Umber

After disposing of two of the three items planted by T’lar’s psions in Hommlet, the adventurers mull over how to deal with a compromised Pelorite priest and his much-loved but deadly tapestry.

After clearing up the mystery of Forestguard, the adventurers felt the need to further hone their skills and separated for training. Brin was about a week into her studies at the mausoleum in Greyhawk when she received a reply to a message she’d sent via a quick but relatively standard messenger. Please do, was all it said. She requested and received a day’s leave from her work, and early in the morning of that day, after picturing in her mind a certain hearth in a certain inn in a certain forest, cast a spell of recall and found herself standing in Hadrack’s private rooms. The ranger was reading by the fire, awaiting her. “I wondered how you’d arrive.”

Brin smiled at him sheepishly. “If this isn’t a sanctuary, what is?”

“I’m gratified that you still think so,” he said gravely. He cut her off when she tried to stammer an apology for her abrupt departure at their prior meeting, but his tone was conciliatory. “That wasn’t something I would have gone out of my way to reveal to you. But you’re not a child anymore. Perhaps it’s just as well if neither of us has any illusions about the other.”

She nodded and, seeing that he seemed to understand, was happy to let the matter rest. “I hope you don’t mind my coming in person. Ironically, I think there’s less opportunity for misunderstanding this way.” She looked with curiosity at a bulging leather satchel set beside him on the table. “What’s that?”

“Lunch,” he replied. “The day is cloudless and promises to be mild, and you’ve never really seen our woods.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said with enthusiasm. “I think I’m supposed to relish staying at the mausoleum but, to tell the truth, it’s a little claustrophobic. And very dark.”

“Perhaps it’s something you need to grow into,” he suggested. “Do you have the entire day?” She replied in the affirmative. “Good. There’s a nice clearing by a spring a few miles away.” They set off at once, Hadrack regaling her with a veritable blizzard of facts about the plants and animals they passed as they walked along a gently flowing creek. She listened at first, then found her attention wandering. Very old memories, little more than images really, welled up in her mind. She was much smaller, he was much younger, they walked beside the river in Blasingdell at a child’s pace. He pointed out miner’s lettuce and butterflies and deer tracks, and sometimes she tried to follow his words but mostly she just listened to the reassuring sound of his voice. She could hear his laugh plainly, and wondered how that little girl had grown into someone who held the resurrection of dwarven smiths hostage to private audiences with Furyondian earls.

Then she realized that Hadrack was laughing beside her, in the present. “Forgive me,” he was saying. “This would be talk for Dryden, not you. So tell me, how did you fare with Genevive?”

Jolted out of her reverie, she stuttered, “Oh – oh, I’m sorry, I was thinking about – oh – Hommlet. Genevive.” She frowned as she uttered the name. “The king suggested sending her to Johnsport. They have an active trading community. Perhaps not in quite the luxury goods she’s accustomed to, but it’s something. Canoness Y’Deh footed the bill for the Wayfarer Guide to take her there.”

Her displeased expression didn’t escape his notice. “Was there a problem?”

“There were moments when I would have been content to hang her back up in the spider’s larder. Callie and Ammitai thought we were asking a lot, expecting her to turn her back on a lucrative business, and – ”

“And her family,” he interjected.

“She didn’t give a damn about her family,” she spat. “Except as economic units. Ammitai wanted to advance her a loan, Callie suggested a small share in her new business. I don’t think she meant the forty percent that Vayel asked as an opener.”

Hadrack’s face arranged itself into a carefully neutral mask. “And did she meet Vayel’s terms?”

“Something close to them, I think. I don’t know what the exact figure was. Frankly, I was afraid that greed on our side might endanger the relocation plan. The point, after all, was to get her out of Veluna, not to go into the merchant trade. I know they came to some agreement, and we walked away several thousand gold poorer. We sent her on her way with certain – guarantees – that she wouldn’t contact her family.”

Her voice had grown peculiarly hard. Turning his head to stare at her, Hadrack almost tripped over a rock in his path. “You didn’t impose a geas on her, did you?”

