The Emerald Scepter

CHAPTER 12

In the end, Xaphira acquiesced, agreeing that being accompanied by an armed force was more practical than the two women going alone-even if she did insist she was ready to knock the very walls down to reclaim what was hers. Emriana had not blamed her for wanting to stalk right up to the gates of House Matrell, just the two of them, and demand to be let in, but she knew better than to trust that the guards would make way for them to enter the dwelling. Grozier and Marga had turned them out, and it had seemed to be all on the level.

So Tharlgarl Darowdryn and twenty of his best House guards approached the front gates of the Matrell estate with Xaphira and Emriana, and though she was ready to mete out some serious revenge all on her own, Emriana realized she was thankful for the support.

Xaphira wore her red mercenary outfit, while Emriana had donned her more comfortable and practical black shirt and trousers. "The better for skulking," she had said. She had told Xaphira to keep Hetta's ring, for though she immensely loved her grandmother's presence inside her head, she thought it only fair that Xaphira have an opportunity to share time, too.

They arrived on horseback, for Steelfists had insisted on wearing his elaborate armor to the fray, and there was no way in the Nine Hells, he had said, that he could walk to the end of his property in it without passing out from exhaustion. Emriana doubted the veracity of that statement, for the man's arms were as thick as small trees, and she could sense the strength radiating from him. Nonetheless, she was also thankful for a mount, for it made her feel more in charge and less… pleading. Yes, on horseback, it felt less like they were asking to be allowed to reenter their home.

As they trotted up to the gates, Xaphira was the first to speak. "Get the damned gates open right now before we ride them down," she said simply.

Emriana nearly laughed out loud at the wide-eyed expression of the four guards there, at least two of which she knew. Despite whatever Grozier and Marga might have told them, the House guards did not seem the least bit interested in denying the woman who was ostensibly their lady and mistress. They nearly stumbled over themselves in an effort to get the portal open before Xaphira actually had to rein in.

Emriana wondered whether her aunt would have slowed down to wait or if she would have plowed right through the gates. She was thankful they hadn't had to find out.

"As of right now," Xaphira said, not deigning to look at any of the four guards as she rode through, straight and proud, "you are either still employed by me, in which case you had damn well better consider Grozier Talricci a threat to this family, one to be apprehended at once, or else you still operate under the illusion that he is in control of this House, in which case I'd better not see your faces again. Because by the time I come back this way, he will either be dead or in a pillory."

Emriana stole a glance to one side and saw the two guards looking at one another in amazement. The first bowed deeply and said, "We are at your service, m'lady," and quickly, the other three piped up with similar oaths of loyalty.

"Good," Xaphira said, still not turning to meet them eye to eye. "Then start earning your coin."

It's good to be home, Emriana thought, almost giggling.

The procession rode up to the front steps of the house, where servants began pouring out the front doors, many of them exclaiming how stunned and delighted they were that the two Matrell women were both alive and well. A few offered hugs, which Xaphira accepted graciously, but it was clear that she was in no mood for reunions, and neither was Emriana. She dismounted beside her aunt and together, they stepped into the front hall of the estate. Steelfists ordered his men to dismount and be at the ready.

"Talricci!" Xaphira called out, already taking hold of her holy coin and muttering a prayer. "We have unfinished business, now!" She strode from the front hall into the main sitting room, and into the dining room, looking for her quarry. All around her, servants fell over themselves either welcoming her back or trying to tell her that Grozier and Bartimus were no longer there.

It took a few moments of chaos before Xaphira and Emriana finally got a straight story. It seemed that the moment word had reached the house that the two Matrell women had returned and were riding at the front of an armed escort, Grozier and his wizard had bolted.

Liezl, the serving girl who had told Emriana of Hetta's death, saw the man depart and was happy to share the experience. "He heard the commotion and stood up from that very chair to look out the windows there. When he turned back around, he was pale as a ghost, and he said, 'Bartimus, get us home, now!' Just like that."

Emriana was almost sorry they hadn't caught him in the middle of their house. She really did want to thump him. "That still leaves Marga," she told her aunt.

