Umber

A wizard with an unusual companion asks a simple favor of Yzzof with unexpectedly complicated consequences.

It had been an overcast, gloomy day in Greyhawk, thunder rumbling in the distance, and the old balor known on Oerth as Klavicus Starton the Second, Jr. had spent most of it staring out his third floor window and sucking moodily on his pipe. Some days the world seemed petty and insignificant, the walls of his study stuffy and confining. What was he doing here, anyway? The Abyss was in chaos, even more so than usual, and he could finally get back to it, and not even have to fight Orcus when he got there. On days like these, the intangible pleasures of scholarship sometimes felt a little too intangible. And why was he watching one of Oerth’s more entertaining bards playing nursemaid to a pack of fledgling – no, embryonic – adventurers? He supposed he could pop over to Thanatos, rip the heads off a few nalfeshne and glabrezu and still be back for dinner, but somehow that didn’t sound very satisfying. He sighed self-indulgently. Here he was, just a balor without a country. “Bah,” he finally grumbled aloud. ”Like everything else in this cursed multiverse, this too shall pass.” In any case, Hanen had promised him some interesting intellectual tidbit tonight, and the storytelling hour was drawing near. Curious but still in no great humor, he made his way to the common room. 

Downstairs, Kirin was helping Hanen clean up after the teatime rush in preparation for evening. She never did this unless something was on her mind, and Hanen had a sinking feeling that it involved another lecture. Over forty years separated the two of them, but when she adopted a certain tone he felt like a wayward boy again. “’I’m just asking you to go a little easy on them,” she said. “Erik has reason to be bitter, and Anna, well, her dreams are really quite lovely.”

“Dreams are wonderful things – in bed,” Hanen replied. “Out there,” he gestured toward the door, “they’ll get you killed. As for Erik, I sympathize with what he’s been through, but it colors his vision completely, and that’s a dangerous thing, too. If I thought you would spend your lives as blacksmiths and seamstresses, I’d indulge any fantasy you’d like. But we both know better, don’t we?”

Kirin fidgeted nervously, and decided to change the subject. “Why are you telling us this story, anyway?” she asked. “Anna’s right, the characters aren’t very heroic. For the most part, they’re quite self-absorbed.”

He picked up a tray of glasses and turned away. “I don’t know – I – ” a look of frustration crossed his face. “I’m a storyteller, Kirin, not a lecturer. I don’t know how to explain these things. It just feels like – the right story to tell right now.”

Kirin appeared dissatisfied with his explanation. Neither of them had noticed Starton coming down the stairs. “Speaking of which,” the scholar interrupted, “when are you returning to it?”

Hanen looked toward the hearth, and indeed Erik, Anna and the other children were trickling into the room. “Momentarily,” he replied. Kirin gave him an anxious look, then joined the others, who in turn looked a little anxious themselves at Starton’s second appearance in as many nights. Starton’s eyes followed her as she moved toward the hearth.

“Still even money on whether she’ll turn out a paladin or a harpy,” he murmured. The bard shushed him before going back into the kitchen for cocoa. As soon as the mugs were distributed and Hanen settled in, the scholar said, “So your intrepid heroes had just won the favor of the Lord High Mayor of Irongate by levelling a tavern.” He had no intention of being here a third night, even if he had to charm every damned patron in the tavern to keep the bard on track.

Hanen grimaced. ”In fact, Cobb Darg was grateful that they’d caused a not insignificant disruption to the smuggling operations against which he’d been waging his clandestine war. Since they’d proved their worth so, ah, flamboyantly, he asked to speak to them personally.”

“Did he give them a reward?” Jasper asked eagerly.

“As a matter of fact, he did,” the bard smiled. ”And further work as well. A ship of his, the Virago, was heading out in search of enemy vessels and was in need of, to put it as delicately as possible, enforcers.”

“So they were still acting as mercenaries,” Erik grumbled.        

Before Hanen could reply, Starton asked, “Did he want them on the job, or out of town?”

Hanen grinned. ”Hard to say, isn’t it? Perhaps a little of both.” Anna shuddered, and Kirin frowned, but the bard shrugged his shoulders as if to say: What can I tell you? This is what happened.

Jasper, as usual, was unfazed. “And were the bad guys pirates?”

Hanen regarded him soberly. “These were much worse than pirates. They dealt in the slave trade.” Anna gasped, and the other children leaned forward intently. ”Now this complicated the operation some,” he continued. ”Because if you’re dealing  with straightforward smugglers or pirates you might consider just sinking the entire ship, but when there are captive innocents on board it becomes a different matter entirely. If you’re the callous sort, you might say, ‘Wrong place at the wrong time, sorry,’ but if you’re not…” he paused.

”What did they do?” Anna breathed.