“What were you saying about no illusions?” she asked acerbically. “Of course I did. If she can’t see for herself the need to submit to the greater good, the needs of the greater good must be imposed on her. I won’t have Hommlet risk destruction for the sake of one amoral, self-absorbed trader’s conception of her own interests.”

“She didn’t buy the war angle?”

“We could have told her we were saving her from an impending balor invasion and she wouldn’t have cared, not if it cost her money.”

“Not fond of her?” he asked acerbically.

“Let’s just say that Veluna’s loss is probably Dunthrane’s loss as well, since Johnsport had the misfortune to acquire her. Anyway,” she sighed, “she’s gone now, and good riddance.”

“But you have ongoing business relations with her.”

“That’s Vayel and Ammitai’s problem. I am not, as I’ve been recently reminded, a diplomat.”

Hadrack decided the time might be right to back away from the subject. “What about the suspicious items you traced to Hommlet?”

She paused to bury her face in her hands for a moment, then walked on, more slowly and preoccupied than before. “They’re clever. So very clever,” she murmured. “Perhaps there is some justification to their thinking of us as cattle. Gazelle, at the most, dashing about madly trying to outrun the slashing teeth of their predations. How can we keep up with them all?”

“We can’t if we despair,” he reminded her. “Or if we become so dazzled by their scope that we are paralyzed and neglect to take the avenues of escape available to us. Gazelle are noble enough beasts. And enough of them outpace the lion to retain their lives and their freedom.”

“You’re right, of course.” She straightened up and resumed a normal pace. “The items weren’t all the same. We took our leave of Canoness Y’Deh and went to see Rufus and Burne. Burne said Rufus was busy and couldn’t be disturbed. He had acquired a new, unusually sturdy and nonreactive crystal container and was absorbed in conducting experiments.”

“New? Purchased from a band of itinerant merchants?”

She nodded. “It didn’t take much talking to convince Burne that Rufus needed to be disturbed. If we hadn’t been worried about him, it would have been funny. I don’t think, when they sold it to him, that they expected him to turn it into a laboratory beaker.”

“And did it have the same mind-numbing effect as the Cuthbertian chalices?”

“No, this was entirely different. Callie couldn’t get any psionic reading from it at all, not even a weak one. But she couldn’t believe there wasn’t something significant about it, and after even more careful study she realized what it was. The goblet – the entire thing – was a psicrystal.”

“Dampened somehow?”

“Inactive. Apparently its owner was currently more than a mile distant. But once in range – ”

“The psicrystal could be used for remote viewing – ”

“Manifesting powers through – ”

“And one of the town elders would be at grave risk,” he concluded.

“Precisely.”

“So the question was, how to dispose of it safely. Presumably you didn’t want to destroy it, to avoid tipping your hand.”

“Exactly. And unlike the Cuthbertian relics, we couldn’t very well send it to Pendegast. He’s not immune to being spied on.” She swatted at a pine branch as she passed.

“So…?” he prompted when she remained silent.

“Oh. Well,” she sounded a little uncomfortable, “we thought we’d put it somewhere that, if they wanted it back, they might have an unpleasant time retrieving it.”

“And that was?”

“Uh, we shipped it off to Mechanus.”

He made a small choking sound. “Anywhere in particular on Mechanus?”

“No. Opened a portal, pushed it through.” Her brow creased. “I had some reservations about that. I mean, they’re not the kind of beings that you want to annoy. They’re very orderly, and we were, in a manner of speaking, disposing of unwanted trash.”

“Littering Mechanus with expensive crystal goblets,” he mused. “I don’t really know how they’d take that.”

“I guess we’ll find out – or not – eventually. But if consequences do accrue, we have no one to blame but ourselves.”

“All in all, though, it could have been worse.”

“It got worse,” she replied emphatically. “Once we had a look at what they delivered to the Temple of Pelor. And we didn’t need to sneak around to find it – they had it on display in the main hall. It was a tapestry, exquisitely made and stunningly lifelike.”

“Unnaturally lifelike?” he asked dryly.

“So much so that the water, for example, seemed to actually flow.”

“Do I want to know what it was woven from?”

