Tales From Behind The Green Door

[Badstench]

TALES FROM BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR


INTRODUCTION

The world of Sryth has a long and chequered history. Of recent times, this world has become a dangerous place, being at the nadir of influence from the benevolent gods and at the approach to a time called ‘The Age of Igtheon’.

To the unenlightened, Igtheon is the equivalent of ‘The Devil’, but this should not confuse the reader with the classic religious views of Satan/ Lucifer in our own pantheon of religious beliefs. Igtheon is, in the reality of Sryth, simply a demon (albeit a very powerful one).... he just happens to hold ascendency over all the other demons at the time these stories are penned.

Because of Igtheon’s influence, Sryth is a dangerous place as I have already stated. The known kingdoms of Man have been constricted to one continent. The centre of this continent is the safest haven available to Man: The Kingdom of Tysa. This is not to say that Men are completely without peril in their haven of safety, for even the Kingdom of Tysa is beset with dangers; it is a home shared by races other than Humans and these races are not always favourably disposed toward Men.

Goblins proliferate in certain areas, and so do Ogres, Giants of evil disposition, and other beings of lesser reputation. Conflict with these sub-species often erupts into open warfare.

The problems beset Humankind are compounded by the existence of societies and factions of men who actively work to promote the full-on burgeoning of The Age of Igtheon. These are evil men who have selfish aspirations, worshipping denizens of evil to promote their own ends.

The religions of Sryth are many and varied, and so are the religions of demon worship. Of the latter, the disciples have become so corrupt that their very visage has been altered. The most widespread of these evil societies is known as the Cult of the Tsaril. Other cults exist, notably that of the Voren-Thul, but the Tsaril are, by and large, the most widespread.

And if that isn’t enough, the Kingdom of Tysa is enmeshed in the political machinations of various feudal overlords, each vying for the betterment of their own stations and the increasing of their holdings. These overlords are called by the title, Thane.

So.... the world of Sryth is no more complicated than our real world, and the people who live normal lives are affected in much the same way.

~~~~~~~~~

The politics of Sryth is feudal by nature, which is to say there is a King who dispenses his rule to the common populace via representatives. The representatives are the Thanes, and they rule their provinces much as a baron would rule in mediaeval Europe.

The Thanes control local armies to deal with provincial troubles, but all owe allegiance to the King and can be called upon to aid him in times of national strife.

But sometimes, armies aren’t enough. The incursions of sub-humans are relentless and, for this reason, a new profession of defenders was encouraged; a body of independent ‘soldiers’ who would act as the vanguard of defense against the rise of evil. These ‘soldiers’ are, in reality, mercenaries, and they are also known as ‘freelance adventurers’.

Adventurers are a motley crew; they hold no allegiance except to he who pays the highest wage, and often they work solely for themselves. Some are little better than common thugs while others hold high morals and an over-riding wish to do good. Some are handsome examples of exemplary Human ethic, and others are scum. Some are true examples of physical exactitude, and some are fat slobs (or skinny runts). Some are brave, and some proclaim to be brave. Many of them get killed early within their chosen profession.

In short, Adventurers are not to be trusted, for they keep their own agendas.

~~~~~~~~~

There are many opportunities to relate grand tales of heroics and magnificent deeds from within the background presented, and such tales exist in proliferation.

Sadly, this series of stories is not concerned with world-wide happenings of importance. Instead, we are made privy to the private and personal worlds of certain adventurers as an indication to the trials and tribulations of the group as a whole. For even the greatest of heroes needs to take a shit, and some get drunk and do stupid things, and all of them wish for a warm body at the end of a day of bloodshed.... a body who will comfort them and offer release from the burdens they carry.

And some of them cry into pillows in the still of the night.

~~~~~~~~~

There exists one anomaly to the description of ‘Adventurer’ as explained above, and this belongs to the organisation known as ‘The Judges’.

The Judges are directly sanctioned by the king, they being the ultimate adjudicators against men of evil intent. In this respect, they are like Interpol with regard to the real world, but with powers far more reaching.

The Judges number nine, and this is irrelevant to the stories which are about to commence, for you (the reader) shall only be made privy to a few of them. Suffice it to say that The Judges are empowered to hold life and death in their hands; to exterminate criminals and political dissidents as they see fit, and to do so in the name of The Law.

For The Law states: “He who endangers the security of the kingdom and his fellow man is outcast. He is subject to banishment, imprisonment, or death.”

Legal-speak is not tolerated in the Kingdom of Tysa. There are no ambiguities. If you are caught hurting the survival and progress of Humankind, you are hanged: there is no appeal!

Such is the decree within The Age of Igtheon in the Kingdom of Tysa which exists in the troubled world of Sryth.

~~~~~~~~~

Now, many youngsters have an ill-conceived idea of what it means to be an Adventurer. They visualise sword-wielding heroes cutting a swathe of flesh and blood through hordes of demented enemies to reach a goal that includes treasure of inestimable value.

This actually does happen sometimes, but more often than not, the songs sung about heroes are songs that lament their deaths.

And it isn’t only youngsters who hold this misconception of Adventurers: adults also view them as swashbuckling saviours who possess pockets full of gold and memories full of outlandish tales.

This is also true sometimes, but the fact remains that all men have to sleep, eat, go to the toilet, etc. The tales from behind the green door detail the personal and private lives of a few Adventurers who shall be named in the telling. As such, do not expect to become enmeshed in stories of high adventure and drama.

Join with me as we travel the roads of normality, sharing the humour, the anguish, the anger and the stupendously boring occurrences inherent of Men. For that is all they are, in the end; just men (and women, too. Death is not sexist).

~~~~~~~~~

It behooves me to explain one more thing before we begin our journey of storytelling and emotional roller-coasting.

As I have already stated, Adventurers are viewed apart from ‘normal’ folk. They exist in the nether regions between public awareness and official recognition.

It was an enterprising Adventurer of some renown who grew too old for adventuring and recognised that people who followed his same profession were bereft of any place they could feel comfortable while recuperating from their trials and tribulations. Upon his retirement, he opened an establishment where adventurers could gather among the reassurement of kindred souls. This place became known as ‘The Adventurers Collective’, and the entrance to this place was gained by opening a green door egressing from Blade Square in the city of Trithik.

The Adventurers Collective remained solely the domain of adventurers, and was even granted special dispensation from the ruling Thane as being sacrosanct to adventurers. Local Law, both martial and civil, does not apply in this place, and thus was the adage born: “What happens behind the green door stays behind the green door”.

[Badstench]

TALES FROM BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR

Book One
THE TABLE OF EIGHT

Chapter 1
HAWK


There is an adage that says, “What happens behind the green door stays behind the green door”. Nowhere is this more true than behind the green door which opens into the Adventurers Collective, that rowdy establishment which serves as a guild-house/ tavern/ retreat for a very motley group of people whose craft is the practice of accumulating wealth just so they can fritter it away on drunkenness and debauchery. If the general public were made privy to some of the conversations within, it is probable that their toes would, not so much as curl up, than leap off their feet and run away of their own volition.

On a typical day in Trithik, any number of adventurers might be found inside, each bragging or lamenting or spewing the contents of a drinking bender depending on the outcome of recent events. On this day, a table placed specifically in the darkest corner of the room played host to two old friends. They were a mismatched duo, one being a respected member of the local justiciary, the other being a totally despicable rogue. If they shared anything in common, it was only in the number of scars that adorned their visible features.

Both were thoroughly drunk.

~~~~~~~~~

Judge Fury was waving a finger in the direction of his companion. “You need a hobby”, he said. “Other than killing things, that is”.

Varsil belched, then smiled a smile that could have curdled a mug of hammertongue. “And you need an enema. It might cleanse you of that holier-than-thou attitude, Fury”.

“Yeah? Well, you’re a piece of snot!”

“And you’re in a particularly bad mood today. What gives rise to your bile?”

If Judge Fury had been sober, he might have thought twice before sharing his problems with Varsil Demonsoul, but it is a well known fact that alcohol has a peculiar effect of negating any thoughts displaying good judgement.

“I’m in love”, he said.

It would be fair to say that Varsil replied by spraying a mouthful of liquid all over the table as the result of a reflex cough. “You what?”

“She’s the most beautiful woman in the whole wide kingdom”, observed Judge Fury with all the poetic grace of a drunkard.

“Is she?” giggled Varsil. “And how much does she charge by the hour?”

The slow response came full of indignation. “She’s no harlot, you foul heathen. No, she’s respectable, she is. Respectable and beautiful and... and... shapely”.

Varsil was still giggling as he said, “You mean she’s got big boobs? Who is this fair maiden, Fury?”

Judge Fury made to answer, then decided Varsil didn’t deserve hearing her name spoken after being so disrespectful. “Not telling”, was all he said.

“Aww, c’mon. I’d dearly like to know who the woman is that could sway Judge Fury, and also why this puts you in such a foul mood”, Varsil leaned forward conspiratorially. “Maybe I can help?”

Judge Fury’s bottom lip extruded as he sulked. “She ignores me”, he mumbled.

“Ignores you? Is she not giving you your manly rights? Is that why you’re so bad tempered today?”

“My manly rights?” Judge Fury seemed to mull this over, then after a time he wrinkled his brow and said, “She doesn’t give me any manly rights”.

Varsil was flabbergasted. “What? None at all?”

Now it was the Judge’s turn to lean forward and explain conspiratorially, “She doesn’t know I love her. Never looks at me, never says anything”.

Varsil’s reply was to let his bottom jaw drop in disbelief. “You’re telling me that you’ve fallen in love with a woman who doesn’t even know you exist?” He started to giggle again. “Oh, that’s precious, Fury. Who is it? Please, I’ve got to know”.

But Judge Fury had figured out that Varsil Demonsoul was ridiculing him. He began to fold his sleeves back to administer a punch to his companion, which would invariably be the start of another brawl.

~~~~~~~~~

“Excuse me! You keep those fists flat on the table, if you please!”

Varsil and Fury looked up to see Vurii, the proprietor of the bar, hovering over them. She held a very large cudgel in one hand, which she brandished with all the menace that denied her soft voice. “Now, I’m being polite only because it’s you two, but I swear... one more gesture or word spoken in threat or anger from either of you, and I’ll see you thrown out of here with a lump to your heads the size of this club to help you on the way, do I make myself clear?”

What a woman! ‘Vurii’ was all she called herself, and all she permitted anyone to call her. Vurii (pronounced vur-ree, not vur-rye), appeared of middle years, though she had lost none of the good looks invested of her earlier life. A few ‘care-lines’ creased her otherwise pleasant features; she kept her black hair severely presented by being tied in a bun curled tight to the top of the head as was the fashion of the time, and was always immaculately dressed. Normally, Vurii was softly-spoken and every inch a professional business owner. She was cordial to her customers and observant of their peculiarities. She was accommodating without being unnecessary and stern when she needed to be. She was intelligent, charming and a good judge of character, all traits which put her in good stead for owning and operating the bar in the Adventurers Collective.

She also had the uncanny ability of being able to notice when trouble was likely to occur before it actually happened. Many patrons of the bar would have sworn on a stack of holy scrolls that Vurii possessed a sixth sense; she would often appear at the source of brewing violence before any such advent occurred, soothing animosities or threatening her own style of punishment if soothing words went unheeded. These punishments usually included a bash about the head and banishment from the precincts. No-one doubted she wasn’t capable of following up on the threat of a head bashing, and no-one tested her least they found themselves dispossessed of the only establishment in Trithik that was licensed to operate 24 hours of the day.

*

[Badstench]

A thirteenth mug of hammertongue would usually lay a heavy-set man on his head, but adventurers are made of sterner stuff.

Following her warning to Judge Fury and Varsil Demonsoul, Vurii directed Allura, the serving girl, to the drunken idiots with refreshed mugs and a prudent warning to place the drinks and run.

In her wake, a slightly built fellow of minimal years sidled up to the table and coughed nervously.

“Ahem. I was wondering... you seem to have plenty of spare chairs... I was wondering if I might join you?”

Judge Fury’s head had bowed slightly, his breathing become deep and regular. Varsil lifted his head to appraise the speaker. “I am afraid my companion is currently preoccupied, and I’m way too drunk for pleasant conversation”, he said dismissively, but then he noticed the boy was carrying three mugs. “But... tonight, young man, is your lucky night, for I can be made to become quite chatty given the correct admission price, which, as fortune would have it, is three mugs of whatever it is you’re holding”.

The boy (for he could barely be called a man), placed all three mugs in the centre of the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. Varsil instantly claimed one of the mugs and grinned happily at the sight of it brimming with yet more hammertongue.

“What do they call you, boy?” he asked.

“I am called Hawk”, answered Hawk.

Amazing, the power of a name to rouse a man from a drunken stupor, and Judge Fury came instantly awake!

“What did you say your name was?”

“Hawk”, repeated Hawk.

“What, like the bird?”

“Yes”.

Judge Fury regarded this newcomer with undue attention before breaking into a huge grin. “Well, that’s good then, for the Hawk is a noble bird. For a second I thought you meant ‘hork’, which is the name given by a goblin to it’s spittle, not to be confused with ‘hoark’, which is the sound a griffon makes when coughing up the bones of it’s victims”.

Hawk returned the obvious ribbing with a good-natured smile of his own. “And some say that Judge Fury is a very intelligent man”, he offered.

Varsil barked a laugh which almost caused him to expel another mouthful of liquid over the table. “We have a flatterer amongst us, Fury. I like him. Let’s let him stay a while, yes?”

Judge Fury again regarded Hawk with a strange expression, like he was appraising the boy. “Tell me, Hawk, did you actually want to ask us something, or did you just look at this table, see who was sitting here, and decide to ingratiate yourself into our company?”

Hawk squirmed. “I-I don’t know what you mean!”

“Ha!” laughed Judge Fury, and to Varsil Demonsoul he said, “A flatterer and a liar”.

Hawk flushed a bright scarlet. His lip quivered a little as he said, “I am not a liar”.

“That remains to be seen, boy”, continued Judge Fury. “Where are you from?”

Hawk’s answer was half out of his mouth before he caught himself. “Ta... Taverstock”, and it seemed that his answer ended lamely.

Judge Fury cocked an eyebrow. “Tataverstock? Varsil, have you ever heard of Tataverstock?”

Varsil was agog. He was completely at a loss why Judge Fury would deride this boy so. “What’s got into you, Fury? Leave the boy alone. He’s done us no harm”.

Judge Fury turned his full gaze to Varsil... mainly so Hawk couldn’t see the wink he flashed at his drinking partner, the wink that said, “I’m testing him. Help me out and back me up”. What he actually said out loud was, “You think so? I beg to differ, friend; first, he invites himself to our table with the bribe of a drink for each of us, then he cements the insult with flattery. To be honest, I’ve never heard of Tataverstock. Have you?”

With an inward shrug, Varsil admitted that he hadn’t.

“Where is Tataverstock?” Judge Fury continued to drill.

Hawk’s hands were shaking as he pushed his chair back. “F-forgive me. I did not mean to presume... I was just... I’m sorry”.

“SIT DOWN!” The roar from Judge Fury caused all heads in the room to turn. Vurii looked up in alarm, but the mere fact she didn’t immediately reach for her cudgel betrayed to everyone there was no serious trouble afoot.

Hawk resumed his seat so quickly he kicked a table-leg. Hammertongue slopped over the edge of his mug. He’d gone from being bright scarlet to being an interesting shade of white.

Judge Fury placed both his hands, palm up, on the table as he riveted Hawk with a glare. “Now, boy, you listen to me and you listen good. The next time you buy anyone sitting at this table a drink, you do it because you want to, not because you want something. The next time you tell a lie, just be aware who you’re talking to. It’s never a smart thing to lie to a Judge. And the next time you want to swagger up to your betters, keep in mind you might be answered by more than just a harsh word. Not everyone in this place is as forgiving as me, am I understood?”

Hawk nodded in a remorseful manner and made to rise again.

“Argh, sit down, Hawk”, said the Judge, and now his voice had taken a lighter tone. “Rule number four: no-one walks away from this table leaving a full mug of hammertongue”.

*

[Badstench]

THE TABLE OF EIGHT: INTERLUDE: HAWK

Once upon a time there was a little boy.

This little boy went by the name of his father, who went by the name of his father, who had gone by the name of his father down through the ancestry of this particular family.

His name was Ignaceous Screwbottom and he was 5 years old.

Ignaceous tried to make friends with the son of the village cooper. His name was Bob Cooper, and at 5 years of age he was already a bully. Bob Cooper would often deride Ignaceous for having such a silly sounding name.

Ignaceous would cry, “It’s not silly! My father is named Ignaceous and his father was named Ignaceous and we come from a long line of hard working merchants”.

To which Bob Cooper would tease, “Screwbottom, Screwbottom, nyar-nyar”.

Children can be cruel.

~~~~~~~~~

When Ignaceous Screwbottom was 12 years old he would often play by himself, imagining that he was a heroic adventurer who would make Bob Cooper pay for being so mean.

Bob Cooper had grown into a strapping young lad who, unfortunately, hadn’t lost his penchant for bullying. He was the constant tormentor of Ignaceous.

One day, a new family moved into the village. This family included a 14 year old girl named Taleria, who was so named after her Uncle Talus, who was so named after... oh, never mind... suffice it say that Taleria’s relatives were quite famed for being great warriors.

Now, it happened upon a summer’s day that Taleria came across Bob Cooper teasing Ignaceous Screwbottom mercilessly. He was calling Ignaceous a word overheard from an adult. That word was “Sissie”.

Taleria, being of noble background and big boobs for a girl her age, slapped Bob Cooper and made him cry. From that day forward, Bob Cooper never again harassed Ignaceous directly to his face; instead he spread the vicious rumour that Ignaceous was a homosexual who relied on girls to defend him.

~~~~~~~~~

When Ignaceous Screwbottom was 16 years old, Taleria had become his best friend. This was advantageous to Ignaceous for two reasons; first, it offered him security against the unending spite exhibited by Bob Cooper, and second, Ignaceous was delighted to discover that he wasn’t a homosexual.

At 16 years of age, Ignaceous had never know the touch of a woman; his relationship with Taleria was purely platonic, but he did realise the stirring of hormonal excitement during those times they went swimming and he caught accidental glimpses of her bosom.

One day, Taleria decided Ignaceous needed to learn how to defend himself, so she started teaching him the craft of weaponry imparted to her by Uncle Talus, who was a famed warrior. These lessons did not fare well with Ignaceous, for he proved to be quite uncoordinated.

~~~~~~~~~

When Ignaceous Screwbottom was 19 years old, his father kicked him out of the house. Said his father, “You’re a man, now. Go make your way in the world”.

Ignaceous had almost cried. He was suddenly dispossessed of everything that previously held meaning to his life; Taleria had been sponsored to a school for warrior training in the city of Trithik a few weeks previously, so he was quite alone now.

From the moment Ignaceous was cast into the big wide world, his old tormentor, Bob Cooper, returned to plague him.

“Well, well – if it isn’t the homo who needs girls to defend him. Guess what, Iggy? She ain’t here any more, and your bottom really is screwed!”

~~~~~~~~~

When Ignaceous Screwbottom was 20 years old, the last thing he saw before the executioner pulled the hood over his eyes were the faces of strangers. He didn’t have time to shed a single tear before the noose was placed around his neck and the trapdoor opened.

If Ignaceous had been a vindictive sort, he could at least have consoled himself with the knowledge that Bob Cooper wasn’t around to see him hang. Bob Cooper was currently residing in a grave, the knife blade belonging to Ignaceous Screwbottom still buried in his heart.

~~~ * ~~~

A crime is a crime, and the crime of murder is most foul.

But, listen you now, for the Judges are not devoid of insight and the power to divine the nature of a man, nor are they without compassion. It was Judge Fury who looked into the soul of Ignaceous Screwbottom and saw a good man.

“He is the victim of history and circumstance is all”, proclaimed the Judge. “There is no evil in this boy”.

“I concur”, agreed the Judge Advocate. “So, how do we deal with this? Ignaceous Screwbottom is guilty of murder and necessarily sentenced to death, yet his crime was committed through an extenuation of circumstances lending sympathy to the action. We cannot let him go for fear the edicts of The Law are seen to be biased and the rulings of the Judges are seen to be weak, but nor can we condemn this man to hang.

“Does anyone have a suggestion?”

Only Judge Fury offered a thought. “He must be exiled, banished from this province and the city of Talinus, never to return least his punishment be fulfilled”.

The Judge Advocate considered this. “It would mean great expense at our account, Fury. You are suggesting we create a completely new identity for this fellow. Where, exactly, would this ‘created man’ reside without arousing suspicion? He would also need to be watched, to ensure he remains in exile”.

Judge Fury smiled. “Send him to my city, Trithik. That is distance enough from his life and family here, and I can keep an eye on him myself”.

The Judge Advocate nodded. “As far as this fellow knows, he was arrested by the constabulary and interrogated by the magistrates. Is he aware that his crime came to the attention of the Judges? This plan of yours will not work if he knows you are his saviour, Fury. He might seek you out or encounter you by chance in the streets of Trithik. We know that associates of the Judges are scrutinised by others, be they friend or foe. Such an examination of this man could also be our undoing”.

“He has never met me”, conceded Judge Fury, “and knows nothing of our involvement in this affair. We could have all plans instigated by an agent, someone we trust implicitly who could pretend to be a magistrate”.

“So be it”, the Judge Advocate acquiesced, and scribbled onto a parchment. “It is decreed by this note that the man named Ignaceous Screwbottom is legally dead. What shall his new name be, Fury?”

“I’ve always fancied the name ‘Hawk’,” he answered.
*

[Badstench]

Youth and inexperience showed when Hawk began to slur his words after just the fourth mug of hammertongue.

“Actually, I do have a question”. This was aimed at Judge Fury, which was a bit pointless; Judge Fury had reverted to a state of inebriated sleepiness again.

“Ask me your question”, voiced Young Ned, who had recently emerged from the steam room with Dragonbane in tow.

Hawk gathered his thoughts before explaining, “Earlier, I heard two men arguing about the rightness of a word. That word was ‘hexapedal’. The word is beyond me, but I seem to recall that a hex is like a curse bestowed by a witch. What does it mean?”

Young Ned grinned his appreciation of the question. He was, by far, the oldest of the adventurers who usually sat at the table in the dark corner of the room. He was called Young Ned because his father had been called Ned, and the pre-affixed epithet was used to distinguish between them. Not everyone knew this; most of his companions thought he was called Young Ned in the way of an oxymoron, which is to say that he was called Young Ned because he obviously wasn’t.

Young Ned’s advanced years also leant him the reputation of being very wise. He often found himself the recipient of questions asked which would normally dumbfound most adventurers. If Young Ned were ever to be categorised, he would, in all likelihood, be stereotyped as belonging to that unenviable class of men called nerds, but it would be a very stupid fellow who ever tried to address him as ‘Young Nerd’, for the weight of knowledge can be a weapon far more deadly than any blade.

“You are correct with your understanding of the word hex”, he began. “It also denotes a prefix used to describe the number six. Now, when any number is used in conjunction with the sub-conjunctive, ped, it refers to the number of legs a creature has; in this example, we are referring to a six-legged creature. However, ‘hexapedal’ is not actually a word. You would be hard pressed to find it in any dictionary or tome least it be a journal on the creation of mechanical homunculi. The proper terminology for describing creatures with six legs is ‘hexapodous’. Creatures of this description include insects and some species of dragons, although I have heard some women say how their men often seem to have six hands when in the privacy of the bedroom”.

Young Ned finished with a chuckle, but no one else seemed to have understood his quip. They were all looking at him with mouths agape, except for Judge Fury, who continued to feign a deep slumber.

The timely arrival of Bogmuck, Jinx and Scout to complete the ensemble of adventurers collectively known as the ‘Table of Eight’, gave Varsil Demonsoul the excuse he needed to shift the subject to one more of his understanding.

“Who’s round is it?” he asked.

The night progressed in a downward direction from that moment.

~~~~~~~~~

Like hexapedal, there is also no word to describe a hangover gifted by the imbibing of too many mugs of hammertongue. The closest you might get is, “Arrrgh”, followed by a regurgitation of the same liquid.

The first body ejected from the Adventurers Collective was Varsil Demonsoul, and he was followed closely by Hawk, Judge Fury and the entire consortium of the Table of Eight, and they were followed by three chapters of the local scrabble association.

Vurii stood at the door flanked by two security guards. “I don’t want to see any of you until you’ve sobered up, which should take about three days”, and she slammed the green door closed.

One of the scrabble players rubbed the lump on his head and sulked, “There is no such word as ‘hexapedal’!”

His companions picked themselves up and stumbled away, leaving the adventurers sitting and lying on the cobblestones of Blade Square. Varsil Demonsoul glared at Young Ned.

“I’d just got finished convincing them that spletch is the sound a hammer makes when connecting with a human skull. Couldn’t you have allowed Hawk his word without challenging it? He was on your team, for shit’s sake!”

Poor Young Ned. His honesty had called into question all the words played by the adventurers through the past three games, whereby Hawk and Varsil had taken exception to being called cheats and started the brawl.

“I can feel a very bad headache coming on”, was all Young Ned could say in his defence.

*

[Badstench]

The reason the adventurers already mentioned got themselves into such a state of alcoholic stupefaction came about as a direct result of a recent foray into the Felrundin Ranges. The rumour of a frost demon haunting the snow fields near the mountain village of Sevenhorn had seen them sign up for an expedition to rid the area of said menace. Of course, the over-riding reason for signing on was because they expected to be handsomely rewarded.

The names that first appeared on the application form before all positions became filled were listed as follows:

Indestructible (who, as the first signatory, was a neophyte adventurer keen to prove himself as capable as his grandiose name suggested)
Dragonbane (who, as a grizzled veteran, didn’t need to prove anything)
Judge Fury (who had a habit of signing up for heroic ventures)
Varsil Demonsoul (who refused to be out-done by Judge Fury)
Young Ned (who wanted to prove that demons were a figment of people’s superstitious imaginations brought on by religious mania)
Scout (who was widely regarded as being far too handsome for his own good)
Bogmuck (who just liked to hit things)
Jinx (who spent most of the time trying to convince people that his name was just a name and not a condition)
Adam Jadefang (who was previously known as Adam Ant, but had changed his name to ‘Jadefang’ as sounding more romantically heroic)

These nine stalwarts were supplemented by a cook named Hurk (not to be confused with ‘Hawk’, who hadn’t yet entered the telling of these tales), a camp prostitute (who preferred to remain nameless for fear her parents would find out what she did for a living), and a young lad who was very adept at buffing armour to a brilliant sheen.

~~~~~~~~~

Ask any adventurer; they’ll tell you that expeditions chasing fame, fortune and glory are one part excitement and nine parts drudgery. To begin with, there’s the tedium involved with travelling, the frustration involved with sourcing information that will lead to a successful exploration and then, more often than not, a tiresome wait until conditions are perfect (for whatever reason).

The expedition into the Felrundin Ranges proved to be both tedious and difficult. On the first night out from Sevenhorn the party of adventurers found themselves enveloped in a snow storm.

