B.T.V. -- Session 06 Epilogue: Between a philosophical dissemination and a soft place

Report of Simon Balazs to the Circle of Beldam, the Fourth







A lyorn dreams

Bamboo was asleep, and yet not asleep. He drifted somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, in that pleasant state of drowsiness that every lyorn, like so many creatures, found unbearably pleasant. His keen hearing could detect voices from an adjoining room, though he retained no memory of what was said…at least for now. Selador, his master’s friend, was speaking with another, named “Shadowjack,” which Bamboo found amusing. Then he recalled his own name, given to him by Simon, and his furrow frowned slightly, but he did not wake.

Shadowjack spoke of strange concepts, but Bamboo, being only a cub…he preferred “puppy,” as his master termed him…was unfazed by them. They passed through his mind, and then were gone, like shadows disappearing as true dark approached.

This emissary of shadow, which was how he presented himself while claiming to retain some independence of action…you’re either leashed or you’re not, Bamboo observed…spoke of these concepts, of four Dragons who were also Noble Thoughts, somehow, one of lightness, one of darkness, one of fire and one of shadow. Other Dragons were also Noble thoughts, but these four provided the energy or the magic or the physicality that was the world and this existence, and the existence that had come before.

One of these other Dragon’s was time, he said. Bamboo struggled most with this. There’ now and there’s then, he thought. Somehow, this Dragon, named Taiphon, had frozen time. Bamboo guessed that meant they were stuck in the now, though he didn’t really understand what that might mean. Simon often seemed concerned about time and getting to places at the right time. He should relax more, Bamboo thought.

Anyway, Shadowjack suggested this freezing of time might be something Selador might want to look into. Selador was alright. He’d given him half his sweet kethna bun the night before, when he didn’t have to share. Bamboo was always hungry. He was also a bit confused about why he was thinking about himself in the third person, but what puppy really cared about such niceties?

But to look into time, Shadowjack warned, first one would have to be accepted by Taiphon. Whatever that meant. Then Simon awoke and took Bamboo for a walk.

That was nice. So was breakfast. Yet somehow, Bamboo was still hearing the conversation in Selador’s room. Maybe he was still asleep. Sausage was good though. Maybe not.

Selador then said a bunch of stuff in that stilted manner of speaking he had. Bamboo figured if Selador could talk funny, he could think funny. “Your description of energy, one could follow that path, and it might be adapted to various pursuits, and if so all four should be considered equally,” Selador said. “One must understand all in equal terms.”

Odd, that, calling himself “one” all the Time. Was he trying to stress the ephemeral nature of his relationship with others, and his detachment, and if so, was he trying to make others understand that, or try to convince himself that was true, the Lyorn wondered. Then he found a piece of sausage under a bit of egg and forgot all that. Shadowjack…boy, this was going on a long time…then said blah, blah, sausage, blah, and something about how since he’s attached to shadow, he must naturally recommend that as the ideal choice. Shadow had its own focus, as he imagined did all the noble thoughts.

He talked about Accrete, and the “substantial one” that was Anachaos. He must have been talking more about dragons. He should take more of an interest in lyorns, Bamboo thought. He’d like a nice post-breakfast ear scratching.

Shadowjack said something about Selador “diversifying his portfolio” by understanding more than one dragon. But only shadow would reign supreme in the end, and his dragon would emerge as the “pre-eminent thought.” That sounded like a “then” thing. Bamboo know humans and Draegerans seemed to think making a differentiation between past and future was important, but really, what’s the difference?

Strayhorn seems to have his head on right. Shadowjack described him as “very much of the now,” originally being from Axildusk—and what’s wrong with that?—and now returned to it. That was why the shadow dragon had Shadowjack seek out Selador, and he asked Selador to consider shadow.

Then Shadowjack started talking about law. Bamboo thought the shadow stalker—now where did that come from?—believed Selador didn’t really understand the heart of law, only its periphery. He pointed out that while many would consider themselves lawful, that didn’t make them good guys. They could pass bad laws. Bamboo decided that Shadowjack was trying to say that law wasn’t a process, it was something else.

He also talked about law’s “Necromancy,” which had a different meaning now than when it originally started under law. So “Nec” was ‘the code” and “Mancy” meant the practice of it. He compared that to chronomancy—again the obsession with time…maybe once you exceeded a certain height that became important, or maybe the air was thinner up there—or technomancy. Bamboo had no idea what that was. Something to do with techs, he supposed.