“I’m sure you can guess.” He sighed heavily, and she went on, “There was something strange about the configuration of the soulstuff, though. And it wasn’t entirely inert.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were distracted for a moment, and happened to all look away from the weaving at once. But out of the corner of his eye Corwin caught a glimpse of one of the threads leaving the tapestry.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Each thread appears to have motive force. Conscious or instinctive, they are drawn to living beings.”

He looked over at her, horrified. “You mean these threads were somehow infecting people? With what?”

“Callie determined that it was some kind of mind seed. It’s a kind of fragment of a psion’s mind. Once it finds a host, it germinates for a week, slowly pushing aside the host’s original personality. Spells that suppress domination can suspend the effect, but not reverse it.”

“And once germination is complete, the new personality has completely supplanted the old?”

“Yes. From that point forward, the experiences of the original and the copy diverge, but…”

“But you still have an individual patterned precisely after you, with similar drives and desires and motivations.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “Is there a cure?”

“Not one that we have access to. It takes something on the order of psychic chirurgery. We don’t know any telepaths at all, let alone any that powerful.”

“Not sympathetic ones, anyway,” he murmured, and she shivered at even an indirect reference to T’lar. “Was anyone infected?”

“We suspected the ranking cleric, Lars, was compromised, although we weren’t sure how far the infection had progressed. Which left us with two problems: what to do about the tapestry, and what to do about him. Lars had been sequestered in the temple’s private Sun room for several days, and we were informed that an interview was out of the question. On the other hand, the tapestry was virtually never unattended, and it seemed obvious to us that, our desire to preserve the appearance of ignorance to the psions’ plotting notwithstanding, it had to be destroyed. Corwin was in favor of taking rather energetic action to resolve both problems; others thought we should at least take the counsel of the town authorities.”

“Particularly since they’re allies,” he said.

“And might cease to be so if we waltzed in and began slashing up objets d’art, let alone clerics, in their churches. That was my feeling, at least. Fortunately Rufus, and Hommlet’s democratic process, came through for us. We did have genuine intelligence regarding evidence of tunneling between the old Temple of Elemental Evil and Crater Ridge, after all. He decided such vital information required an assembly of the entire town leadership and sent Otis to, among other things, haul Lars out of his isolation.”

“And your suspicions were realized?”

“We engaged him in casual conversation before the meeting. At one point, speaking of the local worshippers, instead of the more usual ‘his flock,’ he made a disdainful reference to ‘his sheep.’”

“Disconcertingly close to ‘the cattle.’”

“Mmm-hmm. And he was without a certain ceremonial scarf from which he was ordinarily seldom parted. He said he forgot where he’d left it. But Corwin found it hanging in plain sight in the Sun room. It was a scarf woven with enchantments to protect the wearer from evil.”

“Which, given the psions’ predilections, would become increasingly undesirable as the seed took root.” He looked puzzled. “Wasn’t Corwin’s absence at the meeting remarked upon?”

“He was there,” she grinned. “At least, an image of him. We tucked it into a darkish corner. He’s not particularly talkative anyway, so I don’t think anyone noticed anything amiss. Rufus already knew he was absent, of course.”

“And if Canoness Y’Deh detected the deception she no doubt had the wisdom not to draw attention to it,” he suggested.

“Leaving Corwin alone almost proved a fatal error, though,” she admitted. “While he was searching the Sun room, he heard a scream from the main hall, and hurried back to find one of the priests lying prone near the dais. Corwin ended up, for all intents and purposes, engaging in battle with the tapestry. A few threads jumped onto his clothing, and he managed to slash at those with the psiblade. They curled up, blackened and went inert. But then he had the idea to slash at the entire tapestry.”

“Did that destroy it?”

“It certainly had an impact. But Corwin ended up with a lungful of the threads.” At Hadrack’s stunned stare she added, “And that wasn’t the end of it. It turned out that the tapestry was a byproduct of the genuine psionic power – the rods. Pricked all through with thousands of pinholes, they began exuding threads to reform the tapestry.” She shuddered at the recollection. “And sucking memories and mind matter out of anyone nearby to do it.”

“Corwin?” he asked tentatively.