Fortunately, they found shelter in the lee of a cliff face and discovered that the wily old Dragonbane and Jinx had thought to stuff their backpacks with dry kindling and wood. Unfortunately, each had assumed the other was carrying a tinderbox, an assumption that proved to be wrong. Fortunately, Judge Fury was able to light a taper of straw by holding it very close to his magic gauntlets, the sight of which surprised everyone.

The fire was hardly comforting, there being twelve souls to share the scant heat of the small flame, and this was mostly commandeered by Hurk who tried his utmost to concoct a nourishing repast.

Tempers were short as the adventurers tried to keep warm, and it was only Scout who deigned to offer his over-jacket to the shivering prostitute. Varsil Demonsoul sneered at Scout for being a considerate fool.

“If you want to freeze to death, so be it”, he said, and Scout replied by calling Varsil something quite nasty.

Before a war of words could erupt, Adam Jadefang announced that he would entertain everyone with a reading of his journal, whereupon he materialised a notebook from his backpack. Everyone else was too dumbfounded by this admission of an artistic leaning from Adam to say anything before he launched into the story with much dramatic effect:

“It was the middle of a dark and stormy night....”

“No, no, no!” exclaimed Young Ned. “You have just committed a cardinal sin against the art of creative writing”.

Paused in mid-flourish, Adam Jadefang grumped, “Are you going to interrupt with every sentence? What do you mean, ‘cardinal sin’?”

“You started your story with the word, ‘it’. ‘It’ denotes a definitive object or subject”.

“So?”

“So, there are certain adherents to grammar and structure that must be followed. For example...”

Bogmuck, who liked a good bedtime story and didn’t like the long words spoken by Young Ned, advised him to shut up, to which Varsil Demonsoul surprisingly concurred.

“Yeah. Shut up, brainiac”, he said. “We are all cold and miserable and in need of distraction from the promise of frostbite. We don’t care if the story is imperfect in the telling, it’s the content that counts”.

“But...”

“I second Varsil on that one, Young Ned. Shut up!’ Agreed Jinx.

This elicited a chuckle from Judge Fury. “Come now, gentlemen. Young Ned has a point. Why, if I wanted a story told about my heroics, I’d want it to be accurate in.... what was it you said, Young Ned?... grammar and structure?”

Varsil Demonsoul harrumphed. “You’re far too congenial, Fury. It’s easy to be happy when you’ve got warm hands. Want to share those gloves around?”

A dismissive laugh was the only reply he got.

Scout held his hands toward the barely flickering fire. “Where did you get those gloves, anyway?” he asked.

“Ah. It was a fortuitous and timely bit of shopping from Tallys’ emporium”, admitted Judge Fury. “He has recently displayed an array of new items for sale, items of a magical nature, and these ghostfire gauntlets took my fancy”.

“You could have told us before we embarked on this venture”, spat Varsil. “These damnable gloves I... acquired... are no use against this dark and stormy night”.

“Aha!” exclaimed Young Ned. “A sentence properly spoken”.

“Shut up!” chorused everyone, except for Judge Fury who laughed uproariously (and for Dragonbane, who remained silent as was his custom).

~~~~~~~~~

Unbeknown to everyone else, the neophyte adventurer with the grandiose name of Indestructible froze to death during the night for lack of experience and wisdom. He had been so eager to start on the adventurous road to fame and fortune that he quite forgot the simplistic rules of going prepared, namely that he’d neglected to put on a warm pair of underclothes.

Hurk, the prostitute and the boy who could shine armour had been outfitted accordingly, so they withstood the rigours of the cold and woke to the knowledge that the dark and stormy night had given way to a dark and stormy day. It was the prostitute who discovered the frozen and lifeless body of Indestructible, and such was her dismay that she screamed hysterically.

...And it was because of her hysterical screams that no one heard the approach of the frost demon until an almighty great boulder landed in their midst, which threw a bewildering spray of snow over everyone and everything.

Hurk was the first unfortunate to meet the attack of the frost demon, him being curled closest to the fire that had so infuriated the monster and attracted it to the group in the first place; the cook was crushed beneath a giant foot.

The hysterical screaming of the prostitute also infuriated the monster. She was the second to be slain that morning, a vicious backswing of the demon’s hairy paw breaking her neck and silencing her screams.

Scout, still fancying the comfort of the prostitute from a night of cuddling for the sake of warmth (or so he claimed), witnessed the girl fall limp, her head twisted in a grotesque direction from her torso. He screamed a version of his own hysterics, but this was aimed at the frost demon as he snatched up a weapon and ran forward to strike.

Meanwhile, Bogmuck, Judge Fury and Varsil Demonsoul had taken the full flurry of snow sprayed by the boulder and were, just then, extricating themselves after being buried. Young Ned yelled an alarm that Scout was in trouble and began an incantation to throw a ward between his friend and the demon.

But Adam Jadefang and Jinx were first to react to Scout’s plight, made worse by the fact that the latter had actually snatched up his bow and was about to hit the demon ineffectually with that. They glanced at each other and leapt forward, waving arms to distract the monster before it decided to stomp on Scout. The ruse worked, much to the misfortune of Adam Jadefang, for the demon displayed an incredible styling of agility to pivot and catch him with the same paw that had killed the prostitute. A sickening crack sounded as Adam was propelled high into the air from the force of the blow. He disappeared into the storm.

But the distraction was enough to allow Dragonbane and Bogmuck to land simultaneous sword blows on the demon, whereupon it bellowed as a wound opened to stain its white mane of fur with blood. Scout, his senses returned, put a well placed arrow into its forehead and the demon dropped dead.

~~~~~~~~~

Aftermath: The body of Adam Jadefang was never found; the force of the blow landed by the frost demon sent him crashing onto a covering of snow that hid a deep crevasse. The surviving adventurers made a sorry troupe when they collected their reward from the village of Sevenhorn before making their way back to Trithik, the Adventurers Collective, and the chance to commiserate by getting blind drunk.

It was Bogmuck who retrieved the journal of Adam Jadefang that lay discarded by the camp-fire.

[Badstench]

Chapter 2
EZEKIEL

Judge Fury closed the green door behind him and navigated his way to the favoured table in the shadowed corner of the room. He was suffering from a particularly bad hangover brought on by the indulgences of the previous evening. Attempting to get seated was proving to be unexpectedly difficult, and he almost missed the chair completely as he threw himself at it.

Once firmly planted, he swore at himself for not having had the forethought to order a drink from the bar first, but he was loath to attempt the effort of standing up, and looked for Allura, the serving girl.

She was nowhere to be seen, and Vurii, the proprietor of the bar, was engaged in a conversation so deep with another patron that no amount of gesturing could attract her attention. Either that or she was ignoring him.

“No matter”, thought the Judge. “I shall rest here until Allura shows up”.

~~~~~~~~~

The only other people in patronage of the room were an old greybeard and a younger man who Judge Fury vaguely recognised from the night before as being members of the scrabble association. This dearth of bodies was pleasing to the Judge, for it offered him the chance to close his eyes and snooze without fear of being pestered with inane conversation; his current mental capacity fell far short of being able to offer anything meaningful in spoken reply.

Snoozing isn’t the same as sleeping, and Judge Fury found himself contemplating the nature of his acquaintance with Varsil Demonsoul. The very nature of that name was ominous in itself, and reinforcement by the man’s wicked reputation gave Judge Fury cause to wonder why he felt such a kinship with the fellow. No good would come of it, he was sure.

Drinking with Varsil always left the Judge feeling like he'd been run down by a horntail boar. Regardless, drink together they did, and the occasions were mostly enjoyable.

“If only he would see the error of his ways”, thought Judge Fury, “he would be a better companion to adventure with outside these walls”.

~~~~~~~~~

Judge Fury’s reverie was interrupted by the sudden increase in volume of the discussion being shared between the two scrabble players.

“They’re a dying breed, I tell you”, exclaimed the greybeard. “Twenty years ago the swamp was full of Trossks. Nowadays, you’d be hard pressed to find one at all”.

“You just don’t know where to look for them”, retorted his younger companion. “I’ve got two horns in my pouch that say I know far more about hunting Trossks than you do!”

"Trossk", said Judge Fury in a voice loud enough to interrupt their conversation.

The scrabble players turned toward him. “Excuse me?” queried the younger of the two. “Were you addressing us?”

"The plural", said Judge Fury speaking slowly, "of Trossk, is Trossk".

There was a pause from the scrabble players, but before the greybeard could warn the younger against making any unwise remarks, he said, “Yeah? Well I think you’re full of shit!”

Red rag to a bull, and the younger scrabble player had Vurii to thank for not being on the end of a sound thrashing. The bar proprietor had a sixth sense where violence was concerned and she appeared in front of Judge Fury before he was even half way out of his chair.

"Sit back down", she ordered, and then to the scrabble players she said, “And you two show a civil tongue or I’ll let Judge Fury cut them out, do you hear me?”

~~~~~~~~~

Taleria was one of the few females known to have chosen the career of adventurer and gain the acceptance of her male counterparts. She achieved this by proving herself capable in weaponry skills and by being able to drink large amounts of alcohol without falling over. If she had to vie with anything, it was only in the fact that she was a handsome woman, which had often forced her to deter the unwanted attentions of drunken suitors by kneeing them between the legs. After a time, her reputation had become well enough known that the application of knee to bollocks became the exception to the norm.

She had been conversing with Vurii when the Judge entered the bar, and was thankful he hadn’t noticed her. Of all the men who had made advances on her chastity (ha!), he could not be counted among them. She was aware of a sudden racing of the heart and a shortness of breath every time their eyes accidentally met, but she explained this away as merely being symptoms of her dislike for the man.

The previous day, Taleria had entered the headquarters of The Silver Crest (a society of snobby old men who had once been Adventurers, now mostly retired) in time to prevent two of its members coming to blows over a game of scrabble. One of them had been insisting that ‘griffin’ was a legitimate alternative spelling to ‘griffon’, while the other opined on the validity of his opponent’s mental capability.

At the time, Taleria had wondered how scrabble had managed to become such a popular pastime across the kingdom despite its propensity for the causation of violent outbursts, and she thought the sharing of a cask of good Charnan ale would help defuse the volatility of the current situation. However, it actually led to an all-night drinking session at The Gnarled Otter Tavern wherein she recalled trying to teach the barman the words to that infamous song, ‘Never Let A Goblin Gut Your Granny’.

Taleria winced as she related this memory to Vurii, and it was then that a loud voice caused the barkeeper a look of consternation.

“The plural of Trossk”, said the voice, “is Trossk!”

*

[Badstench]

Vurii turned back to the Judge. “And that’s quite enough from you, too. The gods know this place looked like the carnage of a battlefield after you and your drunken friends left last night. Do you even know what the time was when you were thrown out of here?”

“Reasonably late?” hazarded Judge Fury.

“No. It was unreasonably early”. Vurii tried to don her sternest frown, but she was well aware of the reason why the offending Adventurers had gone on a ‘blinder’. The eight chairs which surrounded the table in that corner of the room had shown one conspicuous absence. “I’m sorry about Adam”, she offered.

Judge Fury nodded acceptance to her consolation.

“So, this morning we shall start afresh, eh?” said Vurii brightly. “Do you want a drink and are you prepared to be civilized about it?”

“Yes and yes”, answered the Judge, but that promise would come back to haunt him when a near riot erupted in the Adventurers Collective later that night due to a certain recalcitrant named Ezekiel.

~~~~~~~~~

But first the story should continue in a linear fashion, beginning with the arrival in this order of Varsil Demonsoul, Young Ned, Scout, Bogmuck, then Dragonbane, Jinx and Hawk to the shadowed table. No one seemed to question the validity of Hawk assuming the seat once occupied by Adam Jadefang, which was testament to the fact that he had proven himself a worthy addition to the group by siding with the Adventurers in the brawl with the scrabble players the previous night.

Varsil Demonsoul startled everyone by announcing that he would buy the first round of drinks. His smile was magnanimous as he walked to the bar.

Vurii regarded him with a humourless glare.

Said she, “You owe me ten gold coins for broken crockery, twenty gold coins I had to pay the scrabble association against a defamation lawsuit, and two thousand four hundred and eighty three gold coins against an unpaid bar tab”.

In a show of shocked remorse, Varsil exclaimed, “Oh, my sweetest of darlings, I am remiss in my duty. How awful that you should feel the need to broach such a tawdry subject. Why, I would this very minute slash my own wrists if it would but wipe away the personal stigma of having to ask a request so menial. I weep for you, my dearest, that I am just a humble adventurer down on his luck and down on his fortune, a humble servant to the world who is naught but a pauper, a miserable cur of no means”.

Vurii didn’t bat an eyelid as she favoured Varsil Demonsoul with a sneer. “Meaning you have no money, I take it?”

Varsil’s pretence ended as he leaned toward Vurii and whispered, “I thought we had an arrangement?”

The barkeeper pursed her lips to keep from spitting the obscenity she desperately wanted to utter, but she regained her composure after a moments silence and whispered back, “We do, scum, but my tolerance of that arrangement is wearing thin. Be careful you don’t overstay your welcome”.

A look of understanding passed from Varsil to Vurii before he said in a voice loud enough for the whole bar to hear, “A drink for me and each of my friends, if you please... and keep them coming, eh?”

Of the agreement alluded to, more shall be explained later.

~~~~~~~~~

Ezekiel had missed the venture against the frost demon by keeping an appointment with his psychiatrist at Lyrelock Monastery, which is a segue into admitting that he was a troubled individual. The term, ‘bi-polar’ had been explained to him, as had the term, ‘schizophrenia’, to which Ezekiel had laughed, then cried, then scribbled onto a piece of paper as being quite a good name for a future daughter.

His entrance to the Adventurers Collective came at a time when the Table of Eight were sharing memories of Adam Jadefang. They were on their fifth round of drinks and looking melancholy as Young Ned finished reading the journal of their deceased friend, the journal which began, ‘It was the middle of a dark and stormy night’, and ended with the hopeful phrase, ‘And so the intrepid Adventurers celebrated their victory’. Bogmuck was weeping.

Ezekiel was an unnoticed audience to this reading. He raised the hackles of Bogmuck and Scout by stepping forward and announcing, “You’re a bunch of sissies!”

Young Ned hurriedly placed his hand over Bogmuck’s arm to warn him against a retaliation, then said to Ezekiel, “Take care, friend, for you stand at the brink of disaster realised by ignorance. These gentlemen would soon as gut you than hear a sentence so unwisely spoken”.

To which Ezekiel grabbed a chair from an adjacent table and invited himself into the presence of eight. His effrontery was greeted with indrawn breaths of indignation, disgust and begrudged bewilderment.

Ezekiel beamed a manic grin and said, “Who wants a drink?”

Varsil Demonsoul shrugged. “Me”, he said, and the manner of Ezekiel’s arrival was forgotten by him.

“Me too”, said Hawk, who hadn’t known Adam Jadefang, but who did know the offer of a free drink when he heard one.

“Argh! What the hell”, joined Scout. “Get one for everybody, eh?”

And this is how Ezekiel brought the Adventurers out from their mourning and became the ninth sitter at the Table of Eight.

*

[Badstench]

THE TABLE OF EIGHT: INTERLUDE: EZEKIEL

The truth of this tale is both sad and terrible.

The life of a child is innocent. The things they learn through the up-bringing and lessons imparted from their elders shape them into adults of quality.

Ezekiel never had that chance. He was snatched from the streets of his home town as a boy of barely seven; snatched and subjected to indignities beyond explanation. Eventually, he was sold to a galley of pirate-slavers who plied their evil trade up and down the rivers near the city of Trithik.

The leader of this marauding scum was called Llorgg, and he was as brutal as his reputation suggested.

When Llorgg kidnapped Lady Abrimort, it was with the knowledge that she was promised as the intended bride to a foreign prince and would command an impressive ransom. She was bundled aboard the galley during the dead of the night, which was the time Ezekiel was posted to coil ropes, clear clutter and kill cockroaches below decks. Thus he was witness to seeing this most beautiful of women thrown into the bilge (the lowest part of the vessel) without care or concern, and it is fair to say that he was smitten at that moment.

Lady Abrimort was reputed to be the fairest maiden of the kingdom and favourite niece of the King. Her eyes were green, her hair was golden, her figure was the shape of an hourglass. It is little wonder that a visiting prince of Ryorsial had demanded her hand in marriage after a chance meeting, and even smaller wonder that she had agreed, the prince being outrageously handsome.

Ezekiel was also stunned to love, but in the moment when her face was uncovered, just before Lorgg threw her below, she had looked directly into the eyes of the boy with such beauty and fear and terror that his heart broke.

His heart was broken further when a drunken sailor decided the girl was open fodder for raping. Ezekiel was too small to stop the man and, to this day, he still hears her screams, he still remembers cowering in the corner of the galley, hands over ears, trying to blot out the sounds of her torment.

~~~~~~~~~

You were warned, dear reader; this part of the tale is terrible, but alas, you haven’t heard the worst of it yet and I beg you to stop reading least you slip into a state of mind as confused and ugly and lost as Ezekiel’s.

The world is not all roses and dandelions.

~~~~~~~~~~

After the rapist had satisfied himself and staggered past Ezekiel to the upper deck, the boy listened to the quiet sobs of Lady Abrimort with tears coursing down his own cheeks.

He cursed the pirate Llorgg and cursed the rapist scum and cursed the gods, then he stole a fresh apple and a jug of clean water from the galley (a crime that would have earned him a keelhauling) and descended into the bilge to offer the girl what comfort he could.

By the sound of her sobbing and the scant light that seeped through the trapdoor behind him, Ezekiel fumbled his way toward the girl only to be greeted with a hysterical scream.

“Shhhh”, he tried to soothe, but the girl was awash in her terror, certain that Ezekiel had come for his turn on her body. He didn’t see the blade until the girl moved, and then his reaction came too late.

“Noooooo!” he managed to scream, but he was powerless to prevent her from rending a death-gash the length of her forearm.

The blood and the life of Lady Abrimort spilled into the dank and dark of the bilge with Ezekiel trying vainly to stem the flow. His screams for help went unheeded until, with a final sigh, the girl’s eyes went lifeless. For a while, he sat in stunned silence, uncomprehending, unwilling to believe that the girl he cradled would never again see with her beautiful eyes, and in that moment, while he sat in the dark and the knowledge of death, a part of him went with her.

This goes some way to explaining why Ezekiel is not always of a sane mind, for the things he witnessed as a child caused him to withdraw; to crawl into a corner of his mind for the finding of solace.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime later, Ezekiel escaped from the clutches of Llorgg and set about exacting his revenge on the river pirate. He knew that a representative of The King lived somewhere in the city of Trithik, a representative of high standing in the professions of The Law, and he was determined to see his former master brought to justice for the ill deed against Lady Abrimort.

The representative he sought was a Judge and, one day, Ezekiel spied a man who could only be that Judge; he was an austere, no-nonsense sort who cut an imposing figure as he strode purposefully along the street. His garb was that of a magistrate; a long black robe tied at the waist by a red sash, and around his neck dangled an oversized neck-chain replete with the symbol of a gavel. Three men-at-arms strode with an equal gait at a respectful distance from their master, and it was one of these who grabbed at Ezekiel before the boy could approach too close to the Judge.

“Let me go!” cried Ezekiel. “I must speak with his holiness!”

The Judge did not even bother to break his stride, but merely gestured for the man-at-arms to get rid of the street urchin.

“It’s about the Lady Abrimort!” Ezekiel yelled from where he sat after being thrown to one side.

The utterance caused the Judge to a sudden halt. He turned to wither the boy with a stare that almost caused the subject to wet himself, then gestured a second time and the man-at-arms grabbed Ezekiel again.

“You utter that name unwisely, boy”, spoke the Judge with menace in his tone. “Death hunts the killers of the princess, and so do I. Speak what you know!”

But Ezekiel was prevented from answering the Judge immediately when one of his escorts insisted, “Sir, the Thane awaits your arrival. We cannot delay.”

The Judge snarled in frustration before ordering Ezekiel taken to The Chambers.

“Put him in the oubliette. I will question him later.”

~~~~~~~~~

Do you know the word, ‘oubliette’, dear reader?

It is a prison of sorts; the most horrible of incarcerations any person could hope to suffer, and one impatient remark by a learned Judge caused Ezekiel to suffer terribly. They threw him into a pit, a deep and dark hole of narrow circumference where starving rats raved; where water seeped and escaped through cracks from which creepies crawled. To all intents, it was, to Ezekiel, like a return to the nightmare of the bilge aboard the slave galley, and all the horrors that lived within his mind were returned to his reality.

Ezekiel screamed for hours.

~~~~~~~~~~

During his ordeal, someone came and questioned Ezekiel. He told them everything; about Llorgg, about the rape of the Lady Abrimort, about the shame that drove her to kill herself. They should have released him after that, but his information only elicited a bellow of rage from the inquisitor and Ezekiel was left to suffer in the oubliette.

~~~~~~~~~~

How long was he down there? Was it hours, days, a lifetime?

Eventually, the door to the cell was kicked open and a robed figure swept into the room. He immediately caught the gaze of the startled gaoler, then rushed to the edge of the pit. In the gloom, Judge Fury could faintly make out the figure of the boy huddled into a foetal position, unmoving and silent.

When he whirled back to the gaoler, the anger on his face was a palpable thing. “I swear, Gutfreid, if he’s dead, so will you be!”

“M-master? He killed the girl!”

“Bollocks, you dead-wit! An adventurer has just come to us with the scalp of Llorgg and the truth behind the kidnapping. This boy is innocent! If it wasn’t for his testimony, we might never have known the fate of Lady Abrimort.”

Judge Fury was livid with the knowledge of the injustice perpetrated on Ezekiel. With a definite air of menace, he pointed to the opening of the oubliette, “Who authorized this... this travesty?”

Gutfreid was shaking, dismayed and alarmed at the open anger being displayed by his master and employer. “Th-the Advocate, my lord”.

“What?”

“I swear! It was the Judge Advocate!”

Judge Fury stood incredulous, his jaw dropped, his mouth agape. The naming of The Advocate in this affair had stunned and confused him, but none of his anger had dissipated.

To Gutfreid he demanded, “Pull him out of there. See he gets the best medical attention. I will check to see this is done, Gutfreid, and if this boy hasn’t been treated like a hero, I’ll throw you down that blasted hole!”

Then he stormed out of the cell and upstairs to a confrontation with his superior.

*

[Badstench]

Ezekiel was delivered to Lyrelock Monastery where, by good fortune, a monk named Brother Kol was in attendance. This pious man was a trained physician who specialised in damaged minds. He took Ezekiel under his wing, caring for the boy over the many years it required for his psyche to resurface from dark recesses, slowly abjuring that darkness using the instruments of kindness and decency.

But Ezekiel would never become fully healed, Brother Kol knew; the boy who grew into a man had witnessed and been party to events that had forever warped his impressionable view of the world. He suffered from conditions that other, normal people could point to as tangible differences in the way Ezekiel behaved, and though these conditions have medical names, it is easiest to describe that behaviour as ‘fragmented’. Ezekiel viewed his existence in parts, rather like a series of etchings that have no connection. Some might say he was cursed, but Brother Kol often wondered if the multiple disorders didn’t culminate in a blessing, for Ezekiel’s fragmented way of looking at life helped him to forget the ugly happenings of his past. Only one thing bothered Brother Kol about this approach to life - Ezekiel’s lack of short term memory materialised a distinct lack of conscience; he could not always connect his actions with consequences, so he could not always distinguish between right and wrong, good and bad. In effect, Ezekiel was like a child, forever learning, then forgetting, and easily influenced.

~~~~~~~~~

During Ezekiel’s tenure as patient at Lyrelock Monastery, Brother Kol was mystified by the regular visits of Judge Fury, the legal representative of the royal house resident in Trithik. This worthy swore the monk to secrecy about his visits, and especially from Ezekiel, who was never to learn of the Judge’s concern.

But accidents happen, and it was accidental that, one day, Ezekiel should be sitting under a window to a room where Brother Kol was reporting on the satisfactory progress of the patient to Judge Fury. Ezekiel wasn’t listening to the details, so he didn’t connect the discussion to himself, but he did hear Judge Fury’s voice, and the sound of that voice startled him. Like a chain of falling dominoes, something happened inside Ezekiel’s head; parts of his memory moved to the fore like the opening of doors long closed, and Ezekiel heard the same voice speaking from years past:

“Pull him out of there. See he gets the best medical attention. I will check to see this is done, Gutfreid, and if this boy hasn’t been treated like a hero, I’ll throw you down that blasted hole!”

In the manner of being hit by a bolt of lightning, Ezekiel was electrified at the recognition of that voice. He could not connect it to a particular memory, but he instinctively knew that the voice belonged to some terrible occurrence in his past – something from which the person who belonged with that voice had saved him.

Whoever that person is, thought Ezekiel, he is my friend!

~~~~~~~~~

To Ezekiel’s child-like mind, the discovery of a ‘friend’ became an all-consuming source of comfort and joy. Brother Kol had always been there for him, but more as a father-figure, and Ezekiel had made friendships of sorts with other patients, but those weren’t like ‘real’ friendships.

The day came when Ezekiel approached Brother Kol and announced that he wanted to leave Lyrelock, whereupon he was given a few gold coins and told to return to the monastery whenever he needed or wanted to.

He made his way into the city of Trithik with all the wonder of a tourist visiting for the first time, found the open market area known as Blade Square, spotted the green door pointed to by a helpful citizen, and entered in search of his ‘friend’.

*

[Badstench]

The day passed into the night. Drinks continued to appear and disappear as our favoured Adventurers consumed everything placed in front of them. At one point, Judge Fury related to Ezekiel the incident he had nearly caused to blossom into a fight with the two scrabble players; the greybeard and the younger.

This amounted to Ezekiel having words with the aforementioned, whereupon Judge Fury stopped receiving insolent gazes. Bogmuck spent the evening thumbing through the pages of Adam Jadefang’s journal (even though he couldn’t read), Scout spent the evening trying his luck with Allura (the serving girl), Young Ned found solace by wondering on the nature of buffoonery, Hawk engaged himself in a game of cards with Dragonbane and Jinx...

...and Varsil Demonsoul hatched a plan.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two figures wobbled their way to where a game of scrabble was in progress.

“Nice rack of letters there”, said the figure who was Ezekiel.

He was answered by a grunt and a slight movement of shoulders as the scrabble player attempted to obscure his rack. Not to be out-manoeuvred, Ezekiel pointed at the board and said, “What does that word mean?”

The player looked uncomfortable as he pronounced that spletch was the sound made by a hammer connecting with a skull.

“I see”, observed Ezekiel. “And what does ‘fishmoo’ mean?”

“It’s perfectly legal”, defended the scrabble player.

“Yeah? Use it in a sentence then”.

The second scrabble player showed his annoyance at being interrupted by knocking over his rack of tiles and proclaiming, “If you’re so smart, challenge us to a game!”

That was the exact response Varsil Demonsoul had been waiting for, and he materialised a piece of paper and pen in the twinkling of an eye.

