B.T.V. -- Session 13 Epilogue: An Evolution is in Order

Selador, Finndo, Random and Asher had gathered around their customary table in the taproom of the Coal Fires and Red Hot Pokers tavern, to discuss a new name for the establishment as Finndo was in the process of acquiring it.

Finndo, reflecting the current name, had suggested, “The Embers and the Glowing,” and Random, “The Nine Princes,” an ode of sorts to his own family.

Selador solemnly offered, “Timeless Shadow,” in hour of the two Noble Thoughts which were to all appearances dominant in the world of Axildusk.

Finally, pretending to some humility, Asher, referring to how other taverns in Adhrilanka had names that involved some feature that was special to them, as well as a play on words, recommended “The Carriage Crashed Inn.” His inspiration, of course, was the carriage that Finndo had crashed through the front doors of the tavern a few nights earlier, and which had been rapidly refurbished into a feature of the entry room, offered the only private booth in the establishment. Random didn’t quite understand, having only just arrived in Axildusk, and Finndo allowed, “There is a bit of a tale in that.”

Given the agreement of Selador and the concurrence of Finndo, Asher’s proposal was adopted. Finndo announced he would make having a new sign fabricated his first priority come the morning, for their chat occurred while still in true dark. The four also make the acquaintance of a server they had not previously encountered, a Teckla named Javen who sported fiery red hair and a temperament to match. She was part of Trean’s night crew. She fetched brandy for them, and when she returned, handed out glasses of the liquid, then hurried off to return with coasters, which was a singularity in that they were not in common use in the taproom. She returned and placed the glasses on the coaster, and later Asher would notice that the ring left on the table by his glass had occasional strokes through it, making it appear a symbol of the Wire. Finally, he thought, contact had been made, but he would prove to be wrong.

Finndo mentioned that he planned to divide the ownership of the Carriage Crashed Inn between all four of us.

Random, lamenting his lack of all but a practice sword, received a cutlass that Selador had taken as a prize from a Jhereg he had slaughtered in the taproom not before. The cutlass, amazingly, perfectly fit the scabbard Random already carried.

The others having determined they wanted a map of Adhrilanka, Asher asked Javen if she knew where one might be purchased, and she suggested a shop run by one Caroulan, not far away, on Ranroul’s Narrows. Asher pretended he would attempt to find the way, reluctant to reveal that, before coming to the city, he had made some study of a map provided to him by his organization.

Outside “The Words of the Poet,” Random, Selador, Asher and Staffy, the Tarar who had joined the expedition, saw a fine coach, but one not of Draegeran manufacture, and they thought it must belong to the Fenarian delegation that had recently arrived in the city to discuss with the Empress a coming war against The Two Rivers. Inside the shop, which had many fine offerings from owner Drantay Ozane-Caroulan, a tall Draegeran with red hair, though not as fine as Javen’s, they found an Easterner named Marrick, chief of staff to the Fenarian Ambassador, and carrying the latter’s finely-made staff of office.

Selador inquired to the cause of the dispute between Fenario and the Two Rivers, which is a Duchy of the kingdom.

Marrick explained that the duke, rather cleverly, had imposed a tax on the ownership of swords, knifes, and other similar instruments of war and commerce, but with the king had decided was also evil, despite such tariffs being in the purview of the duke. The tax was unpopular in some quarters, Marrick declared. “One cannot tax swords without repercussion.”

Caroulan then produces a finely-made map of Fenario, which he claimed to be 50 years old and was very detailed.

Marrick pointed out it could not be more than a month old, given how current the map was, the City of Medam (or some such name) only having recently been designated as being “keyed,” as was the Draegeran city of Karion nearby.

The conceit of “keys” had originated with a new group in Karion, led by one Maldon Sax, he related, and Random reacted sharply to that name, at least the “Sax” part, noting it was a powerful “Great House of the Past.”

“Sounds like a city worth a visit,” Staffy growled, as he growled everything.

Marrick inquired after the price of the map, concerned it might fall into unfriendly hands. Caroulan said he might have asked 500 imperials before knowing the decanted nature of the map, but know must ask 500 orbs, a fivefold increase that displeased Marrick. The Ambassador’s man said he didn’t have the money, but perhaps could arrange it. Caroulan agreed to hold the map until the end of the day, before putting it back up for general sale.

