Names and Places
In this town the two temples stand right across the street from each other, and you’ll hear pretty much the same song on either side. The Jikadell priestesses will tell you that the dragons and other shapshifters send the storms, and that the various mutations that the storms cause are gifts of Jikadell, even if they drive you mad. The Elethay priestesses will tell you that Jikadell’s necromancers cause the storms, and that if a storm happens to turn you into a shape shifter, that is a gift of Elethay.
Which side do I believe? Let me give you a clue.
When Elethay’s junior priestesses aren’t in the temple studying, they’re out in the wild hunting madspawn.
When Jikadell’s junior priestesses aren’t turning tricks for cash, they’re locked in the basement.
–Leod, the Storyteller of Freepost
“First thing you need to do, ” Perrin said, “Is lose those clothes. Their owner probably has friends, and they might recognize the clothes or the weapons. Of course, I could refit and re-temper the blades…”
“For a small fee,” I responded with a grin; a dwarf is a dwarf, after all.
Perrin grinned back. “I just want to break even. How about I give you a sword for a sword, a dagger for a dagger, and so on; I’ll keep the second sword for my trouble, and give you 50 Imperials in change. Sound fair? With their purses, you should have a fair start. You DID grab their purses, didn’t you?”
I grinned again, and nodded. “It sounds more than fair.”
“Good. Hate to think you were stupid.” He started to gather the weapons that had briefly been mine. “Talk to Jasmine at the store; she’ll take care of you. And take today to get your bearings; I’ll put you to work first thing tomorrow.” He stumped away, and I gathered up my blanket.
Jasmine turned out to be short, round and extremely pleasant; she was ever so slightly too tall and fine boned to be a dwarf, but it was a VERY near thing. I selected weapons and clothing, lusted briefly over a greatsword that was far out of my price range, and bought a tinderbox and a blanket of my own.
“I don’t suppose you have any names for sale, do you?” I asked, and Jasmine just grinned and shook her head; she apparently knew my story already. “Have to ask, you know. Could you tell me where we are?”
Jasmine looked at me curiously, then said, “The city across the river is Lechmoor; the river is the Boggy. Does that help?”
I thought about it and shook my head. “Not so far. Keep going from there.”
“Something bigger than the river? This is the East Branch of the Kanchaka valley…”
“Kanchaka! That’s a name I’ve heard. Isn’t that where Valaria the Heretic came from?”
Jasmine looked at me a bit oddly, but I was too excited to worry about it. “I think so, yes,” she said slowly.
“Can I waste a pinch of your flour?” I asked as I reached for the barrel; Jasmine nodded vaguely. I took a bit of flour and dusted the countertop, then marked off a rectangle. “This is north, and there is the ocean along the east edge, and this section in the north east is the warp elf Haskalad Empire, and this down here is the dark elf Celestial Empire. And these,” I drew a line down the center of my map, “Are the Chiseled Mountains, and up here in the northwest is Kanchaka Valley!”
Jasmine didn’t lose her puzzled expression. “And where is home, then?”
I stared at my map, and my face fell, then I started to laugh. “I have no idea whatsoever. Somewhere in one of the empires, though; every map I can remember centers on one or the other. And I can remember several city maps… Perhaps I moved around a great deal?”
Jasmine wiped the counter and dusted it again. She drew an oval and indicated that its major axis was north/south. “This is Kanchaka valley.” She drew a line from the top to the center. “Blighted Ridge, and this is Goldentooth in the center. ” She finished the line from top to bottom, then added two more to divide the map into six more-or-less equal wedges. “You can worry about the rest of the geography some other time; this is the political map. Starting here,” she indicated the northeast wedge, “Lechmoor district is Haskalad, but loose. This side of the river, Perrin is pretty much the only law, and we like it that way.