”What would you do, if you were trying to avoid a lot of casualties?”

“Board her?” Erik suggested.

The bard nodded. ”Exactly. The Virago’s captain pulled the ship close alongside, the crew threw down planks, and Tenebrae, Carignane and Yzzof leapt aboard while Quesnel provided covering fire, the arcane spellcasters attempted to daze and confuse the apparent leaders, and Basil cast a spell in an effort to separate the good guys from the bad. Tenebrae unlocked the bonds of a group of slaves, hoping that they would join the struggle for their freedom, but they were too afraid to do more than cower under their oars. So she abandoned the effort to foment insurrection and joined Carignane, who was sorely pressed by the slave ship’s captain, a well-armored and well-armed man. Yzzof, stout of heart but a little slow of foot, was chopping his way toward them as best he could.”

“And did they kill them all?” Jasper asked.

“They struck down the captain; when he fell, the remainder of his crew threw down their weapons, utterly demoralized. The adventurers used the slaves’ bonds to secure the erstwhile captors.”

Anna smiled with some satisfaction, but Jasper groaned, “Is that all?” Good question, Starton’s voice rumbled in Hanen’s mind.

By the Abyss, sometimes I wish telepathy had vanished with extraplanar travel, and never come back, the bard thought to himself. He smiled, leaned forward and tapped Jasper’s nose. “We’re moving beyond pirates, young sir, into something far more dangerous, far more frightening.” The boy giggled with nervous excitement. He had a hard time imagining what could be more dangerous or frightening than pirates, but he was willing to entertain the possibility. “You see, men with swords and bows, men who defend themselves when attacked, or attack others for profit, these are common things, easy things to understand.” Erik nodded in grim agreement. “The real puzzle in all of this was a wizard standing near the prow. Basil had identified him as the most strongly evil power on the slave ship, and Quesnel kept his bow trained on him lest he unleash a torrent of spells, but the man just stood watching the battle, looking vaguely bored, in truth.”

“The ship he was on was being overrun, and he didn’t do anything to help?” Erik asked.

Hanen shook his head. “Not so much as fire a single energy bolt. But he made no particular gesture of surrender, either. Now why, do you think, would someone do that?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to help the slavers,” Anna suggested, “but was afraid that if he helped the boarding party, the slavers would kill him.”

”But then he wouldn’t look bored, would he?” Erik asked. 

Kirin frowned in concentration. “Or, maybe,” she said slowly, “he didn’t care who won. Because he could get what he wanted from either side, and knew neither of them could defeat him.”

The bard nodded. ”I suspect it’s true that he wasn’t afraid. And he did want something in particular. But in fact, he failed to attack the boarding party because they had what he wanted. They had Yzzof.”

”But how did he know Yzzof would be there?” Erik asked.

“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t,” Hanen shrugged. ”And it wasn’t Yzzof in particular that he was looking for. He was looking for a dwarf. More particularly,” he paused and looked at each of them, ”a dwarf’s blood. ”

Jasper was chewing on his lower lip; maybe this was going to be more exciting than pirates. Starton looked engaged as well. He smelled an exotic spell component; perhaps the payoff for enduring these prattling brats was forthcoming. “All of it?” Jasper asked excitedly.

Hanen smiled and shook his head. “Just a little, not more than a pinprick, really. For the use of his companion, a bright blue creature tethered to a gold chain that appeared able to make itself invisible at will. A ghuul, he said it was, from another place, far away.”

”Like Beit Castan?” Erik asked. Anna rolled her eyes. Erik was very proud of his knowledge of the geography of the Flanaess, too proud in the opinion of the other older children.

“Not from anywhere in the Flanaess,” Hanen replied. He let confusion settle in for a bit, then added, ”Not from anywhere on Oerth.”

“Ah,” Starton sighed with satisfaction. Kirin, who had been about to ask a question about the creature’s origin, decided against it.

Anna looked troubled. “What did he want the blood for?”

Hanen’s attention was apparently focused on her, but he awaited reaction from an entirely different quarter. “The wizard claimed that his ghuul could use it to return to its home plane.”

Young and not privy to the details of what precisely went on during the Time of Isolation, although they knew it was unpleasant, the children reacted no more strongly to this part of the story than any other. Starton, on the other hand, grew agitated. Leaning forward, he snapped at Hanen, “He said it could do what?”

“Ha,” the bard replied a little smugly, even as the children nearest the scholar scrambled closer to Erik and Kirin, “I thought that would interest you.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible. I only know of one attempt to punch into the Prime Material during that period, and you and I both know how that turned out.” He looked irritated. “I admit I never thought about trying to leave. The usual strategies didn’t work, and I let it go at that. An unforgivable lapse of imagination, now that I think about it. So what was the mechanism? How was the dwarven blood to be employed?”