“Game on!” he yelled to the common room in general. “Place your bets. All bets taken here!”

~~~~~~~~~~

The game was head to head; Ezekiel versus the embittered scrabble player, with the scrabble player winning first move through dint of drawing an ‘H’ against Ezekiel’s ‘R’.

The first word laid down was hone, for a double starting score.

Varsil gathered 17 gold coins in favour of the scrabble player and two in favour of Ezekiel. Favouritism was already being decided.

Ezekiel smiled as he placed a Y at the end of hone to spell honey, and then he placed an E, an A and an R in a downward direction to spell 'year'.

The crowd of onlookers murmured appreciatively. 10 gold coins were added to Ezekiel’s pot. None went into the pot of the scrabble player.

But then the scrabble player put down a word that stunned the audience for its audacious presentation. Using Ezekiel’s E, he placed an L immediately prior, then followed with a C, a T, another E, an R, an N, and an S, to spell ‘lecterns’.

The board looked something like this:

HONEY
..... LECTERNS
...... A
...... R

Varsil was forced to announce, “A word using all tiles! 50 extra points!” Whereupon the crowd went wild, hammering tables and clinking glasses in their enthusiasm for the unfolding spectacle.

(One onlooker observed that the resultant placing of ‘lecterns’ had also created the passing word, el, and what did that mean? To which young Ned explained that ‘el’ was a perfectly acceptable abbreviation of the word, ‘elevate’, to which the onlooker asked if abbreviations were allowed in the game of scrabble and to which he was smashed over the head with a piece of crockery.)

484 gold coins were added to the pot in favour of the scrabble player, which caused Varsil Demonsoul to cast a nervous glance at Ezekiel. This glance didn’t go unnoticed by some of the wiser gamblers, and another 70 gold coins was added in favour of the scrabble player.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The scrabble player placed three more seven letter words during the course of the game, with Ezekiel only managing to keep his score close by placing his tiles wisely and making use of the triple word scores when they became available. But the scrabble player was a clear front-runner, and when all the spare tiles had been drawn, Ezekiel was 47 points in arrears.

Defeat seemed inevitable for the Adventurer as the players vied to rid themselves of their final tiles, and that’s when Ezekiel pulled a masterstroke!

~~~~~~~~~~~

What happens behind the green door stays behind the green door, so it ill-behoves anyone to speak of the near riot that ensued when a number of disgruntled gamblers felt they had been cheated of a sure bet when Ezekiel placed his last five letters to coincide with the word, ‘cute’, and formed the expanded word, ‘executed’, to win the game. Grumpy temperaments led to harsh accusations led to fists being thrown led to Vurii sighing in exasperation as more pieces of crockery got broken.

The cost of these would be added to Varsil Demonsoul’s bar tab, she decided.

However, the final play of the game actually took place in the alley behind the Adventurers Collective when Ezekiel, Varsil Demonsoul and two scrabble players (greybeard and the younger) congratulated themselves as they divided the spoils of their magnificent sting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Vurii was furious.

Taleria noted the supreme effort Vurii made by not joining the brawl to club a few heads herself. This was the second night in a row that the common room got trashed, not that the furniture and crockery were terribly expensive, but the time involved with clearing the mess away was time better spent serving customers and making a profit.

More infuriating was the fact that Vurii couldn’t pin the blame on any particular member of the Table of Eight, though she suspected Varsil Demonsoul of being the catalyst behind the whole debacle. Varsil was nowhere to be seen (him currently being in the alley at the back of the building with Ezekiel and two scrabble players).

The other Adventurers were still seated at their table, watching the brawl in obvious delight. One or other of them would occasionally yell encouraging remarks to a brawler as congratulations for landing a stunning blow, or make a whooping noise when someone was knocked out cold.

This infuriated Vurii even more.

Only Bogmuck attempted a half-hearted attempt to join the fray by smashing a brawler over the head with an empty bottle when the fight wandered too close and put him in peril of spilling his drink.

~~~~~~~~~~

During the mayhem, Taleria took the opportunity to observe Judge Fury. By rights, it was his responsibility to stop this outburst of violence, but he was enjoying the spectacle as much as his companions.

Taleria shook her head in disgust. “That Fury”, she thought. “Such a hypocrite. He sits their in all the righteous attire of his legal order and laughs! He’s as bad as the rest of them”.

For a fleeting moment, Judge Fury’s eyes glanced in her direction. She quickly turned away, but her thoughts remained on the behaviour of the Judge and the wonder that he was still welcome in the Adventurers Collective at all.

*

[Badstench]

Chapter 3
DRAGONBANE

The Guildmaster is seldom seen in Vurii’s bar, which is odd since the only means of egress to the whole establishment is through the green door that opens to Blade Square. You’d suppose that quite a few adventurers must have seen him coming or going at sometime, but an odder fact exists that very few patrons of the bar can claim to having ever met The Guildmaster, leading to speculation that he doesn’t actually exist.

This is, of course, ridiculous. The common belief has it that The Guildmaster is a retired adventurer of some renown. Rumours persist that he was actually a one-time member of a particularly famous group of adventurers that included such note-worthy names as Magical and Tallys, but this has never been verified.

What has been verified is that The Guildmaster is a well-respected figure that 99% of the patrons of Vurii’s bar have met, and on more than one occasion. Just because they can’t remember those occasions doesn’t mean the meetings never happened; to the contrary, it merely goes to show that adventurers are a particularly forgetful lot who wouldn’t recognize a spell of concealment if it jumped up and bit them on the bum!

One of Judge Fury’s tasks as Law-Keeper of Trithik is to recognize concealment spells where they exist, so he is fully cognizant of the existence of The Guildmaster. He doesn’t exactly understand why The Guildmaster requires concealment, but since no laws have been broken in the process, he has never thought to pursue the matter. Afterall, he is The Guildmaster, and every member of the Adventurers Collective owes him for providing the conditions by which they can enjoy the company of their fellows when not engaged in the exertions of their profession.

Never bite the hand that feeds.

And never, ever deny an adventurer his right of 24 hour access to hammertongue. To do so would be to invite disaster, and this is exactly what almost happened to Judge Fury when he was ordered to enter the Adventurers Collective with a company of constables in pursuit of enquiries following the murder of a well-connected merchant.

~~~~~~~~~

For it has already been stated that the Adventurers Collective holds a unique dispensation from the normal laws that govern taverns, ale-houses and bars within the city limits of Trithik. The laws of the city and of the kingdom have no jurisdiction within the walls of the guild-house. That dispensation was gifted to the Guildmaster from the then ruling Thane, Amos II, and has never been violated by him or the present Thane, Pyrond I.

The Adventurers Collective is truly a place apart, a haven for adventurers and mercenaries (and scrabble players, it would seem). “What happens behind the green door, stays behind the green door”, and this is the only rule by which the members of this guild are asked to abide. It is the only rule that can result in disbarment if transgressed.

~~~~~~~~~

When the Adventurers Collective was founded, the first person to realize the immense opportunity made available was an enterprising businessman who went by the name of Piripor.

Piripor recognized that the premises behind the green door would, at times, be filled with men who had returned from trashing the dens and lairs of monsters. They would likely have the spoils of such activity stuffed in their pockets, and it was his intention to divert those spoils into his own coffers. He did this by successfully tendering for the construction and ownership of the bar in the common room of the guild house.

It was an astute move that made Piripor a very wealthy man within a very short period of time, and he was soon able to realize his personal dream of buying a tavern in a peaceful village far removed from the hubbub and noise of Trithik. He sold the bar to a woman named Vurii, an adventuress of no small renown who wanted to invest her money in a business venture that offered her greater longevity of life.

Part of the deal included the granting of exclusive rights to a brew called hammertongue (a very heady and potent beer, the ingredients of which are a secret), that was an invention concocted by Piripor himself.

So, Vurii became the proprietor of the bar at the Adventurers Collective and she is recognized as being the ‘mother’ to all who frequent the place. This is her dominion over which she reigns supreme, and the fact that she is not averse to breaking a few skulls when necessity demands in no way causes her business to suffer. On the contrary, because her bar lies outside the bounds of Thane Pyrond’s law-keepers (including the Royal Law-Keeper, Judge Fury) and is possessed of a 24 hour operating license, it is the envy of tavern owners throughout the city of Trithik.

But do not think that Vurii obtained her business easily; she was not the only person who offered to purchase the bar from Piripor, and she has had to contend with many of her business rivals after they tried to circumvent her rights of exclusivity to hammertongue.

And sometimes, it was necessary to take shorter approaches to protecting her business.

~~~~~~~~~

An enterprising young man fresh out of business school (where he majored in economics and marketing) saw an opportunity to open a business in direct opposition to Vurii’s establishment. He began a vigorous campaign to garner support from as many adventurers he could find who were, in some way, disgruntled with Vurii.

It was a good idea. Unfortunately the young man was never able to see the idea through to fruition, for he was found lying in an alley one morning, his throat neatly severed. The murder was reported and an investigation begun, and there the matter might have stayed but for the fact that the victim was the son of a nobleman who was highly connected in the court of Thane Marindol of the southern city of Graldok.

Political pressure was brought to bear on Thane Pyrond for the successful apprehension of the murderer, and when the connection to Vurii was discovered, Judge Fury was ordered to take the investigation into the Adventurers Collective.

“Impossible!” Judge Fury stormed. “The Collective holds special dispensation. The King’s Law does not apply there. We have no jurisdiction.”

“Jurisdiction be buggered!” the Thane roared back. “The murder was committed on my city streets and I want the culprit found and hanged! I don’t care who it is or how well protected that person is. I need a murderer found, Fury, and I need it fast!”

Judge Fury tried to reason with the Thane. “My liege, this course of action is not wise. There are a lot of mercenaries frequent that place. They protect what is theirs with diligence, and this invasion of their rights will cause unrest. I strongly advise against it”.

Thane Pyrond favoured Judge Fury with an angry glare and spoke very quietly. “Your advice is noted, Judge Fury. However, the anger of a few adventurers I can live with. The alternative is to earn the anger of Thane Marindol, and that is something I could well do without. The order stands; you will take a company of constables to the Adventurers Collective and you will find me a murderer”.

*

[Badstench]

It was one of the blackest days of Judge Fury’s life.

When he ceremoniously banged on the green door thrice and called for Vurii to “open in the name of the King’s Law”, it was Finkle, the dwarf masseuse, who appeared. She squinted at the Judge and the seven constables then said, ‘Sod off!” and slammed the door closed again.

On the second attempt, the door was opened by Vurii. She was flanked by two burly security guards and they were backed by at least ten angry-looking adventurers, one of whom was Varsil Demonsoul.

Said Vurii, “I am disappointed, Judge Fury. You are violating the sanctuary of this establishment, the very place we usually welcome you. It is a betrayal of me, of those you claim as ‘friends’, of The Guildmaster, and of your own law! You know we aren’t obligated to let you in, and the presence of constables is an affront. Entry is denied!”

And Varsil Demonsoul added, “You prick!”

To cut the ensuing argument short, Judge Fury reached a compromise with Vurii whereby he was granted entry to pursue his investigation on the proviso that the constables remained outside.

The investigation proceeded; interviews were conducted with Vurii and all the patrons of the bar who claimed to be present at the time the murder took place. Of the latter, it turned out every single adventurer in the room had something to say. We can forget reporting the exact nuances of each interview, because these included sentences of a vitriolic nature against the person of Judge Fury that had no bearing on the investigation.

The case against Vurii fell apart for two reasons: 1) No less than seventeen people swore black and blue that the owner of the bar never left the room during the 24 hour period in which the murder took place, affording her an air-tight alibi, and 2) The task of interviewing seventeen angry staff members and adventurers involved Judge Fury being generous with his judicial expense account, so that by the time he got to questioning the ninth witness, he was rendered horribly drunk. Any testimony offered from Judge Fury would, therefore, be inadmissible in a court of law as being completely unreliable.

Now, you might suppose that Judge Fury could have expected a roasting over hot coals for his complete mismanagement of the investigation, but he was spared the ire of Thane Pyrond after a tongueless idiot was presented to the gaol-house with a sign around his neck that read, “I did it! I killed the merchant!”

Whereupon, the murder was reported as being successfully solved, Thane Marindol was placated, Judge Fury was patted on the back, and the Judge Advocate prudently decided not to pursue the matter of questionable accounts submitted by Judge Fury in pursuit of truth and justice.

The only thing that caused Judge Fury some disquiet over the whole affair was the fact that Vurii, with unreasonable largesse, wiped a very large debt owed by Varsil Demonsoul and set him up with a generous bar tab shortly after the case was pronounced closed.

~~~~~~~~~

In the weeks that followed the affair of the murdered merchant, Judge Fury found himself ostracized by his fellow adventurers. He had known this would be the likely outcome of his investigation, so he had planned to botch the interview process purposefully in hopes his ‘betrayal’ would be forgiven. It wasn’t.

When he next showed his face at the Adventurers Collective, Vurii refused him service. Taleria could not bring herself to look at him. A chair was pulled out for him at the table of eight, but an air of discomfort existed among those he counted as ‘friends’. Varsil Demonsoul was not so demure with his thoughts.

“What will your next trick be, Your Honour? Perhaps to close the place down altogether?”

Young Ned hissed at Varsil to shut up, but he did not look Judge Fury in the eye as support. There was a good deal of fidgeting going on from everyone.

“Why should I?” continued Varsil. “Shutting up would have been more reasonably expected of His Holiness, don’t you think? And now he sits down with all his airs and graces expecting us to forgive him when he hasn’t even offered an apology!” Varsil rounded directly on Judge Fury. “Are you going to apologize?”

With bowed head, Judge Fury pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He leveled Varsil with a look of determination before replying, “Never! I will never apologize for what I do or for matters pertaining to The Law, even if those things are uncomfortable for me personally. I regret what happened, but I did what I had to do”.

And with that, Judge Fury walked out of the common room with every set of eyes fixed on him, some with disgust and some in sadness.


*

[Badstench]

Dragonbane calmly picked his mug of hammertongue off the table, walked around behind Varsil and emptied the contents over his head.

Varsil leapt to his feet, spluttering, “What was that for?”

“For being a dickhead”, said Dragonbane matter-of-factly, then he astounded everyone in the room by climbing onto the table and yelling, “Listen, you wankers. I’ve got something to say about what just happened here, and I hope to the high heavens you all feel some sense of shame”.

A few voices were heard to mutter something disparaging in reply, but for the most part, everyone fell silent as they turned their attention to Dragonbane. It was quite an amazing sight… to see the grizzled old adventurer standing atop a table, and even more, to actually witness him open his mouth and string enough continuous words together to form a complete sentence. Dragonbane was not known for his eloquence, and it was a very rare thing to ever hear him talk at all.

“That man who just walked out of here deserves more than the disrespect you all just showed him. He has been a very good friend to all of you, whether you know it or not, and I’m looking around at faces in this room who owe him more than just respect. Some of you owe him your lives! I certainly owe him mine”.

A few faces did, indeed, look away in embarrassment, and Dragonbane singled a few of them out.

“You, Braddock… just a few days ago I overheard you telling how Judge Fury saved your arse in that venture against the Voren-Thul up at Stoneback Hill. And you, Taleria… wasn’t it Judge Fury who sponsored you into Talwarden’s company of archers when you were just a wet-behind-the-ears kid? And you, Mordi… and you, Scarsdon… didn’t he stop you killing each other over a simple misunderstanding?”

Dragonbane paused to let his accusations sink in to the individuals named, then continued in a remonstrative tone, “And nearly every single one of you has been adventuring with Judge Fury in some capacity. By the gods… now you feel aggrieved because he fouled your precious piece of turf, and why? Because if it hadn’t been him, it would have been the full force of the constabulary! You bunch of ungrateful bastards have just turned your back on the one person who probably saved the whole damned guild-house!”

Then Dragonbane turned on Varsil Demonsoul. “And you, you sanctimonious little turd… don’t preach to us about betrayal. I’m betting there isn’t a single person in this room doesn’t suspect you weren’t involved in that killing. Judge Fury gave you his friendship and you just threw it back in his face. If I was Judge Fury, I’d have smashed you!”

~~~~~~~~~

THE TABLE OF EIGHT: INTERLUDE: DRAGONBANE

His given name was Joshua, his family name was Blame. He was raised in a village called Kolnia, which lies under the lee of the Felrundin Ranges in the southwestern province of the Kingdom of Tysa known as The Hartlands.

He was a big boy who grew into a big man, a hulking figure whose shambling gait earned him the nickname, “Bear”. This is a name that should cause you some alarm, dear reader, for “Bear of Kolnia” is the name recognized as belonging to one of the nastiest and most brutal assassins who ever trod this green earth.

Is this the same man we have come to know as Dragonbane? Is it the same man who is known through his presence at the Adventurers Collective, the same man who holds a position at the table of eight and who commands the respect of many of his peers?

You will have to make your own mind up about this, dear reader, for the truth (or otherwise) will never come from Dragonbane himself, and the only other person who might hold a clue has never spoken of the subject.

The telling of this part of the tale begins with the story of how Joshua Blame was dubbed “Dragonbane”. It is not a simple tale, for like all things that happen in a man’s life, even accidental happenings are arrived at from past beginnings, and because Dragonbane has ever been a secretive fellow, much of the story must rely on conjecture (including the suspicion of him once being the assassin, “Bear of Kolnia”).

*

[Badstench]

The pursuit of a romantic connection has no place in the life of an adventurer least the connection be fleeting and of the kind paid for with hard earned coin. For an Assassin, such a distraction could prove fatal.

When Bear of Kolnia fell in love with the daughter of a wealthy farmer, he knew his days of killing were over. He buried his past, burned his bridges, and reverted to calling himself by the name gifted from his parents: Joshua Blame.

The history Joshua invented to explain his past involved a smattering of truth; he claimed to be an adventurer and mercenary. His sweetheart didn’t particularly like this aspect of her newly acquired boyfriend, but she accepted it in the early days of their relationship if only because she was besotted and couldn’t imagine displeasing Joshua.

His trysts with the girl had to be conducted in secrecy, for her father would never have approved of the union; the farmer was a wealthy landowner who had high social aspirations for his daughter, and that did not include the presence of a lowly caste mercenary. Even a commissioned soldier in the royal military would have been preferable if the soldier had connections to promotion, but adventurers have no such prospects. The only recourse Joshua had to gaining acceptance from the father was to continue in the life of an adventurer, thereby to accumulate enough wealth to impress any reticent parent.

During the times when necessity demanded that Joshua travel away from his sweetheart, he found such separation difficult to bear, but he was unlearned in anything except the wielding of a blade. If he didn’t embark on dangerous excursions, he would have had no source of income at all. Adventuring gave him the chance to earn money in the quantity he desired to marry his love. This was his ultimate goal.

Alas, Joshua’s goal was thwarted by his very intention, for the girl grew increasingly alarmed by his continued journeys into danger. He chose to ignore her pleading to quit the perils of the adventuring lifestyle for a safer vocation, and this eventually led her to seek solace in the arms of another suitor (a farmhand, ironically).

The last night Joshua spent with his beloved ended in confusion and bitter sadness, and this was compounded when he later learned that the girl had been forced to marry the farmhand to hide the shame of an unborn child; a child Joshua suspected was his own.

~~~~~~~~~

Love has two faces, and Joshua learned an aspect to the downside of love. His misery saw him stumble through the next few months of life without focus or meaning; such adventures which came his way were undertaken with foolhardy recklessness. Other adventurers viewed his inclusion in their parties as a liability, for he seemed to have a death wish that would sometimes place everyone in jeopardy.

It was during this time that Joshua first encountered Judge Fury, and this meeting was the catalyst for the aging adventurer to snap out of his malaise. The two were part of a mercenary group who had been hired to rid the area of a troublesome band of goblins around the shores of Lake Ironrain, and as is the custom, all members of the troupe engaged in a shoulder cross before setting out.

But a strange thing happened when Joshua met Judge Fury in their shoulder cross; Fury stiffened and gasped, and when Joshua pulled away he saw a look of abject horror contort the features of the Judge.

An unspoken communication passed between them, and Joshua knew in that moment that the Royal Law-Keeper had divined his true identity, the alter ego that had been “Bear of Kolnia”.

This is not exactly true. What Judge Fury had divined was an accountability for more than a dozen souls… angry souls that had cried out to him for justice. In his mind’s eye, he saw blood on Joshua’s hands, but that blood did not spell the name “Bear of Kolnia”. If it had, Judge Fury might have executed him on the spot! However, Judge Fury’s contact with the mercenary had also caused him to sense something else; a fathomless sadness, a keening wail of despair so anguished in its depth that, when Joshua fled, the Judge let him go out of pity.

~~~~~~~~~

Joshua wandered the Kingdom of Tysa for a long time, only avoiding the city of Trithik, where he knew Judge Fury resided. It was during this time that he stumbled upon a creature so rare that it is generally believed to be myth; a dragon!

Dragons exist in two worlds at the same time. They are both physical and spiritual in nature and possess the power to move from one plane of existence to the other at whim. Their appearance may alter depending on where they choose to exist, but one thing always remains constant: dragons are bad news! Imagine the worst monster you can think of, multiply that tenfold and you probably aren’t even close.

Joshua was extremely fortunate by the fact that the particular dragon he encountered was in a reasonably good mood.

Said the dragon (in a voice that wasn’t so much a voice than a rumbled whisper of air), “Sssssss. Human. Are you a knight in search of a reputation?”

“No”, answered Joshua. “I am just a man in search of himself”.

The dragon thought this was a strange answer, so it didn’t fry the man immediately. “Ssssss. Do you riddle me, Human?”

“Not at all, dragon. Riddles are not my forte”.

“Sssssss. And what issssss your forte?”

Joshua wrinkled his brow at this. When he spoke, the answer was surprising, even to himself. “Cowardice, it would seem”.

The dragon misunderstood Joshua to mean he was afraid of it, and that was probably what saved the adventurers life. Dragon’s are not just nasty, they are also incredibly vain. The dragon snorted a laugh, favoured Joshua with a wink and walked on through the forest. Joshua watched it warily until it had passed out of sight, then his legs turned to rubber and he fell to the ground.

When the shock of meeting a real dragon had passed, Joshua turned his thoughts to his last statement – “my forte is ‘cowardice’?” He knew it was true. Ever since he had stopped being “Bear of Kolnia” he had been in hiding, denying to everyone (including himself) that he had ever been that despicable person. And when Judge Fury had found him out, he had fled, run from the truth like a coward.

Joshua felt a self-loathing that was unbearable. He resolved to abjure his cowardice by travelling immediately to the city of Trithik to face Judge Fury, and whatever might befall from that meeting Joshua Blame would step forward and greet his fate with open arms!

[Badstench]

Joshua’s journey to Trithik took him past the Moonshore Inn, a famous boarding house that lies on the crossroads between north and south and east and west parts of the kingdom. He chose to spend a comfortable night there before facing whatever was in store for him at the hands of Judge Fury, and it was at this time that he learned of a recent battle between a dragon and a group of adventurers that had resulted in the demise of all concerned.

Prompted by a mug of beer too many, Joshua blurted, “Hey, I was there!” meaning that he’d met the dragon, conversed with it and walked away unscathed - I believe we have already noted the man’s lack of eloquence.

Thus was a legend born, and Joshua was acclaimed “Dragon Slayer”. He was bewildered by all the attention that was lavished on him erroneously, and he should have set the record straight immediately, but he didn’t.

“What matter?” thought Joshua. “A coward, and now a liar. I will be executed in a few days anyway, more like than not”.

A merchant staying at the inn was only too happy to offer a ride to Joshua. He was on his way to Trithik, and the company of one who was rapidly gaining fame as a dragon slayer could only rub off positively for his business. Joshua, convinced he was going to his death, was only too happy to cater to the man’s misconception of his supposed deed and concocted fanciful details of the battle against the dragon, much to the merchant's delight.

It’s funny how word of mouth has a speed of its own, for when the merchant caravan arrived at Trithik, an amazing thing happened: A large crowd had gathered to greet the Dragon Slayer.

“By the gods”, thought Joshua, ‘they must be desperate for a hero”.

He was even more astounded when the congregation turned out to be an official affair presided over by none other than the ruling Thane, Pyrond I, and he was duly hailed as “Saviour of the Kingdom”. A large medal was slung around his neck, the Thane kissed him on both cheeks, and it was announced that Joshua would ever more be known as “Dragonbane”!

The crowd went wild.

~~~~~~~~~

Dragonbane became a regular patron of the Adventurers Collective. His reputation as a dragon slayer persisted without any encouragement from himself, and so did his reputation for being a silent and secretive fellow. He also became known as a grafter, an adventurer of quality whose propensity for accepting challenges earned him the high regard and respect he keeps today.

Dragonbane only feared one thing, and that was the thought that Judge Fury knew his true identity and would reveal it to the world one day. He didn’t understand why the Judge hadn’t already made his move against the person who had once been Bear of Kolnia, but he had convinced himself that such a move would eventually happen.

Dragonbane had entertained the idea of removing the threat posed by Judge Fury, an idea that immediately sickened him. Bear of Kolnia was no more, and any return to that past would be a self-betrayal far worse than anything Judge Fury might do to him. He resolved to play the game of ‘wait-and-see’.

Why had he not fronted up to Judge Fury as his original plan had demanded? Because he couldn’t. The people of Trithik (and, indeed, of the whole kingdom), revered him as Dragonbane, the slayer of the Moonshore Dragon (as it became known). To admit his lie would be to betray absolutely Everyone! In effect, the lie was his silencer.

And it was by sheer coincidence that Dragonbane happened to be near the city gates one day when an adventurer arrived on horseback dragging the corpse of a man behind.

To the city guardsman who approached, the adventurer said in a voice loud enough for all to hear, “We claim the bounty on this murderer. Call the Law-Keeper, Judge Fury, and tell him we have brought the corpse of Bear of Kolnia.”

The sounding of that name caused Dragonbane to gasp an indrawn breath. A crowd of people began to gather and the low murmur of curiosity that accompanied them slowly changed to cries of thanks and praise.

“They got him”, said one voice.

“He’s dead”, shouted another.

“We’re free of him”, they chorused

And when someone else asked, “Who is it?” Dragonbane remained frozen in shock when the answer was repeated, “The assassin, Bear of Kolnia!”

~~~~~~~~~

Judge Fury rushed to the scene, concern written all over his face. The townsfolk mistook his concern for an eagerness to see proof of the demise of the assassin and cleared a path for him, but when the Judge knelt by the body and turned it over, they could be excused for wondering why his expression changed to one of relief.

But Judge Fury’s face had been averted when he looked at the face of the corpse, so when he stood, the townsfolk only saw his normal composure as he made his pronouncement. By chance, the Judge looked up and straight into the eyes of Dragonbane.

‘I attest and concur”, said the Judge, “that this is Bear of Kolnia.”

Something in the pronouncement caused Dragonbane to shudder as a massive weight removed itself from his being. The sudden sense of freedom was overwhelming, so much that a tear escaped before he could catch the evidence and wipe it away.

“I’ve got to know”, Dragonbane thought to himself. “Why did he do this thing?” and he tore after the figure of Judge Fury who was already striding away.

The Judge whirled as Dragonbane reached to grasp his shoulder.

“You know that isn’t Bear of Kolnia lying back there”, was what he said.