"Right," Xaphira said, turning about. "Where is she?" the woman asked of anyone willing to answer.

"Why, Marga hasn't come out of her rooms in the last couple of days," Mirolyn said, standing at the doorway. "She doesn't seem sick, but she doesn't want any visitors."

"We'll see about that," Xaphira said. "Tharlgarl, will you and your men kindly begin rounding up the rest of our House guards and explain to them exactly what is expected of them?"

"It would be my pleasure. Lady Xaphira," Steelfists boomed. He turned and barked orders to his men.

With that, Xaphira turned and stalked down the hall toward Marga's chambers. Emriana was right on her heels.

Xaphira made the door slam open as she entered Marga's rooms. There had been no knock, Emriana observed in delight. "Either you have a very good explanation for why you let your brother take over this House, or you're out on the street by nightfall," Xaphira said, staring at the woman seated in a chair on the far side of the room.

Marga only looked up calmly and said, "I don't wish to be disturbed at the moment. Perhaps you could come back later?"

Xaphira's shoulders hunched in rage, but Emriana thought that Marga's expression was odd. Sort of pained, the girl thought, like she's struggling with something. That was when she noticed Marga's hands twitching, and Emriana saw that she was clasping something in them.

Xaphira began to stride across the room. "Why you thankless little wench" she said, reaching out, intending to grab Marga by the shoulders. "I ought to-"

"Xaphira, wait," Emriana said, pointing at the item, which seemed to be a letter. "What is she holding?"

Marga only smiled and said, "I really don't want to be disturbed. Can't this wait?"

"Probably the deed to the property," Xaphira snapped, yanking the paper from the woman's grasp. She glanced at it as if ready to discard it, but then the woman did a doubletake and began to read in earnest.

Emriana noticed a single tear form in the corner of Marga's eye, and as Xaphira finished reading the letter, that tear began to make its way down the woman's cheek.

"Oh, by the gods, I'm so sorry," Xaphira said, dropping the letter and grabbing at Marga to hug her tightly. Though Marga wrapped her arms around Xaphira in return, Emriana heard her say, "This really isn't necessary. I would like to be alone right now."

The girl snatched up the fallen missive and read it.

Please help me! I am being magically compelled to say these things, but in truth I want very much to come out of my rooms. Grozier has kidnapped Quindy and Obiron and is holding them at the Talricci estate. Bartimus made sure I couldn't say anything to anyone, but he slipped up because I can write the truth. Please help me and my babies!

Marga

Emriana was beside her aunt, hugging Marga just as hard, even before the paper hit the floor. Marga still seemed unwilling to admit what was going on, and Emriana shuddered to think of how hard it must be, wanting to say something and not being able to make the words come out.

"Can you remove this foul magic?" Emriana asked at last, pulling back and studying Marga's smooth, emotionless face.

"Oh, yes," Xaphira said. "I've got just the thing to deal with this. And when I get my hands on that damnable wizard, he's going to wish he had never set foot in this house," she muttered, fumbling for something in one of her satchels.

"Not if I get to him first," Emriana said, imagining planting a well-placed kick right into the paunchy wizard's nose. "Hurry, Aunt Xaphira. We need to get to the Talricci estate before he does-" Emriana cut herself off then, not wanting to suggest injury to the twins in front of Marga. It must be hard enough to be thinking about them and unable to plead for help, she thought. But hearing someone else talk about them in that way…

Xaphira produced a small scroll tube from her satchel and withdrew a curled sheaf of parchments. She thumbed through them, finding the one she wanted, and replaced the rest in the tube before tucking it back in the satchel.

Emriana watched her aunt scan the page for a moment. "Will that do it?" she asked, not wanting to interrupt but unbearably curious. She had never seen her aunt draw magic from a scroll before and she wanted to understand how it was done.

"I never had much need to obliterate a curse on the battlefield," Xaphira said at last, "but I always thought this would be handy to have around. All right, here we go." And she began to chant, her eyes scanning the page. Emriana heard the woman singing the words, but she couldn't understand any of it. Xaphira's song reached a quick crescendo and she stopped.

