Chapter 3 - A Bad Day Begins

Thirteen moons exist over Camoray. Though having that many moons may seem unusual, what is truly unusual, as all the scholars will say, is that four of those thirteen moons don't exist. Those four dark moons are just the superstitions of the uneducated peasants who would do good to know the names of their neighboring villages.

Of the nine that do exist, five appear as large stars moving around the heavens on their monthly schedules. Their names are as follows. Kog, the blue star which rarely rises much over the horizon. Burasco, the chaser of suns always to be found in their midst. Milila, a moon of hope, the moon to wish upon for one's true love. Rikorskey, vengeance star, the star which makes wrongs right. And Throki, the ruler of the moons who sits at a distant observing all his conspiring subjects.

The Half Moon is the largest of the moons. It is a green moon so named as it never gets bigger than half a sphere. Salar is a small pearly white moon which almost appears to have no set course. So random is its course as it treks across the night sky that shamans and witch doctors call it the Moon of All Magics Small and Great. The moon which alights the heavens with its golden glow is Darkello. Darkello is by far the largest of the moons, appearing with the size of a small fruit as it peeks up over the horizons. The final moon is the dark grey moon known as Shraum. So dark and foreboding is its full-form specter that few speak of it or even give it any attributes of powers over the cosmos. Shraum simply exists.

The names of the other four which do not exist are Thrakku, Wegsetze, Elarxinebos, and Shaze. The common people believe these moons to exist, that the moons are of such darkness and evil that they can only be seen by those who serve such forces. But again, as the educated community will tell any who will listen, mostly only themselves, the Black Moons exist only in stories.

Few know how the moons tie into the history of Kraylin or the true meaning of the names belonging to the moons. But knowing the history explains how such a vile and sinful city came to be the only population center on Arisilon more or less devoid of religion.

The moons owe their names to the predecessors of the thirteen deities known today. The first gods were known as the Gods of War and also numbered thirteen. They instigated their subjects to constant bloodshed and acts of historic violence and horror. They were flawed gods which almost destroyed the charges they were sent to protect. It was after almost destroying the old world of Pyrideon that a new thirteen gods were sent to replace them, the Gods of Peace. However, though old ones were vanquished, they still kept a small following.

Legend has it that thirteen pilgrims, one follower of each god, set out on a holy quest to bring them back. They believed that their savior would come from a city they would create, so they set out to explore the lands for many years until they found the proper place to start their holy city. One night, while arguing and bickering among themselves, one of them noticed that from where he sat, he could see all thirteen moons, each one hanging over its own distant hilltop. The others, seeing this, all fell into a great religious fervor and upon that spot the next morning declared the new city was to be built. And as legend says, Kraylin was born. Since the city was dedicated to gods who no longer exist, in time it took it upon itself to serve no god. from “The Broken Land” by Torim Rae, traveler of worlds

Kraylin, a city renowned for its trade, is also a city renowned for its color. Kraylin is a city where traders from around the world meet, a true merchant’s paradise. Every corner has a bank and every other corner has a money changer. If someone wants something, it can be found in Kraylin, from the rarest herb to the most immoral act of decadence. In a single day, fortunes are made by the most unsuspecting novice and fortunes are lost by the most experienced. In such a city, almost every visiting culture has a say in its design and architecture, making for a city where every building is colored differently and built to a totally different design than its neighbor. Add to this a city which has been growing on these concepts for centuries, it has more than become fashionable to live in the most garish home featuring more colors than a rainbow. Truth is, all styles of architecture can be found, but with the flair toward the extravagant shared by all in Kraylin, all such styles don’t epitomize, they go beyond anything that could be found from their place of origin. To say a peacock would be intimidated to show its feathers in Kraylin would be a gross understatement.

Angry as he was, Corvain was always amazed at how beautiful the streets of Kraylin could be as his carriage topped the hill overlooking his estates. Not being born here, he remembered the abhorrence he felt toward the city the first time he saw all the garish colors and strange looking buildings. His father had brought him on a trip to sell smoked meats. Sometime in his youth, while growing up and apprenticed to his dad as a butcher in their small meat shop, he learned to love this town. It probably coincided with his learning to love the endless vices this town offered.

