Cultivating Peace on Freaky Founders Day | Rebekah Bourg
General Summary
“Miss North, I hope you find our city to your liking?” Symas smiled placidly at Shanna as he waited for a server to refill his glass. Dinner had begun with a toast to the Amber Pope, and Shanna expected that pleasantries wouldn’t take much longer than the formalities. She complimented him on the vibrancy and efficiency of Qi, remarking how peaceful the people seemed, then, at his insistence, launched into the tale of her adventures which had brought her to the Rayskel Cays where she had discovered the Helm and how it had been used centuries ago to foster peace between any who wore it.
“Peace requires strength and understanding,” she explained. “Your people are capable of peace. I urge you to negotiate with King Laird. The Helm will aid you in understanding each other.” Symas had listened without betraying anything.
Now he leaned forward and stated, “Our conquest of Ghan is necessary to defend our border against Navarene. I am a Draolian, and my first duty is to Draolis, not Ghan. If you wish to spare Ghan inevitable conquest, you must forestall war between Draolis and Navarene, and the Amber Pope is the only one powerful enough to do that. I recommend you speak with him.” “Rather than conquest,” Shanna countered, “a treaty with Ghan would certainly be more amenable to all concerned.”
This was the first she had heard of any threat from Navarene, and she wondered if Laird knew of it or if this was a politician justifying an unjust war. Symas dismissed her proposal with a wave of his hand, offered to arrange a dirigible to convey her to the Amber Pope’s residence on the morrow, and refused to speak further of anything important.
“Come on, he said we can leave.” She walked to the back wall and opened the secret tunnel and they all filed through. The tunnel led to a storage room filled with crates and barrels of wine which Alitsar stared at greedily, but their attention was drawn toward a red-bearded man with a worried face who jumped when he saw them. He recovered quickly and demanded to know who they were and what they were doing in his cellar. As he spoke, he slowly nudged a stack of crates closer to a barrel, behind which the group glimpsed movement. A three-eyed mlox cowered behind the barrel. The man, Sebastian Riggs, begged them to leave and forget what they’d seen, even offered to help them flee the city. Alitsar responded that he was currently too sober to forget, and accepted the two bottles of wine hastily thrust at him. Colonel Blaster swept up the brim of his hat, said that they would keep his offer of assistance in mind and would tell no one. Brute asked him to join the Order of the White Flame, then, when Riggs agreed, he directed him to visit the Order’s headquarters in The City of Bridges for further instruction in the ways of peace. Once on the street, the group was swept along by the crowd to the Main Way where a procession of Angulan Knights paraded toward the center of the city. In their midst was a carriage and displayed therein was a Xi Drake egg. The crowd pressed forward for a closer look and as they shifted, Alitsar caught a glimpse of Dorian, still in his disguise, standing a few paces ahead of them. “Dorian,” he shouted. He received no reply, so he shouted louder and yeeted a cabbage at Dorian’s head, missing by an arm’s length. Geribacus, governor of the city, noticed the commotion from his seat on a dais two dozen paces away, as did several Angulan Knights, who converged on Alitsar and informed him that, and I quote: “We do not throw cabbages on the Festival of the Founders.” They could not say more as the crowd gasped in amazement. The Xi Drake egg was hatching. All watched with bated breath as, piece by piece, the shell was flaked away by tiny claws until, satisfied with the opening he had made, the baby Xi Drake tumbled out into the sunlight and began stretching his wings. “Who has it called to?” everyone asked of no one in particular. Dorian watched the hatchling and his mind was filled with a sense of warmth and belonging which quickened his heart and he reached out in his mind to return the sensation. The young Xi Drake gave a long shake, from head to tail, nearly knocking himself sideways, then tottered toward Dorian. Alitsar chose this moment to lunge at Dorian, but Dorian ducked away and ordered him in a voice wholly unfitting his disguise