Judge Fury regarded the adventurer for a moment then sighed. “Yes it is, Dragonbane. That body lying in the dust is most definitely Bear of Kolnia! If I am mistaken, then there is only one thing I can say with surety: Bear of Kolnia no longer exists! Whoever that person was is gone, and if he isn’t dead, then he has changed beyond all recognition from the evil that once possessed him. Regardless, everyone now believes the assassin is dead. This gives them great comfort and I would not like to be the one to take that away.”

Then Judge Fury did something that cemented the friendship between the two forever; he placed his hand on the shoulder of his opposite and whispered, “You are Dragonbane, and that is all you have ever been”.

~~~~~~~~~

Judge Fury had been the only Judge in residence at The Chambers when the knock came lightly to his door. When he opened it, he was surprised to find Vurii standing in the darkness.

“Come in, Vurii”, he greeted, and ushered her into the lounge where he bade her be seated.

She turned to the Judge. “I shall remain standing for what I have to say, if you don’t mind? It won’t take long, and then I have to get back.”

He simply nodded, even though he didn’t understand. He wanted desperately to apologize to Vurii, not for his violation of the Adventurers Collective, but for the sense of betrayal he had caused upon her. She was a person he greatly admired.

“I have come to apologize to you”.

The Judge’s jaw dropped. “Wha? Vurii, you have no cause to apolog…”

“Oh, shut up! I have every cause to apologize! What I said to you… it wasn’t fair. The way we treated you… it was unforgiveable”.

Judge Fury sat down, flabbergasted. Only then did Vurii sit herself.

“I don’t understand, Vurii. You were right to accuse me of betrayal. What I did was…”

Again Vurii cut him short, “What you did was what you had to do, as you yourself said. It took another person to tell us that what you actually did was done for us, not against us. You were looking out for us, Fury, and for that I am grateful. I am also ashamed”.

The conversation continued for a short while after that, the details following much the same pattern as already outlined; Vurii was sorry and Judge Fury was forgiven. There is nothing else to say, really.

'Never bite the hand that feeds' was a saying mentioned earlier. Here’s another one:

Forgive and Forget!

[Badstench]

Chapter 4
JINX

‘Forgive and forget’.

Three years had passed since the murder of Vurii’s business rival, three years since Judge Fury had been forced into an awkward situation. At first, some members of the Adventurers Collective refused to forgive him despite the speech offered from Dragonbane. In their eyes, Fury had chosen his position as Royal Law-Keeper over loyalty to his fellow adventurers. He had shown that he couldn’t be trusted and that was all there was to it!

Varsil Demonsoul was one of the people in that camp, and though relations between everybody quickly returned to a semblance of normality after Vurii’s visit to The Chambers, he certainly didn’t forget that the reason Dragonbane had called him out in front of everyone was because of Judge Fury. He hadn’t forgotten and he hadn’t forgiven.

No, the matter would not be closed until Varsil decided it was closed, and for that to happen, Judge Fury needed to be pulled off his high horse. In the meantime, Varsil was more than happy to share the Judge’s company (and his drinks) while he waited for an opportunity to present itself.

~~~~~~~~~~

One of the reasons adventurers hang out at the Collective is to gain first dibs on adventuring opportunities. Just to the right of the green door, a cork board is nailed to the wall upon which notices of employment and possible adventure are posted. This board has been sadly neglected of late, and that is why the common room has often been filled with bored looking mercenaries and adventurers.

When Rhia entered the room covered in a layer of dust and accompanied by the nose-wrinkling stench of unwashed horse, there weren’t many in the room who didn’t throw a disapproving look her way.

“Who is that?” Varsil asked of anyone who cared to answer.

Judge Fury cast a quick glance at the woman striding purposefully toward the bar and answered, “Rhia”.

“Rear?”

“No, you heathen! Ree-Ya! R-H-I-A, Rhia!”

“Well”, Varsil observed, “she certainly knows how to make an entrance. Has she been in here before? I don’t recall seeing her around”.

Judge Fury shrugged. “Once or twice, maybe? I can’t say, really”.

Varsil Demonsoul noted the dismissive reply from Judge Fury and wondered, “Why is he making such a show of feigning disinterest in that woman?”

In Varsil’s head, cogs and wheels began a slow and ponderous turning. He made a mental review of everything he had witnessed relevant to Judge Fury over the past few days, hints and glimpses of evidence that ‘his honour’ might be hiding something. A drunken conversation came back to him in which Judge Fury had professed his love for someone. That ‘someone’ had remained nameless, and continued pestering by Varsil had left him none the wiser… until now. The suspicion of where Fury’s ardour was aimed dawned on him with mischievous glee.

“What are you grinning at?” Scout asked.

“Oh, nothing”, lied Varsil. “I was just remembering something that happened a very long time ago”.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rhia walked straight toward that portion of the bar where Vurii stood conversing with Taleria and Hawk. Her manner was one of determined urgency, and Taleria was forced to shuffle sideways as the new arrival insisted her way to the bar.

“I have been told a person by the name of Jinx can be found here?”

Vurii regarded the new arrival with a measured stare. Although Rhia was not unknown to her, she wasn’t a regular patron of the Adventurers Collective. In fact, she wasn’t a regular patron of anywhere in Trithik, and not because she was a stranger to the city, but because her particular profession demanded anonymity. It is not surprising that few people could claim to recognize Rhia, for it is not in her best interest to be noticed. She is an adventurer of sorts, but she mostly operates alone. More than that cannot be said for fear of doing the woman a great disservice, suffice it to say that Vurii was not altogether comfortable in the knowledge that Rhia’s business had brought her to the Adventurers Collective.

“Your information is correct”, answered Vurii, and she nodded once in the direction of the shadowed table of eight. “But, dear?”

Rhia looked startled at being addressed in such a familiar way and raised an eyebrow.

Said Vurii, “I think it only polite to point out that you stink”. And when Rhia’s expression turned to one of aggrieved dismay, Vurii added. “Just thought you should know. In the few seconds you’ve been here, you’ve attracted a lot of attention to yourself by that smell of… what is that, exactly? Horse?”

“I’ve, erm, ridden a long way”, explained Rhia while she simultaneously (and surreptitiously) endeavoured to sniff the air around her.

“Might I suggest”, Vurii said, “that you avail yourself of our steam room before you do anything else? Especially anything which might take you near that table… there are gentlemen among that lot who aren’t known for their diplomacy”.

When Rhia looked confused it was Taleria who came to her rescue.

“The steam room is through those doors over there. Come. I will introduce you to Finkle.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Taleria had taken Rhia to the steam room, Hawk procured a mug of hammertongue and quickly resumed his place at the table of eight. Varsil Demonsoul was most effusive in his greeting of Hawk.

“So good to see you, Hawk, though a single mug won’t go far among thirsty friends”.

“Up yours” Hawk greeted in return. “But I’m not here to buy you a drink, Varsil, I’m here to warn Jinx”.

The slightest of the members of the table of eight looked up in surprise. “Me?” queried Jinx.

Hawk leaned forward in an act of secrecy, but loud enough for all at the table to be included, “That woman asked after you. I don’t know why, but I got the feeling you might be in trouble. Do you know her?”

Jinx shook his head. “I’ve never seen her before. Why would she ask after me?”

Hawk shrugged in answer. “I just heard her ask after you. And I don’t think it’s a light matter, not by her determination. Vurii has thrown her off the scent – no pun intended – but she’ll be coming here as soon as she’s finished in the steam room”.

All who sat at the table that night turned a curious gaze to Jinx, but Jinx only glanced back at one person: Judge Fury.

Said he, “Let’s wait and see what this ‘Rhia’ has to say. I must admit to being curious”.

[Badstench]

THE TABLE OF EIGHT: INTERLUDE: JINX

The history of nations is taught in schools, then largely ignored by students who prefer to imagine that kingdoms rise and fall by the whims of dragons, gods and demons. The reality is that histories are mostly shaped by politics.

To the west of the Kingdom of Tysa lies the Realm of Phiadon, and beyond this lies The Great Ocean. It is said that a man could sail across this great body of water for two years and two days before ever sighting another shore, but this has been proven quite wrong by the geographic placing of an island empire called Shay.

Shay is the birth-land of Jinx, and to explain how Jinx came to be resident of a city in a kingdom on a continent half a world from his point of origin, it is necessary to delve into a history lesson. There is a dragon in this lesson, but it is merely emblematic, the symbol of The Warlord who, by dint of clever politicking and calculated conquering, made himself ruler over the entire island.

What happens when a conqueror conquers everything? For the most part, they spend the rest of their lives looking around corners and into shadows for the expectation of assassins. An empire constructed from the spoils of war needs the continuation of a strong army to maintain itself, and an army only remains strong by the willingness of its warriors to fight. The warrior caste of Shay had nothing left to conquer and was in very real danger of stagnating and falling apart.

And so it was that a great taipan (chieftain), dispossessed of anything left to conquer in the name of The Warlord, decided to conquer The Warlord himself, wrest his empire away, then embark on a program of building a great navy to invade Phiadon. It was a magnificent idea that inflamed the imaginations of the people… especially the warriors, who hadn’t been part of a good, old-fashioned invasion for a very long time.

However, the plan struck a snag when The Warlord found out about the plot and promptly had the instigator strangled… along with his nine wives, forty-seven children and roughly two thousand kinsmen. The easiest way to avoid execution was merely to deny any blood-tie to the rebellious taipan, but such are the social mores of Shay that no one actually thought of this.

But, before we embark on a prolonged examination of the social etiquette practiced by the warriors of Shay, it would probably help the attention span of you, the reader, to be made aware that the taipan who was strangled for plotting against The Warlord was, in fact, Jinx’s own father!

~~~~~~~~~

The social structure of Shay places men as the most important commodity of the empire, with warriors being at the highest echelon of that structure due to the necessity of the ruling warlord to maintain a strong militaristic visibility.

Women are placed at the lowest echelon, having little practical use other than the bearing of future warriors. Even eunuchs are deemed more important than women, because, although they have no use whatsoever, they can at least aid in the honing of a warrior’s skills by providing good target practice.

Into this social structure was born Djin-Xed, second eldest child to the taipan, Goji-San.

When Goji-San became a casualty of his own political maneuverings and was strangled, Djin-Xed only managed to avoid the same fate by doing a very fast runner. With him went Zi-Mot-Djar, also known as son-one (because he was the firstborn of Goji-San), and this was the cause for The Warlord to fly into a furious rage and command the execution of the entire Goji clan; if son-one was known to be alive, there was always a chance he could re-emerge as a future threat to The Warlord.

Together, Zi-Mot-Djar and Djin-Xed made good their escape from the island of Shay by pretending to be a Phiadonese merchant and his eunuch slave, but through a series of unfortunate events they became separated.

Eventually, Djin-Xed came to the Tysian seaport of Charna.

[Badstench]

If lettering and pronunciation were the same in all lands, then Djin-Xed’s name would be pronounced “Jin-Zed”, but by a curious misunderstanding of language and accent, it was recorded by the immigration officer as “Jinxed”.

This had the unforseen benefit of confusing the party of Shay assassins that had tracked Djin-Xed to Tysa long enough for the fugitive to seek sanctuary at the castle of Thane Monrell, to whom he beseeched mercy by invoking the rights of political asylum. The matter became even more complicated when a delegation of emissaries from The Warlord of Shay demanded the immediate extradition of Djin-Xed under threat of a declaration of war, whereby the Phiadonese ambassador got himself involved by warning the Thane of Charna that “The mongrels from Shay cannot be trusted”.

Everything might have turned to custard after that, but a wise counselor advised Thane Monrell that such a matter of international significance should, by right, be brought to the attention of King Wenreald III in Talinus, and until His ruling had been made, everyone may as well settle down and try to get along.

The representative of King Wenreald III was Judge Fury. He’d been given the task of adjudicating the fate of Djin-Xed simply because he was the highest legal authority closest to the port city of Charna at the time.

Judge Fury, ever the wise diplomat, had eschewed his normal Judges’ robes and strode into the counsel chamber of Thane Monrell dressed in full battle attire, his buffed armour glinting brilliantly to maximum effect, which is exactly what he’d intended. The warrior emissaries from Shay were duly impressed.

Unfortunately, they weren’t so impressed when the Judge refused their request for extradition citing lack of precedence and the abrupt way in which the request had been stated, which had been more in the manner of a threat. However, Judge Fury assured the emissaries that Djin-Xed would remain a guest of his royal majesty, King Wenreald III, till the day The Warlord died or the great ocean boiled dry, whichever came first, and this placated the diplomatic party somewhat.

The emissaries departed for Shay in the hopes this compromise would be acceptable to The Warlord, then he wouldn’t have them killed for failing in their duty.

The fugitive called Djin-Xed, watched the emissaries leave the castle of Thane Monrell, then threw himself prone at the feet of the one called Judge Fury.

“Get up”, hissed the Judge while trying to kick the man loose. “You’re embarrassing me”.

“My life is yours”, said Djin-Xed to the floorboards.

“Whatever. Just let go of my damned foot!”

“I am indebted to you forever”, continued the foreigner.

“Waaaahhhh!” wailed Judge Fury, for with one foot wrapped in the embrace of the groveling supplicant, he lost his balance and fell backwards with a loud clatter of the armour so brilliantly buffed.

~~~~~~~~~

When Djin-Xed had been led from the chamber, Thane Monrell sighed. “You know he won’t be safe in this city, Fury?”

“They will send assassins, of this I am sure.”

“So? What shall we do?”

“Well, he can’t stay here. He has been granted the king’s protection, so it behooves us to make sure nothing happens to him of a terminal nature.”

“True”, answered Thane Monrell, but with the wit of a politician, he waited for Judge Fury to finish the sentence.

“I guess he better come with me… for safety’s sake, yes?”

The Thane smiled, stamped a piece of parchment and said, “It is so decreed. Take him back to Trithik, Judge Fury”.

~~~~~~~~~

One half league from the walls of Charna, Judge Fury turned in the saddle. Djin-Xed remained at the respectful distance of five horse lengths, a happy grin spread across his face.

“Listen, Jin… I don’t care what the custom of obeisance is in Shay, but in Tysa you make a man nervous by following behind, and at the moment, you’re making me nervous. Come… ride beside me. We have things to talk about”.

When the man from Shay had cantered his horse alongside that of Judge Fury’s, the first thing he said was, “Djin-Xed”.

“What?”

“My name is Djin-Xed. Not Jin. My name is my Shay. My honour is in Shay. My name is my honour. You understand?”

Oddly enough, Judge Fury did understand. Djin-Xed was explaining that names were important to the people of Shay. By a person’s name was his lineage, history and social standing also explained. In effect, it was similar to titles afforded the nobility of Tysa. Djin-Xed was asking the Judge to respect his name by using it properly.

Judge Fury pulled his horse to a halt and turned to regard Djin-Xed. He placed a hand on the shoulder of the man from Shay and said, “Remember your name, Djin-Xed, and remember I called you that today.

“But you cannot use that name any more, not where we are going. I fear your countrymen are not as forgiving as their words suggested, and The Warlord does not seem a man to accept defeat of any sort without demanding some form of retribution. I don’t think we’ve heard the last from him”.

When Djin-Xed looked uncomprehending, Judge Fury continued, “The assassins will return, Djin-Xed, and when they do, all traces of you will have been expunged from the records of Charna. The man who was “Djin-Xed” no longer exists”.

Djin-Xed’s uncomprehending look gave way to one of confusion and then dismay.

“My name? No more? What will I be called?”

“Ah. I’ve been thinking about that”, Judge Fury smiled. “I noticed the name that was recorded against your entry into the kingdom was erroneously spelled as “Jinxed”. If we shorten that to just “Jinx”, it is not unlike your true name, but has a whole different sound to it. How does “Jinx” sound to you?

“Jinx? What means this?”

“It, er… it’s like a charm”, explained Judge Fury before embellishing with an untruth, “a good luck charm”.

Jinx considered this in silence before a smile reappeared on his face. “I like”, he decided. “I will take this name”.

~~~~~~~~~

The ride to Trithik took many days, but it wasn’t until the pair rode through the gates of the city that Jinx’s happy demeanour once again turned to worried concern.

“Judge Fury? What will I do here?”

“You are free to live your life however it pleases you, Jinx. Do whatever you want, go where-ever you will (though I would stay away from Charna, if I were you)”. But when Jinx’s worry remained evident, he added, “or… you could follow me. Make your choice quickly”.

“What would I follow you to?”

And Judge Fury led him to a green door behind which a curious group of desperate looking men sat and stood in various stages of inebriation.

“A life of adventure”, he answered.

~~~~~~~~~

Ordinarily, this would be a good place to end the story of Jinx. He joined the men who sat around the shadowed table in the corner of the common room of the Adventurers Collective and soon earned himself a name as an adventurer of considerable capability. At this time, the people who sat at that table consisted of Judge Fury, Varsil Demonsoul, Dragonbane, Scout, Young Ned and Adam Jadefang, and I would like to point out that, although I have made no reference to any remarks or conversations of a racial nature, this isn’t because there weren’t any; Jinx is native to Shay, and those people have squinty eyes and a pallid hue to their skin. These features set Jinx apart from everyone else, and this often led to insults from bigots and racists that I don’t care to detail.

So, this would ordinarily be a good place to end the story of Jinx, except for an entirely different reason pertaining to him that will come as a complete revelation to you, the reader.

It sure shocked the heck out of me when I found out!

[Badstench]

Behind the door that opens into the Adventurers Collective, there is a common room frequented by men who live their lives on the brink of danger, on the edge of death.

I speak in terms of the male descriptive, because the Age of Igtheon is a time when “Might-Made-Right” and men dominated society by the right of strength. There were a few women who could be numbered as equals to men; Talera was one, Rhia was another, and let us not forget the likes of Vurii.

Toward the rear of the common room within the Adventurers Collective, Finkle operated her steam room. This was a place where battle-weary adventurers and mercenaries could bathe and receive the ministrations of a massage before embarking on a binge of drinking and brawling as a means to recuperate. The few female adventurers who partook of this pleasure had to time their visits to the steam room when men were scarce in the place… for obvious reasons.

One day, about three months after Jinx first sat at the table of eight, Taleria noticed that the few men present in the common room were clean and drinking, so she took the opportunity to have a bath and a massage. When she entered the steam room, Finkle was walking along the back of a horizontal figure.

“Oh!” she said, “Excuse me”.

Whereupon, Jinx rolled off the table in alarm, letting the towel that covered him fall from his waist to leave him revealed in full naked glory.

“By the gods!’ Taleria gasped, “You’re a woman!”

~~~~~~~~~

Histories often fall victim to the relay of inaccurate information. Sometimes the information is deliberately misrepresented.

Such is the case of Jinx, who was once called Djin-Xed, and for the obfuscation of this information to be made transparent, it is necessary to return to the beginning of this part of the tale.

For it was told that Djin-Xed was the second child of the taipan, Goji-San, while his first-born was Zi-Mot-Djar. The children were the progeny of Goji-San and his first wife, who was most beloved and the cause of the glint in the taipan’s eye. The love shared between the two was so intense as to be obvious, something rare in Shay society that wasn’t altogether accepted; love is an undesirable emotion that has no place in the minds and mores of conquerors.

But love, once experienced, is not easy to put aside, and the love between Goji-San and wife-one burned strong; so strong that a great happiness filled the tent of the taipan during the years following the birth of his first two children. They grew to adolescence in an environment that encouraged bonding and kinship.

Zi-Mot-Djar, being the elder, was the playmate and protector of his sibling, and the fact that Djin-Xed was a girl made little difference to the love and joy they shared in all things. It has been noted that women hold no place of importance in the society of Shay except for the bearing of future warriors. They have no say in political matters or in matters of day-to-day living. The man rules the household, and any woman foolish enough to voice a negative opinion of this lifestyle deserved her fate, which was usually of a messy nature that involved the cessation of breathing.

The tent of Goji-San was different, for his love of wife-one made it so. It also afforded Djin-Xed certain ‘freedoms’ not normally allowed girls.

With the help of Zi-Mot-Djar, Djin-Xed dressed as a boy. Disguised thus, she would go places and do things considered taboo to a female; she visited the tents of warriors and touched their swords, she sat at meetings of family patriarchs, she gained weapons training from dojo masters, she learned to shoot with bow and arrow and, most amazing of all, she learned to ride a horse!

She did these things, but always as a boy, and though the clansmen of Goji-San were aware he had children, they thought he had three: two sons and a daughter.

~~~~~~~~~

The day came when wife-one died of a fever. The glint in the taipan’s eye was extinguished with her passing and, though he still favoured his eldest children, he found it difficult to look at them least he be reminded of happier times. He took nine more wives in quick succession and sired a veritable menagerie of screaming babies, but the age gap between them and the two elder children was such that Zi-Mot-Djar and Djin-Xed remained closest.

When The Warlord had Goji-San strangled, Djin-Xed only managed to escape with Zi-Mot-Djar by employing the same deception she had used all her life; namely, by becoming a male. But, this time, it was not for the pursuit of a child’s gleeful deception; this time it was for a matter of life and death.

Zi-Mot-Djar concocted the story that his sister should pretend to be a eunuch…

“A eunuch, brother? A filthy eunuch?”

“What would you have of me, Djin-Xed? I am trying to keep you alive. For that we must get to the coast and aboard a ship that sails for another country”.

“But… a eunuch? Ugh! The very idea makes me feel unclean!”

“Listen, sister, eunuchs may be unclean, but they have traveling privileges when accompanied by a merchant-master. Women do not! Also, if for some reason we are ‘manhandled’ during a search, your, erm… lack of ‘equipment’ can be more easily explained”.

~~~~~~~~~

When Djin-Xed set foot onto Tysian soil without her brother, she thought it prudent to continue the charade. The ways of the continental barbarians were unknown to her, but from what she noticed of the dockside whores, women weren’t treated much differently in Tysa than they were in Shay.

The pretense was continued during the initial months she spent familiarizing herself with the city of Trithik and the people who became her companions - that group of men collectively referred to as the Table of Eight - until so much time passed that her life had become a complete lie. Jinx had forsaken her name, her lineage, her country; everything deemed honourable to the warrior people of Shay. She had lost her brother and presumed him dead. She was alone in a foreign land where her only ‘friends’ were a bunch of foul-mouthed drunkards who had little-to-no respect for women and would do gods-know-what if they discovered she was female.

It is no wonder, then, that when Jinx was finally found out, the strain of having lived so secretively for so long manifested in a torrent of emotion that overwhelmed her.

Under the gaze of Taleria, Jinx burst into tears.

~~~~~~~~~

Taleria and Finkle were the first to learn the full truth about Jinx. If Judge Fury was ever aware of her gender, he had never let on.

Without needing to be asked, Finkle made sure the door to the common room was locked and bolted while she and Taleria consoled Jinx with promises of continued secrecy, then plied her with questions of their own, most of which involved the difficulties of maintaining female hygiene (and other things this writer is not very conversant with) while pretending to a manhood.

It turned out that Jinx’s biggest concern was how her companions at the table of eight would react once they knew the truth. Would they hate her for having lied to them? Would she be ostracized? Would they banish her from the group, never again to sully their male-dominated sense of ‘togetherness’?

“Let me ask you, Jinx”, queried Taleria, “those men you seem to have grown fond of, which of them has belittled you for your racial differences?”

Jinx was startled by this abrupt question. “None”, she answered honestly. “Though I have had the odd ribbing about ‘slanty’ eyes. Nothing offensive, mind you. More in the way of good natured joking”.

“And what about other men who frequent the common room? Has anyone else made derogatory remarks about your appearance?”

“Yes. And some of them have been quite cruel”, answered Jinx, wondering where Taleria was going with this line of questioning.

“That tells me you’ve been accepted by those men, Judge Fury and Dragonbane and the rest… even Varsil Demonsoul, who can be the most irritatingly bigoted person I’ve ever met. They have accepted you as a ‘friend’, Jinx, and friendships, once made, are not easily put aside.

“I think, if you told them the truth, you might shock them (I’d love to be there to see it, by the way), but I also think it wouldn’t affect your friendship”.

“And if it did, kick ‘em in the bollocks, I say!” added Finkle.

Jinx was considering this when the door handle turned, followed by a gruff voice demanding to know why the door to ‘the pisser’ was locked.

‘Wrong door, arse-wipe!” Finkle yelled back, but Jinx’s reverie was broken. In a panic, she gripped the hands of both Taleria and Finkle.

“Please. Don’t tell anyone. I’m not ready. I’ll tell them in good time, just… not yet”.

*

[Badstench]

Rhia emerged from the steam room feeling a little self-conscious. The smell caused by the exertions of her recent travels had been replaced by the scent of something perfumic, an aroma that was more foreign to the adventuress than her original stink of horse. She’d had no choice in the matter. While Finkle had been attending to her bath, Rhia’s clothing had automatically gone through a similar cleansing operation that included deodorizing. It was one of the services offered by Finkle’s bath-house.

Heads turned in her direction. Someone nearby whistled. Someone else nudged his drinking companion. A mutter was muttered, followed by a laugh that, in man-speak, had obvious origins from a sexist remark.

Clean, and smelling like freshly picked buttercups, Rhia cut quite a pleasant picture as she made her way toward the shadowed corner of the room.

She recognized her quarry by the man’s facial features – Jinx’s high bone structure and narrowed eyes bespoke him a native of Shay. That was who she was looking for, but it was the man sitting to the right of Jinx that caused Rhia to hesitate, an almost imperceptible pause and glance that went unnoticed by everyone except Varsil Demonsoul.

Mused Varsil, “Interesting. She pretends to not notice Judge Fury. Methinks I have uncovered a secret between these two”. He was right, but for the wrong reason.

To Scout’s credit, he was first to leap out of his chair and offer it to the lady. Rhia sent him a curt nod that both acknowledged the action and declined the offer. With gaze fixed on the man from Shay, she asked, “Are you the one called Jinx?”

“I, um… might be. It depends who’s asking”.

Rhia didn’t let her gaze drop for a second while she waited for a more complete answer. She was clearly a person who didn’t suffer fools or those who pretended to it, and her continued glare caused Jinx to shift uncomfortably. He was rescued by Judge Fury.

“I think what my friend is trying to say is that he might be Jinx if the one asking means no harm or threat to his person, and since I’m pretty sure you mean neither, Rhia, you may assume that this is, indeed, Jinx”.

Rhia nodded her appreciation to the Judge, but continued to address Jinx. “I mean you no harm. I am merely a messenger who bears a token from one you love”, and with that, Rhia fetched a coin-sized medallion from the folds of her tunic and held it aloft for Jinx to see.

“Brakha-toi!” exclaimed Jinx (which roughly translates to, “Holy shit!”), and reached to snatch it.

But Rhia closed her fist around the medallion before Jinx could grab it. “Like I said, I bear a token for one named Jinx. If you are that person, I need confirmation from your own lips, and that confirmation needs to come by the saying of your name… your true name!”

Jinx was on his feet, the sight of the medallion having caused him some agitation. Again, Judge Fury interposed himself, placing a restraining hand on the shoulder of Jinx. Everyone else sitting at the table was watching agog; Bogmuck was looking particularly gormless.

“Rhia”, spoke Judge Fury, “this conversation requires discretion. It is not a subject open for general knowledge”.

“Be that as it may”, replied Rhia, “My instructions are explicit. I am to hand this medallion to the only person who can rightfully accept it, and that person has two names - one assumed and one true”.

“Then let us take this discussion outsi…”

“Djin-Xed! My name… it is Djin-Xed”, interrupted Jinx, and he held out his hand imploringly for the medallion.