The time dragon was about linearity, Shadowjack continued, a straight line moving from past through present to future. Bamboo yawned. But law was about regularity. Bamboo understood that. He was regular as all get out. Good thing Simon was remembering to take him for walks two or three times a day.

“In Acadia,” Shadowjack said, “The surface does not matter, but what it comprises.” Acadia must be law. Or the dragon of law. He yawned again.

They kept talking, and at one point Selador observed, “Lying is a proclivity of chaos.” Shadowjack didn’t agree with that, but he didn’t want to say more. “You’d best speak to Asmodeus about this.” Asmodeus was also called the Prosecutor. So many names. Simon at least had only two, and that was one too many in Bamboo’s opinion. A name was only part of identity, he thought. Then he thought he was really yawning a lot. Maybe he should have a nap. If only they’d be quiet. Like two puppies yapping at each other.

Simon wasn’t talking to him today. That was alright for now, Bamboo thought. Simon didn’t go anywhere without him, so he knew he belonged. And this conversation was pretty distracting, even if he didn’t remember it a minute later.

“Within the boundaries of Acadia, you must not stray off the chosen path,” Shadowjack said to Selador. “Within your ziggurat form you have created is more, but you must look deeper to understand the depths of law.”

Meanwhile, Bamboo realized that Michtey, who worked for the dragon Calcitrant—Bamboo wasn’t sure if he was a “noble thought or not”—came over to Simon as he ate his breakfast next to the windows. His boss really did seem to like to sit there.




I was just getting done with breakfast, and luxuriating in the second cup of khlava of the morning, always his favourite, as good as the first was, when he noticed Michtey coming over. I thought about standing up, but Michtey immediately took a seat, which I thought was funny, because that was the etiquette for a Jhereg business meeting, as he understood it. Considering what we were going to be doing, I decided, it might not be that weird. We had to learn to fit in, though at the same time, I wouldn’t want a Jhereg or any other Draegeran to think I was aping his behaviour or, worse yet, patronizing him. The ones I’ve met so far haven’t been that touchy. Well, the Nutcracker, but as it turned out, even paranoids must have enemies, because he’d gotten his.

I was momentarily distracted by Bamboo yawning. I should really get a ball to toss to him or something, give him a chance to play. Though the leash nearly broke me money-wise. Maybe if I come into some money…

Meanwhile, I beckoned to Monish Monish to bring over another mug so Michtey would have some khlava too. That’s how much I like khlava. When you really love something, you want to share it, I think, not keep it all to yourself.

I filled in Michtey on a few of the things that had happened—mainly the death of the Nutcracker, and that we were acting as auxiliaries to the Special Tasks Group. He was a little disturbed by that, but I explained Stig would be a good source of information about the Jhereg, and that seemed to satisfy him.

I also mentioned the Verdosau, but not that Selador and I had made a compact of sorts with him. He thought about having us submit reports, but I pointed out that maybe he didn’t want that sort of thing put down in writing. His eyes narrowed a bit at that. Not sure why. Anyone would think of that, I assumed.

Then Michtey said we needed Selador to be on board with what he had to say, so we went upstairs to wake him. Oddly, Selador put us off from walking in after we knocked, then almost immediately said we could. I figured he was on the pot but, if so, he finished in record time.

Michtey said Calcitrant has “some requirements that need to be met,” which would take us into the Foot again. Crowfoot, he meant. He could join us or not, as we wanted. He didn’t want to “cramp our style.” Lucky he did come, though. He was a useful distraction at one point.

He said Calcitrant wanted to take down “The Red Lavers,” a Jhereg gang in the Foot, “several notches” by taking out one of its crews. The Red Lavers use laundries as a front for their criminal enterprises. So I guess they’re laundering money. I laugh at that, but I’m not sure why. I guess maybe it’s because they’re taking dirty money and making it appear clean by putting it through the fronts. And “They’re famous for getting blood out of clothing,” Michtey said ironically.

Calcitrant didn’t want the entire gang eradicated, just “culled.” The Red Lavers were among the top four groups in the Foot, he said. Calcitrant’s ultimate goal is to rid the city of the influence of the Jhereg council, at least to some extent, so he “has to make moves from time to time.” I expect that mainly means us.