Random asked after a map of Adhrilanka, but Caroulan pretended to not have any, though perhaps that might be because he was dealing with Easterners. He allowed to possessing a map of Axildusk, and offered it to us for 100 imperials. Random pretended to have no money on him, having only just arrived in Adhrilanka. Asher bargained the price down to 50 imperials, and he provided 30 of that and Selador the other 20, until Random could repay them.

The four depart the shop, and Selador announces that, having determined he already had an appropriate gift in mind for Lyra, a Dzur Stig he planned to woo, he declared he would find her, as he gestured somewhat strongly with his Great Blade Massartu. The other three followed as the party made its way through the city, including through Brightstone, the only place within Adhrilanka where the sky always was blue outside True Dark, and then into Whitecrown, where the three Easterners were much in the minority.

There, by unbelievable coincidence that turned out not to be, they ran into the Jhereg Feddix, who Selador had retained to assist in his courtship of Lyra. He pretended the four needed papers, or at least an escort, to enter and exit the buildings in Whitecrown, though Asher found that suspect, given that only the previous day his Jhereg friend had pretended to be “suzerain” of the port of Adhrilanka.

He offered to lead us to the Stig offices in the palace, which seemed to have been Selador’s chosen destination. Inside, Feddex, allowing he was as unfamiliar with the complex structure that served as the administrative and ceremonial centre of the empire, went off to hire a guide. “It is a bit of a maze,” he observed as he walked away, leaving the three Easterners on their own.

Random answered that they were there to meet a Stig, and the Dzur, though clearly not pleased, relented and strode off, as members of his house were wont to do. Feddix returned with a guide, who led them some distance through the Imperial hallways to the offices they sought, but left them there, not wishing to venture inside in case the inhabitants inside were not desirous of their presence after all.

They entered a small foyer and, given the choice of three doors, Selador chose the middle. That was confirmed by Staffy, who had scented Lyra’s perfume on the Law Lord’s clothing earlier, and they entered an office waiting room.

They found a desk with a heavy crossbow on it, along with a variety of folders scattered about its surface, as well as several Stigs, who cut short their own conversations on seeing the intruders. Selador, being a very orderly fellow, begins to rearrange the folders to confirm to his ideals of organization.

‘One Wing won’t like it if you are messing with the rosters,” one Stig objected, but Selador countered he was doing the opposite.

One Wing himself, identified by a single Phoenix wing attached prominently to his helmet, then entered. He was short, very short, for a Draegeran at perhaps six feet, and between his helmet and a scarf, his face was largely obscured, so his house could not be detected. He wore the Stig’s indigo cape, but a half-version that ended at the waist, and Asher was reminded of a famous figure who had done the same due to his diminutive size. One Wing strode in exuding great confidence, evidently undiminished by his stature. His belt buckle was also a Phoenix, and he took the crossbow on his desk to lean it against a support.

Another Stig then entered form the same door the three Easterners and Staff had, and announced, “I didn’t know there were prisoners.”

“Alas, visiting, I think,” said One Wing in an ironic voice.

Selador admitted he had come in quest of Lyra, who One Wing observed was “rather fulsome.”

The last Stig who entered, who shall be referred until his actual name is introduced as Forlorn, took umbrage. “Perhaps I don’t want you speaking to her.”

One Wing objected, pointedly saying he was in charge of the Stig office, not Forlorn.

“I am senior,” Forlorn objects, and One Wing answers, “I am in charge of running the office.” He confides in the Easterners and Staffy that Forlorn had his eye on Lyra as well.

Selador stated, “I have come to ask if I may pay a visit to her home where I may begin courting her.”

One Wing observed that was rather forward, given Selador was not a Draegeran, but Lyra was a sergeant and hence considered able to take care of her own affairs. He orders Forlorn, to the latter’s considerable irritation, to escort “this fine Eastern gentleman” and his companions to Lyra’s home.