“Unfortunately, my interlocutor wasn’t acquainted with the exact process, just the results.” When Starton scowled, Hanen suggested, “An interesting intellectual puzzle, though, don’t you think? Just to know that it could have been done. But how?”

“A little difficult to explore any theories now,” he grumbled. Then he silently stared off into space, and although the children desperately wanted to hear more from the bard none of them dared speak. Jasper in particular was becoming increasingly agitated. “Although perhaps a demiplane seeded properly might do as a test bed…” he murmured to himself. “I’ll have to think about that. Or perhaps it was a property of the destination plane…” he looked at Hanen. “Where was the wizard trying to reach?”

“The plane of Blue,” the bard replied, shrugging at Starton’s skeptical glance.

“Never heard of it,” he remarked, settling back in his chair again. “And if I’ve never heard of it, it must be rather dull. Certainly if I had to tear a hole in the fabric of Oerth in its condition back in those days to reach somewhere in the multiverse, it isn’t the first destination that would spring to mind. I – ”

Jasper’s impatience with the scholar’s unintelligible ramblings had exceeded all reasonable bounds. “What happened next?” he demanded.

Starton’s face darkened, and his right hand spasmed around the arm of his chair, then rose into the air. Kirin, alarmed, tried to interpose herself between boy and man, and Erik eyed the fireplace poker nervously. He’d seen Starton pick up a fat, drunk merchant in one hand, so it was probably useless, but it might be better than nothing. Meanwhile Hanen calmly leaned forward, drew Jasper onto his lap, and said in a stage whisper, “Remember what I told you about interrupting Starton when he’s talking?”

Jasper’s blue eyes grew as wide as Celene at full. He buried his face in the bard’s shoulder, and Hanen whispered something else to him that no one could hear, repeating it when the little boy remained frozen in place. Finally Jasper raised his head, looked at Starton and said in a tiny, trembling voice, “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

The scholar had already regained his composure. “Old habits die hard,” he replied genially. “Too many years lecturing inattentive magelings. Sometimes I forget myself.” Hanen let the shaken boy slide back onto the floor where Anna gathered him up, partly to offer comfort and partly to clap a hand over his mouth if his impulses unwisely asserted themselves again. “I’m sure it was unforgivable of me to keep the bard – ” when Hanen glared at him he tripped over his tongue and said, “bardtender away from his story for so long. So, tell us about this plane of Blue.”

“I’d love to,” Hanen said. “Except that they never reached it.” He kept a close eye on Starton; telling a story to keep such a diverse audience entertained was a dicey business, and since the balor was more likely to burn down the inn than the children, he knew where his priorities lay. But the demon looked like he hadn’t quite utterly run out of patience.

”What happened, then?” the scholar asked, enunciating his words very precisely.

”Oh, they reached a different plane,” the bard reassured him. ”Just not the right one. And not entirely in one piece. One of the boats was missing entirely, as well as the ghuul, and the other ship was split in two. Carignane found himself in the water with the wizard; Basil, Quesnel and Tenebrae were standing on a sandy beach about a mile away from the wreckage, and the others materialized on the far side of what proved to be a smallish island.”

”But it wasn’t the Prime Material,” Starton confirmed.

”Oh, most definitely not.”

”What happened to everyone else?” Anna asked.

With a glance at Kirin, Hanen reached out and took Anna’s hand. ”I’m afraid many of them died.”

”Who killed them?” Jasper asked.

”No one,” the bard said. ”Circumstance. Happenstance. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s a dangerous business, playing with forces like that.”

“But that’s awful!” Anna protested, and even little Jasper finally looked sober.

”A tragedy,” Hanen agreed. “The adventurers saved everyone they could – allies, enemies, innocents caught in the middle – but in the end it was only a handful. Then they made their way down the beach in search of their missing comrades – and a way home.” His next words were drowned out by a nearly deafening thunderclap. The wind had been picking up, and the smell of evil weather was in the air. “Speaking of which, you should be heading home as well. Should have gone some time ago, really. It is not a good night to be out.” He looked pointedly at Starton.

They’re not my protégés, bard, the balor grumbled into his mind, but rose nonetheless. “Come, I’ll see you safely through the storm.”

Jasper looked positively panic-stricken, but Hanen reassured him. “When the elements threaten you, there’s no better company than a wizard.”

Kirin, who had been silent ever since the adventurers found themselves torn from the Prime Material, now said to Jasper, “It’s important to know what to be afraid of.” The bard smiled, a smile that grew broader as he watched her deliberately penetrate the circle of fearful emptiness the children had created around Starton to walk beside the old balor. Not a harpy, I think, he said to himself.