And Corvain’s anger was increasing as the day wore on despite his reflections on the city he adored. He had started the day pissed, considering he had just lost a valuable asset with Kern’s death. Then with first light, surveying the damage to Kern’s tower, the master architect he had summoned had smugly informed him that the tower was a total loss and would have to be demolished from the ground up if the top was to be repaired. Since the tower adjoined an outer wall, that would mean his defenses would have a major hole in them for several months as repairs were completed.

Corvain’s estate was in the southern part of the city, about a quarter mile from the river. In Kraylin, anywhere that wasn’t a dwelling was a storefront or business related some other manner, if not both. Having an estate consisting of a few buildings with courtyards inside the city was a mark of financial success. Corvain’s estate covered eight acres, with nineteen buildings and six courtyards. To have achieved enough holdings to justify such an estate within just two decades of having been an apprentice butcher came with considerable enemies. Every year that Corvain’s wealth grew, so did his number of enemies. In a city where everything is for sale and assassins abound, a good defense was paramount. Fixing the tower would cost far more than the tower itself, it would cost the wages of a small troop of mean to guard the hole in his estate.

To make matters worse, the main gladiator pit of the neighboring gambling house had been slightly damaged with debris and falling rock. The estimate on the gambling house was a week before enough repairs could be made for proper use. Corvain had two major fights coming up and the gambling house was a major part of his income. The gambling house, along with the admittance income from his fights, more than paid all of Corvain’s estate expenses. It allowed him to keep all of his other business interests separate, keeping his wealth diversified should any single interest go bad.

That had been the purpose of this morning’s venture. After much haggling, one of Corvain’s main adversaries had agreed to allow Corvain’s fights to be held in his own pits. The cost was outrageous, with only ten percent of the gambling income going to Corvain for his own fights. Pit Lord Carnath gloated at Corvain’s misfortune all the way through their negotiations. But this deal was better than nothing. Failing to meet his fighter’s contracts to engage another house’s fighters would be costly in the form of both money and prestige.

Corvain’s estates were now getting close. He knew this road well. Curved like almost every road in Kraylin, it slowly winded its way past shops of every variety all the way up to his front gate. Corvain, still pondering the events of the morning, could only conclude that as bad as events were, they had still been business as usual until the runner had arrived. That runner represented the turning point of when his day had gone from a bad business day to a bad day all around. He still wished he had killed the runner for delivering such bad news.

It had been during his meeting with Carnath that Lilith had intruded and announced the runner’s arrival. “Sir, if I might intrude?” she spoke quietly, “A runner has just arrived from the estate with urgent news which you best hear.”

Lilith was his chief bodyguard and trusted advisor after years of service. Corvain didn’t have friends, but if he did, she would be his closest. Lilith was skinny and short for a woman, almost a skinny as a man. Under her light green leather armor, he knew she had tight muscles for both her legs and arms. No fat whatsoever. As an advisor, he trusted her implicitly, however, as a bodyguard he knew she was without peer. Despite her slight frame, she could easily match any man several times her size. He had seen her fight only a few times but what he had seen completely amazed him. As a pit lord, he was used to sizing up men on how they fight. He had rarely seen her equal in the pit. He had never seen a fighter move with her speed.

Somewhat angered at how his haggling attempts with Carnath was proceeding, Corvain looked Lilith’s general direction to see the runner standing right nearby. To have the runner, a skinny boy in his early teens, already present meant that she thought the news was urgent. But it also meant that while she deemed the news to be urgent it was safe for Carnath to hear.

“Report, What news do you have for me?” Corvain asked the kid while turning back to watch Carnath. Even if the news was safe for outside ears, Corvain was more than curious to see how Carnath would react. A useful skill become habit which Corvain had mastered years ago was watching how others received information, any information. Carnath sat there on his divan, his overweight bulk making him look like a beached whale amidst his multi-colored pillows, intently staring at Corvain for the same purpose, gauging his competition’s reaction to urgent news.

