree. The mingled scent rose to fill the room with a powerful aroma that drew Rhaina's spirit closer to the Light. Entering the circle to stand next to Bridget, she placed her hands on the woman's forehead. Chanting softly, she asked for permission to enter the woman's mind, and relaxed slightly when the answer came clear and soft. "Do what you must, Miss Rhainie."

Extending her spirit a bit, she moved just under the surface of Bridget's mind, spreading herself out, looking for darkness or deception, happy that she found none. Carefully, slowly, she poured three drops of mint oil into her left hand and let her body heat warm the oil as she soothed Bridget's mind to allow the geas to be applied without pain.

"Hold out your hands, palms up, Bridget." The maid's hands rose, and Rhaina anointed them and the woman's forehead, each with a drop of the mint oil, whose scent rose to mingle with the smoky herbal smells filling the room.

Praying now to the Light to aid her, Rhaina reached for the Shadow, and took control of Bridget's mind, and began a silent dialog with the woman, using her mind control to make sure that the woman's responses were true and heartfelt. After an untold amount of time, spent in silent communion, where they made decisions together, Rhaina began to speak aloud, but very quietly, and Bridget responded in the same way.

"Promise me that you will not reveal what you may learn from us." "I will not."

"Promise me that you will tell me anything you learn elsewhere that pertains to our project." "I will."

"Promise me that you take these vows willingly." "With all my heart."

"Pledge your eternal soul to keep these promises." "I so pledge."

"Agree to an unbreakable constraint, to become unable to break these vows." "Place it on me, Mother Priest."

"Light bind this woman to her word." An invisible flash of Light, seen only with the mind's eye, erupted in the center of Bridget's mind and then filled the entire room briefly.

Rhaina picked up an eighth candle and lit it with the power of her spirit.

"Place your left hand in the flame. If your word is good, it will not burn you."

Bridget's hand sat in the flame for a moment, then two, then three. Then Rhaina made a quick gesture and all the candles went out. As new holders of a geas often did, Bridget started to collapse, but Rhaina was there next to her, holding her upright, pouring Light into the woman, and helping her to her feet.

"Thank you, Bridget. Your willingness to do this for me and for Lord Pavel means a great deal."

Mila and Cassidy had moved away from the circle of candles, but were silently watching the action. Meeting Rhaina's eyes for a moment, Mila said, "Thank you Bridget. You can start unpacking their luggage now. Put Lady Cassidy in the west room and Rhaina in the north chamber, please."

Bridget curtsied, picked up Cassidy's trunk, and silently headed for the western sleeping chamber.

"Thank you, Bridget," Rhaina said once more. Turning back to the other two women, and lowering her voice, she added, "She will be unable to break that geas. I've larded it with alarms, as well. If she tries to violate it, I will know. And if someone else tries to break it, I will know that as well. I also buried it as deeply as I know how. I don't want anyone finding it without looking very hard for it."

Rhaina looked at the ground for a moment. "I'm afraid I used the most powerful techniques I know. If someone manages to break that geas, Bridget will die. She chose this, and I don't know if I did the right thing, but I think Pavel's life depends on her silence. She was one of his nursemaids, and she agreed to this." Sighing, she added, "We'll just have to make sure no one breaks the geas. There has been enough death already."

"Well, I can do my part, too," answered Cassidy. "A few simple wards on the doors here will make it hard for people other than the four of us to enter the room, and will leave a trace if anyone tries."

Watching the mage work, Rhaina welcomed the presence of so powerful an ally. She was fascinated by the things Cassidy could do, and wondered how it felt to be crackling with all that power. She had heard priests who followed the Shadow, and warlocks, too, say that one could be corrupted by the arcane, but in Cassidy, the arcane burned brightly, and Rhaina felt comforted by its presence.

She narrowed her eyes as the mage caught herself on a chair. The taller woman was very skilled at hiding it, but something was wrong. With her senses still heightened from the ritual she had just performed, Rhaina could feel the ebbing and flowing of something that wasn't Cassidy's lifeforce, but was closely tied to her power.

As the wards snapped into place, though, Rhaina felt something else, even more strongly. Something recoiled from the power of the mage's work. Rhaina could feel it slithering out of the room, as if it had been burned by the touch of the wards. Rhaina knew then that she hadn't been wrong: they were all in great danger here. Both the wards and the geas were necessary to provide them with a safe haven.

"We need to be very careful," she said. "Something was just banished by those wards. I couldn't sense it until it was leaving, but someone is watching us, too closely. I think we need to reserve all our conversation about what we do, until we are safely within the walls of this room. Nowhere else in the Keep is safe."

As Cassidy had laid the wards, Bridget completed the unpacking. The servant bustled about a little more, then left the suite.

only to reappear moments later. Nodding her head at Mila, she said, "The Lady wishes to greet the visitors as soon as they are cleaned up from their travels."

Rhaina sighed. She had very little use for her cousin Freyja at the best of times, which this was not. "Bridget, is there warm water in my room? I'll just wash my face and change my dress. You help Lady Cassidy, please."

In almost no time, she had wiped off the worst of the travel dirt and donned one of her favorite dresses. The green and white robe appeared to be just a confection of the sort one wore to sit in a bower and chatter with one's friends, but Rhaina had sewn it herself, and it hid great power, providing support should she need to call on her own powers at any time. In fact, all the clothes Rhaina had brought with her had been carefully chosen to appear to the casual observer to be just the kind of thing that the daughter of a Keep like this might wear, while actually functioning as a focus for the Light, and protection should she be attacked.

As she returned to the parlor, just a few minutes later, she tossed a word of power in the direction of Cassidy's room, and one at Mila, bolstering their fortitude, and for herself, drew on her inner power to wrap herself in an invisible shield. No one could see it, but she was much safer from physical attack than Cassidy was. Of course, their foes (whoever they were!) seemed unlikely to attack physically.

Praying to the Light to hold them safe, she made ready to leave the suite.

[Rheyna]

Rhaina followed Cassidy into their suite of rooms, closing the door softly behind them. The temptation was great to slam the door, but she resisted it. No need to draw extra attention to them, after all.

The mage seated herself on a bench near a window and loosened the lacings on her dress with a sigh. "I suppose after a lifetime of it, I ought to be used to the ways people choose to treat nobles when they encounter us. But I still cherish a hope that in the process of becoming a sorcerer, I might have lost the status of aristo. So I am often disappionted to discover it is not true."

"You handle it beautifully, Cassidy," Rhaina replied. "My cousin is flattered that you are deigning to visit here, and frankly, her awe at your social rank will be very helpful. Not that she is a particularly observant person to start with, but she's so dazzled by having one of your father's daughters in her very own house that it will never occur to her to wonder why you came with me."

"That is a good thing, I suppose," the mage said. "Because you were right that there is something very wrong here. I haven't even met this priest of yours yet, and my skin crawls with the atmosphere here, and the undercurrents."

Rhaina felt insensibly relieved to know that the other woman was also picking up on the wrongness that seemed to permeate the keep, but she didn't say so. Instead, she said, "It has been a long day, what with the journey, the evening with Lady Freyja and Lord Vanyel, and the stress of this whole situation." She twisted a strand of hair in her fingers, then added, "Mila tells me that the man she sent to Arathi should be back with news soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow or the next day. I am anxious to hear what he has learned."