Marga burst into tears. "Oh, by the gods," she sobbed, jumping up and running out into the hall. "Please go get them," she begged, turning around to face Xaphira and Emriana. "Don't let him hurt them," she said in a near-whisper.

Both women ran to Marga and took her in their arms again. "It's all right," Xaphira said, shushing her and stroking her hair. "We'll get them back for you."

Emriana just wrapped her arms around the woman's waist and clung to her. I know how you feel, she thought. I was helpless for a while, too.

By the time they had gotten Marga comfortable and had heard her entire story, Emriana was seething mad. Shapeshifters! That day by the pond, she thought, understanding the twins' odd behavior at last.

Denrick.

Somehow, realizing the truth of the previous night made her feel worse. She shuddered, trying not to relive the ordeal again. She knew that Lobra had preyed upon her worst fears, and in a way, she was angry with herself for letting it be such an effective fear.

No! She thought, shouting at herself. Don't you accept any blame for that. They did it to you!

It was time to put a stop to it, Emriana decided. Right now. "Xaphira," she said, and something in the tone of her voice must have made her aunt realize the gravity of what she was about to say, for the woman looked at her intently. "We still have unfinished business to deal with." When Xaphira didn't say anything, Emriana continued. "It's time to pay Grozier Talricci a visit."

Several rows of teeth the size of Vambran's torso flashed toward the mercenary, white blades designed to shred him into bloody pulp. But when they snapped together, the yawning blackness of the shark wholly enveloped him, and those great daggers missed his flesh. He was swept into the blackness, fighting the churning water, thrashing against the current, but it was futile. The undersea world, the light, receded.

Trapped inside the shark's mouth, the current still propelled Vambran, and he found himself sliding deeper into its cavernous insides. Fighting the terror of what had befallen him, the lieutenant tried to reason. He still had the trident Serille had given him, though he doubted it would do much against such a massive creature. Still, he might be able to use it to slow his descent into the thing's belly. He rammed the weapon down hard, feeling it sink into the flesh. He clung to the haft, fighting the flow of water, and peered around.

Ahead, he could see the light beyond the enormous mouth as the shark swam about, allowing water to flow in. Indeed, the current that was trying to sweep him along reminded him of something. Turning to stare in the other direction, deeper into the beast's gullet, he spied the twin glimmers of light he was hoping for.

The gills.

Uprooting the trident and paddling furiously, Vambran swam toward one side of the shark, aiming at those slits, letting the flow of the water carry him. As he neared the first of the gaps in the shark's body, he jabbed the trident into it, using the weapon as a handle. The force of the water was strong, but Vambran wasn't sure he could slip out through the gill. He pushed on the flap experimentally to see how flexible it was. It did not give much, but it was the only means of escape that he could see. Bolstering his courage, the mercenary began to climb through the gill. He led with the trident and his arms. Once he got his head wedged into the gap, he began shoving himself through, using the trident like a pry bar.

The shark, perhaps sensing the man's assault on a sensitive body part, thrashed about, buffeting Vambran. He nearly lost his grip on his weapon and he was slammed about painfully, all the while still desperate to free himself. When, the shark jerked just right, the gill slit opened enough that Vambran's body slipped through. He went tumbling along the shark's flank, buffeted by its motion and scraping painfully against its rough skin.

But he was free.

And bleeding.

It was no more than a scrape, trickling only a little blood, but the great brute was making a wide turn, and Vambran feared that it could smell his wound in the water already. Terrified of another attack, of not being so lucky as to evade the teeth again, he dived downward to the sea floor and discovered a small fold in the coral and the anemones where he could wedge himself in. He plunged into the crack and fell still just as the shark glided past again, snapping its jaws where he had been only a heartbeat before. The ferocity of the bites churned the water, swirling it and buffeting Vambran severely. He cradled his head in his arms as he bounced against the rock, and when the water grew calm, he glanced up to see the skin of the beast moving past him at less than an arm length away.