“This is an order of the Office of the STG,” he added, to overcome Forlorn’s obvious reluctance. One Wing was precise in requiring that the party be delivered safely, and that Forlorn return within an order to be assigned such other duties as One Wing might wish.

“I will do as I am commanded,” Forlorn grates out, after he and One Wing confer on whether Forlorn’s reluctance to accept the command related to One Wing’s height, or lack thereof.

“You are an exemplary officer,” Forlorn concluded, though it seemed to pain him to do so.

One Wing concluded his business with Selador by stating, “See you do not disabuse my good services here.”

Forlorn, who Asher observed was a Tsalmoth, took them to a nearby island where they stood upon a dock for some time without explanation, until he finally conceded they were waiting for a boat. A gondola arrived, which Forlorn pretended he had decanted to summon, and they boarded. By a roundabout route, they reached the far shore not long after, and walked through Charterhall to a house near where Asher and Selador had confronted three Witch Wolf Wraiths and an avatar of Shadow only the previous day.

Selador knocked before Asher could remind him to clap in the Draegeran style, but the elderly woman who answered did not appear offended. She invited us inside after Selador explained his mission, adding the Law Lord at least could go directly up to Lyra’s room if he wished. Selador demurred, pretending that would be improper in some way only he understood, for Asher and Feddix surely did not. Staffy, it should be noted, had demurred to travel on the narrow gondola and had gone off on his own, while Random, informed by Asher of a nearby bathhouse in Charterhall, had gone off to explore it.

When Lyra arrives in the vestibule, she and Selador take seats across from each other, while Feddix and Asher lounged against walls, taking in the spectacle to come. Selador explained his companions were present at “chaperones,” which confused both Feddix and Asher, as well as Lyra.

Selador, soldiering on, told her, “It is my hope you would not be offended if I was to pursue a courtship with you.”

“It is very formal,” Lyra responded, though in her puzzlement she did not seem displeased.

Selador asked after activities that might “stimulate” her, leading to a barely surmised chuckle or snort from Asher, who clumsily tried to cover by turning it into a cough. Lyra allowed she was unused to making plans for such encounters. “Aren’t you trying to show me what’s special about you?”

Selador suggested he call formally on Lyra in two days, and Lyra suggests she would favour a stroll through the Lost City. Being a Dzur, that would have come as no surprise to someone better informed than Selador as to the danger involved, which Asher took pains to explain afterward.

On return to the Carriage Crashed Inn, Selador and Asher found a stream of Teckla miners enter, seemingly for a morning meal and ale. They take turns ordered at the bar, which is attended by Illa and Javen with some competence.

One miner takes a beer without paying and goes to the Windows section to sit, and Javen objects. Asher follows her as she reaches the miner and demands payment. He pretends he does not need to do so, and continues to quaff his thirst.

Asher tells him he can’t drink if he doesn’t pay, and the miner responds by draining his tankard. Javen objects, and when the miner turns to Asher to see what he intends, he finds an Emitter butt already rushing toward his face. The blow smashes into his nose, breaking it, and the miner tumbles to the floor, crying out to his fellows nearby. Three stand at the adjacent table, but take no immediate action as Javen breaks the tankard over the dunning miner’s head.

Javen picks the fellow up and hustles him out the back door, and at least one miner calls out support for the action if his fellow would not pay his due, and the tension in the taproom eased.

On her return, Javen pretends to chasten Asher and, recalling the symbol he had seen her leave on the tabletop earlier, presented to be ashamed. She hurried to the bar to continue serving, and Asher perched on a balustrade nearby, where he could watch the room. Meanwhile, Selador has chosen to sample the tavern’s famous “Hot Pot,” that day featuring hare instead of lamb, and talks with Staffy, who as it turns out finds the Hot Pot much to his favour as well, and orders three more.

They discuss Splinters, and Staffy allows he worked for a time with a “Shelled” who also collected them.

“The Shelled gave his to the Jenoine,” Staffy noted. “That’s who they (they Shelled) work for.)

Selador asked if Staffy could track this Shelled, but Staffy countered he had last met the fellow a year earlier.

“They have these lights about them,” Staffy observed about the Shelled. They claimed to be able to sense splinters, but the Tarar described that as “shit.”