"As am I," agreed the darker woman. "I'd also like to visit Pavel's manor if we can. I know you and Mila have been over it carefully already, but perhaps there are remnants of clues that will be more obvious to someone with my training."

"That seems like a good idea." Rhaina looked up as the door opened and Bridget let herself into the room. "Good evening, Bridget. I think we are about to retire, as it's been a long day. Do you think you could ask Mila to breakfast with us here tomorrow morning? And arrange for food for all four of us, please?"

"Sure I can, Miss Rhainie."

"Thank you, Bridget."


Rhaina watched Mila spread jam carefully on a piece of toast and raise it to her mouth while Cassidy sipped a cup of tea, her breakfast already eaten. She felt surprisingly comforted by the presence of the two other women, whose intentions and competence she trusted utterly. It was a relief not to feel quite so alone.

"So, that seems like a reasonable plan for today," the mage was saying. "We'll go to the dower manor this morning and see if there are disturbances in the energies there that might help us sort things out. Then we will spend some time this afternoon with Lady Freyja and her neighbors, who are coming to tea today. Later, if he has arrived, we can speak with your agent, Mila."

Rhaina's mouth twisted for a moment. "Leave it to my cousin to invite the entire neighborhood to meet her noble guest."

Cassidy looked steadily at her, and then commented, "You grew up in a place like this, did you not, Rhaina? You must know how to do all the things required of the wife of a keep holder, almost as second nature?"

Rhaina nodded.

"Well, I grew up in a noble household. I know how to do all the things required of a pampered aristo lady, almost without thought. One of those is being gracious to the 'little people', which is most assuredly how my mother would view everyone in this Keep." She grimaced. "I don't like that attitude, but I know how to act in situations like this. It won't even ruffle me at all to be put on display for the neighborhood, as it were."

That made sense, and Rhaina relaxed a little, knowing that the Lady of Dalaran was taking this all with good humor.


As the three women rode over the crest of the last hill overlooking Pavel's manor, Rhaina thought how different it seemed from the last time she was here. Of course, her first sight of the manor on that occasion had horrified her, with the grounds and interior both liberally decorated with bodies desecrated by their Forsaken attackers. And the last time she had seen it, the funeral pyres were still smoldering.

Today, it looked like any well-tended manor, with fields of grain waving in the breeze, and a group of men repairing a fence. Perhaps it was just her imagination, though, because the place seemed sad and lonely in a way that sat jarringly on its appearance of being well-run.

As they rode up to the front door, two grooms ran out from the stable to take their horses. Mila let the men know that it would be an hour or so before the women needed their horses for the ride back to the Keep, and then she led the way up the front stairs to the heavy wooden door.

Turning her key in the lock, the steward led the other two women into the front hall. Rhaina was interested to see that someone had cleaned the entire place and shrouded the furniture in cloths to protect them while they were not being used. The house looked much more well-kept than the last time she had seen it, but also sadder as if it did not care to go unlived in.

"The only room that has not been cleaned and changed is that one withdrawing room, Rhaina," Mila told them as she led the way up the curving main staircase to the withdrawing room of which she spoke.

Rhaina remembered how odd it had been when the rest of the house was full of overturned and broken furniture, not to mention all the corpses, to find the one room so pristine and untouched. Now, it seemed odd again, but this time because it was the only room in the house that was not shrouded in sheets, waiting for new occupants to move in. Knowing how superstitious country folk could be, Rhaina doubted that many would be willing to live in such a place for a very long time to come.

The three women stood right inside the doorway to the withdrawing room, Pavel's private office space. His large desk still had some ledgers piled to one side, and a handful of business letters in the middle of the workspace. Mila knelt and lit a small fire, to take off the edge of unused feeling, she said, and the three women sat down in the conversation area that was provided near the fireplace. Behind Cassidy's chair, Rhaina could see Pavel's armor chest, and on a shelf above that, the lockbox where he had kept Sorcha's letters.

As she looked around the room to reassure herself that nothing had changed since the last time she was here, she saw that Cassidy was also looking closely at the room, and its contents.

"This room is full of power," the mage commented. "It is as if a great many ley lines of elemental force cross in here. It's hard for me to imagine that a sorcerer could have been taken anywhere in the house. That Pavel and Essa have disappeared suggests that either neither of them is a mage, or that at least one of them was an accomplice to the disappearance."

"Hmmm," Rhaina said. "There is no resonance of any kind of Light or Shadow here, or at least no more than is usual. I know that Pavel is strong in the Light, but as far as I know, he has no affinity for or prowess with any other forms of power, including Shadow."

"No, he wouldn't, if he was a paladin," said Cassidy.

"He was a very powerful paladin," Rhaina replied. "The Light sometimes shone from his eyes so strongly that people unused to it would flinch away from it. But he controlled it better than anyone else I have ever met. It is one reason why the fact that he appears not to have won this fight, or at least died trying, worries me so much."

The three of them sat in silence for a moment or two before Cassidy turned to Mila and asked, "I see the lockbox with the letters. I know you said that there are two hidden compartments in the desk. Are those the only secure places you know of in this room?"

"Yes," replied the steward. "Pavel asked me to provide him with a desk that had the hidden spaces when I was furnishing the house for them. And the lockbox was stored in the armor chest before I moved it after the attack."

"I see," said Cassidy. "Can you show me the hidden parts of the desk, please?"

And so the two taller women stood and walked over to the desk, where they put their heads down and examined the two compartments Mila had mentioned. When they were done, Cassidy raised her head and spoke directly to Rhaina. "Something is wrong here. I can feel that there is another hiding place in this room. But I can't tell where it is. Do your Light and Shadow tell you anything about such a thing?"

"Nothing immediately obvious, Cassidy. What do you mean you can sense that there is another hiding place?"

"I can feel the presence of some kind of powerful object, feeding on the ley lines in the room, but I can't tell where it is." She shook her head, and looked around.

"Let me see if I can find it, now that I know it is here," suggested Rhaina.

She sat upright in her chair and went into a light trance. Closing her eyes, she sent out tiny pieces of Light to explore the room, and little fragments of Shadow to seek out hidden places. After several minutes, in her mind's eye, she could see a line of Light of Shadow outlining a section of the baseboards behind the desk. She opened her eyes, and walked over to that part of the room, where she knelt down beside the marked section.

"Here," she said, as her fingers explored the seemingly seamless boards, and then found a tiny depression, which she pressed gently. As she did so, she heard a sharp, quiet "click", and watched in amazement as a piece of the basebaords rotated upwards, revealing a small cache.

She looked at the opening, and gasped at what she saw.

[Rheyna]

Coldiron grunted under his breath as he rearranged his pack on his back. A few more missions and he'd have impressed those dwarves at Amberstill Ranch enough that they would actually deign to sell him a riding ram and teach him how to ride it. He looked forward to that day, but in the meantime, his goal was to earn both the required money and their respect. Hence this wild goose chase he was embarked upon.