Michtey suggested going via Char Hollow rather than walking all the way from the south end of the Foot to the north end. Made sense. We were going to a place called Allasowynn’s or something like that, which was a laundry and soap shop. Allasowynn was the leader of his crew. He also had four followers, Bundelweir, an Orca female who carries a sword on her back and is formidably strong, Anishye, a Lyorn female with straight brown hair, who had adopted the latest in vanbraces which also covered her fingers, and was the oldest, Pewter, a decanter with long, grey hair and very handsome, who had preserved his youthful features through casting, and finally Selewyn, a young hair with red lad I guessed immediately was going to be a problem, and I was right.

Long story short, we walk across the Cinders Street Bridge and head straight to the store. Selewyn is outside and boy he is young. As in a young boy. He looked maybe 8 and, while he said he was 42, I knew that was nothing for a Draegeran. Selador has originally suggested taking out Selewyn first, but I think he was glad I’d suggested Pewter had to go first, being a caster.

Selador told Selewyn we were there looking for Anishye, and we went inside, where we found her lounging along with Bundelweir, and Allasowynn nearby. Selador immediately challenges Anishye to a duel, which turns out to be funny, because she’d already fought one earlier in the day. So Selador offered to only defend on the first few passes of the duel, so despite her injured left hip, Anishye took him up on that. And almost took him out. She wielded a formidable one-handed axe, and on her first pass it bit deeply into Selador’s left side. I swear I could almost see his liver, or maybe his kidney.

I’m not ashamed to say that would have laid me out, begging for mercy and a physicker, but somehow Selador shook it off, and defended himself successfully through two more attacks, one at his head and then another that flashed by his upper right thigh. Getting closer for comfort than I would like. Selador moves quickly for a big, strong man. Good to know.

Meanwhile, Michtey, claiming he was there to buy soap, approached Allasowynn, while I stayed well out of the action. I decided my best contribution would be through my scrolls.

Selador then made quick work out of Anishye as he had with Drey, though not quite as gruesomely, if a differentiation can be made between horrible, violent deaths. First his sword made butcher’s work of her right shoulder, and then he took the path of Anishye’s prior duelist and struck her a bonebreaking blow to her left hip. To her credit, she emitted only a groan, but she went down.

I then cast an entanglement on Bundelweir, to even the remaining odds, and trapped her in waist-deep plants and vines. That gave us up to a minute to remove the other threats before turning to her, and with Selador already wounded, I didn’t want to take a chance on his sense of honour and fighting “a fair fight” got him slaughtered. Bundelweir strained against the vines, but they held her fast, to her evident frustration.

But turnabout is a form of fair play, I suppose. Suddenly, darkness enveloped me, which I later determined was a casting of Pewter’s. Selador, despite his grievous wound, had resolutely turned and started toward Allasowynn. Michtey, despite having the element of surprise, had failed to fell the youthful crew leader, who wore a magical pendant on his neck. I’ll get back to that.

Selador, spotting Pewter nearby, juggling three or four strange, shining objects, which when I saw them I thought might be stones formed from Elder sorcery, and immediately changed course.

I, hearing someone with a light step coming toward me and having hear Selewyn’s voice in the shop, turned and swung, but with the flat of my blade. The youth might be willing to stab me in the back, but I’m not ashamed to say I was reluctant to murder a young boy. I connected and Selewynn, who it turned out to be, fell to the floor unconscious. I stumbled out of the darkness,

Michtey, I see, finally lands a blow and a devastating one indeed from all appearances, but then Allasowynn returns the favour, cutting Michtey’s head and sending blood coursing into his eyes.

Pewter then casts at Selador, something to do with blindness, I sense, but Selador resists somehow, and in rapid succession strikes heavy blows to the caster’s right knee and then left elbow.

I’m not sure how this happened, because I was watching two fights at once and trying to decide if and when to cast again, when Michtey somehow slices through the cord holding Allasowynn’s pendant around his neck, and it falls to the floor. Though we did not yet know it, Michtey might have won the day for us with that. Michtey also scores another hit, though a slight one.

Deciding the caster is too dangerous to play fair, I cast bamboo spears upon him, but before they emerge under him, Seldaor strikes him dead with a final blow. The stakes are only an after-effect, but they briefly and macabrely hold him upright, despite his death.

Michtey makes another effort to strike his target, but the blood in his eyes can’t be helping him, and he misses, maybe because the crew leader has stooped to the ground to pick up his pendant. I move immediately that way, thinking Allasowynn isn’t just worried about the safety of a pretty piece of jewelry or a family keepsake.