to cease and desist. Tala telekinetically picked up Alitsar and hurled him back, dropping him behind the crowd and, at a command from Colonel Blaster, Brute picked him up and held him in a bear hug, arms pinioned at his sides. Blaster strode over to his thus imprisoned teammate and entreated him to stop destroying cabbages. He was untouched by Alitsar’s bribery attempts, but when Miffurblandishdon began juggling cabbages and proclaimed that he heartily approved of Alitsar’s practice of throwing cabbages, he began kicking at the slovenly spirit, then turned and in the most exasperated tones of thinly worn patience said, “Just stop destroying cabbages.” The crowd retreated a respectful distance from Dorian, who stood with the baby Xi Drake perched on his wrist and mewing contentedly. Noting the new deference now shown him, Dorian requested an audience with the governor and was promptly led to the dais. Geribacus congratulated him and informed him that he and the Xi Drake must now join the procession so that the festival could continue. “We can speak more at a later time,” he said. “Call on me after the festivities conclude. Just present this to the guards.” And he handed Dorian a fist-sized sphere which emanated a purple light. Dorian thanked him and accepted the sphere, but as soon as he touched it, his consciousness was transported into Alitsar’s body, recently released from Brute’s grip. Alitsar meanwhile found himself in Dorian’s body, standing before Geribacus, holding the glowing orb. To his dismay, the Xi Drake sensed the change, and flew haltingly to Dorian, who was now Dalitsar. A pair of Angulan Knights were about to escort Dorian, now Arian, to the carriage, but on seeing this change, followed the Xi Drake and hustled Dalitsar aboard the waiting carriage, and the parade continued despite Dorian’s protestations that he and Alitsar had switched bodies and he wanted his body back and Alitsar’s raucous assurances that no such nonsense had occurred and that the poor man was clearly delusional. With a sudden burst of laughter, Alitsar shouted, “If I were to stand on the edge of a tall building, could I blackmail you?” “Remember I have your body,” Dorian shouted back, “and I won’t hesitate to destroy it before returning it to you.” “I’m a drunken metalmancer,” Alitsar retorted. “What can you do that hasn’t already been done?” “I can make you rust!” Geribacus was bemused by all this, and Tala apologized for the disruption. “I can’t take them anywhere.” Mollified, Geribacus resumed his place, and the group resumed their quest to clear their names, with the faint laughter of the datasphere ringing in their ears.
“What do you know of the Convergence?” he asked Shanna. She responded that she had never heard of it. “This is the Golden Sanctum, their headquarters, as near as we can tell. They are unstable and value scientific advancement above all else. They’re dangerous, but you will learn that for yourself. I ask that you investigate their activities.”
Shanna agreed and asked what else he could tell her of the Convergence. He showed her their symbol, two ovals, interlocking around a large dot.
“Well then, knucklebones.” And he beat Blaster at the game of chance. “Ha,” the old man crowed. “I’ll just keep my secrets.”
Brute picked him up by the neck and held a knife to his throat. The man choked, eyeing the knife. “I did not expect that,” he admitted. “I’ll answer your questions.” Brute set him down gently, and the man told them of the Convergence.
“Thank you,” said Brute. “Do you want to join the Order of the White Flame?” The man shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got nothing better to do.” Brute, Blaster, and Tala delivered their findings to the police and were informed that the imbecile inspector had vanished and all charges against them had been dropped. Meanwhile, Dorian settled into life as an Angulan initiate. He was given Spartan accommodations, a box for his Xi Drake, and permission to move freely about the Knighthood’s compound. Alitsar invited the old man from the alley to dine with him at a nearby tavern where he plied him with food and drink and questioned him further about the Convergence. “They’re planning something big,” the man said. “I think they started the war between Ghan and Draolis.”
He offered the name of his contact in the palace in exchange for a hefty fee. “Is the name worth your legs?” Alitsar asked.
