Lapses in Aplomb

But there is no rest for the righteous, and blue skies are ephemeral, for the following morning Squoan awoke to find that two of the Caravan's horses had fallen deathly ill. With the help of Master Lerece – a merchant acquaintance who, to the Gnome's mind, owed him a platinum coin's worth of favours – it was ascertained that overfeeding was the cause of the equine plague, and that the Caravan's own supply of corn was the agent of their undoing. Steingrimur reluctantly agreed to use his expertise with herbs to end the horses' misery.
 
While the Caravan's goods were being reapportioned to compensate for the loss of two horses, Ralafiss “the Shifty” Smilestoomuch laid out his tinker's wares so that he might turn the Caravan's misfortune to his own advantage. Perhaps such had been his goal all along when he stole into the corn stores during the night?!? Quite possibly! In any event, amongst his janky trinkets and baubles, the Riddlefist espied the most prized possession of Eraiel Othcalt, his mentor and longtime travelling companion: a shackle of Onir carved from celos wood. Although he remained confident that she was capable of surmounting any dangers she might encounter – even without his aid – the sight of the shackle in such a setting, rather than around her waist, rocked him to the core, and his interrogation of the “Priest” of Resh might have betrayed the state of his nerves. It could be suggested that he was overly confrontational, even to a counter-productive degree, since Ralafiss Gringoof denied any knowledge of the shackle's origin, full stop. But it is impossible to be over-zealous in the pursuit of Truth, and it is a Fact that Ralafiss was lying. Still, Val would hear no words spoken against the Handsome Rogue… grumble.
 
Shortly thereafter, one of Sarett's Scouts found a dead Goblin just outside camp. It was buried without much comment – there were many things on Squoan's plate at the time! – which, after the Caravan rumbled into motion once more, necessitated a quick jaunt back to the grave and a spot of exhumation. Upon the Goblin was found a small coral gemstone inlaid with precious metals and inscribed with a rune. The surfeit of strange, inexplicable occurrences was beginning to verge on the overwhelming.
 
Squoan visited Val in her carriage, hoping she could provide some insight into the stone's nature, but it defied her powers of Divination and she pocketed it for further study, attendant upon the acquisition of crucial reagents. He also inquired if she could locate a person using one of their possessions – specifically, a shackle carved from celos wood – and when she replied in the affirmative, he asked her to do so with all urgency, the implication being that this task should take precedence over her scrying of the Goblin's stone. In addition, still rattled by recent events, he reiterated his deep apprehensions concerning Ralafiss, as both a Man and a Potential Lover, and this time it's possible that he was over-zealous, for she was not best pleased by his insinuation that she could not look after herself. Squoan accepted her censure with as much equanimity as he could muster, but he would soon have cause to regret leaving her in such a state of irritation.
 
A lazy afternoon was whiled away atop the Umetts' carriage, playing music with Locaryn – with whom Our Hero might have been developing a rapport of his own, who could say, such things often proving inscrutable to his contemplative temperament – when an arrow stuck quivering into the carriage, the very same style of arrow that had recurred so oft over the last two days. Bandits! Squoan's first priority as a Bodyguard, even before leaping into the fray, was to check on the safety of his charges… and to his horror he found the Quite Becoming Valethanna Althaliel nowhere to be found! Frantically he tracked her to the river's edge, where she lay unconscious with the coral gemstone tightly clutched in her fist. It was only now – too late – that he remarked upon the stone's similarity to the silver domino Team Riddlefist had found upon the cattle murdering Farmer Renfry.
 
Our diminutive Hero slung the unconscious Priestess of Daralei over his shoulders and staggered back to the Caravan as best he could. After entrusting her to her horrified mother's care, he climbed atop their carriage, hoping to find Locaryn where he'd left her, or at least to catch sight of Steingrimur from that elevated vantage point and assure himself that the Werebear was unharmed. But neither was anywhere to be seen, only Bandits and their Horrid Chieftain, who laughed and urged them on from behind. It was all suddenly Too Much and without thoroughly weighing the Pros and Cons, Squoan plucked a gem from the Necklace of Fireballs he'd found during his Wererat Adventures (which he wore as a belt around his waist, underneath his stylish and expensive Woolen Coat of Many Secret Pockets) and hurled it at the Cackling Knave. Midair it bloomed into a fireball somewhat grander in its dimensions than the Gnome had anticipated which, upon explosion, both knocked the Chieftain off his horse (huzzah!) and burned a couple of Sarett's Guards (huzzah).
 
Squoan leaped down from the carriage and with little ceremony but much alacrity beat the Chieftain into submission, yea, even to the edge of death, whereupon, cowed and trembling beneath Our Hero's bloodied flute, he called off the attack. The Bandits were soon trussed up. Under questioning it was revealed, A) that the Chieftain was not the original owner of the bow he wielded – in fact, he was not even skilled in its use – B) that he'd been hired by another party to attack the caravan, but had never met his employer, and C) that Ralafiss was a Degenerate Fence well known among Bandits. Dun dun duuuuun!! Unfortunately, this last piece of information was not greeted with as much horror and lamentation from his companions as Squoan might have liked.
 
Steingrimur and Locaryn, as it happened, had been busy tending to Val during the fracas, to no avail. She remained unresponsive. As the Caravan prepared to camp and lick its wounds for the night, Squoan set about disseminating as much misinformation concerning the magical origin of his explosive and fiery entrance into the fray as he could, insisting that he had purchased a flammable, alchemical potion, but his assertions seemed to gain little traction. He thought it best to set up camp for himself and Steingrimur at an even greater remove from the Caravan than usual, and began to consider the wisdom of distancing himself from all those who had witnessed his Outlawed Magicks before they entered Orham.
 
Locaryn joined the BCFs at their fire that evening, after singing a song to the Caravan at large – at Squoan's request – involving feats of derring-do and fiery vials of liquid alchemy thrown from aloft by certain Gnomes, which was not quite as well-received as her songs, as a rule, tended to be. At last, around the fire, she revealed herself for who she was: not merely a songstress but a Bard in the truest sense of the word, entrusted with foiling an assassination attempt on the life of Lilise Peronell, betrothed to Lord-Regent Dagarr, during the upcoming festivities in Orham. She had taken note of Squoan's quality of character – recent lapses in aplomb aside – and was now beseeching him to aid her in her cause. Of course he consented without question, since this sort of situation fell squarely under the purview of his self-imposed Geas and not only that, he'd dealt with situations like this many times before. Not exactly like this, mind you, but alike in most respects. Did he know about royal assassinations? Pshaw! Surely you jest.