~~~~~~~~~

Judge Fury ushered Jinx and Rhia to the door that led to the corridor from which other doors opened to rooms of various description. One of these was a room often used for private meetings that contained nothing but a few chairs and a table.

While Jinx gripped the medallion close to his heart and muttered phrases in his native tongue, Judge Fury and Rhia engaged themselves in a heated discussion.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” railed Judge Fury. “You, above all, know the need for the secrecy required of our assignments. What possessed you to interrogate Jinx in public?”

“It wasn’t an ‘interrogation’, Fury. I just needed his name”.

“A name that no-one else in that room knew until a minute ago. Gods, Rhia! Everyone in that room could have heard Jinx yell his true name. It won’t be long before half the city finds out, then how long do you think it will be till word reaches agents of The Warlord?”

“That isn’t my concern, Fury. My concern is to the man who paid me a lot of money to find his brother. I did that”.

Judge Fury rarely got so angry as to turn purple, but this was the colour he turned at hearing Rhia’s explanation. Wisely, he turned away from Rhia and grasped the back of a chair. Rhia could see his knuckles change to white from the severity of the grip, an indication of how angry he really was, but when he turned back to her, he had composed himself enough to continue without spitting vitriol.

“What’s done is done”, he said through clenched teeth. “What remains is for you to explain everything that occurred which led you to Jinx”.

“Client confidentiality”, stated Rhia. “I don’t have to tell you diddly”.

“True”, agreed the Judge, “but I swear, Rhia, if you don’t give me something, I’ll see to it you never work for the Judges again. I’ll advertise your name on the billboards, chalk-boards, news-poles and sign posts of every hamlet, village, town and city between Charna and Syr. I’ll scream your existence so loud you won’t get another job the rest of your life”.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Yes, I bloody would, and you know it”.

It was a face-off. Rhia and Judge Fury were glaring at each other when Jinx tugged at Rhia’s sleeve.

“Was it truly Zi-Mot-Djar?”

~~~~~~~~~

In the common room, Scout whistled, “Hoooeee. That was, erm… interesting”.

Hawk and Ezekiel nodded. Both of these new comers to the table of eight had only known Jinx a few days and weren’t conversant with the manner of his arrival a year or so earlier, but even they could feel the anger from Judge Fury when he escorted Rhia and Jinx from the room. They were both glad it wasn’t their heads on the chopping block, so to speak.

Dragonbane didn’t say anything. He leaned back in his chair and looked, for all the world, like he didn’t care one way or another. He had long suspected Judge Fury of keeping information about every single person who sat at the table of eight, and if that information was of a nature akin to his own secrets, then it was better not to comment at all. He would rather be shat upon by a griffon than have Varsil Demonsoul and company learn of his past. He thought it probable that, if the others hid similar secrets, they might feel the same way.

Bogmuck looked confused. “Is Jinx in trouble?” he asked.

Young Ned surprised everyone by saying, “You don’t know the half of it,” but he didn’t volunteer any more.

When no-one made a further comment, Bogmuck added, “I don’t know the full of it, either.”

Ezekiel laughed, “I don’t know what’s more of a handicap... being crazy or being stupid.”

*

[Badstench]

“Jinx? Let me see that medallion, would you?”

When Judge Fury examined the coin-sized object, he recognised it as a badge of sorts; one face bore the resemblance of a man’s head in profile, while the reverse showed the outline of an animal he wasn’t familiar with. Jinx explained that it was a fearsome animal called a ‘raker’.

“It is the crest of my clan”, continued Jinx. “The head is a likeness of Goji-San, my father. Only one person can bear this medallion... the taipan of Goji or his heir. Zi-Mot-Djar had it with him when we fled from Shay”.

“And you’re sure this medallion is authentic? I need you to look very closely to see if there is anything about it that would betray it as a forgery”.

Jinx regarded the medallion without studying it. “I couldn’t tell you. I’ve never had a close look at it before. I just know it for what it is; the crest of my clan. But only the leading member of the clan may keep this, and the leader of clan-Goji, after father was killed, was my brother, Zi-Mot-Djar. I thought him dead too”. She then turned an impassioned plea toward Rhia. “Please, he is the only family left to me. How did you come by this?”

Rhia considered the question and decided it would not impinge on her code of ethics to answer. “It was given me by a man who looked like you; a man of Shay”.

“Was it Zi-Mot-Djar?”

“I don’t know his name. It is one of the conditions I expect from prospective employers – no names least I need to know. In this task, I only needed to know your name.”

Judge Fury interjected with questions of his own. “How did this man come to contact you? Where did you meet with him?”

Answered Rhia, ‘The ‘how’ is confidential. The ‘where’? I see no harm in telling that I have been hard astride my horse all the leagues from Charna to find this ‘Jinx’. The ‘why’ of my being in Charna to begin with is also no concern of yours”, she added before the Judge could voice the query.

The Judge frowned. They were questions to which the answers would help identify Rhia’s employer. Judge Fury suspected the man was a fake, an agent of The Warlord and an assassin. It would be a simple thing for The Warlord to have a duplicate medallion made. By such a ploy, it would be another simple thing to use it against Jinx, to fool him into believing his brother was still alive. It is the one reason for which Jinx would reveal himself.

Regardless, Judge Fury knew by Jinx’s expression that he had already decided to seek out the owner of this medallion. The possibility that it might, indeed, be Zi-Mot-Djar would gnaw at him if he didn’t.

To Rhia he asked, “And what were your instructions if your search proved fruitful? Were you to return to your employer with that information?”

“No”, admitted Rhia quite freely. “It was assumed that Jinx would recognise the medallion and, by association, know who was looking for him. It is also assumed that Jinx would immediately go to him. Further use of my services wouldn’t be necessary”.

“So, you also have instruction of where this employer of yours can be found?” asked Judge Fury.

“I do, but that information is for Jinx alone”.

The Judge understood this. If it were truly Zi-Mot-Djar, he wouldn’t want any more people than was absolutely necessary to know his whereabouts, and if it was an assassin, he would want Jinx to attend the meeting alone and vulnerable.

But Jinx surprised both the Judge and Rhia by announcing, “You may tell us both. If not, I will tell him anyway”, and then she dropped a bombshell... “Whoever your employer is, it is not Zi-Mot-Djar!”

Judge Fury wrinkled his brow in puzzlement. The certainty in the tone of Jinx’s voice was unmistakeable. How could he be so sure Rhia’s employer wasn’t his brother? What was his little friend from Shay not telling them?

Rhia, on the other hand, didn’t care whether Jinx was correct with his statement or not; she’d already been paid, and that was the only matter that concerned her. Poor Rhia; she was about to have that belief turned upside down.

Asked Judge Fury, “Jinx? How can you know this?”

Answered Jinx, ‘It is one thing to know my true name and be told it – this was common knowledge in Shay – but if Zi-Mot-Djar hired you to find me, then you would also know that you would not be searching for his brother”.

Rhia suddenly felt a prickling sensation begin to needle the nape of her neck, the kind of feeling one gets when one realises she is about to learn something which she should have known all along, something that is going to change her perspective on the matter.

Jinx looked directly at Judge Fury as she said, “You would be looking for his sister!”

~~~~~~~~~

[At this point, dear reader, I feel it necessary to acknowledge that, even though we have known Jinx is female, this story has still referred to her in the male tense. This has been done for two reasons: 1) Because, apart from Taleria and Finkle, no-one else was aware of her ‘secret’, and 2) It made the telling of the tale less confusing than if we had referred to Jinx as he/she, him/her, etc. Now that the secret is out of the bag, Jinx will forthwith be acknowledged in the female tense.]

The look on Judge Fury’s face confirmed that he hadn’t known Jinx was a woman. Her deception had fooled him by the simple reason that she hadn’t concealed herself with the use of magic; his ability to see through spells of concealment had no application against physical disguises and, though he was quite perceptive, the peculiarities in the facial features of her race had also aided in the deception.

Rhia might have enjoyed seeing the utter astonishment on the Judges face, except she was equally astonished. She pulled a chair back from the table and sat down.

The following remarks from Judge Fury and Rhia need not be recorded here – they pursued the revelation dropped on them by Jinx, within which she found herself explaining how and why she had managed to maintain the illusion of being a man for so long. When Judge Fury was satisfied with the explanation, he reassured Jinx that her gender made no difference to his friendship. She sent him a smile of thanks.

“But, what about the others? I’m so afraid of what they’ll think, especially Varsil and Bogmuck.”

Judge Fury looked at her with sympathy. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to sort that one out yourself, Jinx. I think it would be better if the information came from you. Set the path straight, come clean and all that sort of thing.”

Jinx nodded agreement, but looked miserable at the prospect. Her misery was interrupted by Rhia.

“Well then, I suppose you won’t be going to meet with my employer... erm, ex-employer?”

It was Judge Fury who answered. “Well, in light of this... development... I don’t see the need for a long...”

“Yes. I’ll go”, interrupted Jinx.

“What?” both Rhia and Judge Fury exclaimed incredulously, then Fury added, “You can’t be serious?”

When Jinx laid out her reasons, both her companions had to agree that her thinking was sound. Although Jinx was sure that the man in Charna was not her brother, she wanted to make absolutely certain of the fact. She could only do this by seeing his face. If it turned out that the man was, as Judge Fury suspected, an assassin, then he already knew too much. He would have to be dealt with.

“And, if the assassin believes he has me ensnared in a web, he won’t suspect that I am the more knowledgeable spider. Armed with that knowledge, I will be the better prepared to strike first.”

“You’re a brave girl, Jinx”, said Rhia, “But I don’t think your plan is wise. I met with the man, but I don’t know if he hasn't got a support group behind him. You might be dealing with more than one assassin.”

“That doesn’t matter”, replied Jinx, and the venom in her voice as she said it surprised both Rhia and Judge Fury. “I only want to meet the man who gave you this medallion. If it is not a forgery, there can only be one meaning... Zi-Mot-Djar is truly dead. I will see this man’s life ended even if a thousand Shay warriors stand between me and him!”

The statement hung heavy in silence, broken after a moment when Judge Fury sighed, ‘Well then... You’ll need someone to keep you company and watch your back, yes?”

*

[Badstench]

Chapter 5
SCOUT


Jinx returned to the common room chewing her lower lip. She was thinking hard about how to tell her friends at the shadowed table who and what she really was. Judge Fury made to follow her when Rhia called after him.

“Fury? If you wouldn’t mind, I would speak with you privately?”

The Judge regarded her with a raised eyebrow, an expression of cautious surprise. “I’ll join you in a minute,” he said after Jinx, then closed the door and returned to a seat opposite Rhia.

Thinking she wanted privacy to make an apology, The Judge condescended, “We can make this quick, Rhia. I think Jinx would appreciate some support while she explains herself to the others.”

“Quick?” Rhia misunderstood. “I will be succinct, Fury, but the matter I need to discuss is one of some importance.”

Denied an apology, Judge Fury was, nevertheless, intrigued. “Go on, then”, he said flatly.

“You know what I do”. It was a statement more than a question, but Judge Fury answered anyway.

“You buy and sell information”.

Rhia snorted. “That is an over-simplification. I ‘gather’ information of a specific nature determined by the requirements of my employer. My employer just happens to be the Judge Advocate, but I am not tied to him by apron strings”.

Judge Fury heard the reproving tone. “And your point is?”

“For me to be successful and of use to the Judge Advocate, I must needs consort with a wide variety of people. Many of those people are of a... let’s just say... ‘less reputable’ kind. The type of information I’m required to learn takes me far and wide, and often-times it can take me to low places. I know the cellars and sewers of Talinus almost as well as I know the streets, and my connections have taken me to similar environments in cities as far apart as Charna and Tryndmoor, including Trithik.

“I know you don’t particularly like me for what I do – sometimes I have to actively oppose you – but you also understand that I do what I must for the sake of appearances. The key to my success lies with my credibility, so when you talk of exposing me, please understand that I’m going to get upset”.

Rhia quickly held up her hand to forestall the Judge from interrupting with a defence that would, more likely than not, turn into another argument.

“Let me just say... threat of exposure in my line of business is as good as a death sentence! For that reason, I will offer an apology to you for exposing Jinx the way I did; it was a short-sighted approach and ill-conceived. You were right to say that I was indiscreet and should have known better”.

So, Judge Fury did get his apology after-all, even if it was presented at the end of a scolding. He was loath to offer any words of acceptance for the apology; Rhia was correct with her assumption that he didn’t like what she did, but more, he didn’t like what she represented. To Judge Fury, Rhia was a necessary evil, a tool by which his order could benefit through another set of eyes on a world that needed watching and protecting. He would rather that tool wasn’t necessary but, even he had to admit, sometimes the expertise offered by someone in Rhia’s position could be very useful.

In the end, Judge Fury recognised the effort it had taken for Rhia to spit out the words of apology and offered as consolation, “You were at the end of a long journey and lulled by the relaxations of the steam room. Perhaps you were weary and momentarily forgot yourself?”

She nodded her acceptance of the excuse, but added, “There was another reason, Fury. I don’t think I hid my surprise very well when I noticed you sitting next to Jinx. I had not expected it and was flustered by your presence”.

“Flustered by my presence? What do you mean?”

Rhia paused, and Judge Fury could see she was gathering her thoughts, deciding how best to proceed. When she began, it was to explain an aspect of her search for Jinx.

“It wasn’t difficult for me to discover that a person fitting Jinx’s description left Charna in the company of a Judge nigh on a year ago, and even easier to discover that the particular Judge was you, Fury. The information was disquieting, for I had to question whether the reason I had been employed to find Jinx was in conflict with the interests of your order. The Judge Advocate is my benefactor, so to interfere with a judicial matter might constitute such a conflict.

“However, my source – no, I won’t reveal who it is – assured me that you were merely escorting a ‘person-of-interest’ at the request of Thane Monrell. There was no indication that you had any lasting connection with Jinx at that time. I merely used the knowledge of you being her escort to follow her trail to Trithik.

“Again, it was not difficult to find out that Jinx frequented the Adventurers Collective… her foreign features make her noticeable and memorable… but I had no idea she had been included into your social circle.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you to know that the Table of Eight has something of a reputation, even in Talinus?”

Considering the widespread embarrassment caused by the shenanigans of various members of the Table of Eight in the past, Judge Fury wasn’t surprised at all! He winced and hid his discomfort by noting out loud, “So, to find me sitting next to the very person you were searching for came as a bit of a shock, yes?”

“Somewhat”. Answered Rhia. “But it was more for the full extent of the company currently with you, Fury”.

This caused a puzzled frown from the Judge. “Again… how do you mean?”

Another pause from Rhia, and this time her remark seemed quite calculated.

“I don’t presume to know all of them; the one who looks like he got a good whack from the ugly-stick at birth…”

“That would be Bogmuck”.

“… I’m not familiar with him, or the one with the silly grin… looks like a complete loon, that one!”

“Ezekiel, I suspect you mean”.

“… and the kid barely free of his pimples?”

“Hawk”.

“Those three I’ve never seen before, and Jinx of course, but the others are very interesting, Fury”.

Judge Fury felt uncomfortable with the direction this conversation had taken. He had the sudden suspicion that Rhia was probing for information, making sly observations in a way that would solicit particular answers from him. It was a trick the Judges knew well and one they often used to manipulate courtroom proceedings: put a person at their ease before demanding the hard answers. Judge Fury became wary.

“Rhia, I don’t know where you’re going with this conversation but, just as you have a requirement for secrecy, so are there matters which you don’t need to know”.

Rhia greeted Judge Fury’s warning with a smirk. The irony of his words weren’t lost on her – though they both worked for the same organization, the methods they employed couldn’t have been more different. Both required an enormous amount of secrecy in their day-to-day activities, Rhia for her own safety, and Judge Fury for the protection of others. It was an existence that required a dedication and concentrated diligence to deception, an awareness to the perpetuation of lies made necessary through enforced silence.

“We are not so different, you and I”, Rhia noted. “We both keep secrets. We both have need for continued secrecy”.

Judge Fury grimaced. “Yes. Secrets are a necessary part of what we do, but don’t equate my position with yours, Rhia. We are nothing alike”.

She answered with scorn, “Fury! Your head is so far up your own arse it’s laughable! You stand there passing judgement on me, and all I see is a man whose secrets entail a panoply of lies spun, not against his enemies, but against his friends! Next time you find yourself near a mirror, take a good look at yourself. At least my reflection doesn’t make me feel sick!”

[Badstench]

Her words stung him, not so much for their meaning, but for the grains of accuracy they spoke. It was true - he often felt ashamed because he couldn’t be completely truthful with his companions. Without exception, every member of the Table of Eight was connected to him in a way they didn’t know and couldn’t comprehend. But he didn’t lie to them, least omission of detail be considered a lie. The details they didn’t know were kept secret for their protection. His silence was for their wellbeing.

Judge Fury’s agitated growl of disgust was audible as he leaned back in his chair, but whether his disgust was for himself or for Rhia wasn’t clear.

Said he, “You didn’t call me back here just to abuse me, I hope? What is it you wanted?”

Again, Rhia paused to consider how best to broach her subject. She decided a truthful approach would be best in light of the conversation just ended. “I have some information for you, Fury – information that you need”.

“Which is?”

“Which is important for the continued existence of one of your companions”.

Judge Fury frowned. “Jinx, you mean? Do you have something more to tell me about the man who set you searching for Djin-Xed?”

“No. This is not about Jinx”.

“Who, then?”

Another pause. “Before I tell you, Fury, I want something in return. My information is not free”.

Judge Fury barked a short laugh. “Ha! It never is. I knew you were trying to elicit something from me. You’re a devious cow”.

Rhia let the insult slide. “My livelihood involves the exchange of information. I have something you need to know, I want something for that information. It won’t cost either of us to make that exchange”.

“There may not be a cost, but I’m sure there’s a profit to be made somehow, and not by me”, the Judge wisely noted. “What is it you need to know?”

“I don’t actually ‘need’ to know, but the persons of interest who sit at your table… the ones I’ve already mentioned… there is a matter which came to my attention some time ago, a matter the Judge Advocate ordered me to cease pursuing. I don’t like leaving a question unanswered, Fury, or a job unfinished, so this matter gave me cause for some curiosity. Like I said, I don’t need to know, but my curiosity makes me want to know”.

“Alright”, answered Judge Fury warily. “And what is it you want to know?”

“Scout – you still call him that name?”

“It’s the only name he answers to. This matter concerns him?”

“That shouldn’t surprise you, should it? Considering we have a shared regard for his father?”

“He doesn’t know about that”. Judge Fury’s reply was clipped, suggesting that this matter wasn’t open for discussion, so he was surprised when Rhia laughed.

“There’s nothing you can tell me about Scout I don’t already know. He’s grown into a good-looking man, the spitting image of his father. No, it’s not Scout who interests me”.

“Then who, Rhia? Stop messing about. You mentioned Scout’s father, who was like a brother to me. It was hurtful that he had to be interred without any of the recognition due him, and I won’t hear anything that might sully his memory or his name, even down to Scout and Ulric”.

Rhia looked scornful again. “Yes, you had a high regard for the man. So why is it you find what I do so distasteful? Why do you despise me so, Fury?”

Her comment shook him. “Despise you? I don’t despise you, Rhia. I hate what you do. I hate that you consort with the scum and lowlifes of this kingdom, rubbing shoulders with thieves and murderers and dissidents, pretending to be like them. In the end, their evil will taint you… It was the undoing of Scout’s father and he paid for it with his life.

“This is why Scout sits at my table. This is the promise I made to his father – that Scout would never learn what he was or of what he became – and that Scout would never follow him”.

“And yet, you let me follow him? You let me sink into the filth of the criminal underworld in the place of Scout? I repeat, Fury, why do you despise me so?”
And Judge Fury surprised Rhia by grasping her hand tightly. “I don’t despise you. I despise everything that, by necessity, surrounds you. It may be that my distaste shows through the association, but I don’t despise you. If anything, Rhia, I fear for you”.

“Fear for me? Oh, please! Where was your concern when I was a young girl, eh? Where was your fear when Scout’s dear old dad started training me? Where were you, Fury, when I had to take up his mantle on my own?

“Don’t you dare pity me with your ‘fear’. I want nothing from you, Fury, nothing except an answer to satisfy my curiosity. You owe me that much, at least!”

Judge Fury slumped back into the chair. His resignation to Rhia’s request came with a sigh. “What is it you want to know?” he asked again.

*

[Badstench]

THE TABLE OF EIGHT: INTERLUDE: SCOUT

Thulwy is a hamlet that lies at the end of a seldom-used road in a non-descript part of the province controlled by Thane Pyrond I of Trithik. One could be excused for not being aware of this place – it is little more than a collection of farmer’s huts, cowsheds and a sorry-excuse-of-a-structure that serves as the local smithy. The place has no church, no tavern and no municipal buildings. It is a village that cartographers neglect to show on maps and historians never bother to write about. It is a quiet backwater where nothing interesting ever happens and where no one ever goes (except for the quarterly visits by the tax collector, of course).

At one time, the folk who lived there were the happiest bunch of peasants you could ever hope to meet. They had good cause to be happy, for the lord of this area was known as a good and caring man who only had the best intentions and highest aspirations for his vassals. They were well-fed, well housed and maintained good health, and when any of them showed promise toward a particular skill or endeavour, he (or she) was encouraged.

The lord was an absentee more often than not, and it was generally believed that he attended to matters of importance that kept him busy in places far grander than Thulwy, but when he was ‘in residence’, an almost carnival-like atmosphere would descend on the village. The peasants loved their lord.

The lord lived in a manor house that was not ostentatious or stately; admittedly, it was the largest and nicest building for leagues in any direction, but it was barely adequate when measured against the domiciles of other lords and landowners. It was a single storied affair that included a parlour, gentleman’s retreat, formal dining room, kitchen, bathroom and three bedrooms. The grounds included a stable and a hunting lodge, and there were even quarters for a small retinue of personal servants.

The lady of the manor was treated with deference equal to that of the lord, and when a son was born to the House of Hollendale, every inhabitant of Thulwy celebrated with happy abandon.

~~~~~~~~~

The baby was given a name and proclaimed as heir to the Hollendale estate. He was cherished and lavished with attention, and if there was ever the epitome of a happy family in Tysa at this time, then the Hollendales were it. The lord of the manor found excuses to remain at home for longer periods than was usual for him, and this enabled him to bear witness to the rapid growth of his son. The baby became a rambunctious toddler who learned to walk earlier than most infants of the same age, and he proved to be inquisitive too, poking his nose into all the corners of the manor house and gardens. Lord Hollendale laughingly referred to him as his ‘little scout’.

Being an ‘only’ child affords that child the undivided attention of its parents. In Scout’s case, this attention extended to the servants of the household and the villagers of Thulwy. It would be fair to say that Scout was spoiled – anything he wished for was granted, anything he wanted was given. He was coddled by nannies, tutored by experts and trained by masters.

The possibility existed that Scout could have developed a selfish and demanding personality, but his parents were wise and instilled in him the traits of humility, respect and gratitude. His was a positive personality of a transparent nature without any hint of deceit or malice.

And to top it all off, as the boy grew into a young man it became obvious he had been blessed with handsome features.

Now, considering all the boons gifted Scout from birth, you might think he would be content with his lot in life, but two things constantly intruded into his idyllic existence that, over time, coalesced into a sense of frustration and helplessness.

First, it seemed that the older he got, the less he got to see of his father. Scout was aware that a lord had wider responsibilities than just those that involved his own holdings; a lord sat on councils and committees and courts in places more important than Thulwy. Lord Hollendale would, by necessity, have to visit such far away places as Trithik and Talinus, there to dispense whatever business needed dealing with. The thing that concerned Scout about his father’s absences was the effect it had on his mother… as the time neared for each departure, she would become increasingly anxious and agitated, and after he had left, she would cry for days on end. Sometimes, she would fret so constantly as to make herself ill.

Lord Hollendale would often take Scout aside on the eve of his departure. “While I’m away, you’re the man of this house, my young scout. Your mother will need your strength, for she worries too much when I’m gone”.

“Why does she worry, Father?” Scout had asked on one occasion.

Lord Hollendale had looked wistfully at his son before ruffling his hair. “She’s a woman, boy. Who knows why women fret, eh?” And he’d winked.

The second thing that frustrated Scout also involved the absences of his father, but in a way that involved him more directly. By the time Scout was 10 years of age, he had never been anywhere other than within the borders of Hollendale estate. On a few occasions, he had asked his father for permission to accompany him on one of his business trips, but he’d always been denied.

“One day”, his father had promised, or… “When you’re older”, or… “Your mother needs you here”.

So Scout had waited patiently, looking forward to the time when he could experience a village bigger than Thulwy… perhaps a town with a castle. He dearly wanted to see a castle.

But month after month went by without any travels eventuating. His father’s business trips seemed to become more frequent and require more time away from home. Scout would watch each departure with mixed emotions; half of him proud that his father trusted him to look after the estate, the other half bitter that he was being left behind again.

Finally, his patience came to an end and he all but demanded to accompany his father on the next business trip. Surprisingly, it was his mother that thwarted the possibility. She took Scout’s hand and explained that he would be needed at home even more over the next few years.

“You’re going to have a little brother”, she said, “and I’ll need you to help look after him”.

[Badstench]

Poor Scout. He couldn’t have known that the instigator of his ongoing disappointment was his mother. If truth be known, Scout’s father would have had the boy following his footsteps the moment he could walk, but Lady Hollendale had extracted a vow from her husband to the effect that this would never happen. More than that, Scout was never to learn what his father really did on those ‘supposed’ business trips. Lady Hollendale was well aware that Scout worshipped his father, doting after him whenever he was at home, and she knew that Scout would want to emulate the elder in everything he did.

She couldn’t risk that. Every day was a day in which she might receive word her husband was dead; his real job was nothing like the pretense explained to Scout and the villagers of Thulwy… it was an occupation that involved deception and danger, secrets and lies. Lady Hollendale worried enough for the man she loved without having to worry about Scout, too!

~~~~~~~~~

Scout was not far away from being a ‘brother’ when he woke one night and heard the familiar tone of his father’s voice sounding from a room further along the corridor. There was another voice, a second man speaking with him, and because Scout had never known his father to entertain at such a late hour, he let his curiosity overcome him and stole a peek through the parlour door.

He didn’t recognize the man, or the fact it was a Judge… truth be told, he wouldn’t have recognized a Judge even if he encountered one dressed in full regalia… this one was disguised in the garb of a simple farmer.