Selador, meanwhile, has taken a few steps to where Bundelweir is trapped, though she is slowly struggling free. Rather than taking advantage of being behind her, he sliced her free of the vines and allowed her time to draw her blade. That boy just isn’t too bright. I don’t want to be there when Adrilankha shows him how much that can come back to bite him on the ass.

Meanwhile, I’ve arrived at the stooped-over Allasowynn and, following rules Jhereg might find more acceptable, gave him a slice in the small of his back. The Jhereg crew leader has his own tricks to play. I suddenly have to fight off an urge to fall asleep, which I manage handily, as seemingly does Michtey. Magic pendant, as it turns out. I hope it has just the one charge. It doesn’t.

Selador also avoids falling asleep, but not, as it turns out, my sweet Bamboo. Though maybe he just drifted off. I might be feeding him too much. Michtey swings at Allasowynn, but the blow goes astray.

Selador lands a crushing blow to Bundelweir’s right shoulder, which would be certain to impair her ability to swing her weapon if return of Selador didn’t immediately strike her down, then administered a finishing blow.

I being to suspect we could have just sent him into the shop alone, and that Anishye might just have gotten lucky.

Michtey stabs Allasowynn, who in turn tries the sleep spell again. Again, it’s unsuccessful. I’d be asking for my money back if the pendant only puts puppies to sleep. Afraid a third time might be the charm, I cast a Thunderwave, which stuns both Allasowynn and Michtey, and causes them some physical harm as well. I hit Allasowynn twice in quick order, then Selador arrives and finishes him with but a single blow.

As we survey the bloody scene, I search for the shop’s money box, finding 12 orbs and 56 imperials inside. I take it, hopefully to allow any investigating guards to write this off as a robbery because, you know, Jhereg. Really, of course, I’m removing myself from being chosen to finish of Selewyn, who is still alive.

Selador also defers, muttering something about the boy being too young to know the difference between good and evil. I note, however, that the advocate of Law makes no effort to stop a disgruntled Michtey from cutting the lad’s throat. I reflect on this, but I’m not in a position to gainsay Selador’s morality, given I too stood by and did nothing.

A famous Yendi was quoted by the author Paarfi as saying at one point during the Interregnum, as he plotted a plan, “I hope too many innocent people don’t have to die.” If such a master of subterfuge felt that might be the result of even a cause with noble purpose, I suppose I can do no better. I’m sure, however, the youth’s innocent face will haunt my dreams for a long time to come.

Michtey tells us he’s leaving and taking the back door. He suggests we either leave out the front or wait a minute before following him. Uh huh. Checking out the front window, I see two you Draegerans talked animatedly, and suspect we’re soon to get visitors, so Selador, badly wounded still, and I leave via the rear, and take a short route around to get back to Cinders Street. We’re passed along the way by two Jhereg bravos, who turn toward the laundry shop.

We manage to make it back to the inn, and I install Selador in his room, still leaking blood, and went downstairs to fetch hen’s broth—he asked for turkey, though I have no idea what that is—and at his request water.

When I get back to the room, I mention I’ve also brought a bottle of red wine as a restorative. He says that might be a good idea, and I joke, “I didn’t say I brought it for you.” Then I produce two mugs and pour a measure for each of us. Selador, surprisingly, already looked much restored, much more so that should have been possible, and I wonder if he has castings of some kind that help, though he hasn’t mentioned them. He once said a lie of omission was still a lie, so I think that wasn’t the case this time.

Yeah. Sure I did.

Then Noxter showed up, mentioned her crew was meeting that night to decide what they should do, now that Nutcracker was dead. She and I went to my room to continue our interchange.


I remain, Simon




Bamboo came back to a drowsing, wondering when they had returned to the inn. Whatever happened must have turned out okay, he thought, given he and Noxster were wrestling in bed again. Despite being half-awake, he covered his nostrils with a paw. The smells they gave off while playing like puppies. Oh. There’s that conversation next door again. Would those two never stop talking?

Shadowjack was continuing his instruction on the meaning of Selador’s ziggurat, where the circle becomes the square shapes become the rule of law. Blah, blah, blah. The circular square is at the heart of Acadian Law, Jack claimed, “The core of what the law of Acadia is.”

Selador promises to consider the “regularity of law,” and Bamboo realizes he’s now free to fall asleep again. If it weren’t from those strange yips and yaps from Simon’s Bed.