“He was strong-willed enough to withstand the effect. He communicated through Callie’s psicrystal that the situation had gotten rather out of control, and we in turn urged Rufus to wrap up the meeting. We all ran to the temple. Callie and Corwin got all of the priests evacuated, and Ammitai and I guarded the doors to keep anyone from going back in.”

“That couldn’t have been well-received.”

“Let’s just say I was glad we had Rufus with us. No one was prepared to argue too strenuously.” She sighed. “We were lucky he was there in many ways. Some priests had seen the tapestry destroyed, but now it was half rewoven – and still casting about for mindstuff to complete itself. Since we didn’t know how to destroy it Rufus, at our counsel, ended up wishing it back the way it was. Hopefully more or less inert, but it was hard to be sure. The priests were none too happy with his explanations of its mysterious repair, but it did happen very quickly and their minds were fogged through most of it, so their complaints and confusions were muted.”

Hadrack looked puzzled. “If the tapestry attacked Corwin when he slashed at it, did it possess some at least rudimentary, instinctive intelligence?”

“We have reason now to believe that it also had some scrying functions. Presumably someone saw the attack, and used the tapestry to respond.”

“And how is Corwin faring?” he asked worriedly. “If he was engulfed by the threads…”

“Oh, we purged those.”

“But I thought you said you couldn’t dislodge the mind seed.”

“We couldn’t – precisely – cure it. But Callie thought of a somewhat more, um, invasive solution. She told Corwin to stab himself with the psiblade.”

Recognition dawned on his face. “Which would destroy anything with a psionic imprint, but leave psionic parasites behind.”

“Which I could then heal. Luckily, it worked. But it was one thing to subject Corwin to the treatment. Explaining it to Lars was entirely different.”

“Especially since you’re under orders to keep knowledge of both the infection and the cure from the Pelorites.”

“That certainly complicated things. But Rufus saw the urgency of the matter and came to our aid again. He created, shall we say, a certain unnatural cover of darkness long enough for us to purge the mind seed. Corwin was a touch overzealous.” She sighed. “It probably wasn’t necessary to paralyze Lars. But at least he was cured.”

Hadrack blanched, but held his tongue. Brin tried to change the subject and engage him in a discussion of relations between Veluna and Furyondy, but he deflected her inquiries ably. She began to suspect, in that sphere at least, that what she had always interpreted as secrecy was in fact a lack of interest, so she gave up and they walked on in a companionable silence until they reached the clearing. It was a pleasant spot, with warm, flat rocks in the middle of the stream to sit on and enough dappled shade to keep one cool but not chilled. Her offer to help unpack lunch rebuffed, she dangled her fingers idly in the current. “A body of water that behaves itself,” she mused.

“You heard about Trela’s misfortunes, then,” he said as he rooted through the pack for a wayward wedge of cheese.

“Heard about them? We were there. Just as we were concluding our business in Hommlet, we had an urgent message from Sir Borch.”

“Ah, Sir Borch,” someone said from the bank. “An estimable man. I haven’t seen him in far too long. How is he faring?”

Brin jumped at the sound of a strange voice, but Hadrack, grinning, was already rising to greet Sir Geoffrey. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I was on my way back to Montinelle and thought I’d stop by. Erenil told me you were out here.” He frowned in consternation. “He neglected to mention that you already had a guest. My apologies,” he bowed to Brin. “I know you see one another rarely,” he laid a faint stress on the word see, “and I wouldn’t have disturbed you had I known.”

“Won’t you join us?” she asked politely.

“No, thank you, I – ”

She interrupted his somewhat awkward efforts to produce a viable excuse to absent himself. “I don’t imagine your duties permit you to see Hadrack much more often than I. And if you’d be so kind, I could use your perspective,” she assured him. “I’ve been trying to understand the overall political situation – Furyondy and Veluna and Nyrond and where they all fit in with Dunthrane – and Hadrack isn’t very – ” she made a gesture commonly used to indicate a certain flightiness of mind.

The paladin looked surprised, but not displeased. “It would be my pleasure.”