His somewhat gloomy thoughts did not slow his steps along the path, as he made his way under the stone gate that separated Arathi from Hillsbrad. Once he crossed the border, he found a handy stone and sat down on it, letting his pack slide down enough to rest on the stone as well. He carefully removed a map from his pocket, and unfolded it.

As he studied the map, he hoped his route would take him higher into the hills and farther north, too. The Arathi "Highlands" men called it, but to his mind, it wasn't high enough. The place was far enough south that the sun beat down even on an autumn day like today. It was certainly late enough in the year that any civilized place should have a distinct nip in the air, and Arathi lacked that. But then what could a man expect from a race like humans? With luck, the coming winter would already be detectable in the remote area of Hillsbrad to which he was headed.

After eating a quick meal of trail rations and drinking the remaining water in his skin, Coldiron pushed himself up off the stone and resettled his pack once again on his back. Not too far ahead was a stream, where he could refill his waterskins, and that would be his immediate goal. According to his map, he could turn north and walk along the stream bank to the road into the hills that he sought.

Not for the first time on this puzzling mission, Coldiron wished he had taken the time to learn more before he started, both about his employer and about the tasks she had entrusted to him. At least if he had, he would know where he was going now, instead of having to rely on a map that someone else had drawn and provided.

Reluctantly, perhaps even begrudgingly, he admitted to himself that so far the map had served him well, as had the packet of information, letters of introduction, and other items his employer had provided for his use. Still, he hated to rely on another person so much, and he was uncomfortable knowing that he had no choice on this trip. Either his employer's information was going to be useful or it was not.


Some hours later, now well up in the foothills, Coldiron sat back on his heels for a second as he tightened the last rope holding his tent fly. The higher elevation had indeed brought the slightest tinge of cold to the air, and he felt much more content. The fact that tonight was a bivouac and not a stay in an inn made him even more happy: fewer people to deal with, and an abundance of his own company, which was, after all his favorite company. Perhaps there would be frost by morning, which would raise his spirits out of the merely content to something approaching actual happiness.

Once the tent was securely set up and his bedroll arranged to his satisfaction, Coldiron turned his attention to his stomach, which had been growling at him like a corehound for an hour or so. Tonight, he decided to treat himself to a hot meal instead of eating another set of field rations. Part of him worried that he might get soft if he slacked off the ration packs, but he comforted himself with the idea that by perfecting his scavenging skills, he was helping make himself more self-sufficient, always a primary goal of his.

Within a few moments, he had found a wild apple tree and grabbed a few of the last apples off its branches. He also located two onions and a half dozen carrots. In fact, now that he looked more closely at the little hollow he had chosen for his campsite, he saw signs that it had perhaps once had a cottage in it. If so, all remnants of that were long gone except what seemed like an old garden patch now gone feral. Poking around some more, he found a mound of potatoes, from which he was able to grab a couple.

Back at his tent, he rummaged through his bags until he found his cooking kit. With a few of the dried ingredients he always carried with him, he quickly prepared a meal that had the advantage of being freshly cooked. Even the slight charring on the potato was a nice change from the dry hard tack and boar jerky he usually ate for his evening meal. He even allowed himself a few swigs from his one precious aleskin before he banked the fire and rolled into his tent. He'd faced the tent door to the rising sun, so he hope to be up and on his way shortly after dawn. If he got moving soon enough, he could be at his destination by early afternoon, and that would be all to the good.

[Rheyna]

Coldiron took a last swallow of the bitter drink and immediately grabbed a handful of grass to wipe out the mug. He didn't have any more of the precious liquid, and he didn't want to admit to himself that he wished he did. Coffee was a nasty habit, one he'd picked up during the dark years, and hadn't been able to purge since. Still, he felt alert and warmed this morning, and since the frost he had longed for did indeed cover the ground, those were both good things.

Besides the coffee, the dwarf had eaten a ration bar for his morning meal, so he had let the fire begin to die down the second he had the water to brew his coffee. Now, he dug a small hole to the side of the hollow and carefully moved the few remaining embers there, burying them carefully to make sure that no trace of flame remained when he left. He'd had enough of licking flames in his life, and while he could appreciate the utility of a well-controlled fire, he had no sentimental liking for them, nor did he intend to let one of his fires ever flare up into something big and uncontrolled. Even the thought made his spine stiffen and a shiver pass across his skin.

He'd dreamed of heat, as he so often did, and had been pleased and relieved to awaken to thoroughly chilly air and frost covering the ground. His pack was all put together and waiting only for him to hoist it onto his back. He checked his waterskins (all full) and the fire pit (cold enough for him to place his hand on it without flinching), and then lifted the heavy pack onto his back. With a last look around the hollow where he'd spent the night, he headed back down the barely visible path to the slightly more prominent path along which he was walking.

He'd reviewed the map while he had his coffee, and he was pretty sure that another couple hours should bring him to the country road that led to the Keep. He was well within the time allotted to him for his arrival there, and he'd followed his instructions and sent a rider from Refuge Pointe with news of his estimated arrival date. The last bit of work in Arathi had taken longer than he had anticipated, but he'd pushed himself hard on the journey into Hillsbrad and made up much of the time.

As he walked along the road, he thought again about what he had learned, much of it puzzling to him, and he was not clear that it would be useful to his employer at all. But he had followed her instructions carefully, and he supposed he was entitled to be paid the full amount of the contract, whether she found the information useful (or even coherent), or not.

And she'd agreed to put him up in an empty cottage for a week after he arrived before sending him back to Ironforge. He'd bargained hard for the accommodations and the travel once the job was done, but they were both necessary to his own plans. The time in the cottage would let him repair his kit and manufacture more ration packs and supplies to replace the ones he had used on this trip. It would also tide him over until his stint in the Ironforge Guard came up. That work should itself put him over the amount of savings required to purchase his longed-for ram, and the nice thing was that they were so hard up for solid infantrymen that he could show up more or less when he wanted and stay as long as he pleased.


As the morning wore on and he trudged along the country road he had indeed located with little trouble, Coldiron became aware of that he was not alone on the path he followed. However, whenever he managed to casually move to look where he thought that the other was, he saw no one. He began to scout the area ahead of him, looking for a good place for a confrontation. He surreptitiously loosened the straps of his pack so that he could easily jettison it, and made sure that both daggers were well at hand. He had carefully applied poisons to them that morning before breaking camp, so he knew they would be lethal enough if it came to that.

With ears trained to hear the slightest movement, he began to listen for the movements of the one behind him. Meanwhile, his eyes chose a small clearing up ahead as a good place to force a meeting between the follower and himself.

"Ah, bah," he said out loud, then moved into the clearing, being sure to make a fair amount of noise. Beneath the commotion he was himself causing, he could hear footsteps following him off the packed surface of the path and onto the dried grass of the clearing.

He walked up to a tree and pretended to reach for the lacings of his trousers, as if he were going to make water against the tree trunk. As he did so, he heard the distinctive sound of a knife being slipped from a sheath. It was all he needed.

Quick as anything, he dropped his pack and hopped around the back side of the tree, hoping to slip into the shadows. When he peered around the trunk, he saw before him a young human, clad in gorgeous leathers that were designed to blend with their surroundings, and holding a dagger in his hand. Despite the expensive equipment, it did not appear to Coldiron that this fellow knew the first thing about a real fight, the kind where only one person survived, and he was suddenly grateful for the hard experiences that had taught him to survive at all costs.

