B.T.V. -- Session 10 Prologue: The Two Towers

Calcitrant e’Kieron realised his coach wasn’t going to arrive.

It had been more than an hour since the Lord of Law’s bold challenge.

Calcitrant had every confidence in his coachman’s loyalty and sense of duty. Something had gone wrong -- again. Had it arrived, he had been planning to attempt to turn the challenge issuedby Selidor to one of comparing philosophies. All the information he’d gained from his birds told him that Selidor of Law was usually willing to talk. The Dragonlord would offer a different perspective on the affairs of state in the empire. Possibly, Selidor would hear it and consider it and alter his objectives. If not a fight would ensue and it would be the human’s great weapon versus his own Jenoine-constructed blade. As an individual he was concerned for the outcome; Selidor had killed a Jenoine in a matter of seconds, as a Dragon and Lord, Calcitrant e’Kieron looked forward to the fight with appetite.

Selidor might not be arriving, however. Calcitrant considered vil’Paqqe.

The man had failed again. It was past time to be rid of his continued ability to be captured.

Then again, there weren’t many in such a useful position. Calcitrant thought these two aspects of the Athyra imposter over, comparing their merits.

A quick decision was made. Sadderome vil’Paqqe was more useful alive than dead. Calcitrant called to his knellbirds. He sent them out into the dawning sky to locate Sadderome. Once the birds had spotted him, the Dragonlord would teleport him to safety.

His mind turned slightly to view the three easterners head-on. He’d been avoiding considering them. They were more than troublesome. They were more than a problem. His best efforts had proved useless. He’d wanted them dead and it had turned out that hadn’t been remotely possible. His only actual witness to the fight in the tavern, claimed as much anyway. Calcitrant turned a baleful look to this man and spoke.

“You have been quiet, Feddix a’Jhereg.”

“You told me to be patient. I’m obliging when it comes to it.” The Jhereg was possessed of a face that was equal parts cunning and open -- an unusual pairing. He wasn’t tall as draegerans were measured. His posture in the armchair he lounged in was confident, casual. His short jacket fell open enough to reveal a series of rows of purses, all evidently differing in origin and original owners from where they found themselves now.

Insolent veitch... Calcitrant had despised him earlier, when hiring him, without noting these traits. Now he only wanted him gone. Before that he might have more information to learn from the Jhereg.

Calcitrant said, “You said the drifter was wounded but he showed no real concern?”

“It was as if he were just a lad minding a shop while the owner was out at the privies having a slash. He poured me a drink and it wasn’t a ploy to put me off-guard. He had time to worry about some Teckla serving girl, even though he didn’t know her well enough to describe her or say her name. He didn’t care that I was looting your fallen spears. He also —“

“Su, so he was reasonably fine.”

“To be succinct, fekking fine.”

“The one of the blade?”

“I was looting when he was talking with the escaped one you named Finndo. I was concentrated on the bodies' purses but he was certainly long-winded and the badly hurt don’t chatter. Not unless it’s their teeth noting the final, closing chill of Death’s hand.”

“Su.”

“Finndo had a few arrows in him so hiring those archers wasn’t a total waste. They’d scored some hits but he looked ready to take on the world to be honest. Honesty is a rare thing for me to try.”

“The world you say...”

“At the very least, a dragon, Lord.”


Kallad emonea, this man was rude! Calcitrant’s dour face sharpened at the jhereg’s bold, 'hidden' obviousness.

“Careful a’Jhereg. My home has secret halls sufficient to hide your body from any who might look for it. Do you fancy becoming a husk for an enlivener’s delight?”

“Not in the smallest, Dragonlord. I would go farther and say I’d rather become a go-between for you and they.”

He might have read my mind. Insolent but a prescient jhereg! Amazements might never end. “You? Act as liaison? Why?”

“No need to be dubious. I’m simple. I want some of the money you’ve got. I’ll do the running back and between and you stay here safe and strong. You can spare some Adrilankhan lucre for a downcast Karrion.”

“No doubt, when you reach the easterners you will dig into their purses almost as deeply. What a work of Jhereg art you are.”

“I do what I can to keep up our not-so-elite reputation, master dragon.”

“I tell you my demands, or my conditions and you negotiate a meeting under warded safeties and perhaps if needed, watchful third parties.”

“How do you Adrilankhans put it? Su.”

“I will arrange one thousand imperials. This will be given one in ten. One hundred now, nine hundred when I receive their answer.”

"There could be more than one trip. Let’s say one thousand per back and forth?”

Calcitrant’s gave Feddix an off-hand wave. "Su, take yourself to the easterners with my invitation to stand away from these indiscretions. If they are willing to listen, return and I will give you another message."

Feddix didn't chance a formal bow. Dragons were hard to please even when you tried hard. Particular. He left the way he had come, a teleport from the topmost portion of the e'Kieron minaret. He could see the Coalfires and Red-Hot Pokers tavern from there. He closed eyes and let himself 'fall' into the tavern.







“I grow tired of the debate. Kyggawhan. Lyvvoanwyll. You will do as I have said. It is time for Forrenz to die. Things are out of hand. Mark well these my words.”
The incanting murmur of several voices emerging from behind the speaker stopped with a sudden, sharp downward turn of his wrist. He vanished from the chamber.

Kyggawhan stared at Lyvvoanwyll. Lyvvoanwyll too stared -- at nothing at all. Her thoughts were elsewhere. Kyggawhan sighed for her sister’s pain. Forenz had been food for Lyvvoanwyll’s starving spirit. He’d come along when Kyggawhan had despaired for her sister’s being. He’d brought Lyvvoanwyll out of her darkness. His positivity and daring had been good for Lyvvoanwyll -- good both of them, Kyggawhan noted.


Kyggawhan stopped herself from sighing again and quietly said, “Lyv, come back from wherever you are and talk to me.”


“I’m not dwelling on past times or seeking refuge. Master Karade decreed our course. The Furnace is stoked. I have done what I must.”


Kyggawhan was shocked and pleased. She’d had doubts about her sister being capable of following through on Karade’s order. “That’s the way to look at it, Lyv. You’re doing the right thing for our House.”


“Doing? I’ve teleported the stuff into him. It is done.” Lyvvoanwyll spoke in a flat, dull tone. There was neither pain in the words nor triumph.

Kyggawhan was shocked once more but hid her reaction behind a genuine smile for her sister’s sake.


From the tower’s high platform, it was close on a mile away to a hired room, where Forrenz died of kessciartic poisoning. He would not be returning from the falls easily and if he did, the poison’s effect upon the mind of Forrenz kawn’Jhaegha, as his Dzur family had called him, would see him unable to recollect his life should he be revivified. ‘Athyra Sadderome vil’Paqqe’s mind’ would be dead — as dead as anything other than morganti could manage.