Judge Fury had taken time to visit his long-time friend. Such meetings were impossible in Trithik (or in any city for that matter) due to the delicate nature of Lord Hollendale’s ‘business’. The Judge was younger than his father, but the warmth of their banter made it obvious that they shared a close camaraderie. Scout remained by the door, puzzling over who this stranger might be and why he’d never seen him before, but after a while he crept back to bed lest he be discovered.

~~~~~~~~~~

The baby was blessed Ulric Harrison Hollendale, and Scout took the advent of a brother seriously. Any lesser child of ‘only’ status might have shown jealous tendencies, but not Scout. He would often sit by the crib of his baby brother, talking inanely, willing the infant to grow older and become the playmate he desperately longed for. Ulric would giggle and cry, as babies do, but he would giggle more than cry when Scout was looking after him.

The years turned and Ulric did grow. Scout took it upon himself to teach his little brother all the important facts of life, like…. How to avoid mother when she was dishing out chores, where the best swimming holes on the estate were located, and how to mount a pony without looking like a dork.

The boys became inseparable, and many a farmer of Thulwy would smile when Scout performed his regular inspections of the estate, Ulric dutifully riding behind him, a miniature version of his older brother.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time is a trickster, and the passing of time can play tricks on one’s memory. To this day, Scout finds it difficult to recall anything that happened in the days immediately following the death of his parents. However, he remembers the day leading to the event with stark clarity, and many are the times he has lived that day over and over in his head, replaying it in the maudlin hope he can magically change history through the power of thought alone.

But the short end of the story is that his parents died needlessly, the result of a terrible accident.

Lord and Lady Hollendale had graciously accepted an invitation to the home of the village elder of Thulwy, there to acknowledge the gratitude of all the villagers through an end-of-harvest dinner. The weather had been inclement that day, and by the time the guests were ready to depart, a fierce storm had arisen. A mad wind howled, torrential rain drove sideways. Flashes of lightning rendered the sky amidst deepening growls of thunder.

Wisdom should have dictated that the guests spend the night in the village, but Lord Hollendale saw his wife wince at the idea of sleeping in the lice-infested hovels that were the homes of their hosts, and he made his gallant excuses. Besides, the manor house wasn’t a great distance from Thulwy, and the coachman was an excellent driver, and the storm wasn’t so bad, and the boys were expecting them home, and…

…And the horses were spooked by a flash and a crash of thunder. They ignored the attentions of the coachman and bolted, dashing madly along a country lane without regard for the coach behind them or the occupants inside, a wild, fear-crazed gallop into the night and the darkness.

Too fast, they rounded a corner of the lane and the coach ripped free from its hitchings. It careered forward to smash itself against the unforgiving trunk of an elm tree. The coachman had time to leap for safety.

Lord and Lady Hollendale were killed instantly.

~~~~~~~~~~

How does one explain to a boy, aged 7, that he will never see his mother and father again? Ulric had frowned and thrown a tantrum, not fully aware what it meant to be ‘dead’. Scout explained it as a visit to the angels from which there was no coming back, but when Ulric asked why the angels lived in Thulwy, he realized his little brother imagined their parents were being held as perpetual captives in the nearby village.

So, then he had to explain exactly what ‘death’ entailed and, after Ulric had cried himself to sleep, Scout’s own words remained, reverberating in his mind like the finality of a thudding axe: “They are dead, they are dead”.

The funeral was held on a day that fitted the occasion – the sky was a drab grey, a light rain making things uncomfortable enough to send the mourners hurrying from the graveyard at the conclusion of the service. Nearly the entire population of Thulwy had presented themselves, along with all the servants and farmhands of Hollendale Manor. There were also a few dignitaries from further afield, and one of those was a severe looking man who wore robes of the deepest black.

He approached Scout at the conclusion of the service. “Hello, young man. I’m the Judge Advocate.”

The name meant nothing to Scout, so he was neither awed nor impressed by the title.

“Did you know my father?” he asked, while Ulric hid himself behind his big brother. The commanding aura of the man in black was a little frightening, and so were his bushy eyebrows.

“He was a good man, your father. I’d like to think he was my friend.”

Scout shook his hand and noted the strength in the man’s grip. It was a good handshake, the type of handshake that suggested honesty and forthrightness.

“He never mentioned you. I mean… I’m sure he had friends in the cities and places where his business took him, but he never spoke much about it. I’m pleased to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise.” The Judge Advocate had smiled, and Scout saw a sincerity in the smile that put him at ease. He instinctively liked this ‘Judge Advocate’.

But Scout became aware of another person standing at a respectful distance behind the man… a slight figure that wore a cloak with hood drawn. He could not see the face through the shadows of the head covering, but he had the feeling it was a female… a young female, perhaps his own age? He felt that she was appraising him and waiting for a chance to say something.

The Judge Advocate was speaking, but it became obvious that Scout was not paying full attention; he kept glancing at the cloaked figure with expectation, like he was waiting for an introduction.

“Young man?” The Judge Advocate gently admonished. “I asked what you intended to do now that you are lord of the manor?”

The question shook Scout. He hadn’t thought about that subject and didn’t really know how to reply. He had inherited the estate and could be considered a relatively wealthy landowner now, but he hadn’t thought beyond being its manager while his father was away. He also had Ulric to consider, for Scout was now the guardian of his younger brother.

But he was saved from committing himself to an answer when a heavily armoured man appeared. This newcomer offered Scout a perfunctory nod of acknowledgement before addressing the Judge Advocate.

“Sir, the day wanes and we must be to Trithik by nightfall.”

For a fleeting moment, the Judge Advocate looked annoyed before sighing his reply.

“Yes, yes.” And he favoured Scout with an apologetic grin. “My apologies, Lord Hollendale, but business demands call me.”

Scout nodded despite his ignorance of who the Judge Advocate was and what his ‘business’ entailed, but he showed the quality of his upbringing by offering the Judge Advocate and his retinue hospitality at the manor if they required it.

“Thankyou…” the Judge Advocate paused. “I know you are called ‘Scout’, but what is your given name?”

“Scout is just fine” answered Scout.

“Well then, Scout… thankyou for the gracious offer, but my business calls me to Trithik this night. I am truly sorry for your loss, but from all I’ve heard of you, your future should be a happy one. Your father had high praise for your abilities.”

“Thank you, sir,” Scout replied, feeling a glow of pride at the words spoken by the Judge Advocate.

And with that, the man dressed in black robes bade his farewell. He managed to send Ulric a wink before turning his back and walking away.

The hooded person hesitated and stepped forward, her(?) hand offered in a salutary gesture, but before Scout could respond, the Judge Advocate called back, “Rhiannon, come!”
*

[Badstench]

“How many people are privy to the knowledge that Scout’s parents were assassinated?”

Judge Fury turned white at Rhia’s question. He closed his eyes and groaned, a sound so alien to the Judge that Rhia knew she had hit a chord that disturbed him.

“I knew the minute I heard about their ‘accident’. So did the Judge Advocate, and your reaction tells me that you knew too. Who else, Fury?”

His eyelids were firmly closed at the realization that Rhia was going to dredge up an event that had lain heavy on his heart for the past five years. It was true. Lord and Lady Hollendale had been assassinated, and the fault could be traced back to his innocuous visit to the manor house all those years ago.

“The Judges know… Thorndew and Knot and Gallows… Thorndew was especially angry. He hasn’t forgiven me for my indiscretion.”

Rhia’s lip turned into a snarl at the frank admission. She had no sympathy for the Judge, but her next remark turned from the casting of blame.

“I attended the funeral, Fury, and saw Scout in his misery. Of all the people who I knew at that time, I felt closest to him… a stranger to me. My misery was no less than his. Scout’s father was my mentor, my surrogate father. I wanted so much to tell him”.

“To tell him what, exactly?” and now Judge Fury was alert again.

“That his father was also a Judge!”

~~~~~~~~~

Judge Fury threw himself back from the table, standing so suddenly that his chair was propelled across the room.

“You couldn’t know that! The Judge Advocate would never….”

“The Judge Advocate didn’t have to tell me,” Rhia interrupted. “I learned it through watching and listening, and through learning of your visit to the Hollendale estate. Do you want to know where I heard that little bit of information from, Fury? No? I’ll tell you anyway.

“I heard it from a scumbag criminal!”

“What?”

“By Srythak, Fury! You’re a known Judge. Of course the criminal fraternity watches you! Your movements dictate their plans! When you went to Thulwy, they were watching”.

Judge Fury was stunned. He had suspected the identity of Judge Armstrong had been compromised by his visit to Hollendale Estate, but to have it confirmed was like being stabbed in the heart. He stumbled, and might have fallen if Rhia hadn’t suddenly grabbed his arm to steady him.

But her next words were no less condemning. “You killed him, Fury! Your stupid need for friendship was his ending.”

*

[Badstench]

Judge Fury was shaking. The frank accusation had stung him terribly, and more so, because it was true.

He shuddered.

“I accepted Scout and Ulric into The Chambers when they came knocking at my door”, he admitted. “I accepted them because I owed their father that much.

“It has been a blight on my life ever since… that I haven’t been able to tell Scout the truth.” He turned to Rhia with a look of desperation.

“But they can never learn of this, Rhia. The truth of who their father really was could be the cause of their own deaths. You understand this, yes?”

Rhia did understand, and she nodded in acquiescence. “Such information will never come from my lips, Fury. But one day, you will have to tell Scout the truth. If you don’t, then the consequences could be dire.”

“What do you mean?”

Rhia looked at him with pity. “Oh, Fury. When I figured out that you were the cause of my mentor’s demise, I wished all manner of harm upon you. What do you think Scout will do if he finds out?”

Judge Fury looked stunned again. The answer was obvious, and something he’d avoided addressing since Scout and Ulrich had become his guests at The Chambers. Scout might try to exact his revenge; in a fit of rage, he might strike out in the misguided thought that he was avenging his father.

Would Scout truly attempt it? Judge Fury hoped not. He had taken Scout and Ulric under his wing, introduced them to the people collectively known as the Table of Eight, made sure they were trained properly in the ways of adventurers. In effect, he had become their mentor.

Rhia interrupted his reverie. “So, Fury, back to my question.”

“Eh?”

“I want to satisfy my curiosity… you remember?”

“I thought the past discussion was your ‘curiosity’?”

“No. You merely confirmed what I already knew.”

Judge Fury was drained of all wariness at this point, and asked Rhia to state her point. “I don’t think you can hit me with anything more alarming. What is your question?”

Rhia knew she had him… that anything she asked now would be answered honestly. She smiled.

“Judge Armstrong and his wife were assassinated, most likely at the order of someone in the criminal underworld, but we both know who carried out the assassination.”

Judge Fury nodded. “The Phantom.”

“Yes. Or somebody affiliated to The Phantom?”

“No. This had all the hallmarks of The Phantom. It could not be…” Judge Fury paused and looked back at Rhia. “Do you know something about this I don't, Rhia?”

Rhia smiled again. Her knowledge of this matter was, indeed, more than Judge Fury suspected and she revelled in it.

Said she, “The Phantom doesn’t sully himself with simple assassinations. He sends his lieutenants to complete the plans he sets in motion. Ask yourself, Fury… what do we know of his lieutenants?”

“Sark Wormfoot was hunted down by Thorndew and Gallows. Judge Thorndew dealt with Goblineye personally.”

“And what of Yilura?”

“Her origins are known. She’ll be found”.

Rhia paused, a meaningful glance… “So, that leaves six assassins unaccounted for… except, oh… Bear of Kolnia!

"His corpse was dragged into Trithik behind the horse of an adventurer? The bounty was paid!”

Judge Fury gasped.

Rhia pretended not to notice Fury’s discomfort. “Thorndew is the Judge given the task of hunting these assassins, but I undertook my own investigations following the death of Judge Armstrong. In the process, I came to understand the methods of each individual assassin. Without exception, the lieutenants of The Phantom operate with a signature

"We know Scout's parents weren't killed in the accident. The accident itself was engineered, but Judge Armstrong and his wife were bludgeoned to death after the fact! This is the signature of 'Bear of Kolnia'... his 'modus operandi' if you like.

“When Bear's death was announced, I was satisfied at first, but something kept niggling at me. It was too easy. I tracked the adventurer down… the one who had claimed his bounty. He told me the story about the slaying of the assassin, and here’s the funny thing – his description of Bear of Kolnia was at odds with the memory of people who live in the village of Kolnia.

“The descriptions didn’t match!”

Judge Fury sat in silence, not willing to say anything lest his words betray his thoughts. He was, nevertheless, fascinated by Rhia’s train of deduction, and waited for her conclusion.

“I think the adventurer had the wrong man!”

“And how do you reach this answer?”

“Because I learned another name in my quest for the identity of Bear of Kolnia, and that name was Joshua Blame!”

To Judge Fury’s credit, he didn’t flinch.

Rhia continued, “And Joshua Blame is a name mentioned in the slaying of the Moonshore Dragon… the very same person who became Dragonbane!”

Judge Fury suddenly understood… this whole exchange had been aimed at uncovering Dragonbane’s true identity. Rhia was showing herself as a master of manipulation, a true maestro of information gathering.

It was a pity that Judge Fury recognized it, for he was able to deflect any further enquiry of this matter.

Said he, “The Judge Advocate advised you well, Rhia. This avenue of investigation is closed.”

“Is it? Why? What is so secret, Fury, that I can’t know?

“Why does a dead man, who used to be a part of the Phantom’s organization, sit at the same table as Judge Fury? Why does he sit there and make merry with Scout, his father’s assassin?

“In other words… what the hell is going on?”

*

[Badstench]

THE TABLE OF EIGHT: INTERLUDE: SCOUT, Part 2.

In the days following the funeral, Scout did his best to keep Ulric’s spirits high by ignoring the fact that his parents were gone, but even he felt the emptiness left in their wake. Scout slowly developed a reticence for entering certain rooms or for sitting in certain chairs. He preferred to keep busy during the day with continual inspections of the estate, anything that would keep him from enduring the silence of the manor house. There were too many ghosts.

If not for Ulric, Scout would have abandoned the place not long after the funeral, but his younger brother had only just turned 7 years of age and needed the security of familiar surrounds during this dark time.

Or so Scout thought.

It was Ulric who first suggested that they live somewhere else. Just because he was young didn’t mean he was blind, and he’d noticed how his beloved older brother had grown quiet and withdrawn. The move didn’t happen immediately, but the day did eventuate when Scout and Ulric rode through the gates of Hollendale Estate as its lords for the last time.

“Where will we go?” Ulric had asked

“I don’t really know, little brother,” Scout had answered honestly. “That man… you remember the man who was at the funeral? The man in black?... he gave me a card with an address in Trithik. Said we could always go there for help if we needed it.”

“He was scary. Is there another choice?”

“Oh, he wasn’t so bad… and I think Trithik would be a good first place to visit. There’s a castle at Trithik. We should go and see this Castle, Ulric.”

“Does it have a moat? It’s not really a castle if it doesn’t have a moat.”

Scout smiled, hearing the acceptance of the idea in Ulric’s response.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

The hand-written address led them to an austere looking building with a sign above the door that proclaimed it to be “The Chambers”. A hesitant knock brought Judge Fury to the door, and Scout wasn’t surprised to note that the man wore robes of the deepest black. He was, however, puzzled by the feeling that he knew this man. The memory was very slight, but Judge Fury’s face was somehow familiar.

~~~~~~~~~

When Rhia departed the Adventurers Collective, she tried her utmost to conceal her frustration as she walked across the bar room to the green door. Fortunately, there weren’t many people left in the bar… her conference with Judge Fury had taken a lot longer than either of them had anticipated and the time was now fast approaching dawn.

Unfortunately, one of the people still in the bar was Varsil Demonsoul. He watched Rhia’s departure with a raised eyebrow and, when Judge Fury entered the room, he was grinning from ear to ear.

Taleria also watched Rhia depart, her face drawn into a scowl, but when Judge Fury appeared, she spun back to the bar and ignored him completely. Truth be known, she was a feeling little bit drunk and a little bit surly.

Of Jinx, there was no sign.

~~~~~~~~~~

Varsil raised a mug in salute to Judge Fury as he approached the table. “It’s been a thoroughly entertaining evening, Fury. Pity you weren’t here for most of it. Had something else occupying your time, did you?”

Judge Fury failed to recognize Varsil’s innuendo, mainly because Varsil’s innuendo was gleaned from an idea that only existed in his own mind. Demonsoul had assumed that the Judge and Rhia had remained in the private room to engage their passions. He firmly believed that Judge Fury had, at last, got his ‘manly rights’ from the woman he loved as proclaimed in a drunken conversation barely two days previous.

“When did Jinx leave?” was the only acknowledgement Varsil got.

He shrugged. “About an hour ago. Why?”

Judge Fury narrowed Varsil with a suspicious glare. “Did she… I mean, ‘he’… have anything enlightening to tell you?”

Varsil frowned. “Whatever are you talking about Fury? Why don’t you get yourself a drink and come tell Uncle Varsil all about it?” His patronizing tone didn’t help Judge Fury’s mood in the least.

“Damnit, Varsil. Give me a straight answer. Did Jinx tell you… something about… erm, himself?”

“Something about going away for a few days… I believe Charna was mentioned. He was going back to the dormitory to pack a few things for the ride north”.

“And that’s all?”

“Why? Should there have been something else?”

Judge Fury paused to study Varsil’s face and see if he was being obtusely ignorant or honestly unknowing. He decided on the latter, sighed and sat down. Jinx hadn’t told them her secret, so he wouldn’t pursue that particular matter.

“He didn’t say why the trip to Charna was necessary?”

Varsil nodded behind a sip of his beer. “Something about a family matter. He seemed quite somber about it. I didn’t know he had family in Charna. He’s never mentioned it before.”

Judge Fury considered how much he should tell Varsil Demonsoul concerning the possible threat to Jinx. Explaining about an assassin would likely lead to further questions that could compromise Jinx’s secret, but he needed the rogue to understand that the matter in Charna contained an element of risk. He wanted someone to accompany Jinx as back-up, which was no longer possible for him after Rhia had imparted some worrying information.

“The Phantom is reported to be active again,” she had told him, “and word suggests that he has business in Trithik.”

Such information was cause for great concern. The Phantom Assassin had gone to ground after the slaying of Judge Armstrong. He had vanished when Judge Thorndew was given empowerment to hunt down the assassin and his lieutenants using whatever resources were necessary. A bounty had been offered for their capture, dead-or-alive, a move that had resulted in the successful sanctions of Sark Wormfoot and Bear of Kolnia. Judge Thorndew had tracked and slain Goblineye personally, and the net was closing on Yilura of Highgate. Five assassins remained unaccounted for, including the prize scalp of The Phantom.

If Rhia’s information was correct and The Phantom had come out of hiding, then something of importance must have compelled him. Judge Fury could not leave Trithik with such a threat hanging over his city.

He could not go with Jinx to Charna.

Varsil Demonsoul protested against accompanying Jinx, citing personal business of his own that needed attending. Judge Fury was heard to curse loudly and threaten Varsil with a terrible fate that included puscular boils and festering sores before he stormed out the door of the Adventurers Collective.

The few heads still in the bar that weren’t comatosed turned to watch Judge Fury go, no doubt wondering what had caused his knickers to get into such a twist. Varsil Demonsoul remained seated at the table of eight with an expression of aggrieved innocence, but the wheels of mischief were doing somersaults of glee in his vindictive mind.

Another cog in his plan for revenge slipped neatly into place.

~~~~~~~~~

Depending on the time of day, Blade Square can be both a dangerous place and an interesting place. The most dangerous time is when merchants are hurrying their mules, oxen and horses to and from the stables outside the city walls. A law of Trithik states that beasts of burden are a threat to the hygiene and health of its citizens and cannot tread the streets of the inner city except for the purpose of conveying goods to and from the market, and then only between the hour before dawn and the time of market’s opening.

The green door that egresses the Adventurers Collective opens onto Blade Square, and because that establishment has a 24-hour drinking license, it has been known for the occasional drunkard to meet his demise through an unfortunate stumble into the early traffic. Judge Fury has been fortunate not to become one of the statistics, and members of the city constabulary have become inured to the infrequent morning ritual that hears them intoning... "Get those animals out of the square before opening time! Get that Judge on his feet before he gets run over!

The Judge Advocate has chastised Fury so many times for this debaucherous behaviour that his words have become a litany.... "Thou shalt not...", and "Thou ist a pestilence on…”, and “Oh, by The Balances, not again!”

But on this morning, something strange occurred which befuddled constables, merchants and Advocate alike; Judge Fury strode out of the Adventurers Guild not long before dawn and walked a perfectly straight line. He amazed all the watchers so thoroughly that they took special notice of the event and were able to bear testimony in a later court of law that Judge Fury appeared to be, in all respects, sober that morning!

[Badstench]

Judge Fury extracted the promise from Young Ned not to let Jinx out of his sight until the matter in Charna was dealt with.

“Jinx is bound by some sort of oath to redeem the honour of her family. What this means in terms of Shay custom I don’t know, but I suspect someone is going to find themselves on the end of a blood-letting before your journey is complete. Take care, my friend.”

To Dragonbane, Judge Fury offered thanks. “Keep an eye on those two”, he added with a nod toward Hawk and Ezekiel. “They have talked the talk, but none of us are certain of their capabilities. They accompany you untested, and I am certain Jinx rides toward a danger from which practiced sword-arms might be necessary. It gives me comfort to know your sword will be close, at least.”

“Where’s that slug, Demonsoul?” asked Dragonbane. “A horse-ride in the fresh country air would do him some good, and though I trust him as far as I could comfortably kick his arse, his skills with the blade would be welcome if trouble develops.”

Judge Fury could only shrug. “Whatever business demands his attention, he’s absconded with Bogmuck and pulled one of his vanishing acts.”

“Hurrumph”, grunted Dragonbane. It was no secret that he didn’t like Varsil Demonsoul much. Theirs was an association of tolerance more than friendship.

The last farewell was saved for Jinx. “Forgive me for not coming with you. Rely on Young Ned and Dragonbane, for I trust them implicitly. I have no doubt that Hawk and Ezekiel mean well, but they are young and inexperienced. Still, as a group you should be a match for any assassin. Stay alert and stay alive.”

Judge Fury watched the five riders leave by the north gate of the city, wishing them a safe and speedy return. When they had become small figures in the distance he turned and surveyed the street that lead into the heart of Trithik. If Rhia’s information was correct, somewhere among the teeming thousands of people was a killer. This one was well known to the Judge and a threat far greater than that offered by the supposed assassin who waited for Jinx.

The Phantom had come to town, apparently, and this could only bode ill for the target of his interest. Many questions needed answering: What was so important that the master-assassin would come out of his self-imposed exile? Who was his target? Where would he sequester himself in Trithik?

There were too many unknowns without any clues to hint at how, or where, to begin investigating. Judge Fury could always hope Rhia was wrong, but she had a reputation for being thorough with her facts and sure of her information; she wouldn’t have warned him about The Phantom if any cause for doubt existed. He had to assume that Rhia’s warning was well founded.

Judge Fury knew what his first action required, though, and he was already concocting the message to Judge Thorndew in his mind as he strode purposefully toward The Chambers.

*

The ride from Trithik to Charna is a journey requiring seven days… six if the riders are willing to eschew the delay of a few comfort stops. Happily, for Hawk and Ezekiel, Jinx seemed in no hurry to meet the mysterious stranger who waited in the northern city.

“If he wants to kill me”, Jinx reasoned to her companions, “then he can wait an extra day for the attempt”.

Young Ned shook his head. “You’re either a brave girl, or a very foolish one”, he said, not realizing that Judge Fury had echoed the same sentiments only two days previously. “I can understand why you’d want to know the identity of the man in Charna, but your mien is rather too nonchalant for such a serious undertaking. I have seen this manner of acting from men who believe they are about to die… soldiers and whatnot. Faced with the strong possibility of death, they turn their attentions to frivolous activity, the purpose being to ignore the inevitability that they’re about to come face-to-face with their mortal selves”.

Jinx remained silent to this observation, though a quick observer would have noted a slight pursing of lips and flaring of nostrils.

“Well, I think Jinx has the right approach”, Hawk chimed in. “It would be better to take the journey in a relaxed manner… the better to arrive at our destination alert and ready for action should this fellow turn out to be… you know… troublesome?”

Ezekiel snorted. “And that’s your expert opinion, is it? I mean, with your considerable experience, you think to offer advice to the rest of us, eh?”

Hawk blushed slightly. “It makes sense to me, is all”, he muttered, and then retorted against Ezekiel’s innuendo, “And I haven’t heard many tales of heroism about you, come to mention it. I know my abilities, but I only know yours by way of your own mouth. I trust you know which end of the sword is the right end to hold?”

Ezekiel replied with an unsettling grin. “Shall I demonstrate against your neck, friend Hawk?”