The young man was peering into the underbrush into which Coldiron and disappeared, but was himself standing in plain sight. What's more, the shine and gleam on his blade told Coldiron that he had not taken the trouble to lube up his weapon with any poisons. Still, the youngster looked quite confident, and Coldiron was not foolish enough to dismiss him.

Moving carefully and silently, the dwarf moved until he was off to one side of the human. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a small round pebble, one of several he carried with him for such occasions as this. He tossed the stone so it passed well behind the head of the other and landed softly on a small bush across the clearing from where Coldiron stood. The feint worked, and the other man turned to stare at the spot where the noise came from, turning his back to Coldiron as he did so.

The second the man's back was turned, Coldiron leapt into the air and landed silently right behind the stranger. One kick and a flick of his wrist, and the fellow lay on the ground on his back, Coldiron's dagger pointing at his throat.

"Who are ya, and what do ya want of me?" the dwarf demanded in a voice that rasped like a rusty saw.

He could see the fear in the man's eyes, and then that fear suddenly disappeared. In its place came an expression of haughty confidence. "It is my destiny to prevent you from reaching Vanyel's Keep, and so I shall do." With a lightning quick movement, the young man slipped out from beneath the dagger's point, and leapt to his feet.

A part of Coldiron's mind made a note to chastise himself later for putting himself into a position where that could happen, but for now, he was concentrating on survival. When he first noticed the follower, he had assumed it was a garden-variety robber, hoping to obtain his belongings, and he was quite surprised to learn that the man was both so well-dressed and seemingly acquainted enough with his business that he knew where he was headed. As far as Coldiron knew, he had not shared that information with anyone at all, which meant that the man had learned it elsewise. Yet another thing to ponder when this was over.

For it immediately became clear that Coldiron was engaged in a difficult fight. He clung to his belief that the man he fought did not know how to fight to the death, but he was uneasy about how the fear in his eyes had been replaced with confidence, as if he knew something Coldiron did not know about their fates.

Nevertheless, the pits of the Dark Irons breed scrappy fighters, and Coldiron had spent many years perfecting his skills in order to survive in the world he found himself in.

The fight lasted longer than he hoped, but despite the man's confidence and the fact that his blade was forged of some magical substance that burned Coldiron's skin where it touched him, the dwarf soon knew that if he could survive the magical wounds, he would win the fight. As the poisons on his blade began to slow his opponent noticeably, Coldiron, darted behind him and slid his blade between two ribs and into the man's heart.

Surprisingly, the fellow did not die right away. Coldiron rolled him over in time to see the confidence leak back out of his eyes, to be replaced with the same bleak fear the dwarf had seen earlier.

"Don't think this is over, Dark Iron, for it is not. You may reach the Keep, but there are other ways to silence you."

When the man called him a Dark Iron, Coldiron felt himself go a little mad -- would the taint of his history never desert him? And he reached out a hand towards the man's throat, ready to strangle him if need be, when he heard the death rattle, and knew that his attacker had escaped beyond his reach.


It took some time, but Coldiron built a funeral pyre and prepared to drag the body onto it. Before he burned the body, he explored it carefully, and was shocked to discover nothing on it besides the clothes and knife, other than a chain around its neck from which hung a small red stone. When he touched the stone, it burned his skin, much as the man's knife had done, so he carefully wrapped both items in an old shirt of his and tucked them away into his pack. Then he place the body on the pyre and burned the body.

As he smelled the scent of burning flesh, he wondered if he should have buried it instead of triggering the memories of all the other burning bodies he had smelled in his lifetime, But no, this was faster than burial, and suddenly speed had become of the essence. The only thing more important to him than speed at the moment was the need to get to his destination safely.

With a disgusted sigh, he studied his map further and decided that he would be best off leaving the road and striking out along the ridge just to the south. It was longer and an undoubtedly more difficult route, but it was not the one marked on the map. It had not escaped Coldiron's attention that of all the routes from Arathi to Vanyel's Keep, his attacker had known which one he was going to take, and when he was going to be there.

It all made him wonder if the information he had been sent to collect might, in the end, be somewhat more important than he had suspected.

[Rheyna]

Rhaina's breath caught in her chest as the hidden space opened and she could see what it contained. On a white velvet pillow was what looked for all the world like a freshly severed child's hand, palm up, holding a small red stone. Blood oozed slowly from the cut wrist, soaking the velvet. It looked for all the world as if it had been placed there in the lat few minutes, but she knew is had not, for the three women had been in the room now for over an hour.

"Rhaina?"

Cassidy's voice startled her out of her focused concentration on the item in the cache, and she turned to look at the other woman, distress in her eyes. "Look at this, Cassidy," she said with a certain bleakness in her tone, as she moved away from the opening to let the mage crouch down and get a look, too.

She could hear Cassidy's breath catch in her throat as she caught her first glimpse of the grisly object.

"Rhaina, can you see any power lines around this object?" the mage asked grimly.

"No, just the, the thing itself."

Cassidy moved away and gestured at Mila to look, as well, "Don't touch it. I think it's very dangerous."

Mila looked at it only briefly before stepping away. Rhaina knelt again and looked into the opening, hoping against hope that her memory of what she had seen was mistaken.

Of course, it was not. Using her inner senses, she sought any emanations of power either into or out of the grisly thing, but found none. "I don't sense any Light or Shadow here," she told Cassidy.

"I can't sense any elemental or arcane power, either, not even any residue. But it screams to my every sense that it is too powerful for us to touch."

"Yes, I agree," the priest said. "The whole situation reeks of powers we can neither sense directly nor understand. Until we know more, I don't want to risk triggering a trap."

Mila chewed her lip for a moment. "Rhaina, Cassidy, do you have any idea how long this has been here?"

Rhaina shook her head. "It looks new, but it feels old. On the other hand, I'm not sure that means much. What I am sure of, now that I see it, is that it was here the last time we searched this room. Cassidy is right that it feels of great power. I think I would know if this power had been added to the room since the last time I was here."

"I agree that the object is much older than it appears," said Cassidy. "In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if it were here the night of the attack. I don't know what it does, but with all the power in this room, it certainly does something. And we already know that a powerful paladin of the Light was defeated here. Perhaps this artifact is part of the reason why."

For some minutes, there was silence, as each woman was absorbed with her own thoughts. Finally, Mila said, "Well, from a practical standpoint, the house is unusable until this thing is removed. I agree it's too dangerous for us to touch. What we need is an expert, or at least someone who can become an expert." She sighed deeply. "Much as I hate to do this, I think I will need to send for Litman."

Cassidy raised an eyebrow. "Litman? Gnomish researcher, causer of problems, chaser after paladins, and master magician?"

Rhaina giggled. "If you can get Litman, that would be a good idea, Mila. But for heaven's sake, get him to come alone. We suspect that this thing hurts paladins, and the object of his affections has enough trouble dodging him. No need to put her in genuine harm's way."

Cassidy's eyebrow rose even higher. "If you can get Litman, that would be wise. Dangerous, but wise."