Even after the creature had moved past, Vambran remained still for several long moments more, unwilling even to turn his head to see where it had gone.

Finally, when his heartbeat had slowed to an even rate, the lieutenant did rise, barely enough to peer around. He saw no sign of the immense shark.

Thank Tymora, he thought, sagging down again.

After gathering his strength, Vambran rose up from his protected hiding place. He saw no evidence of the rest of his companions. Dismayed, he considered the best course of action.

On land, he thought, if a soldier gets lost in the woods, he's instructed to stay put and let others find him. Maybe that works in the water, too. But how long do I wait for them to come back? he wondered. It's bound to get even darker down here. I can make a light, but Serille said that was a bad idea.

After weighing his options, the lieutenant decided to follow his instincts, which told him to return to the domed building he had discovered before the arrival of the shark. He rationalized that it was the place where he had first lost his companions and thus, if they followed the same methods as on the surface, they would backtrack to that spot and find him. But the truth was, he felt drawn to the location. Curiosity was driving him to find out what was inside, through that narrow space that he had imagined being a doorway.

The only problem was, how could he leave a clue for the others that he was there? Vambran needed some way to mark the spot, leave some sign behind-subtle enough not to attract the attention of unwanted species, but obvious enough to those who knew what to look for.

Vambran had no idea how long it took him to find the unusual formation again, but eventually he spotted the strange dome. With a sigh of relief, he settled down near the rocky crevice that he thought might allow ingress. The fissure was pitch black within and Vambran was reluctant to use his magic to generate light, but he would never work up the courage to descend without being able to see. He also knew that blindly entering the unknown space might bring him face-to-face with Waukeen in no time.

Vambran considered how best to mark his passage. Using the trident, he chipped off some of the coral along a flat area that was more or less vertical. The growth broke off in large chunks, exposing a lighter color beneath. The revealed surface didn't appear to be natural rock, but what Vambran believed to be worked stone. Elated, he quickly chiseled away two more identical spots. He carefully rounded all three of them, making sure that they were sizeable enough to be seen from a considerable distance. Then he retreated from his work and looked down on it. From several vantage points, three dots were clearly visible, identical in formation to the three dots he bore on his brow.

Perfect, the lieutenant thought. They'll figure that out.

Satisfied that he had left a reasonable trail, Vambran moved down toward the gap in the rock. He sat for a time, trying to build up his courage. He didn't know if his hesitation was a fear of being sucked into a great blackness for a second time that day, or if he felt some sense of trespassing on a scene of ancient death. If the place was truly a portal into the forgotten ruins of Naarkolyth, he might very well be the first human to pass through its halls in over a millennium. The thought was both sobering and exhilarating.

Sitting on a rock under the ocean wasn't helping anyone on the surface, Vambran convinced himself, and finally, he took hold of his holy coin and muttered a prayer. He worried briefly that the changes in his voice due to his gills might cause the magic to fail. With the final word of the spell, though, his coin glowed with a soft light.

Before the illumination could attract the attention of predators or enemies nearby, Vambran ducked down and sized up the gap. The passage was wider and the way was easier than he had imagined. He slipped through the opening and found himself in a narrow gash in the rock. He disturbed a few fish and some crabs, which scuttled away at his approach.

The slit opened downward to the edge of his light and beyond and was so narrow that Vambran would not be able to maneuver much as he descended. He considered giving up and returning to the surface to wait for Serille and Arbeenok to find him, but his curiosity won out. The mercenary allowed himself to drift down through the crevice.

The rock became smoother as Vambran swam farther down, for no plant or coral could grow upon it without at least feeble light to feed on. The passage he was traversing eventually widened enough to become recognizable as a hallway or tunnel, and the thought sent chills down his spine. He was moving through a corridor that humans had walked hundreds of years earlier.

After descending into the unadorned passage for a few more moments, Vambran's light suddenly illuminated a dead end. Silt and mud filled the bottom of the shaft and no other passage was visible. Disappointed, Vambran probed the silt with the butt end of the trident, hoping to find an opening, or some clue or secret, that would let him explore farther.