“You know me and politics,” Hadrack laughed to Geoffrey. He glanced over at Brin. “Rather like someone else of our acquaintance and natural phenomena.”

Her cheeks reddened, but Geoffrey came to her rescue. “You are one of the king’s captains,” he scolded the ranger. “I’ve told you before that you should understand the political landscape.”

Hadrack shrugged. “If the king tells me to set sentinels in a region, I deploy them. If he asks for reconnaissance, I provide it. I need the geographical topography, not the political. I trust his judgment.”

“Any man may err. Without understanding, how can you hope to recognize and correct those errors?”

He smiled at the paladin with feigned innocence. “Isn’t that what I have you for?”

Geoffrey sighed. Turning to Brin he said, “How may my humble store of knowledge assist you?”

As she was insisting that he sit down and take some food and drink, Hadrack said, “Trela first, then geopolitics. In case I want to take a nap.”

“If Borch was on the scene, then Trela was in fine hands indeed,” Geoffrey said.

“It was a close thing, though,” Brin replied. “He and Cloud are a force to be reckoned with, but so is that river. When we arrived, he was waist-deep in water, shifting rocks around. The townspeople were trying to help, but there was a great deal of panic and confusion, and most of the draft beasts were running about out of control. They’d already knocked down several houses that were at risk for raw materials to try to redirect the floodwaters from the town. With the Orb, Callie could at least cut back the intensity of the winds. Dryden and Ammitai’s mount Phillip calmed many of the horses sufficiently that they could be of use. I could quickly fabricate at least a portion of the wall, and Corwin calculated a path that would allow us to protect the town with the smallest amount of construction. After that it was just slogging through the mud.”

“It is an excellent tactical position for a town,” Geoffrey remarked, “but Nature does exact her occasional toll for her defenses.”

“No unpleasant surprises?” Hadrack asked.

“Well, there was a moment when Ammitai’s phylactery – ”

Geoffrey interrupted her. “Phylactery? Is this a recent acquisition?”

“Actually, yes. I believe Sir Borch slipped it into his pack when we first met him.”

“Ah.” The paladin smiled. “The Helm of the Purple Plume.”

“Has Sir Borch been on the quest for it, then?” she asked.

“Yes. I believe he completed it, although of course they don’t speak of it. I do know that he served as attendant for another paladin some little while ago, and therefore the phylactery came to him again, to pass on to whomever he found suitable.” He paused. “My apologies for interrupting. Please continue.”

“The phylactery pulsed and indicated – something – in the middle of town. That was right before the screaming started. Some giant water creature – a species of naga, Dryden thought – was apparently menacing the villagers, who were running about in terror.”

“Apparently?” Hadrack said.

“A few of us went to investigate. It looked like Corwin’s flow redirection displaced it from its nest. But in fact, it was as frightened of the villagers as they were of it, and once we coaxed the latter to back away it disappeared under the water and swam off. Sir Borch wasn’t entirely happy that some of us left, I think. He seems like a ‘one task at a time’ sort of man.”

“Definitely that,” Geoffrey confirmed.

“The phylactery, on the other hand, is quite the opposite, isn’t it?” she asked. “A paladin could run himself ragged tracking down everything it points to.” Geoffrey smiled enigmatically, but said nothing.

“So Trela is safe?” the ranger asked.

She nodded. “I’m not sure where Sir Borch was off to after that. I do know where he wanted us to go.” Looking a little embarrassed, she added, “We’ve so many things to attend to, we’d forgotten that he asked us to visit Forestguard.”

“Forestguard?” Geoffrey said. “Interesting. So this is the source of your curiosity regarding Furyondy.”

“Sir Borch gave us an overview of the politics, but – ” she sighed, “he talked very fast and I couldn’t really follow him. Corwin and Callie seemed to, but I think they already understood the general situation. So if you wouldn’t mind…”

Hadrack looked at the paladin hopefully. “Couldn’t she first tell us about – ”

“No,” Geoffrey replied firmly. “She’ll tell a better tale if she understands what she’s speaking of.”

The ranger frowned, almost petulantly. Shifting both the satchel and himself into full sun, he stretched out on his back using the bag as a pillow and closed his eyes.