The man stared at him, then said slowly, “I think it’s time to leave town,” and got up to leave. Alitsar offered him five hundred shins and another glass of rum spiked with a truth pill that he had found in Dorian’s pocket, which he now possessed. The man returned, pocketed the money and downed the rum, then told of his contact, Lady Clare, a single lady in possession of a sizable fortune, who was fond of good music, good wine, and long annen rides, and could usually be found at the royal court. “Single, you say,” Alitsar smiled. He could almost hear Dorian’s voice in his mind, screaming, “I will chuck you off a building!” He chuckled internally and shouted back, “You got me involved with fanatics, so I’m getting you married.” Then his smile faded as he pondered what the old man had said about the Convergence.
“Peace requires strength and understanding,” she explained. “Your people are capable of peace. I urge you to negotiate with King Laird. The Helm will aid you in understanding each other.” Symas had listened without betraying anything.
Now he leaned forward and stated, “Our conquest of Ghan is necessary to defend our border against Navarene. I am a Draolian, and my first duty is to Draolis, not Ghan. If you wish to spare Ghan inevitable conquest, you must forestall war between Draolis and Navarene, and the Amber Pope is the only one powerful enough to do that. I recommend you speak with him.” “Rather than conquest,” Shanna countered, “a treaty with Ghan would certainly be more amenable to all concerned.”
This was the first she had heard of any threat from Navarene, and she wondered if Laird knew of it or if this was a politician justifying an unjust war. Symas dismissed her proposal with a wave of his hand, offered to arrange a dirigible to convey her to the Amber Pope’s residence on the morrow, and refused to speak further of anything important.
***
“What’d I miss?” Alitsar moaned as he pulled himself up to sit against the wall.
“We’re in prison falsely accused of murder,” Tala replied.
“I do apologize for that,” a guard said, bringing a tray of oatmeal. “The inspector insists that you’re all guilty even though we spoke with the witnesses you listed and verified your story. He’s not really investigating. Perhaps you would do a better job.”
Alitsar’s eyes fixed on the keys hanging from the guard’s belt, and haltingly he manipulated them closer. The guard caught them before they drifted through a slot in the wooden door, shrugged, and opened the door, announcing, “You’re free to go.” He handed a slip of aged parchment to Tala, explaining that it had been found on Giles. “Perhaps it’s a clue, but we can’t make heads or tails of it. Good luck.” And with that he left.
“Curious,” was Tala’s only comment as she noted the pattern traced on the paper, two ovals interlocking around a large dot, then tucked it in her pocket.
“Come on, he said we can leave.” She walked to the back wall and opened the secret tunnel and they all filed through. The tunnel led to a storage room filled with crates and barrels of wine which Alitsar stared at greedily, but their attention was drawn toward a red-bearded man with a worried face who jumped when he saw them. He recovered quickly and demanded to know who they were and what they were doing in his cellar. As he spoke, he slowly nudged a stack of crates closer to a barrel, behind which the group glimpsed movement. A three-eyed mlox cowered behind the barrel. The man, Sebastian Riggs, begged them to leave and forget what they’d seen, even offered to help them flee the city. Alitsar responded that he was currently too sober to forget, and accepted the two bottles of wine hastily thrust at him. Colonel Blaster swept up the brim of his hat, said that they would keep his offer of assistance in mind and would tell no one. Brute asked him to join the Order of the White Flame, then, when Riggs agreed, he directed him to visit the Order’s headquarters in The City of Bridges for further instruction in the ways of peace. Once on the street, the group was swept along by the crowd to the Main Way where a procession of Angulan Knights paraded toward the center of the city. In their midst was a carriage and displayed therein was a Xi Drake egg. The crowd pressed forward for a closer look and as they shifted, Alitsar caught a glimpse of Dorian, still in his disguise, standing a few paces ahead of them. “Dorian,” he shouted. He received no reply, so he shouted louder and yeeted a cabbage at Dorian’s head, missing by an arm’s length. Geribacus, governor of the city, noticed the commotion from his seat on a dais two dozen paces away, as did several Angulan Knights, who