Rhaina reached down and flicked the panel shut. "Can you make sure no one comes into the house at all until Litman gets here?" she asked Mila.

"Of course," replied the steward as she led the way out of the room. "The problem has been getting people to come into the house, not stay away from it."


The ride back to Vanyel's Keep cleared Rhaina's mind somewhat. Nothing seemed to make more sense, but she managed to get over the visceral shock of coming upon the severed hand unexpectedly. It was just as well, since the afternoon required the two visitors to dress up and make nice with Lady Freyja's neighbors. For Rhaina, it was exactly like one of her mother's tea parties, and Cassidy seemed to be able to handle the twittering excitement at the presence of her aristocratic self with aplomb. For the duration of the party, anyway, Lady Freyja seemed to be able to put the tragedy behind her and revert to her usual shallow, somewhat vacuous lady-of-the-manor self.

If not the most enjoyable afternoon she'd ever spent, Rhaina at least found it somewhat soothing, perhaps even soporific compared to the morning.

Once the guests had taken their leave, politely of Rhaina and more gushingly of Cassidy, the two visitors went directly to their chambers. As they changed into work clothes, Rhaina asked Bridget to let Mila know that they were available, but the steward arrived before the message could be sent. Her face was very pale.

"Mila! What is it?" Concern laced Rhaina's voice as she moved towards her friend.

"My agent has returned from Arathi where he went to seek information about Essa. I don't know yet what he has learned, but he had an unpleasant experience yesterday that worries me a great deal. Rhaina, someone attacked him on the road, and the attack was definitely aimed at preventing him from arriving here safely."

Cassidy immediately asked, "Mila, where is he being housed?"

"In a cottage I promised him the use of," the blonde replied.

"We need to go over there right now and ward it," the mage said, reaching for her belt pouch and fastening it around her hips. "If he hasn't given you his report yet, his life is still in danger."

"You're right," the steward said, and left the suite at a dead run, with the mage on her heels.

Their longer legs let them quickly outpaced Rhaina, although she managed to keep them in sight. By the time she arrived at the cottage, a surly dwarf was standing next to Mila on the front lawn while the mage was on the porch, engrossed in some magical operation.

Rhaina introduced herself to the dwarf and made inconsequential conversation with him while the mage did her work. Eventually, she asked him about the attack, and he described what had happened in terse phrases and without any visible emotion other than what she suspected was his usually surly demeanor.

When he described having saved the knife and neck chain, she asked him if they were handy, and he reached into his own belt pouch, and handed her a roll of fabric without a word.

Rhaina knelt down on the lawn and placed the bundle on the grass in front of her, and then carefully unwrapped it. In front of her, she saw an oddly shaped knife, glowing to her inner eye with a strong power, and a plain silver chain with a red stone hanging off it.

The stone matched exactly the one held by the severed hand in the hidden cache.

[Rheyna]

*BOOM*

Cogsworth flinched and then sighed heavily as the reverberation from the too-close explosion shook his desk and jarred his hand, marring the elaborate document he had almost finished writing. Glancing up at his assistant as he tossed yet another ruined parchment onto the pile at his feet, he said, "We really have to find something else to occupy Litman."

"Yes Master Cogsworth, that would be handy. But what?"

"Oh, who knows?" replied the older gnome a little testily. "Ever since Takkles gave up the pursuit of engineering, Litman is our best researcher and certainly one of the most enthusiastic members of our society. But his passions do tend to run ahead of his common sense at times."

"That's assuming he has any common sense," muttered the assistant as he laid out a new parchment on his superior's desk.

Before the old gnome could pick up his pen again, there was a sharp ringing sound. He reached out a finger and pushed a button. "Cogsworth here."

"Greetings, Master Cogsworth. Mila, daughter of Piotr here. I'm pleased to see that the communicator Litman left with me the last time he was here still works."

"Ah Mila, how have you been?" A small smile crossed the gnome's face. "Yes, the communicators were one of his better efforts."

"You're lucky to have him," commented the soprano voice that floated in mid-air.

Cogsworth snorted. "There's luck and there's luck. Litman brings us both kinds."

Again, a small explosion rocked the building.

"What can I do for you, Mila?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I would like to borrow Litman for a day or so. We've got a mystery here and I need the services of what amounts to a bomb squad for a mysterious magical object. If he can figure out anything about the object along the way, all to the better." The voice paused. "I can provide some notes for him to review before he comes over, if you think you can spare him. I'm afraid, though, that it is an emergency. If Litman is unavailable, then perhaps you can recommend a suitable alternative from amongst your members?"

The gnome grinned, but was careful not to let his expression show in his voice. "Well, ahem, Litman is quite busy here working on some extremely important research for the Society. I don't really know if we can do without his services . . ."

"Oh, dear," came the reply. "It really shouldn't take very long."

As she spoke, a series of five smallish *POP* sounds littered the room, each one causing a fiery peony to burst to life surrounding the desk.

"Do you know," Cogsworth said, "I think that a few days away may be just what Litman needs. It will, of course, be a sacrifice for the Society, but the fellow has earned a change of scenery. How soon can you get your notes here?"

"Lady Cassidy Elphinstone is casting herself a portal to Ironforge even as we speak. She should be in your office in a few minutes. I'm making arrangements with a local warlock for a ritual of summoning to retrieve both the lady and Litman. The House of Vanyel appreciates your cooperation, Master Cogsworth. Make no doubt we consider that a favor is owed."

The gnome nodded sharply to his assistant, who opened the ledger of Society debts and indebtedness, and recorded the formal offer of the favor.

"So noted. Can your warlock be ready this evening at sundown?"

"Yes indeed. Thank you again. I'm sure we'll have Litman back to you by tomorrow or the day after."

"My pleasure, Mila. Give my regards to your employer, please." With that, he reached out a finger and cut off the communication link.

Turning to his assistant, he said, "All right, that just bought us a couple days of peace and quiet. While Litman is gone, your job is to find somewhere to send him for a longer adventure that will be both useful to the Society and keep him away from here for at least two weeks."

"Yessir," came the reply. "Shall I summon Litman to your office?"

"Immediately, if not sooner. Get him here before Lady Elphinstone arrives."

The assistant left the office at a run.


Rhaina reached out and touched the summoning portal, feeling the warlock's Shadow power channel through her as she did. Despite her own mastery of the elements of Shadow, she never really felt comfortable with the enormous amounts of that power used by warlocks. Yet this woman seemed very self-contained and quiet. Almost mousy, in fact. Only when Rhaina touched the portal was she aware of the depth and range of the powers this unknown 'lock could use.

As the power flowed through her arms and Mila's a rift opened in the world and Cassidy stepped through, immediately followed by a gnome. The contrast could not have been stronger. The tall, dark haired woman with not one hair out of place was at least four times as tall as the slightly flustered gnome who followed her, and while she stepped through the portal with silent grace, Litman was already chattering as he arrived.

"Well, Mila, I see we meet again!" He grinned at her. "I knew we would, knew it!"

"Yes," the steward replied with a slight smile, "You did foretell this, did you not?" She turned to the warlock and handed her a small pouch of coin. "Thank you, Hadessa. You've been most helpful."