The lieutenant was on the verge of turning back when something caught his eye. A tiny plume of bubbles streamed forth from the stone wall of the shaft. Vambran got close to the trail of bubbles and peered at the stonework. He wasn't certain, but a very small, very straight crack seemed to run the length of the rock.

A hidden passage? he wondered.

Vambran spent several minutes searching and discovered a barely discernable seam that looked like the outline of a hidden door. He tried pushing on the stone in various locations and examined other sections of the wall to locate a lever, stud, or other release mechanism, but his search was in vain.

Only mildly discouraged, the mercenary again considered returning to the open water to wait for his companions, but then he felt the familiar tingle of magic. Inspiration flowed through him and an understanding he couldn't explain washed through his mind. The lieutenant believed he had the workings of a new arcane power at his fingertips. He simply knew, and though the feeling was startling, it wasn't as unnerving as it had been the first time he had discovered the innate ability.

Thanking Waukeen for whatever role she had played in the manifestation of his power, Vambran placed his hands on the concealed portal once more and spoke a phrase that simply came to his mind. A low, deep click sounded and the stone shifted beneath his touch, settling slightly. Elated, Vambran started to push against the door to see if it would open, but before he could react, a second click became audible and the door sank away, releasing a great burst of air that buffeted the mercenary.

At the same moment, a sudden suction took hold of the man, drawing him inextricably downward, into the hole he had created. As his body slid through the ever-widening gap in the stone, his trident wedged across the opening. He dangled for a moment, his iron-tight grip on the haft of the weapon keeping him from being sucked away by the force of the water. Huge bubbles surged upward out of the void beyond the doorway, slamming into Vambran and tossing him about.

The lieutenant tried to pull himself out, tried to remember a spell that might rescue him, but the pain in his arm and shoulder became too great. With a frantic cry of fear, Vambran lost his grip on his weapon and shot downward into the darkness below.

For several long moments, no one moved.

Pilos had trouble believing what he had heard. Arrested?

Then chaos erupted in the halls of the temple of Waukeen as everyone began talking at once. The Abreeant heard someone shouting behind him, but all he could focus on were the doors to the council chamber, only steps away.

Arrested?

"Edilus, no!" Horial shouted, and Pilos whirled around to witness the growing commotion.

The druid had jerked his scimitar free and was menacing a tightening circle of temple guards, all of whom had a distinct advantage with the longer reach of their half-spears. Horial was trying to push past one of the guards, to stop Edilus before he drew blood. Somehow, he managed to convince the druid to lower his weapon. Adyan stood with his hands up, unthreatening, but Pilos could see that the sergeant's jaw was clenched, for the scar along his chin was flexing. Grolo stood beside Adyan, jabbing his stubby finger into the chest of another guard, who was arguing right back.

Pilos had never seen so much uproar within the confines of the temple, then he realized that it had begun prior to their arrival.

A guard attempted to take hold of the young priest by both arms and Pilos spun around, jerking his hands free. "No!" he said, shouting to be heard. "I must see the high priests, immediately!"

The guard was shaking his head and held one hand on his weapon as he advanced toward Pilos again. "They are in emergency session and are not to be disturbed," the soldier said. "Now don't make this harder than it already is."

Emergency session? Pilos wondered, his mind awhirl with confusion and fear. "Why?" he asked the man, even as he relented and allowed the guard to begin locking manacles onto his wrists.

"Trying to decide what to do about the plague, of course," the guard answered, sounding surprised.

Pilos's mind reeled. "Plague?" he blurted out. "When? Where?"

The guard spun the priest around and stared at him. "You haven't heard? There's a plague in Reth. Zombies are walking the streets. The Generon is calling for immediate troop relocations. The temple's sending every last able-bodied mercenary and priest it can spare."