converged on Alitsar and informed him that, and I quote: “We do not throw cabbages on the Festival of the Founders.” They could not say more as the crowd gasped in amazement. The Xi Drake egg was hatching. All watched with bated breath as, piece by piece, the shell was flaked away by tiny claws until, satisfied with the opening he had made, the baby Xi Drake tumbled out into the sunlight and began stretching his wings. “Who has it called to?” everyone asked of no one in particular. Dorian watched the hatchling and his mind was filled with a sense of warmth and belonging which quickened his heart and he reached out in his mind to return the sensation. The young Xi Drake gave a long shake, from head to tail, nearly knocking himself sideways, then tottered toward Dorian. Alitsar chose this moment to lunge at Dorian, but Dorian ducked away and ordered him in a voice wholly unfitting his disguise to cease and desist. Tala telekinetically picked up Alitsar and hurled him back, dropping him behind the crowd and, at a command from Colonel Blaster, Brute picked him up and held him in a bear hug, arms pinioned at his sides. Blaster strode over to his thus imprisoned teammate and entreated him to stop destroying cabbages. He was untouched by Alitsar’s bribery attempts, but when Miffurblandishdon began juggling cabbages and proclaimed that he heartily approved of Alitsar’s practice of throwing cabbages, he began kicking at the slovenly spirit, then turned and in the most exasperated tones of thinly worn patience said, “Just stop destroying cabbages.” The crowd retreated a respectful distance from Dorian, who stood with the baby Xi Drake perched on his wrist and mewing contentedly. Noting the new deference now shown him, Dorian requested an audience with the governor and was promptly led to the dais. Geribacus congratulated him and informed him that he and the Xi Drake must now join the procession so that the festival could continue. “We can speak more at a later time,” he said. “Call on me after the festivities conclude. Just present this to the guards.” And he handed Dorian a fist-sized sphere which emanated a purple light. Dorian thanked him and accepted the sphere, but as soon as he touched it, his consciousness was transported into Alitsar’s body, recently released from Brute’s grip. Alitsar meanwhile found himself in Dorian’s body, standing before Geribacus, holding the glowing orb. To his dismay, the Xi Drake sensed the change, and flew haltingly to Dorian, who was now Dalitsar. A pair of Angulan Knights were about to escort Dorian, now Arian, to the carriage, but on seeing this change, followed the Xi Drake and hustled Dalitsar aboard the waiting carriage, and the parade continued despite Dorian’s protestations that he and Alitsar had switched bodies and he wanted his body back and Alitsar’s raucous assurances that no such nonsense had occurred and that the poor man was clearly delusional. With a sudden burst of laughter, Alitsar shouted, “If I were to stand on the edge of a tall building, could I blackmail you?” “Remember I have your body,” Dorian shouted back, “and I won’t hesitate to destroy it before returning it to you.” “I’m a drunken metalmancer,” Alitsar retorted. “What can you do that hasn’t already been done?” “I can make you rust!” Geribacus was bemused by all this, and Tala apologized for the disruption. “I can’t take them anywhere.” Mollified, Geribacus resumed his place, and the group resumed their quest to clear their names, with the faint laughter of the datasphere ringing in their ears.
***
The arial conveyance lent to Shanna was immaculately clean, and Qi was even more breathtaking from this high vantage point. All too soon, the dirigible alighted before the palace of the Amber Pope. It was a city within a city, comprised of sprawling building complexes, broad avenues, and lush gardens. At the door of one of the most imposing buildings, she was greeted by a middle-aged woman who introduced herself as Zara. Shanna explained the purpose of her visit and persuaded Zara to grant her an immediate audience with the Amber Pope.
Several minutes’ walk through austere corridors brought Shanna to a long, high-vaulted chamber. At the other end of the room, a man of indefinite age sat ensconced in the most comfortable throne, or grandest armchair, that Shanna had ever seen, surrounded by piles of books, data pads, scrolls, and not a few artifacts. He appeared deep in thought as he perused one ancient tome, and did not seem to notice Shanna’s approach. Shanna stood silently for a few moments, waiting for some acknowledgement, then screwed her courage to the sticking place.