“This next wedge is solid Haskalad. There are two cities: New Mercer, which is a sort of freehold under a madman named Brickwall, and Bogtown, which is the local Haskalad capitol, seat of Duke Stygius Nemesis, known to most folks as Black Bane.
“The next wedge is run by raptors, but tributary to the Empire, which makes it uncomfortable for just about everyone, and the next wedge is run by raptors who are NOT tributary to the Empire, which makes the border REALLY interesting. Up here in the northwest there is a good-sized Ebony Elf enclave.
“And in between… Well, there’s a dragon clan called the Zachtos who claim the whole valley, and actually have some power here, and there are the last remains of the old Manilac Kingdom. That’s where Valaria got her start, and she still has plenty of followers in the area. And plenty of low rent necromancers hunting them.”
I was vaguely aware that Jasmine had kept her eyes on my face the entire time was talking. I looked up and met her gaze. “Are you expecting me to take sides? I am Perrin’s apprentice; I’ll follow his lead unless I have good reason not to.”
Jasmine shook her head and smiled slightly. “It’s really all gone, isn’t it? You have no idea who you were?”
“No, I don’t. You sound as if you do, though.”
“I only know what Ravin told us,” Jasmine answered.
“And who is Ravin, and what does he know about me?” I was beginning to get angry, but I kept it in check; I could see that Jasmine wasn’t trying to goad me, she was just being cautious.
“I thought Perrin was going to tell you; I don’t think I should…”
I swallowed my anger. “Please Jasmine. I need to know.”
Jasmine looked me in the eyes. “Ravin is a dead dragon…” She waited for me to react, and I shrugged. “He visited you, last night, to see if we could trust you.”
“And he told you something that confused you?”
“He said that you were honest, and decent, but that you used to be a necromancer yourself. And that you were once an elf, probably Ebonese.” She stopped, still waiting for my reaction; since her words didn’t contradict anything I knew, I didn’t react at all. “He also said that you were extremely well educated, and that you were a dragon.”
I don’t know what reaction Jasmine was looking for; I doubt that she was disappointed; I didn’t quite fall over.
“Ravin also thinks that when the Dragon within you awoke, it somehow killed the original you, the part of you that was a necromancer.” Jasmine kept looking at me for confirmation; I shook my head to clear it, then shrugged again.
“It makes as much sense as anything. ‘The good news is that you are potentially immortal. The bad news is that everyone hates you, and there is a price on your head.'” I looked into Jasmine’s eyes. “But you don’t feel that way, and Perrin doesn’t.” Jasmine didn’t respond. “Kindred spirits, perhaps?” Jasmine smiled at that, but said nothing.
I looked down at my purchases, and compared the blanket I had just bought to the one I had slept under. I pushed the newer blanket toward Jasmine. “Could you see that this gets to Pepper the vermite? I like to return better than I borrow.”
Jasmine smiled at that, then looked at the dust map on the counter and snapped her fingers. She reached under the counter and pulled out a wooden box. “Just the thing for the orc of letters,” she said.
The box contained a well-sealed inkwell, several pieces of parchment, and a number of quills. I tried to keep the lust out of my eyes as I asked, “And the price?”
“Thirty-five, but I can give you some credit if you need it, and promise to never tell anyone I did it.” She was grinning as she said it.
I counted out the coins. “Done. And I don’t need credit at the moment; brigand bashing seems to pay fairly well.” Jasmine took my money with a smile, and I went off to stow my belongings.
Noon found me sitting on a large rock on the riverbank, enjoying the sun, and starting a journal. I heard a group of people approaching, and put my quill behind my ear; I looked up to see five soldiers approaching me.
They had to be soldiers, in spite of their different races; there was something distinctly military about every move they made. They were led by an elf with bat’s wings and a magnificent pair of ram’s horns; I put away my ink and parchment as smoothly as possible.
“Groundley,” the leader said, “Have I ever killed an orc?”
“No, master,” replied the only human in the group.