The warlock ducked her head the slightest bit, "Anything to help find Pavel, Mila. You know that." She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, her imp slave bouncing around her feet.

"You have yourself a pretty fine mess here, Mila," announced Litman. "I can see why you needed the services of someone such as myself. Why, there is probably no one else in all of Azeroth who can help you as I can." He seemed to stand a full inch taller with those words.

"I take it you have read all our notes, then?" the steward asked a bit dryly.

"Yes, yes, of course, and I took the liberty of quizzing Cassidy here about the details that you forgot to mention. Can we start now, or will you insist on waiting until morning?" The gnome finally looked over towards where Rhaina was standing.

"Oh, Rhaina, I did not see you there. Nice to see you again!"

"Likewise, Litman. It's always a pleasure and an adventure."

"Anyway," he continued, turning back to Mila. "What is your plan?"

"My plan," she replied, "is to show you tonight the items collected from the dwarf Coldiron and give you a chance to interrogate him. I have opened the small laboratory you used last time you were here and made sure it is stocked with your usual materials, should you wish to make use of it. Tomorrow, right after breakfast, we will ride for the dower house so you can see the object for yourself."

Litman nodded with a speculative look on his face. "Breakfast, eh? I assume you plan to let me sleep between now and then?"

"Certainly. The room beside the laboratory is just as you left it, only cleaned up. Feel free to use it." Mila tugged on the bell-pull. Almost immediately a young girl entered the room, "Yes ma'am?"

"Ariadne, this is Litman, a visitor of great importance. Please show him to his rooms and let him stow his satchel there. Then bring him to the laboratory." Turning to Litman, she added, "Rhaina, Cassidy and I shall meet you there in ten minutes."

As the girl led the gnome out of the office, Mila said to the other two, "I shall go fetch Coldiron. Can you find the lab without me guiding you?"

"Oh, I think we'll be fine," replied Rhaina. "And if not, we need only wait a moment or three and then follow the smells and sounds of Litman at work in a fully-stocked laboratory."

The three women grinned at each other for a moment, and then left the room.


The two gnomes looked at each other, reveling in the silence that surrounded them for a moment.

"Well, we have a couple of days. We need a longer term solution, though, or we're going to end up filling the entire Engineering Core with ruined parchments."

"Sir, what about those rumors of the active gems that the Consortium is finding on the remnants of Draenor? Should we not send someone to investigate, perhaps, uh, obtain some samples?"

"And who better than our own best researcher? Brilliant, Fizzwidget, just brilliant!" He paused. "Of course, we don't want to lose Litman to any unfortunate accidents in Outland. He'll need a guardian, preferably one he doesn't realize is a guardian. Hmmm." He lowered his head in thought for a minute or two. "Send word to the Mystic quarter, my boy. I need to see Alethea Greystone."

[Rheyna]

Coldiron leaned forward in his chair to get the light of the fire to shine more brightly on his shin guards. Using his pair of pliers to remove the last of the old, wearing-out thread holding the leather in place, and then he pulled the pieces carefully apart and laid them on the sheet of paper he had already placed on the floor. Picking up his can of grease and a clean soft cloth, he proceeded to carefully clean all the pieces, and then to wipe off any excess grease. He'd been using the same gear so long that the new layer of grease did not significantly change how the leather looked, although he knew it was making it far more weatherproof than it had been before he treated it.

When this process was complete, he reassembled the parts of his gear, and sewed them together using some strong waxed thread he had purchased in the village nearby. This was the last piece of his body armor he'd needed to remake. The other two pieces would be fine if he just cleaned them up and regreased them against the rain. He nodded with satisfaction. Today had been a productive day, and his gear was well on the way to being fully renewed.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. He did not enjoy the work of maintaining his gear, but he liked even less the idea of paying someone to do it. Not only would such a choice drain his resources and make him less self-sufficient, but it also meant that he had no way to guarantee the quality of the work. This way was better, for all the tedium and unpleasantness of the work involved.

As the sun went down, the shadows lengthened outside, and Coldiron nearly allowed himself to smile. He actually liked the part of Hillsbrad that held the Keep. It was high enough that at this time of year, the edge of cold did leave the air for the entire day. This, of course, made him feel a bit more at home. He also liked the remoteness of the place, the fact that it was a bit over an hour to walk to the village, that there were not a lot of people coming and going most of the time.

Of course, today, there had been an influx of overdressed under-brained women descending on the place. Luckily, they had nothing to do with him, so he was able to hide away in his borrowed cottage and work on gear maintenance. He was pleased to be able to mark off a fair number of completed tasks on his list. Tomorrow, he'd be cooking to make more ration bars for himself, probably the worst day of his scheduled week here, but the one that would ensure he stayed alive through the entire winter, no matter what.

Oddly, despite the fact that he had a comfortable place to stay and work to keep him busy and occupy his thoughts, he found he was less content than he had been while on the road. Somehow, being on the move seemed less fraught to him. Perhaps because it would be easier for one of his old enemies to track him down if he stayed in any one place for too long. Or maybe because the constant need to be alert and paying attention while traveling left far less time for him to be alone with his own thoughts.

It was odd, when he considered it. He preferred his solitary company to that of any company he had ever known, with one possible exception that he rarely allowed himself to contemplate. Nevertheless, he preferred his own company seasoned with some work to do, some tasks to occupy his thoughts and direct his attention. Lying alone in bed when he was nice and tired from an honest day's work was wonderful. Sitting around twiddling his thumbs was not.

As he packed away all the newly maintained gear, Coldiron stretched the muscles in his back. A day of sewing and rubbing grease into leather could make a man stiffen up an amazing amount, he found, and hoped this was not some sign that he was getting old. So much of his life had been stolen from him that he had no intention of getting old before he experienced all the things he most wished to see and do.

Like the ram. Ever since the first time he'd seen a dwarf seated on a ram, riding down the road, belongings economically stored in small packs tied to the saddle, he'd wanted one. This was not a desire he could have articulated in those days, of course. It was not the culture of the Dark Irons to ride, or to think of themselves as being anything like the various other kinds of dwarves. But he had not been able to entirely purge the dream from his mind, of riding like the wind on the back of an animal who seemed to him, even then, to have been created for the sole purpose of being the perfect mount for a proud dwarf.

And by gum, he was going to have one. Another few days here, and he could pack up and move on. The lady had mentioned yesterday that she could arrange for speedy transportation back to Ironforge for him, and he would accept. In that bustling city beneath the mountain, few people noticed that he wasn't the average dwarf, and he could easily blend into the crowd. And the infantry cared only whether a man could fight, not where he came from or where he learned to fight.

As he tied the last string on his pack, he heard a sharp knock on the door. When he opened it, not with particularly good grace, he found Mila standing on the porch.

"Coldiron," she said. "I am sorry to disturb you at this hour, but we have a visitor I need you to meet. Can you please bring the knife and necklace you found with you?"

She was always polite and gentle in her words, but it was not just the fact that she was steward of this immense estate, nor that she was his employer that made him comply with her every request. He'd met a few people before that had what she had: a natural charisma that made them excellent leaders. Her requests registered in his mind as commands, and had she ever issued a direct command, he suspected he would fall over himself trying to fulfill it before she even finished speaking.