“Your eminence,” she said, and bowed.
The man calmly closed his book and set it aside. “Ah, Shannanora Ellabelle Kh’arasthian Uma-Iarinom Northinghamfordshire, a.k.a. Sekuna Windrow, a.k.a. Shanna North. Lord Symas informed me that you would visit today. May I examine your Helmet of Peace?” Shanna hesitated, but saw no threat in the request, so handed the Helm to him. The Amber Pope examined it carefully, then turned back to Shanna.
“You are what we have waited for these 50 years. You can maintain peace in the Steadfast. May I use this?” He lifted the Helm. “This could forestall war and keep Navarene from devouring Ghan. Might you consider becoming an Aeon priest?”
Taken aback by the offer, Shanna bowed again and replied, “You flatter me, but I haven’t earned such honor yet. My place is among the people.”
The Amber Pope nodded gravely, then requested permission to make a copy of the Helmet. His face was inscrutable, and after a brief hesitation, Shanna acquiesced. He handed the Helm to an attendant who took it from the room, then brought up a holographic map of the Steadfast, zooming in on the Westwood.
“What do you know of the Convergence?” he asked Shanna. She responded that she had never heard of it. “This is the Golden Sanctum, their headquarters, as near as we can tell. They are unstable and value scientific advancement above all else. They’re dangerous, but you will learn that for yourself. I ask that you investigate their activities.”
Shanna agreed and asked what else he could tell her of the Convergence. He showed her their symbol, two ovals, interlocking around a large dot.
***
Colonel Blaster rushed from person to person in the still crowded Main Way, showing them the symbol and asking if they had seen it. No one had seen the symbol and most tried to avoid the mad man, but an urchin he accosted in an alley agreed that for twenty shins he would take them to someone who knew of the symbol. He led them through rank backways to a decrepit old man with cybernetic eyes and shaky hands.
“A battle of wits,” he proposed, and proceeded to stump Tala with two riddles.
“Well then, knucklebones.” And he beat Blaster at the game of chance. “Ha,” the old man crowed. “I’ll just keep my secrets.”
Brute picked him up by the neck and held a knife to his throat. The man choked, eyeing the knife. “I did not expect that,” he admitted. “I’ll answer your questions.” Brute set him down gently, and the man told them of the Convergence.
“Thank you,” said Brute. “Do you want to join the Order of the White Flame?” The man shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got nothing better to do.” Brute, Blaster, and Tala delivered their findings to the police and were informed that the imbecile inspector had vanished and all charges against them had been dropped. Meanwhile, Dorian settled into life as an Angulan initiate. He was given Spartan accommodations, a box for his Xi Drake, and permission to move freely about the Knighthood’s compound. Alitsar invited the old man from the alley to dine with him at a nearby tavern where he plied him with food and drink and questioned him further about the Convergence. “They’re planning something big,” the man said. “I think they started the war between Ghan and Draolis.”
He offered the name of his contact in the palace in exchange for a hefty fee. “Is the name worth your legs?” Alitsar asked.
The man stared at him, then said slowly, “I think it’s time to leave town,” and got up to leave. Alitsar offered him five hundred shins and another glass of rum spiked with a truth pill that he had found in Dorian’s pocket, which he now possessed. The man returned, pocketed the money and downed the rum, then told of his contact, Lady Clare, a single lady in possession of a sizable fortune, who was fond of good music, good wine, and long annen rides, and could usually be found at the royal court. “Single, you say,” Alitsar smiled. He could almost hear Dorian’s voice in his mind, screaming, “I will chuck you off a building!” He chuckled internally and shouted back, “You got me involved with fanatics, so I’m getting you married.” Then his smile faded as he pondered what the old man had said about the Convergence.
Report Date
26 Jul 2021