“Well, let’s correct that, shall we?” The elf drew his sword, and I prepared to be where his sword wasn’t.
“You might want to ask my permission before you carve up my apprentice,” Perrin called; I flicked my eyes away from the elf long enough to see that Perrin, Jasmine, several vermites, and a few others were all pointing crossbows at my erstwhile companions. “If you have a grievance, challenge him, or take it to court.”
The elf looked around, weighed the odds, and sheathed his sword. “Very well then,” he said to me. “I challenge you, for the offense of being an orc, and being ugly, and being in my line of sight.” He turned to Perrin. “NOW can I kill him?”
“Orc?” Perrin called.
I looked at the elf. “Cudgels. No armor. No flight, no horns, no magic. Now.” I said as clearly as I could.
The elf looked from me to Perrin and back in frustration, then said, “Very well. Done.”
I took off my shirt and accepted the cudgel that Perrin gave me; he grinned at me. He also managed to get the elf and his companions to wager against me at three to one odds; I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Perrin signaled the start; I landed a solid blow, and managed to dodge the first of a three-strike salvo the elf threw in return. I struck again, and again was repaid three to one, with two landing. I was hurt, and worried, but the elf was completely out of tricks; his seventh blow was so easy to dodge it barely existed, and I hit him solidly a third time.
He cheated. He came at me with his horns, and I countered; I realized I was wide open to his cudgel, then watched it fall from his hand just before he hit the turf. I stood up stiffly; the elf’s companions dragged him back to the ferry.
Perrin was grinning broadly as he gathered his winnings; I scowled at him as I picked up my shirt. “Oh, so the feathered orc would have rather LOST?” he laughed.
“Feathered?” I asked; Perrin pulled my pen from behind my ear and waved it at me.
“You ever seen a quilla snake, boy?” he asked; I shook my head. “Folks, we have here a literate orc who moves like a snake. I think we’re going to call him Quill.” He gave my pen back to me with a flourish and a hint of a bow. I accepted the pen and thought about it; I could do worse, and the gallery seemed to approve. I offered Perrin my hand for the third time that morning, and he responded by handing me a bag of coins. “Your cut. Should make the bruises hurt less.”
I stared at him dumbfounded as he stumped away, then put on my shirt, recovered my writing kit, and resumed my journal.
The sun was well in the west when I wandered over to the odd-looking raft that gave Ferrypoint its name. There was a chest-high windlass in the center of the northern edge of the raft which carried a chain that ran across the river to a short pier on either side. The operator was sitting with his back against the windlass frame, absently throwing stones into the river. As I got closer I realized that he was a vermite, and easily the biggest vermite I had ever seen; he was as tall as any and built like a STOUT treestump.
“What does a crossing cost?” I asked.
“Two. Three for a round trip, same day, in advance. Ten for a horse, fifty for a wagon. You’re free, though.”
“Oh? And why would I ride free?”
“Pepper is my sister. I’m Tobacco; folks call me ‘Bacco.” He extended an enormous hand, and I took it; I was a little surprised that I was most of a head taller than he was, though he must have been twice my weight.
“I guess that I’m Quill,” I answered; he seemed a little puzzled by that.
“My momma named us after her favorite things; I’ve got a brother named Whisky and two more sisters named Sugar and Honey,” he said with a touch of pride in his voice.
“And the ferry is yours?”
“No. I just run it for Mister Perrin. He built it.”
I nodded. “Mister Perrin pretty much runs Ferrypoint, doesn’t he?”
“I guess so. You wouldn’t notice unless you caused trouble, though. And folks who cause trouble don’t stay long.” He smiled, and it wasn’t quite friendly. “It’s a big river.” I just nodded.
The next morning I started my duties as Perrin’s apprentice. It was VERY hard work, with only a bit of instruction relative to the forge, but the conversation never slowed down for either work or instruction. We talked about ethics and metaphysics and ethics and political theory and more ethics. We drew an audience, when the main entrance to the forge was open. Pepper the vermite became a regular, sitting quietly with a brindled kitten in her lap.