So, he turned to the kitchen table, picked up the cloth bundle that contained the items she had mentioned, and followed her out of the cottage and down the path towards the main house.

They entered through a side door on the ground level, and immediately descended half a flight of steps. The corridor floor was stone, and so were the half walls, although above that, they were plastered and neatly painted. Lanterns lit the hallway, and as they turned a corner, Coldiron saw a gnome dart out of a room and head away down the hall at what seemed like a run. He was accompanied by a servant girl, who opened another door for him, and then bid him farewell and made her way back to wherever the servants spent their time in this place.

Not surprisingly, the steward led him to the same door, and ushered him into the room. It appeared to be a research laboratory of some kind, with several tables holding various alchemical devices, several storage cabinets, and lots of supplies that Coldiron could not even begin to identify.

"Litman," said his boss. "This is Coldiron the dwarf who so bravely made his way to us with information and artifacts, despite the fact that someone tried very hard to stop him."

"Oh, yes, Coldiron," said the gnome. "I've read about you, and Cassidy told me a bit more. Well, I have lots of questions for you. But first, let me introduce myself, since Mila seems to have forgotten her manners. I am Litman, gnomish researcher, solver of mysteries, and master mage."

The gnome paused and narrowed his eyes at Coldiron. "Forgive me for mentioning it, sir, but you look very much like a Dark Iron dwarf to me. Or are my eyes deceiving me?"

[Rheyna]

"Litman, really." Mila's voice called the gnome to order subtly but very certainly. "Coldiron is a trusted associate of mine, and that's all we need to know, really."

Litman, tilted his head and looked up at the woman. "No, you misunderstand, Mila. Everything matters, it always does. You brought me here because I am adept at solving mysteries. But one part of that is having a brain like a magpie, collecting information about everything all the time, and seeing what patterns it falls into."

He bounced on his toes once or twice, and then continued speaking. "The thing is, Coldiron was attacked on the way here. Now, it's possible that your hypothesis that he was waylaid because of the information he had gathered and was bringing to you is correct. I will certainly investigate that possibility. But there is another possibility, that the attack was an attack on him, disguised to make it seem like something else. And unless we can eliminate that possibility, we won't know for sure that the information he carried was the trigger for the attempted assassination."

He looked at Coldiron again. "Now why would someone want to attack a seemingly inoffensive dwarf? Like most of his race, he is stolid and self-contained, doesn't speak too much, or reveal all that he thinks. And yet, there is one case where I can easily imagine an attack on a dwarf, even an elaborately disguised attack. If Coldiron is a Dark Iron, then his former master will do anything to retrieve him. The problem is that many former Dark Irons are not retrievable. The thorium does not go out of their spines when they break free, and most of them would rather die than return to that kind of subjugation."

Coldiron stood still before the gnome, and said nothing.

Litman grimaced for a moment. "The problem then is that they would rather there be no surviving former Dark Irons. If the choice is between killing him and leaving him free to roam the world, Ragnaros will choose murder every time."

Coldiron flinched as Litman spoke that name, but remained silent, and showed very little emotion on his face.

Mila seemed to be thinking about what the gnome had said. "I don't think for one second that the attack on Coldiron is completely unrelated to the problems at the dower house. But I am struck by another possibility, which is that whoever attacked Pavel has allied with someone who has his own reasons for wishing to see Coldiron dead or injured." She turned to the dwarf, reluctance sounding clearly in her voice.

"I won't ask you any personal questions, Coldiron, but please think hard about it. If there is any power that would like to see you harmed, then your getting involved with us may have made your situation more treacherous. The House of Vanyel will do what we can to see to your safety, as we do not care to lose retainers. On the other hand, we were unable to protect the heir of the House, so how much protection we can offer may be an open question." She frowned at her own words.

With a gesture to indicate that both men should follow her, she left the main room of the laboratory and made her way to an ante-chamber with a few chairs set about it haphazardly, and a low table with a tray of snacks and a carafe of juice sitting on it.

"Please," she said, "help yourselves. The others will be here soon, and we will need our energy to try to untangle this knot we seem to have gotten tied up in."

[Rheyna]

Rhaina let her mind wander a bit. With half an ear, she listened to the dwarf Coldiron repeating the story he had told the three women earlier in the day, before Mila had chosen to use the odd ovoid device that let her speak directly to Master Cogsworth, even though the gnome was in Ironforge and Mila was not.

She'd been fascinated by the device, which had no wires or obvious power sources. After Mila and the chief of the Engineering Core came to an agreement, she had silently picked up the device, and turned it over in her hand. It was smooth, deep purplish blue, and somewhat iridescent, with one small indentation on one side. When Mila had placed her finger in that indentation, she had been able to speak to Master Cogsworth. Rhaina had wondered how it worked.

Apparently she had not been the only one, as when the conversation was over, Cassidy had asked to hold the device. Turning it over in her hand, she had said, "It's magic, but it's something else, too. I can feel arcane power bound in this, but that's not enough to make it do what it does."

Handing it back to Mila, the mage had added, "This is, of course, the kind of thing only Litman could pull off. It screams his name as loudly as if he were here telling us how clever he was for inventing it. That's the thing about Litman, of course. He's sometimes a bit arrogant, but he backs it up with the intelligence and ability to do the things he claims he can do."

And that was why, in the end, they had sent for Litman. Yes, it did put the entire Keep in some danger of being blown up, and the gnome seemed to attract trouble like an uncleaned stable attracted flies, but all three women had seen him in action more than once in the past. That's why he was so well-known, of course. Because he could solve problems no one else could, in ways that would never occur to a normal person. Whether what he had was genius or mad luck no one knew, but by the same token, no one could ignore the string of successes he had racked up, or the people whose lives had been made better by their encounters with him. And despite his predilection for chasing after paladins, he was entirely likable and a most popular gnome.

Rhaina pulled her mind back to the conversation.

Coldiron had just explained how he had met Mila and decided to take on the job. Apparently, the dwarf had decided to take Litman literally when he told him to "Tell me what happened and don't leave anything out, no matter how irrelevant it seems to you to be. IN situations such as this, everything could be a clue. Or not, but we'll sort out later what is a clue and what is just dust." He'd picked up a pad and was scribbling notes as he listened, occasionally injecting a question or request for more information.

"So, after organizin' my gear, I began the trip to Arathi. The steward had given me a letter of introduction to another agent of the House of Vanyel, so I went directly to the small settlement of Refuge Pointe. I found the fellow, operatin' a pawnshop and notary, and actin' as mailman for the folks gathered there. He read the letter I brought him and gave me a list of three people to talk to.

"The first was a midwife, now old and retired, living in a cottage not too far from the place where Essa had been discovered wanderin' around. This woman was not the one who found her -- that was a pair of children who were playing truant from their own lessons that day -- but she had been the one who cared for her initially, while the local people tried to decide what to do with her.

"They'd been surprised, and a bit worried, when they found a naked child wanderin' in the woods of a such a remote place. It's nearly as remote as this Keep, come to that, although it's not the same kind of country at all. More rocky, lots of pasturage and less cultivated land.