Looking at a Shelled, he added, was “like looking through a Splinter.”

“This is an important thing you tell me,” Selador allowed.

“Not all tribesmen are fools,” Staffy replies.



Javen, meanwhile, has stiffly ordered Asher to follow her so they can “have words,” and Asher followed her sheepishly to the Belows, which is empty except for them. He is ready to drop his act, but she seems genuinely irritated, noting she had shown him the sign of The Wire earlier in the day.

He counters he couldn’t not have spoken to her alone at that time without risking breaking his cover, but she is not mollified. She leads him to a grated culvert, which he descends along to a corridor perhaps 18 feet below the cellar’s floor. Along a corridor, he can barely make out a green flow, and follows it to a chamber where an impressive figure armed with three long swords, his face covered by a helmet and mask, awaited.

The Green Khakan, as he introduces himself, takes a seat as does Asher, and a strange interrogation begins.

“The time has come for us to meet,” the Khakan begins. “Your reports, I have read them.”

He pretends to be impressed by the method Asher has used to communicate information without resort to a code, instead relying on the literary style to convey intelligence beyond what was written on the page.

“Are you happy in your life?” he then demands, though not harshly.

Asher pretends he is, though he avoids the word “happy,” instead relying on more general terms such as “fulfilled.”

The Khakan then rolls a strange globe, seemingly made of bone, across a desk toward Asher. It comes to rest in a round depression, one of several in the surface, and Asher picks it up.

“It’s like a Pentaglobe,” the Khakan reveals, but not made of glass, and instead of spirit, it traps body, and perhaps mind as well, though he could not be certain of the last. He relates that Asher, should he choose to change his profession somewhat, could use such globes to capture beings the Drifter would be able to bring to bear as allies in future battles or, if desired, to end lives as effectively as a Morganti.

“I serve the force of Life and Death,” the Khakan proclaimed. “Now you must choose.”

Asher, who perhaps lacks the mental agility for quick comprehensive of such obtuse ideas, gradually came to understand. The Khakan revealed, too, that if Asher accepted the proffered role, he would have to end his relationship with The Wire.

Asher reaches two conclusions. While he thought he had been prepared to be a spy, on missions without little or no contact with his organization for long periods, he had found the task more difficult than he expected, especially given the rapid pace of momentous events that he had inherited with his new companions. He also believed that, despite his companions claiming him as a worthy partner in their endeavours, he needed to bring more to the party, so to speak.

As well, he found that, despite the Khakan’s formidable experience and difficult to grasp ideas, he was attracted to his service, and the offer that had been made. The Khakan offered time to make a decision, but Asher immediately accepted.

I would retain my current skills, the Khakan noted, but he would also add to them so that I might take advantage of “ossification.” The globes, he notes, must be constructed from the bones of the race to be imprisoned within.

“You are a collector of spirits and bodies now,” he concludes. “I will call upon you when time allows. Look for me in two days.”

He allowed Asher to keep the bone globe to study.



Selador, upstairs, had felt the decanting emanations created by the Khakan’s presence, or more precisely “fluctuations.” He determines it consists somewhere between Chaos and Law, but determines he must know more. He heads to the stairs leading to the cellar, where Javen tried to dissuade him from intruding. Selador tries to contact Asher using psychics, but the latter, not wishing an interruption to his meeting with the Khakan, fended off the intrusion.

Selador orders Javen to come to the Belows with him, and there he takes control of her mind without her consent, in a manner psychics pretend is “necessary” and which its victims sometimes refer to as “rape.”

He finds a charm has been laid on her and, delving deeper, discovered that it has a sense of order about it, and is a mild decanting. He is reminded of the Runestaff and its spheres, which he had encountered in the Splinter of Amber he had explored. He removes the charm and withdraws from Javen, but her story remains unchanged, and she pleads with Selador to not interrupt Asher’s secret meeting.

“I’m sure he’ll tell you,” she pleads, and Selador relents, returning to his room upstairs to continue his studies of the Splinter of Law while Asher returns to the cellar from his encounter.

Asher's words transcribed by R.Perry