I made the mistake of commenting on that; I asked Perrin if it struck him as odd that a vermite should have a pet cat, and Pepper smiled at me and said that it wasn’t a pet, they raised cats for food. My jaw dropped open, and Perrin’s hammer froze in mid-stroke. And then Pepper said, “Mister Perrin said I should tell you that, and it would be funny, but I don’t get it.” Perrin collapsed laughing, I considered dropping the anvil on him, and the kitten ran away; Pepper just stared at us as if we were insane.
The sun was setting on the seventh day of my apprenticeship as I closed the door to the forge and started putting away tools; Perrin was seated on a makeshift stool and filling his first pipe of the evening. The brindled kitten was playing suicidal tag with my feet, which she had been doing much of the time since Pepper’s “food” joke. I didn’t break my pace as I said, “Are you ever going to let me in, Perrin, or am I just another mark?”
Perrin looked up. “What’s that, boy? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I leaned on the anvil and looked at him. “As much as I’ve enjoyed the conversation, I know that conversation hasn’t been your main goal. You’ve been selling me Elethay, and Valaria too, for that matter. I don’t mind the activity, but I resent the subterfuge. I may not know who I am, but I do know that Elethay is at war with Jikadell, and that the Valarians carry Elethay’s standard. I would wager a fair amount that you’re an Elethay priest, at some level anyway, and that you’re also a Valarian.”
Perrin just looked at me calmly, but there was deep laughter from a back corner, and a well-dressed, handsome elf made his way through the clutter to join us. “He’s calling your bluff, Perrin. I told you not to trifle with him,” he said.
“Bluff nothing,” Perrin told him. “I have to know who he is; it’s my life on the line, and those who depend on me. But you have trouble remembering that, don’t you?” The stranger just laughed.
“You would be Ravin,” I said to the stranger, and something about him made me certain he had been the dragon in my dream-that-was-no-dream. “You didn’t introduce yourself, last time.”
Ravin smiled and extended his hand. “My apologies, Quill. But you didn’t have a name to exchange, either, if you recall.”
“No, I didn’t. You seem awfully solid, for a ghost.” I shook his hand, and all of my senses told me he was normal. Something else told me there was an aura of draconic power around him.
Ravin shrugged and smiled. “It’s after sunset, and my ashes are in the river. Beyond that, I don’t understand much more than you do, Quill. And Perrin-What do you want? I told you he used to be a necromancer; that explains the warp taint, he has done warp magic. And because of his magical training, he was able to bury the dragon inside himself. But he managed to actually kill off the necromancer inside of himself, somehow. I’ve never heard of such a thing before, but the proof is in front of you. And you KNOW that he attacked three warriors for the sake of a child who was a stranger. What do you want?”
Perrin looked at him, and then me, and then back at Ravin. Then he shrugged, then turned to me again. “All right then, boy… You said it yourself. There’s a war on. Interested in signing up?”
I smiled. “That’s it? You aren’t going to tell me that if I really am a dragon, I have no hope of being neutral? That warp is EVIL, and that Jikadell and the necromancers are the real source of warp, and that shape shifters are just victims?”
Perrin scowled. “No point in telling you what you already know, boy.”
“Perrin… There is an empty warehouse where my personality should be. I want a place to belong so badly it HURTS. And you offer me friendship, and then throw a cause in front of me that you are willing to DIE for. What do you think I am going to do?”
Ravin grinned; Perrin kept scowling and said, “Say it, boy. You need to say it.”
I scowled back. “My life, my soul, and my honor for Elethay, for Valaria, and for Perrin Ironhand. Good enough?”
Ravin laughed behind his hand as Perrin’s scowl collapsed into a broad smile; Perrin shook his head and said, “Good enough.” Ravin looked at him, bowed elaborately to me, and vanished.