"Anyway, after the midwife had found some clothes for the girl to wear, the local headman decided to inform the magistrate, as he didn' want the 'sponsibility of decidin' what to do himself. So they sent a messenger off to the local Keep holder, who is also the magistrate. He came quickly, and questioned the girl for some hours. After their conversation, he decided that she must be of gentle birth, as she spoke like an educated girl and although she had no memory of her past, she knew how to read, write, figure, and sew.

"He and his wife had several sons but no daughters, so they decided to take the girl into their home. And that was the last the midwife ever saw of her."

Litman asked a few questions about the midwife, but eventually seemed satisfied that Coldiron had asked her all the things one could ever really want to know, and so he gestured at the dwarf to continue with his tale.

"The secon' person I talked to was one of the truant children. The other died of lung fever last winter, but the other remembered the day. It sounded like an ordinary day of skippin' school to me. The two of 'em had taken themselves into the woods to play and were trackin' a couple of deer when they came upon this blonde girl, running through the woods as if she were bein' chased. They had reached out and grabbed her, and when they touched her, she began to cry. Well, a couple of young boys didn' know what to do with a cryin' girl, so they took her to the nearest adult, who happened to be the midwife.

"The boy didn't really recall much else about it, although it's really his only claim to fame. Still, he hasn't had the wit to embellish the story much. He was playing in the woods and found the girl, and that's the whole story."

Again, Litman asked a few questions, and again, he learned nothing that he felt was important enough to write down from the questions.

"The third person was the village priest. She hadn't been there at the time that the girl was found, but she had the records of all births in the area for the last 100 years or so. She let me go through them, but there was no record of a girl child that age bon in that region."

"So," Litman remarked, "it would appear that this Essa was not born in the area where she was found wandering." He paused for thought, and then turned to Mila, "You met this woman, right?"

"Yes, many times in the course of negotiating the marriage settlement, escorting her to Vanyel's Keep for the wedding, and then getting the newlyweds settled into the dower manor."

"What did you think of her"

"I thought she was a bit of fluff, but the situation was complicated, and she was the best choice we had for a bride for Pavel."

"What do you mean?" The gnome gazed at the steward steadily.

"Pavel loved someone else deeply, and it was unlikely that his affections would ever be more than mildly engaged by whoever he married. In that situation, I did not think a highly romantic girl who felt things deeply would be a good choice for him. What's more, a good many girls of the right social rank won't accept an arranged marriage. The pool of available girls was pretty small."

"Oh, yes, the elf. I forgot about her for a moment. Why didn't he just marry her?"

"You'd have to ask her," the blonde replied with a wry smile.

"Well, she's not here, is she?" The gnome thought a moment, then turned to Rhaina. "Well, don't my notes say that you know this elf quite well, Rhaina?"

"We are friends, yes."

"Why did she not marry Pavel?"

"It's complicated."

The gnome snorted. "Of course it is! It involves a woman, doesn't it? Women leave men for all kinds of 'complicated' reasons. Why, my most recent, uh, paramour, let's say, left because I called her 'my sweet' too often. She said that when I got involved in one of my projects, I forgot her name! Can you believe that?"

Cassidy raised her eyebrow in his direction. "And did you forget her name in the midst of your projects?"

"Well, yes. But what does that have to say to anything? I never forgot her lovely green hair or the twinkle in her eye." He sighed the sigh of a man who feels sorry for himself, then turned back to Rhaina. "I don't care how complicated it is. Tell me the short version. I'll let you know if I need to know more."

Rhaina said, "They disagreed about Light, Shadow, and Balance. And I think they scared each other, too."

"Oh, bah," said the gnome with a snort. "Young lovers, so sure that they are privy to the meaning of life, and that they should destroy perfectly good relationships over such questions. Did they like each other? Did they have a good time together? Laugh a lot? Make love and cuddle? Those are the things that matter. Not names, or disagreements between druids and paladins about how the world ought to be. The world is NOT as it ought to be, so why worry about it?"

The gnome scribbled something on his paper, and then looked up. "So the short version is that they loved each other but separated over some matter of principle, and then swore eternal devotion to one another, to the exclusion of loving anyone else again. Is your friend satisfied now, that he's missing?"

"I think that my friend dies a little bit every day that we don't find him."

[Celera]

Finally had a chance to read through this tonight, Rheyna, it's coming along great! Quite a cast of characters that have joined the story, I can't wait to see what they find out.

[Rheyna]

"Dendrite, why must you always be so obstinate?" The black-haired woman, shook her head, with a stern look on her face, but someone who knew her well would have seen the look of fondness that lurked in the back of her eyes.

"Cass, this is not about obstinacy. She is Dreaming." The druid shook his head as if her were trying to clear it. "Look over there." He pointed at a small circle of trees across the clearing from where they both stood. Under the leaves of the aspens, shimmering in the slight breeze, were a silver-haired druid and a pewter colored riding saber. The woman stood tall, but clearly entranced, and the cat was curled at her feet. Neither moved, beyond a shallow breathing that was just barely discernible.

"There should be a third creature there, for they are Dreaming in the circle where the Great Cat Spirit normally wanders. But when they dropped into the Dream, the Spirit vanished, and the grove began to fill with the power of Elune herself. Can you not feel it?"

"Not really. But then I am not one who readily senses light, or shadow, or even the power of nature. You know me, Dendrite, have known me all my life. You know who and what I am."

"Yes, and I know Sorcha. I have known her since she was a small girl, before your grandparents were even thought of, let alone born. She was an ordinary child, but she is no ordinary woman. She carries the mark of the moon goddess herself. What she does in the Dream today, I do not know. But I do know that should any try to stop her, the very trees and earth of Moonglade would rise up against that one, and I would join them." He grinned a bit self-consciously. "Listen to me, Cass. I sound as pompous as anyone could. But I am in earnest, too. There are times when all we can do is watch the Unfolding, and now is such a time."

He shook his head, his grin turning rueful. "I tried to forbid her. Foolish of me, I suppose. She Dreams and until she stops Dreaming, I must guard her body, against anything that would stop the Dream."

He studied his fingers for a moment. "Go to the village, Cass. Wait there, where it is comfortable, and where you are not surrounded by powers you cannot sense. When she is done, I will bring her to you, and you may speak with her." He looked up and grinned like a small boy. "But heaven help you if you try to get her to do something she thinks is wrong. Elune knows she has her faults, but lack of will is not one of them."

She reached out as if to touch his face, but then let the hand fall to her side before her fingers brushed his cheek. Her cheeks flamed, and she forced her face into a smile. "I will wait in the inn, then, Dendrite. But I will speak with her when she returns from the Dream. Not the whole wrath of the Circle could prevent me, for I shall not allow myself to tell Litman I have failed."

His eyebrows rose. "Litman? Are you involved in one of Litman's schemes again?"

"Say rather that he is consulting on a situation I seek to untangle."

He laughed for a moment. "As if anything could belong to anyone other than Litman when he is involved."

Before she could leave the grove, he pulled her into his arms for a hug. "Sorcha will come to you when the Dream lifts off her," he promised. "It is the best I can do."

"It will have to be good enough, then, won't it?"