“Sir, I have been sent to inform you of the following. The words, in precise, of Master Sergeant Bassil are these.” The runner paused, visibly going through the memory routine runner’s used to make sure they always conveyed the message accurately. “Go to the estate of Master Carnath and inform them that you have an urgent message for Corvain. The acquisition of last night is doing well. The priest has not left. In fact, after the priest was done, another priestess joined him. How she gained access we are not certain. We believe her to be a priestess of Kristor. Master of Arms Ralishac tried to order to them to leave but she neutralized him by making him vanish with a wave of her hand and proceeded to threaten the same if anyone else intruded. It is about an hour before high noon now. Go and find Corvain, and report word for word.” The runner stopped speaking, bowed, and then stood straight with eyes downcast not daring to look up at anyone.

Both of the pit lords saw the surprise in the other’s eyes at the mention of a priestess being able to perform such a feat, but little else. Both considered the gods to be of little import and to have a priestess disintegrating people was almost as bad as the proverbial god waking up to throw lightning bolts at sinners. Carnath, to say the least, was curious about this news. And what kind of acquisition had Corvain just obtained that needed not only healing but also drew the attention of Kristor, possibly the most reclusive of all the clergies.

Corvain, of course, knew exactly what it meant. Kern’s fighter from the past was ok, which was good. Kern had mentioned this one was going to be special. It also meant that the priests of Kristor knew that the spell Kern was using had been stolen, possibly from a temple. Actually, I don’t know that they know any such a thing, but if they don’t, then they must be suspicious.

Normally not a religious man, Corvain saw even less to fear from some strange and secluded sect which revered time. He had never heard of any time priest being able to perform any feat of magic other than a simple fortune-telling. That this priestess, probably sent to exact retribution, could disintegrate his master of arms with a wave of her hand was not good.

Smiling to Carnath, “Matters have just come up which I probably ought to attend shortly. Believe me, I have enjoyed your hospitality today. Is your final offer still good? If so I would be delighted to accept.”

“For a friend such as you, Corvain, the offer is still good. Seeing the urgency of your imminent departure, I hope you feel I haven’t taken undue advantage of you. I have a business to run myself, and as I have stated, and I will see no profit in this venture.” Carnath smiled most mockingly at Corvain. That he as lying was not in the slightest doubt. This deal was simply straightforward robbery of Corvain. But just the same, Corvain needed the deal so had to accept the obvious insult veiled in the form of graciousness.

Carnath reached down and picked up a small sapphire sitting beside his wine goblet. Holding it up and intently concentrating on the stone for a second, he extended it out toward Corvain in the palm of his hand. “Here is the deal I have proposed on a contract stone.”

Lilith stepped forward and Carnath dropped the jewel into her hand. Peering intently at the stone with vacant eyes, Lilith let her honed abilities of trap detection focus in on the gem. Finding no danger, she turned and handed the stone to Corvain.

Corvain took the stone, held it up to the sky, and quickly read the contract now inscribed within. Meeting with his satisfaction, he concentrated briefly on the stone and Corvain’s personal seal of a red meat cleaver slowly inscribed itself inside the stone underneath the contract next to Carnath’s house seal. Then holding the sapphire in his cupped hand, Corvain stated, “I invoke you, contract stone.” The sapphire then started to grow and quickly split into two sapphires the same size as the original. Corvain tossed one toward Carnath and pocketed the other. In the time that it left his hand to the time Carnath caught the contract crystal, both crystals had changed from a dark sapphire to a dark green emerald signifying that the contract was sealed.

Corvain stood up. “Good day, Carnath. I will see you in two days with my entourage in tow. The fighters I have promised which will fight, or sacrifice rather, for you in the carnage match will arrive tomorrow night as agreed.” Not bothering to acknowledge Carnath’s polite goodbyes, Corvain nodded for Lilith to lead the way out. That was when Corvain noticed the runner still standing there. The urge to reach out and break his scrawny neck almost overwhelmed Corvain, but he held it in check. His policy of never killing a messenger was almost broken that day. The runner never even guessed his life was in peril, so calmly did Corvain reach out with a few silvers to pay him and send him on his way. The Runner’s guild didn’t charge all that much when a lord of the city killed one of their messengers, but that he had never killed a messenger combined with the extra silver he always gave in tips ensured fast and accurate service.