“Settle down you two”, Young Ned interjected. “There may be plenty of opportunity for both of you to prove your mettle before this journey is ended.”

~~~~~~~~~

The reactions of the four males of the group had been mixed when Jinx admitted to being a woman.

Dragonbane had looked surprised but, in his usual way, had remained silent. Whatever his thoughts were on the matter he kept them to himself. After regarding Jinx for a few moments, he had merely shrugged and kicked his horse into a steady walk northward.

Young Ned had looked flabbergasted. He had opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again with sentence unspoken. From that moment, his regard for Jinx had taken a subtle change. He increasingly referred to her as ‘lass’ or ‘young girl', not realizing that such terms showed him to be sexist. By referring to her in gender descriptions instead of calling her by name was a marginalization of Jinx as being a woman. Jinx was saddened by this reaction from Young Ned, for it proved to her that women of all societies were viewed as being ‘inferior’ to their male counterparts. True, women were more fortunate in Tysa than in her homeland, but this was only by a matter of degree; the end result was that the relationship of mutual regard and friendship that had existed between her and Young Ned had changed and would never be the same.

Hawk had also looked surprised, but he had broken the awkwardness of the situation with a spontaneous burst of laughter. Truth be told, when Hawk had first met Jinx, his attitude to the Shay warrior had been one of complete ambivalence, mostly because her features were so foreign as to be alien. She was the first example of a foreign-looking foreigner he had come across, so whether Jinx was man or woman, he wouldn’t have been any more surprised if she’d admitted to being a hermaphroditic goblin.

Ezekiel’s reaction had been wholly confusing. Jinx received a surprise of her own when she looked to the companion reputed to be mentally unbalanced; his expression was anguished, like he was wrestling with a deep-rooted emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Tears coursed from his eyes and, without warning, he had stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

“You are found,” he said, and in explanation… “I know what it is to be lost within yourself. It can be a lonely place.”

Then he had beamed a huge grin and slapped her bottom, which had both pleased and infuriated her at the same time.

After a short while in contemplation of the different reactions shown by her companions, Jinx remounted and kicked her horse to catch up with them. Ezekiel had been right; the secret she had kept from her companions had kept her in a lonely place for a number of years, but now she was free. She knew that she could contend with how they would treat her in the future, because she wouldn’t be living a lie.

*

[Badstench]

Chapter 6
KEDDIN


Six hours had passed since Judge Fury farewelled Jinx and entourage from the gates of Trithik. He’d managed to grab a few fitful hours of sleep after dispatching his urgent message to Judge Thorndew via courier rider, but had been rudely woken by a hammering at the door of The Chambers sometime during the afternoon.

“Oo-er. You look terrible,” Scout opined when Judge Fury opened the door, bleary-eyed and blinking.

“You came calling to tell me that?” asked the grumpy Judge.

“No”, answered Scout. “I came to ask why I wasn’t told about Jinx going to Charna. Everyone else has gone, so I wondered why I was left out of the loop. Is there some sort of danger involved?”

“You’ve been keeping new company”, Fury answered sardonically. “That’s why you couldn’t be found this morning, though Ulrich did mention who you might be with.” Judge Fury finished with a slight grin. “How is Allura, by the way?” He was quietly amused to note that Scout blushed.

“Ah… well… mmm… right.” Scout eventually managed to overcome his embarrassment to enquire further after Jinx’s predicament. “Will they be alright, Judge Fury? Should I gallop after them, do you think?”

“No. They’ll be half way to Mergspil by now, and I’m confident Jinx has enough help with Dragonbane and Young Ned to look out for her; Hawk and Ezekiel, too, if pinch comes to shove. She’ll be fine, Scout.”

Judge Fury was still feeling the effects of having been disturbed from his slumber, but he recognised the frown of puzzlement from Scout when he referred to Jinx in the feminine tense and mentally slapped himself for letting slip with the gaffe. Now it was his turn to look a bit sheepish.

“Erm, I guess I should explain why I refer to Jinx as ‘she’?” Scout simply regarded Judge Fury with a look that plainly agreed.

Judge Fury sighed. “Okay, but come in while I freshen myself up and grab a quick bite to eat, then we’ll take this conversation to the guild-house. I may as well include Varsil and Bogmuck to the information so it doesn’t have to be repeated, and at least one of us might need a drink before the story is finished.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Bogmuck was sitting alone at the table of eight absent-mindedly thumbing through the journal that had once belonged to Adam Jadefang. He didn’t know how to read, but the journal was important to him. He’d liked Adam. The man had been full of good stories and possessing of the basic sense of humour that appealed to Bogmuck. The journal was all that was left to remind him of the companion lost to a crevasse in the Felrundin Ranges.

“A penny for your thoughts, big guy.”

Bogmuck was roused from his reverie to find Judge Fury seated opposite. He beamed a smile. “Hullo Judge Fury. I wuz thinking.”

Fury smiled back. “I could see that, Bogmuck. You were thinking so hard I could almost see smoke coming out of your ears.”

“Har har”, Bogmuck laughed in his slow and ponderous way.

“Where’s Varsil?”

Bogmuck looked around the room to make sure the object of Fury’s query wasn’t in obvious view before he committed himself to a shrug. “I don’t know.”

The Judge silently cursed. Vurii hadn’t seen Varsil Demonsoul either, not since he’d left the guild-house that morning. She’d assumed Varsil had gone off to whatever bolthole he used for sleeping.

*

There was more on Judge Fury’s mind, that afternoon, than sharing with his companions the matter of Jinx being a woman; he had thought to enlist their help in keeping an ear out for rumour or oddity that might confirm any truth to the presence of the Phantom Assassin being in Trithik. He’d considered waiting for the arrival of Judge Thorndew before making anyone else privy to Rhia’s intelligence, but it irked him to think that a person as dangerous as the Phantom might be present in his city – and besides, he had a personal grievance against the master assassin that needed redressing at the earliest opportunity.

Rhia had suggested that Scouts father, Lord Hollendale, had been assassinated by “Bear of Kolnia”, the very same man who now masqueraded as a dragon slayer. If this were true, mused Judge Fury, why hadn’t he felt any sudden rush of animosity toward Dragonbane? There was a time when such information would have seen him exacting retribution immediately, so why not now?

The simple answer was that, even though he knew the truth concerning Dragonbane’s past, he could not reconcile the killer of reputation with the adventurer he had come to know. Their initial meeting had become a strong friendship of mutual respect and trust.

And it was also a simple thing to transfer the blame for Lord Hollendale’s murder over to the Phantom Assassin, for even if “Bear of Kolnia” was the hand that had committed the deed, it was the Phantom who had directed the movements of that hand.

But this also led the Judge along disquieting avenues of thought, for behind the controlling direction of the Phantom, there must have been a paymaster – the person responsible for hiring the assassin in the first place. It was assumed that the fee for such an outrageous contract had originated from any one of a number of criminal organisations, if not a consortium of the same. If that proved true, it would be impossible to single out an individual for accountability. Organisations, by their very nature, have multiple tiers of involvement; they operate under a “philosophy” – a “business plan” if you like – and Judge Fury was all too familiar with the catechism, “It's nothing personal, it’s just business”.

He didn’t want any truck with it! To impersonalize the command for Judge Armstrong’s murder would be to deny him the satisfaction of seeing someone hang.

If he couldn’t have the paymaster, he’d take the Phantom as consolation!

*

[Badstench]

Keddin hadn’t achieved his current position as Captain of the City Watch by acting hastily, no-siree!

With the report of the finding of a corpse in one of the many alleys of Gudderangs End, an initial investigation suggested that the victim had fallen prey to a rather nasty mugging. However, Keddin decided to reserve judgement on that until a thorough examination of the crime scene could be concluded. In the end, his uneasy suspicion that the corpse heralded something more sinister than a mugging-gone-wrong looked as though it would be proven correct, especially when the victim was tentatively identified as being Varsil Demonsoul!

A positive I.D couldn’t be certain. The victim had suffered such a severe beating that he was disfigured beyond all recognition, but a ring worn on the middle digit of the left hand was engraved with the letters “VD”. This was an item immediately recognizable to most of the constables of the City Watch, for Varsil Demonsoul was a regular patron of the jail-house, him being a recalcitrant trouble-maker and incurable drunkard. The ring was often taken from him for safekeeping during those nights when Varsil was held as an overnight guest of His Majesty.

Keddin’s opinion of Varsil Demonsoul had always been low, if not verging toward hostile. The rogue, who laughingly styled himself as an adventurer, was suspected of being the figure behind many unsolved crimes, but Keddin had never been able to prove it.

It was also a complication that Varsil often enjoyed the company of Judge Fury, which had long puzzled the Captain of the City Watch – exactly why the Judge counted Varsil Demonsoul as a friend was quite beyond him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Keddin was good at his job. He’d been a constable for nigh on five years and, during that time, he’d learned to observe, detect and interpret the tell-tale clues that are always left behind at a crime scene. He wasn’t particularly happy with the initial pronouncement from a younger constable that Varsil Demonsoul had been the victim of a mugging.

To start with, Varsil was a well-known rogue who was as much at home in the alleys of Gudderangs End as he was at the Adventurers Collective. His ability with a sword was also well known, so anyone who thought to mug Varsil must have been a total stranger to him... or a complete, but lucky, idiot.

Regardless, the thought that Varsil Demonsoul would let himself fall prey to a mugger beggared belief. Even falling-down-drunk, Varsil could wield a sword better than a sober man.

Secondly, muggers don’t stop to batter their victims to a bloody pulp; they confront, threaten, take and run. The person who attacked Varsil had done so in a violent rage, hitting him repeatedly until his features had been obliterated. This was a crime of violence, and Keddin was almost certain that he was looking at a murder!

~~~~~~~~~~

The young constable who had been first to the crime scene watched with fascination as Keddin carried out his investigation. The Captain crouched beside the body, occasionally casting a glance around the alley to note whatever it was he was noting.

“What time was the body discovered?” Keddin asked the constable.

The subordinate thumbed through his notebook, paused at a page, and answered, “A little before sunrise.”

“What does that mean? Was it still dark, or was it morning twilight?”

The constable flustered, “Um... the woman was on her way home after a nights work. She mentioned hearing the cockerel at Blade Square.”

“You have her statement?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll want to talk to her. I assume you took down her details?”

“Yes sir.”

Keddin returned his attention to the body. “Did she, or you, move the victim?”

“No sir. Leastways, I didn’t. She said she saw the body and screamed, and that’s what brought me here.”

Keddin turned his gaze to the young constable. “So, you didn’t check to see if the victim was still alive?”

“I checked his pulse on the left hand. There wasn’t one.”

“And that was all? You didn’t turn the body over or check for breathing?”

“No sir. When I checked for his pulse, he was quite cold. Dead cold, if you know what I mean? He was obviously dead.”

Keddin stood and faced his subordinate. “Be very sure of your next answer, constable... what is your name?”

“Gryte, sir. Constable Gryte, third class.”

“Okay, Constable Gryte, I need you to recall exactly how the body was positioned when you arrived on the scene. Was it face down or face up?”

“Face down, sir, exactly as it is now.”

“Hmmmm.” Keddin returned his gaze to the body. “I have a problem with that, Constable Gryte. If this person fell face down after such a horrendous beating, he would have shed some blood... quite a lot, actually. Look around the body. Do you see any blood?”

Constable Gryte understood the reference. “No sir, I don’t. There’s not even any... erm... splatter.”

“Correct. This person wasn’t killed here. His body was dumped after the act. This, my young friend, is a murder!”

Constable Gryte whistled between clenched teeth. “Sir? This is Varsil Demonsoul... I recognize the ring... this... this is a major crime.”

“What makes you think that, Constable Gryte? Varsil Demonsoul has ever walked the low paths of the city. He had lots of enemies. Perhaps one of them finally caught up with him?”

“Yes sir, but that’s not what I meant. Varsil Demonsoul is... was... a friend to Judge Fury. This matter should be taken to him, shouldn’t it?”

“You suggest this is out of our jurisdiction?”

When Constable Gryte didn’t answer, Keddin nodded. “You’re right that Judge Fury needs to be contacted, but there’s something very strange about this that interests me.”

“Sir?”

“The victim is showing signs of rigor, Gryte. Do you know what that means?” When Constable Gryte looked confused, Keddin educated him... “It means that Varsil's body is stiffening. It means he was killed many hours before cock crow. He was killed somewhere else and his body was dumped here. It means that we’re looking for a crime scene as well as a killer, constable!

“But you’re right. Judge Fury needs to be informed immediately. I leave that to you, Constable Gryte. Find his eminence and get him here with all speed.”

“Yes sir!” But as Constable Gryte turned to follow his order, Keddin yelled for him to stop. He had turned the body over and seen that the previously hidden hand was clenched.

Keddin gasped as he prised the dead fingers open, for in the palm of the right hand lay a silver pendant of the type that adorns a necklace. It was moulded in the shape of a hammer, otherwise recognizable as a gavel.

It was the symbol synonymous with the Judges!

*

[Badstench]

Day 1:

The table of eight was playing host to Judge Fury, Scout and Bogmuck when Mordi slammed through the green door. He immediately looked toward Judge Fury and hurried to the shadowed table.

His first words weren’t gracious. “Bat's balls!” he exclaimed.

The three adventurers sitting at the table looked aghast at Mordi. “That’s some greeting, Mordi”, said Scout. “There are ladies in the bar. Watch your tongue!” And he cast a glance toward Allura.

Mordi answered by leaning against the table. He took a deep breath. “Fury! All hell has broken loose!”

The Judge wrinkled his brow at the new-comer, his stance betraying the sudden tension that had caused him to reach for the pommel of his sword.

“What's going on, Mordi?”

“Varsil... he’s been killed!”

“What?”

“Keddin’s on his way here. They’re going to arrest you, Fury!”

“What?”

~~~~~~~~~

The table of eight was surrounded by the patrons of the bar as Mordi revealed his story. Notices for hire had been few and far between of late, so anything that could alleviate the boredom felt by the members of the Adventurers Collective was attended to with interest. Even Vurii had vacated her position from behind the bar to hear what Mordi had to say.

“I was over at Gudderang’s End. There’s constables swarming all over an alley down there, and Keddin saw me. I was grabbed and interrogated. They asked me about you, Fury... if I’d seen you with Varsil recently.

“I didn’t know why, so when I told them about that argument this morning, I had no idea about...”

Judge Fury stopped Mordi in mid-spiel. “Argument? What are you talking about?”

“That argument you had with Varsil earlier this morning. You threatened Varsil.” Mordi looked around for confirmation. “We all heard it. You threatened to kill Varsil... and now he’s dead!”

“What?”

“Varsil Demonsoul is dead, Fury, and you are the named suspect for murdering him!”

Judge Fury fell back into his chair. The confusion of his expression belied his thoughts, for he looked like a man stunned.

“Varsil is dead?” was all he uttered.

Scout was agape, but he also noted that quite a few adventurers stepped back from the table as Mordi unfolded his tale. “By Srythak”, he thought. “They actually believe Judge Fury has killed Varsil!"

But in his head, Scout was remembering the same litany of words that was condemning of Judge Fury, words that had meant nothing at the time, but meant everything now. “You bastard. I hope you die of festering sores and puscular boils!”

And he heard repeatedly, “I hope you die.”

“I hope you die."

*

[Badstench]

Day 2:

The road northward from Mirgspil skirts the eastern shore of Lake Ironrain and, in days of yore, it continued along that shoreline to the northernmost point of the lake from where it turned with abruptness straight toward Charna.

But these were not the days of yore. The new highway was constructed to cross lands less hazardous, for the old road was built in a time when the King’s power was strong in all corners of his kingdom. The old road now trespassed into lands ruled by goblin clans, and also into the Old North Wood, which is a place of fearsome reputation.

Young Ned decided that the longer road, the new road, would probably be the quicker journey, to which Dragonbane agreed.

The new road actually angled away from the direction of Charna, skirting the Old North Wood in the direction of Port Hallik, and it was still possible to meet merchant caravans heading south and north on this road, even in these troubled times.

And so it was that the group of five adventurers arrived at the crossroads inn called Challik.

“It’s a strange name for a place,” voiced Hawk as they sat themselves in the common room with a refreshing ale.

“A conglomeration of Charna and Port Hallik, I believe,” said Young Ned.

“a conglermer-what?”

“A mix of the two cities from where this road might take a traveller. This is a crossroads. North will eventually lead you to Port Hallik. Northwest will take you to Charna. “Challik”, you see?”

“Have you been here before?” asked Ezekiel

“Once or twice.”

“I remember this place,” spoke Jinx. Me and Judge Fury stopped here when he... well, when he saved me.”

“From Shay assassins?” asked Hawk.

“They are not ‘Shay’ assassins’” she answered. “They are assassins of the Warlord. They are called krinju.”

Ezekiel asked a poignant question. “You know these people? These ‘krinju’?”

“No. No-one knows who they are. The krinju are faceless killers. They are men, but men who move within shadows and darkness.”

“What else can you tell us about them? If we are to protect you against the possibility of these krinju, I would like to know what I’m up against.”

“They are highly trained in swordplay, and they shoot with the bow very accurately, but they also wield weapons of a more uncommon nature.”

“Like?”

Jinx shrugged. “I don’t know what they’re called, but they use star shaped things that they throw... metal things that are like many-pointed daggers.”

“They are called zhi,” spoke Dragonbane, and all his companions looked at him with surprise.

“How do you know of this,” asked Jinx. “Zhi is a word of Shay. It means, ‘penetrate’, more or less. Where did you hear this word?”

Answered Dragonbane, “You are not the first person from Shay I have met, Jinx. I once had a discussion with a slant-eyes about weapons before I met you, and he used that term. I did not know it was an assassin’s tool.”

“Slant-eyes? Is that how you think of me?”

Dragonbane paused in the sip of his ale. “No. You are ‘Jinx’. I now know you are called Djin-Xed, but...”

“Hush, Dragonbane,” whispered Young Ned fervently. “We are three days from Charna, but the speaking of her true name might fall upon ears unsuited, even here.”

“Truly so,” said a voice from an adjacent table.

Dragonbane was first out of his seat, hand to sword-pommel, when Young Ned pre-empted the drawing of the weapon by crying... “Stay!”

Hawk, Ezekiel and Jinx had also leapt up, their stance ready for violence as they spun toward the source of the interjection.

“Hi guys,” came the laughed acknowledgement.

“Bats guts!” exclaimed Hawk. “Varsil?”

And Varsil Demonsoul threw back his hood to regard them with a huge grin.

~~~~~~~~~

“I couldn’t let you all go off on adventure and excitement without me, could I? Sadly, I had some business to attend to, so missed your departure by quite a few hours. I’ve been chasing after you for the past two days. I only figured out that I’d overtaken you when I got here. I must have passed you while you were at Mirgspil.”

Jinx was beaming a huge smile. “I am so happy to have you along, Varsil.”

Varsil turned a furrowed brow toward her. “I was sitting here when you came in, Jinx, and chose to hide myself... purely for fun and mischief, mind you.”

“We can see that,” observed Dragonbane. “Are those travelling clothes? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed in anything other than your usual garb of black-over-black.”

Varsil grinned. “My wardrobe holds more than one set of garments. I thought these appropriate for a long horse ride.”

“I’m also happy to see you,” laughed Ezekiel. “The trip might prove more fun now you’re here.”

“Fun?” this from Young Ned. “We are not on this journey for fun, boy! It’s possible that death waits at the end of this road.”

“All the more reason to have some fun along the way,” Ezekiel replied. “You’re far too serious, and Dragonbane is a sour-puss [a splutter from Dragonbane] and Hawk-baiting is far too easy [a splutter from Hawk] and Jinx has her thoughts on roads end. Varsil’s abrasive personality is exactly what’s called for to make the trip more interesting.”

Varsil looked at Ezekiel incredulously. “You’ve just managed to offend everyone here in one long sentence. Are you sure you’ve got any friends?”

Ezekiel answered by falling into a fit of giggles.

Varsil kicked Ezekiel under the table, then turned his attention back to Jinx. “In my intention to surprise you all, I heard some things that surprised me, not least of which is that ‘Jinx’ is not your real name. Hell, you’re not even a man?”

Jinx blushed. She had become inured to the fact that her other companions were aware of her true identity and had forgotten that Varsil might not be party to that truth. So the story of her history was explained again, with Varsil listening intently.

When the tale was told, Varsil whistled, “So that’s what Fury was hinting at.”

“Eh?”

“Oh, Judge Fury asked me some odd questions the other night, after your sojourn with... what’s-her-name?... Rhia? Anyway, he didn’t let me in on the secret. All the more reason for him to...” Varsil’s words quietly trailed away.

Dragonbane looked at Varsil with a sudden piercing gaze, “To what?”

“To be bored in Trithik,” Varsil finished, “while we share company and friendship on an adventure.”

“Cheers to that,” called Hawk, and held up his mug of ale for someone to meet. It was Ezekiel who reciprocated. Jinx looked happy that Varsil seemed to accept her true identity. Young Ned reclined in his chair with a slight smile that betrayed his welcome of Varsil Demonsoul.

It was only Dragonbane who stared at Varsil with suspicion.

*

[Badstench]

Day 1:

Judge Fury had accompanied Keddin and his retinue of constables with quiet dignity, if only to spare Vurii and the Adventurers Collective any more difficulty than was necessary.

But on the walk to the tower of the city watch, Judge Fury had beseeched Keddin.

“This is a mistake! I demand you take me to Varsil... to his body.”

“I’m sorry, Judge Fury. That isn’t permitted. The body has already been removed to the morgue, and due process insists that you accompany me to the station for questioning.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“No sir. Not unless you resist.” Keddin was only doing his job, but he felt uncomfortable denying the Judge any leeway. Truth be told, Judge Fury was his superior, but Keddin was as much a stickler for protocol as the Judge himself. He had decided that, in this matter, he would perform his duties by-the-book. As consolation, he explained to Fury...

“I have my orders.”

“Your ‘orders’?” Judge Fury paused in mid-step. Keddin was Captain of the city guard. He was answerable only to the magistrates, but none of them would dare order a Judge into confinement. That meant...

“The Thane?”

“Sir?”

“Your orders came from Thane Pyrond?”

Keddin halted the procession of guards to look meaningfully at Judge Fury. “Yes sir, but as I understand it, the Thane is acting under instruction from the Royal House. He is only enacting the will of the King.”