"No," Pilos said, piecing it together. Lavant is behind this. He can't truly mean to… "No!" he shouted. "I demand the right of immediate sentencing!" The din was too loud, though. The hall was packed with priests and soldiers and each one was shouting, arguing. No one could hear him. He screamed at the top of his lungs. "I demand right of immediate sentencing! I want to be heard in a Truth Inquiry!"

The guard facing the Abreeant stared, awestruck.

The sounds of arguing faded, replaced by urgent shushing noises and whispered explanations, until everyone had gone so still that Pilos imagined he might have been able to hear a mouse squeak. Everyone looked at him.

"I demand right of immediate sentencing," the Abreeant repeated, "to be heard in a Truth Inquiry!"

"Pilos," Horial said behind him. "Are you sure?"

Pilos nodded. "The truth will come out," he said. "I have faith in the will of Waukeen."

Several people began to talk again, but in muted voices. What the young priest had demanded had not been requested in many years. For Pilos, should the Inquiry find him guilty, the sentence would be immediate death.

Shrugging as if absolving himself of the foolishness of his prisoner, the guard who had restrained Pilos turned and opened the twin doors into the council chamber. He strode forward and Pilos followed. The high priests nearest the door turned and looked, many of them visibly annoyed.

"We gave strict instructions not to be disturbed," one of them said. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

The guard bowed. "My apologies, Grand Trabbar Perolin, but this priest has demanded right of immediate sentencing in accordance with a Truth Inquiry."

There were numerous gasps throughout the chamber. Pilos looked straight ahead, ignoring them all. All, except for Grand Syndar Lavant, who sat regally upon a central chair, leading the discussion. When the fat priest spotted the Abreeant watching him, a strange, cold look came over his face.

"There must be some mistake," Grand Trabbar Perolin said, sounding doubtful. "Young Pilos, are you certain this is what you want? You understand what you're asking for, correct?"

Pilos merely nodded, never taking his eyes from Lavant. He began to quote. "Upon hearing of a demand for immediate sentencing, the high priests of Waukeen have before them two paths. They may either dispense justice for the perceived crime without an investigation, or they may suggest a Truth Inquiry be held on the spot. If one submits to such an inquiry and is found to be guilty-or worse yet, lying-the sentence is death," he said, reciting the dictums of the temple from his youngest days of lessons within its confines. "I want to be heard in Truth Inquiry," he repeated. "I have faith in the will of Waukeen to clear my name, and those of my fellow prisoners."

Lavant stood up. "This is the young priest who has been charged with treasonous crimes against the entire temple," he said, his tone deprecating. "And this is nothing more than a ploy to stall the inevitable. It is fortunate he turned himself in. But I see no reason to waste the council's time in deliberations. We know what he has been involved in, and we have more pressing matters to attend to."

As outside, the murmurs of many voices began to fill the chamber. Pilos could hear some of the high priests arguing in favor of Lavant's suggestion, while others railed against the notion of denying a Truth Inquiry when one had been demanded. By right, Pilos deserved to be heard.

"I have evidence that reveals corruption in the temple," Pilos said, loudly enough that the Grand Trabbar Perolin caught his words.

Suddenly, a ripple of "Shhh!" and "Be silent! Let him speak!" spread through the chamber. When the room had quieted, the Grand Trabbar asked in a hesitant tone, "What did you say?"

"I have evidence of corruption within this very chamber," Pilos answered. "Testimony from myself, as well as several others, that all of you will very much wish to hear."

"Are we to let this whelp of an Abreeant come in here and spread his lies? He has already demonstrated that he is capable of grand subterfuge, sneaking into the Shining Lord's palace uninvited, associating with known criminals, and attempting to escape custody in the company of outlaws to all of Arrabar. What value is there in letting him further deceive us?"

"You know the laws, Lavant," Perolin said. "It's his right to call for it."

Again a murmuring arose, but Pilos shouted before it could grow too loud, "And you're the center of the rot in this temple!"

A heartbeat of muffled words followed, then utter silence. In the next instant the chamber exploded in voices, all of them clamoring for a hundred different things. Through the cacophony of shouting, Lavant stared daggers at Pilos.