Judge Fury looked confused before the light of understanding dawned. “The Judge Advocate?” and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Keddin gave a slight nod of confirmation before ordering his troupe continue toward the gaol-house.

~~~~~~~~~

Day 2:

Judge Fury had been left to pace his cell. Keddin had demanded that Judge Fury be afforded every courtesy from the constables, even to providing him any style of food requested. The only stricture was that the Judge was to have a 24 hour watch, even to his toiletries. When Judge Fury complained against the invasion of privacy, Keddin apologised profusely, but insisted that his orders were clear.

“Until he gets here, you are under constant watch, sir.”

“He? Who is ‘He’?”

“The Thane, sir. He is appointed to be here... soon!”

And Keddin’s promise was materialised when a very grumpy Thane stomped into the gaol-house. He had a few quiet words with the Captain of the city guard, then made his way to the cell that contained Judge Fury.

They stared at each other, the Judge and the Thane. It was Judge Fury who spoke first.

“Sir, this is wrong. I am innocent.”

“Oh, shut up, Fury! I know you’re innocent. Hell, I don’t believe that’s Demonsoul’s body lying in the morgue any more than you!”

“Then why am I locked in here?”

“Because the Judge Advocate demands it, and what the Judge Advocate speaks is next to the word of the King.”

“I don’t understand. Why does the Judge Advocate demand my imprisonment?”

Thane Pyrond rounded on the Judge and yelled, “How the hell should I know? All I know is that you and your damned Collective have caused me more trouble than the worth of it. I’m a good politician, Fury. I have seen this city become a place of civility and peace, and Srythak knows I work hard to maintain order. I have total control over Trithik, except for that one blight on my existence; that damned Collective. If I could have my way, I’d expel the whole lot of you. You and your friends are nothing but a... you’re a blight, Fury, a blight on my city!

“Don’t you dare think it’s yours. This is my city, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the King holds counsel with the Judge Advocate, I’d have you driven out of here tied to the back of mule.

“And now one of your friends... and I use the term loosely... has brought them all to my doorstep.”

Judge Fury listened to the Thanes vitriol in amazement before venturing, “Who? Who is coming?”

Thane Pyrond looked like he wanted to spit. “Your whole damned coven of Judges, that’s who! The Advocate and Thorndew and Judge Knot. Bish, all I need is for the Excecutioner to show his face, and do you know what that would do to my credibility? For Srythak's sake, Fury, the citizens of Trithik look to me for wise and strong governance. If the full force of the King’s justiciary suddenly appears in Trithik, what the hell do you imagine they’re going to think, eh? It’s going to look like something’s happening that I can’t handle!

“And you know what really pisses me off? I don’t know what’s going on. I know you didn’t kill Varsil Demonsoul, because that’s not Varsil Demonsoul lying in the morgue, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m seen to be ignorant of things happening in my city, and I can’t tolerate that!”

Judge Fury thought it wise to remain silent under the anger of the Thane. He was consoled by the thought of his colleagues coming to Trithik; no doubt, everything would be sorted out when they arrived.

*

Day 6:

The six adventurers regarded the walls of Charna from their vantage point some three leagues distant from the city. The road descended to the plains of Char-du Pont and wound its way across convivial farmscape to the gates of the westernmost city of Tysa. A welcoming plume of smoke hazed above the city.

“So,” ventured Hawk, “What’s our plan?”

Everyone looked to Young Ned for the explanation.

“Why are you looking at me? I figured we’d find the tavern called... what was it Jinx?... the Seaview, confront the person who sent Jinx the medallion and...”

“There is no plan, then?” asked Varsil Demonsoul

Young Ned's silence confirmed Varsil right

“We need no plan,” said Jinx. “We find the tavern, find the man. If it is truly my brother, then all is well. If it’s someone else, we kill him and leave.”

Her companions swapped looks of amusement. Jinx statement had been made as though she were discussing the priorities of a grocery shopping list.

Said Dragonbane, “No. Hawk is right. We need to plan for this. If the person we’re looking for is truly an assassin, I doubt whether he’ll be sitting there, waiting for us.”

“But he isn’t waiting for us,” said Jinx, “He’s waiting for me. You must understand, the medallion delivered to me is a strong reason for him to believe that I'd arrive alone to this meeting.”

“That maybe so, Jinx, but believe me when I tell you, assassins seldom work alone when outside their comfort zone. If this assassin is from Shay, he will have his own plans, and plans to back those up if necessary.”

Varsil cast a glance at Jinx, a glance that plainly agreed with Dragonbane’s wisdom.

Jinx heeded the unspoken message from Varsil with a grumble. “Alright. You plan something out, but I’m telling you now, if the messenger we meet is less than genuine, I’ll see his body raked from neck to gut.” And with that, she spurred her horse toward the city of Charna.

Varsil remained by the side of Dragonbane as the other members of the party followed Jinx. He was examining the dragon slayer with undue interest.

“What are you looking at?” grumped Dragonbane.

Varsil shrugged. “You seem to know a lot about assassins. Had dealings with their ilk in the past, have you?”

“What do you mean?”

Varsil mimicked, “’Assassins seldom work alone outside their comfort zone.’ You speak with some authority, dragon slayer. Have you deeper knowledge of their sort?”

Dragonbane stared Varsil down. “You might be surprised, Demonsoul... shocked even... to know the full history of me, but...

“But?”

Dragonbane looked back along the road they had recently traversed, the road from the wooded hillside down which the highway descended to the plains of Char-du-Pont. Varsil followed his gaze.

Said Dragonbane, “I think we’re being followed. I have seen nothing to prove it, but I feel an uneasiness.”

Varsil studied the road behind them, then looked back at Dragonbane. “You should get closer with Ezekiel. He’s a paranoid nutter, too!”

Dragonbane didn’t bother to respond to Varsil’s insult. Instead, he explained, “I had this feeling not long after we left Trithik. Again at Mirgspil, but I thought the explanation was your presence at Challik.” He looked meaningfully at the rogue. “Varsil, someone has been shadowing us all the long leagues from our starting point. If you know anything about it, tell me now.”

“Get a grip Dragonbane. No one’s following us.” And Varsil was serious.

As Varsil Demonsoul galloped in pursuit of the others, Dragonbane cast a last look behind them. Everything appeared as it should, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes were watching.

In his own mind, he felt the awakening of an assassin’s senses. Bear of Kolnia knew that something was amiss.

*

[Badstench]

Day 4:

Keddin had visited Fury to enquire after his comfort, but other than that, he had been left to fester his frustration at being locked away. He was lying on the bare cot, staring at the ceiling when Judge Thorndew entered the cells.

“Thank Srythak! Thorndew, get me out of here.”

Judge Thorndew regarded his colleague wearily. “The Advocate orders otherwise, Fury. You are to stand trial.”

“What? Has the world gone mad? The Thane has already admitted that the body proclaimed to be Varsil isn’t. I shouldn’t be in here!”

Judge Thorndew looked around the corridor, found a wooden bench, and pulled it to within sitting distance of Fury’s cell.

He favoured his colleague with a look of sympathy. “It’s become complicated, Fury. Word of the slaying has got out. It’s major news. Every citizen of Trithik is aware of this matter.”

“So?”

“So, by public necessity, you are now subject to the processes of the Law.”

“What? That’s madness! I’m innocent! That’s not even Varsil Demonsoul lying in the morgue.”

“You know that, I know that, and so does the Judge Advocate and the Thane, but what we don’t know is... who is that dead person? More importantly, who is the dead person who was found clutching your judge’s symbol?”

“....”

“And even more importantly.... Fury, believe me when I say that the Judge Advocate is more interested in knowing... where the hell is Varsil Demonsoul?”

Judge Fury fell back onto the cot. “By all the holies, Thorndew... am I to be made an example of?”

The silence from Judge Thorndew left a chasm between the question and an answer, and Thorndew rubbed his temples in agitation.

“I am sorry, Fury, but I have only just arrived. I am tired and not fully cognisant of the facts. All I know is, you have been arrested for the murder of Varsil Demonsoul, and the evidence is strong enough to corroborate the deed. The citizens of Trithik know that you are here, accused of the crime. The Judge Advocate has ordered your continued incarceration until innocence can be proven... this because Thane Pyrond is under pressure. Do you understand?”

Judge Fury looked aghast. “I’m here because of politics?”

Judge Thorndew’s reply was a rueful shrug. “The consequences of working within the political machine, I’m afraid. We are all public figures, Fury, open to scrutiny and answerable to the people.”

Fury snorted. “Maybe in a democratic society, but the last time I checked, Tysa was an absolute monarchy. The King could have me out of here with a wiggle of his little finger, and I’m pretty sure the Judge Advocate could successfully request such a wiggle. It could be done and to-Hell with what the people think! It sounds more like Thane Pyrond is the reason I’m locked in here. He made his dislike for me and my station in Trithik obvious enough.”

“Your frustration speaks through you, Fury,” observed Judge Thorndew after a moments pause. “You might be right about the way Tysa is ruled, but you and I both know there is a big difference between the words ‘rule’ and ‘govern’. Yes, the King is the final arbiter, but how many kings have been deposed in the past because they forgot the precepts by which they rule? All that stuff about ‘divine right’ is nonsense. A king might be put on the throne, but it’s his subjects who keep him there. It’s the people who allow us to govern them. Our job is to repay their trust by governing with fairness and honesty.”

“So, I am being made an example of?”

Again, Judge Thorndew shrugged. “I guess you could put it that way, but you could also interpret it as showing the people how fair and just we are within the mandates they allow us. We are subject to the same laws as everyone else and we must be seen to rule by example.”

Judge Fury knew his colleague was right, but it didn’t assuage his frustration one little bit.

“Yeah, yeah’” was all he could say to acknowledge the lesson, but after a moment of staring at the floor, he looked up at Judge Thorndew with a rueful smile of his own.

“Forgive me, friend, I did not greet you very well. I am pleased to see you again.”

Thorndew smiled in return. “And you, Fury, though I wish the circumstances were different. Do you need anything?”

“No. Keddin has been very considerate. He’s a good man.”

“Yes. Thane Pyrond seems to think highly of him”. Judge Thorndew let the pause of their light conversation extend a while before he asked, “So, what do you think Varsil’s up to?”

Judge Fury shook his head. “I really don’t know. I saw him last at the Adventurers Collective. He mentioned something about having business to attend to. I didn’t ask what that was. I had something else on my mind.”

“Obviously, and that’s why I’m here.”

Judge Thorndew pulled the envelope from his pocket that detailed the possibility of the Phantom Assassin being in Trithik, the message sent by Judge Fury. He laid the communiqué on the bench beside him.

“I received the courier dispatch and immediately informed the Judge Avocate. We were already on our way here when another courier intercepted us with the news of your incarceration.”

Judge Fury stared at the envelope, his thoughts racing. “The Advocate was on his way with you? I’m confused. Capture of the Phantom is your mandate, Thorndew. The Advocate wouldn’t need to come because of this, especially when it hasn’t been confirmed. Rhia only ‘suggested’ the intelligence. Even she wasn’t 100% certain.”

Judge Thorndew didn’t answer, but his gaze toward Judge Fury hinted at a hidden matter not yet voiced.

And it occurred to Judge Fury to ask, “Thane Pyrond said that Judge Knot was also coming. Thorndew, is this for the same reason, to examine news of the Phantom Assassin?”

Again, Judge Thorndew remained silent. Fury exclaimed, “Why, Thorndew? Why is that grizzled old bugger coming here? His presence in such a matter has no reason, no cause.”

Judge Thorndew exhaled a sigh. “Fury, I can’t explain the reasons at this time, but all three of us ask you to exercise patience and calm. We are working to see this... event... concluded to a satisfactory outcome. You will be released soon, I promise you.”

Judge Fury stared with incredulity at his friend. “That’s not an answer, Thorndew. You give me excuses! Why has hint of the Phantom stirred the Judges to act so?”

Judge Thorndew’s stoic silence spoke loudly. He would not be drawn any more on the subject, but when Judge Fury voiced his next query, Thornew’s expression betrayed some surprise.

“Thorndew, you said that news of my imprisonment reached you when you were already enroute to Trithik? But the Judge Advocate was aware of it before then. Thane Pyrond told me I was here by order of the Advocate two days ago, before you encountered the dispatch rider. Did the Advocate not tell you I was in gaol?”

Now it was Thorndew’s turn to look confused. Said he, “We know the heads of state, the King and the Thanes, have ways to communicate with each other instantaneously, but I did not know the Advocate could do it.” And he cast Fury a look of puzzlement. “The Judge Advocate did not tell me, Fury. What’s more, he seemed genuinely surprised when the dispatch rider caught up with us. Are you sure Thane Pyrond said it was the Advocate who ordered you kept here?”

“It’s not something I’d forget! Thorndew, the Advocate ordered me kept here, then only deigned to come himself when he heard about the Phantom. If he didn’t deem my imprisonment important enough to leave Talinus, it means news of the Phantom must hold great significance. What don’t I know?”

Judge Thorndew shook his head in a final denial and pushed himself to stand. “I have said too much. I’m sorry Fury, but I can’t answer your questions right now.” He turned to leave, but paused before calling for the watchman to let him out. "Fury, when was the last time you saw Rhia?"

"Eh?"

"Rhia. She has not reported to me. Is she still here in Trithik?"

The change in subject added to Judge Fury's confusion. "No. I don't think so. I thought she was on her way back to Talinus."

"I see. Mayhap your courier reached us before she did. She's probably in Talinus now, wondering where I am. Guard!" The last was called to the watchman on duty, but before the door was opened, Thorndew looked back at Judge Fury with sadness. “I hate seeing those bars between us, my friend.”

And with that, he was gone.

[Badstench]

Chapter 7
BOGMUCK

THE TABLE OF EIGHT: INTERLUDE: BOGMUCK

The woodcutter was a well known figure; he plied his trade from town’s gate to woodside every day. His reputation was wide-spread; a fair man, an honest man, a man who toiled from rooster’s-crow to sundown for the betterment of his family. He was also known to be level-headed and not given to the drink, nor did he lust after the town whores or gamble at the House of George. He attended church every Godsday and made the correct obeisance. He paid his taxes and paid his deference to the King. He loved his wife and doted on his children.

A big man, the woodcutter cast a big shadow and made for an imposing figure as he wheeled his cart into town every afternoon. He would set his cart to the narrow side of the market square and wait for those who required his chopped wood for the warmth of their homes.

Times had been hard since the discovery of coal, that strange stone that burns with a heat and longevity more than wood. His wealthier customers had built stoves, dispensing with fire hearths and barbeques. His main customers, the blacksmiths of the town, only required a few logs from which they could set apprentices to the axement of kindling.

Times, they were a’changing, and the time came when the house of the woodcutter was emptied of food. His wife and twelve children bayed for something to eat, so in desperation, the woodcutter committed his first crime – he stole out of his hut in the middle of the night and stole the property of the local magistrate. He trapped a wild boar without permission, trapped it and slit its throat, then gutted it and skinned it and cut the meat from its frame and fed his family.

For this, he was hanged, and the last sound that issued from his vocal chords was a scream against the unfairness of it all.

~~~~~~~~~

The law is not perfect, and this was one of the few times that a young Judge Gallows did not feel the rightness of the execution. When the crowd of onlookers had departed, he watched while the body was taken down and wrapped in a grey shroud. A priest of the lowest echelon waived his gestures of atonement and absolution over the body before it was cut down and stuffed into a box, the box hoisted onto a cart, the cart trundled away.

Judge Gallows watched it go with a heavy heart. He determined to make note of this travesty to the Judge Advocate. As the Executioner, it was Gallows’ task to carry out the severest of sentences imposed upon transgressors, but when a sentence so severe could be levelled on a man of previous good standing, a man who had simply acted out of desperation, then the precept of ‘justice’ did not fit. It was wrong.

With a sad shake of his head, Judge Gallows was about to leave the town square when he noted the presence of a woman. She was big of belly... pregnant... and stumbled in a daze after the cart.

Was it his mother’s anguish that caused Bogmuck to be born so ugly? The woodcutter’s wife bore witness to the execution, then bore a baby prematurely, and so misshapen was it that the midwife cried in alarm. The mother would not take it, demanding instead that the squawking ‘thing’ be removed from her sight. The midwife should have taken the baby and mercifully drowned it, but she didn’t. For a premature birth, this new addition to humanity seemed quite large in size. The boy cried with a good pair of lungs and seemed unusually strong, so the midwife decided to let him have a chance at life. She wrapped him in a shawl and took him back to her village.

Bogmuck was a behemoth of a child; rumour suggested that his mother had been raped by a goblin beneath a full moon on the winter solstice when an ill wind blew from the four directions of the compass at once. This is, of course, ridiculous, a silly result of a sillier superstition, but it can’t be denied that Bogmuck was an incredibly ugly baby who grew into a frightful looking child. For this reason, it wasn’t just the cruelty from other children he had to endure, but the displeasure of their parents as well. The taunts and the teasing were merciless, the frowns and growls of disgust went unchecked in their vehemence, whippings and beatings were administered frequently.

By such treatment, a lesser child might have felt the weight of an unfriendly world crush upon his little life until it was squashed and ended, but not Bogmuck. He took all that was directed at him with a stoic resilience, a blankness of expression and feeling, without emotion or care. The people of the village who abused him pointed at this ambivalence as explanation for his stupidity, which they considered to be complete!

Perhaps Bogmuck was stupid. He stayed in the village of his torment, enduring years of abasement and degradation without so much as a whimper of complaint or a plea against it.

Poor boy… he never stood a chance. We can only speculate that if his mother had shown him the tiniest bit of love before abandoning him, maybe a spark of warmth and happiness might have been imprinted somewhere in his memory; maybe his life would have been something more tolerable for want of his mother’s breast.

As it was, he grew into a man. His looks didn’t get much better, though it was an improvement when his expanding frame caused his skin to stretch and become more evenly fitted to his body. He didn’t seem to grow any more intelligent, either, and it was enough for Bogmuck to spend his days herding the village goats far from the constant ridicule of other people.

*

The Fell Winter crept into Tysa, taking control of the seasons to wrap itself around the air and the months into spring. By the time summer arrived, hoar frosts remained heavy on the trees and the ice-hard fields. No amount of ploughing could reach deep enough into the soil for the germination of seeds, and even then, it was too cold for any seed to bloom. The maize crop failed, and so did the turnips and potatoes. this, in turn, endangered the pigs and goats to starvation, for these domesticated animals could not reach the grass beneath the frozen ground.

Shipments of grain were sent from the southern provinces to aid the farmers in the north, but this only allayed the problem for a while. When summer waned to autumn without respite from the big freeze, the granaries in the south ran dangerously low of the hoarded feed. Thane Marindol made the decision not to send any more grain north, for it was needed to keep his own province economically viable.

Cause and effect - Humans suffer when Mother Nature manifests her Bitch, and men started to suffer greatly as the Fell Winter deepened into its second year.

~~~~~~~~~

The Old North Wood has always been a worrisome place; monsters lurk within, it is said, and some of the trees are conscious and consciously hate humans. Regardless, Bogmuck herded his goats into that place; the canopy of branch and leaf helped retain some warmth to the forest floor where the goats could munch on thistle and bracken. The villagers benefited by having meat and milk where vegetables were in short supply.

Did they thank Bogmuck for braving the dangers of the Old North Wood so he could supply them with the life-enduring nourishment provided by the goats? Nope. Did they pay him deference any better than the treatment meted out to him in the past? Nope. Did Bogmuck complain or display any resentment? Nope.

In this respect, the status-quo was maintained, but something was happening to the west of the village that would soon change the lives of everyone forever.

~~~~~~~~~

Goblins have always been a problem for the western reaches of Tysa, and in the first year of the Fell Winter, the lands to the east and north of Lake Ironrain were, once again, assailed by raiding parties out of the Felrundin ranges. The human inhabitants of the province had long become inured to these annual raids; the usual reaction of the farmers and hunters who lived there was to hide inside their walled villages and let the goblins forage for whatever they could find in the surrounding countryside. Small contingents of border guards would bolster the numbers of local militiamen as added defence until the goblins retreated at the first signs of spring.

But, when winter showed no signs of abating that year, it became noticeable that the numbers of goblin raiding parties were more numerous than they had been in the past. The hungry goblins were now penetrating far into Tysian territory, bypassing the walled villages in favour of easier pickings further east.

By the start of the second year of the Fell Winter, a more worrisome sign of the goblin raids was evidenced by the accompaniment of whole tribes. Following behind the warriors came goblettes and giblets, and they carried with them such materials as were required for the building of new settlements.

This was not so much a raid as a migration. The goblins were moving enmasse!

*

[Badstench]

The first time Bogmuck encountered a goblin, he didn’t know what to think; his immediate impression was that someone (or something) existed that was much uglier than himself, but when he saw that the strange creature was trying to steal one of his goats, he leapt forward and swung his wooden staff to ward the intruder away.

The goblin was a forager, a little specimen that had strayed far from its raiding party and sniffed the smell of goat. When it first saw the herd of animals entrusted to Bogmuck, it immediately gave thanks to Gruumsh, the god of goblinkind. Such a wealth of meat would feed the tribe for many weeks.

The human was a complication, but he was only one human. He could be dealt with easily enough given a few warriors to chase him away. The little goblin retreated to advise its brethren of the situation, and it wasn’t long before a much larger contingent arrived to steal the entire herd. Bogmuck made a perfunctory attempt to stop them, but his wooden staff was no match against the scimitars of a full platoon of hungry goblin warriors.

Bogmuck escaped with his life only for the fact that they didn’t bother to chase him; they were intent on herding the goats back to their camp for a feast.

In the aftermath of the event, Bogmuck stood forlorn. He cursed the goblins and swore that they would pay, one way or another.

~~~~~~~~~

When Bogmuck made his way back to the village to confess the loss of his goats, he found the place in an uproar. The military garrison from Mirgspil had arrived to engage the goblin invaders, and the few able-bodied men of the village who could bear arms were being gang-pressed into its ranks. The rest of the villagers (those that weren’t infirm or too old) were being forcibly removed from their homes and ordered to flee eastward. With luck, they would encounter the reinforcing army from Trithik before the goblins could catch up with them if the Mirgspil garrison failed.

Bogmuck saw a chance to get his revenge against the goblins who had stolen his goats, but when he hurried to join the men of the village, who were being issued with weapons and simple items of armour, he was laughed at.

“You can’t come, Ugly. It would be too easy for one of these soldiers to mistake you for a goblin and skewer your arse.”

Unfortunately, the captain of the Mirgspil garrison agreed with that summation and ordered Bogmuck to remain behind. He was given the duty of protecting the few villagers who weren’t able to flee, and Bogmuck could only watch with disappointment as the Tysian defenders marched westward to meet the advancing goblins without him.

Would it have consoled Bogmuck to know that, of all the villagers who marched with the Mirgspil garrison that day, not one would survive? Probably not, for the supposing of such an idea would suggest that Bogmuck was vindictive by nature and harboured ill-feeling. Nothing could be further from the truth, and this manifested when Bogmuck went about his task of securing the three old people, the boy with the broken leg and the imminently pregnant girl to the best of his ability.

He helped them into the cellar beneath the trader’s establishment, then gathered the items necessary for their comfort – sleeping mats, blankets, pitchers of water, scraps of food, a tinderbox and candles, etc. Afterward, he instructed them to remain silent for as long as possible and not to emerge from the hidey-hole lest they were absolutely sure it was safe to do so. In the room above, Bogmuck up-ended bits of furniture and bric-a-brac over the trapdoor until it was completely obscured, then he sat himself to keep vigil, watching through a crack in the door to the outside for any signs of danger.

~~~~~~~~

A pensive silence fell over the village after the last of the refugees departed. Bogmuck felt the weight of winter settle over the abandoned buildings and creep into the trader’s hut from where he kept watch. He pulled his goatskin coat close about him and noticed how his breath became visible as the temperature dropped.

“How strange,” he thought. “When the people left, so did the warmth of their living presence. The cold was quick to claim the emptied space.”

Of course, Bogmuck didn’t think those exact words, but it’s what his simple mind meant to conceptualise. If we examine his actual thoughts, we would find something far less grand – something along the lines of, “People gone. Cold comes.” – but the very fact that Bogmuck’s concept included a high degree of philosophical intent is proof that he was not as stupid as people believed. Just because he wasn’t very good at verbalizing didn’t mean he was an idiot; if anything, it was more an indication that he was uneducated. The fact is, Bogmuck had quite a good brain, but one that had never been nurtured or encouraged. He was like a naïve child.

And like a child who has been over-stimulated during an energetic day, a great weariness overcame Bogmuck. Abetted by the numbing effect of the cold, it wasn’t long before he fell into a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

He was woken by a gruff voice and a poke in the arm from the point of a spear. Such was Bogmuck’s surprise that, as he tried to leap from his chair, he only succeeded in tipping himself backward to fall in an ungainly heap on the floor. The sudden awakening left him blinking confusion before adrenaline pumped him into action. He turned to face his attacker from a sitting position, patting the floor either side of him in an attempt to locate his staff. It took a moment longer for Bogmuck to realise that the fellow looking down at him was already holding it.

“That’s mine,” yelled Bogmuck inanely.

The reply was quite unexpected. “Ah, you speak Tysian, so I suppose you must be a man.” There was a pause before the speaker added, “But you’re an incredibly ugly man. I almost skewered you for being a goblin.”

And that was how Bogmuck first met Varsil Demonsoul.

~~~~~~~~~

[Badstench]

The vanguard of the reinforcing army from Trithik had arrived, but it wasn’t quite what Bogmuck expected. The Mirgspil garrison had consisted of about one hundred well-armed soldiers, and though they had been attired in battle armour (as opposed to the shiny dress-armour worn on ceremonial occasions) they had looked impressive nonetheless. The balance of the Mirgspil garrison had consisted of militiamen and a larger number of conscripted civilians. Conversely, the army from Trithik consisted of forty men who collectively looked like a bunch of desperadoes.

They were a motley group, dirty for the most part, and all heavily armed and armoured with nothing to match between them. The leader of these men was unmistakeable; he strode briskly toward Bogmuck as his captor prodded him out of the building.

“Varsil? What the hell have you got there?”

The one called Varsil shrugged. “I’m not sure, Fury. I found him asleep. He’s either a good-looking goblin or the ugliest farmer I’ve ever seen. Judgement is reserved for now.”

The second man scowled at Varsil before addressing Bogmuck. “Why are you still here? You need to follow after the other villagers. This place isn’t safe.”

Bogmuck didn’t answer the question directly. Instead, he asked, “Are you the soldiers from Trithik?”

For some reason, this elicited a roar of laughter from another man. “Do we look like soldiers? I’m not sure whether to be flattered by the inference or insulted.” A wave of laughter rose from the rest of the men behind him. “My good man, we are more than mere soldiers. We are adventurers, we are; the best of the best. Every man here is worth a full company of ordinary soldiers.”

Bogmuck stared at the third man wholly unimpressed, mainly because he had no idea what the stranger was talking about. All he said was, “That’s good. You need to be strong. There are many more gobbles than you. They will squash you if you are weak.”

The laughter died away as the expression of the third man turned to one of serious regard. “You know their numbers? Do you know where they are?”

The leader of the adventurers waved the third man to silence. “Hush, Adam. This is not an interrogation.” And to Bogmuck he said. “The main army is behind us. They should be here tomorrow. These men are called the ‘point-guard’. Do you know what that means?”

When Bogmuck shook his head, Judge Fury explained, “We are like scouts. We travel ahead of the main army looking for signs that the enemy might be waiting to attack by stealth or ambush. We also gather intelligence… news about our enemy; where they are, how many there are, stuff like that.

“My friend here,” and Judge Fury waved vaguely in the direction of Adam Jadefang, “didn’t mean to sound rude, but his question is no less important for his rudeness, and you should forgive him. If you can help us with some answers to our questions, it would be very much appreciated.

“Have you seen some goblins? We did not think they had reached this far east.”

Bogmuck nodded. “Many gobbles. They took my goats.”

Again, Judge Fury prompted, “Can you tell me how many goblins you saw?”

Bogmuck pointed at the group of adventurers. “The same as you, and again and again. They only came for my goats,” he repeated.

Judge Fury understood this to mean that the goblins encountered by Bogmuck numbered three times more than the number of adventurers in his company, and also that Bogmuck had lost his goats to a raiding party.

Varsil Demonsoul whistled. “If he means that a hundred and twenty goblins stole his animals, that is a hell-of-a-lot of goblins for a raid. That one party outnumbers us three to one. How many make up the full force, eh?”

Judge Fury shook his head. “It doesn’t bear thinking about, but I can tell you one thing... if we can believe this fellow, the Mirgspil garrison is in big trouble.”

“Yep”, agreed Varsil.

Judge Fury turned away from Bogmuck to pace a circle, head bowed as he contemplated what his next action should be. Finally, he looked at the group of adventurers behind him and announced, “We ride west. We have to catch up with the Mirgspil garrison and warn them that the goblins have superior numbers. I pray we aren’t too late already.”

Varsil Demonsoul objected. “That’s not our job, Fury. The magistrate of Mirgspil doesn’t pay our wages; Thane Pyrond does, and we should return to him with this news. Let the Mirgspil soldiers fend for themselves, I say.”

Varsil was right, of course. The first task of the point-guard was to ensure the safe passage of the army from Trithik, but Judge Fury was torn between his duty to Thane Pyrond and the thought that the Mirgspil garrison was ahead of them, marching to slaughter.

He compromised, “No. We haven’t learned anything except from the words of this goat herder. We have no proof of the strength of the enemy. As honest as he seems, we need to keep moving west.”

“Bollocks!” exclaimed Varsil Demonsoul.

Judge Fury rounded on his companion with a glare that could have melted the hoar-frost from a tree. “That is my order, Varsil. If you don’t like it, then I volunteer you for messenger duty. You ride back to the main army with this news.”

Varsil Demonsoul bristled, “Are you calling me a coward?”

“Take it how you will, I need someone to ride back and warn Thane Pyrond while the rest of us still have hope to save the Mirgspil garrison.”

“I’ll go,” said Bogmuck.

“You’re a sanctimonious arse!” swore Varsil at Judge Fury. “You should have joined the clergy with your holier-than-thou morals.”

“I’ll go,” repeated Bogmuck.

“And if I was a priest, I’d clap you in chains and have exorcists rid you of your evil temperament,” retorted Judge Fury.

“And if you were a priest, I bet you’d be one of those depraved...”

“Oh, SHUT UP!” This last was yelled from a fourth adventurer, and Bogmuck watched in bemusement as a horse was spurred forward from the main group.

Young Ned looked between Varsil Demonsoul and Judge Fury with equal amounts of contempt. “If you’d stop your bickering for one second, the answer has already been provided. This herdsman will take the message to Thane Pyrond, we will ride west and, Srythak willing, we’ll get to the Migrspil garrison on time. In the meantime, you two will stop bitching at each other, and you, Judge Fury, will remember that you are our leader!”

~~~~~~~~~

“Yes,” said Bogmuck. “I take your message, but...” he pointed at the four horses laden with supplies... “I need them.” And when he uncovered the five villagers hidden in the cellar of the trader’s hut, Judge Fury had no recourse but to let Bogmuck take the pack-horses to convey the people to safety.

[Badstench]

Day 4

Thorndew’s departure from the gaol-house left Judge Fury feeling deflated and confused. Everything that had occurred over the preceding few days was a litany of events that had happened outside his knowledge. He felt as though a great wind had picked him up and was sweeping him in a direction over which he had no control. To complete his frustration, the people he relied on for support and guidance were being mysteriously unhelpful, almost obstructive in their refusal to provide him with explanations.

Thorndew, himself, had been unwilling to say anything, though Judge Fury wasn’t convinced his colleague was privy to all the answers he had sought; Thorndew’s surprise at some of the content of their tête-à-tête had made that clear. There were inconsistencies between the actions of the Judge Advocate and the words of Thane Pyrond… small inconsistencies, to be sure, but not so small that they had gone unnoticed.

Pyrond had shown his anger over Fury’s situation during their last meeting, and hadn’t tried to disguise the dislike he felt for the Adventurers Collective and its members, nor for the Judge and his role as Royal Lawkeeper in Trithik; the Thane considered that position to be an imposition on his rule over the city. Truth be known, Judge Fury had imagined a personal dislike from Thane Pyrond during his tirade. Would he have purposefully uttered misleading information?

Judge Fury shook the thought away. There was no reason for Thane Pyrond to lie to him. No, the person who held all the facts was the Judge Advocate, and it was to this person that Fury’s thoughts attended.

The Judge Advocate was the third most powerful person in the political hierarchy of the kingdom. First was the King, of course, followed by his chief advisor and chancellor, the mysterious wizard commonly known by the epithet, ‘Magical’.

The Judge Advocate stood third behind the chancellor, appointed to the position by King Wenreald III not long after his coronation. The Advocate had a personal name, but Fury felt awkward thinking of his superior in familiar terms. To Fury, the Judge Advocate was simply ‘the Advocate’ and always would be.

The Judge Advocate was Fury’s superior in many ways, knowledge and wisdom notwithstanding. He was a person of influence who deserved the respect afforded him, and he knew how to wield that respect to advantage. He was a diplomat, a commander and a leader, and, to Judge Fury, he was also mentor and father figure. It was Fury’s privileged connection to the Advocate that allowed him to see into the private life of his superior, to learn that he was a powerful man, but that he was also human.

And Humans can make mistakes. They can also keep secrets, and it was to this thought that Judge Fury turned in his reverie. The Judge Advocate was keeping secrets.

What was it Thorndew had said? “The Advocate is more interested in knowing… ‘Where the hell is Varsil Demonsoul’?” Given the nature of Fury’s predicament, and the fact that Varsil was the cause of it, you might forgive the Judge if he felt slighted by this comment.

Not so, for Judge Fury was aware of the prophesied importance of ‘Demonsoul’… according to the prophecy, Varsil was destined to save the world, or destroy it. The Advocate’s interest in knowing the whereabouts of ‘Sryth’s Doom’ wasn’t very hard to fathom given that little tidbit of possibility. No, Judge Fury wasn’t upset because of the concern shown for Varsil over himself.

The subject of the Phantom Assassin was an entirely different matter.

Nothing much was known about the Phantom Assassin. He had been most active around the time King Halcyos was nearing the end of his reign and before Prince Wenreald ascended the throne. It was generally accepted that the Phantom had been recruited by a faction of the nobility who desired a monarch of their own choosing, not one that was given to bouts of delirium and soothsaying. Many of the Phantom's targets had included those peers of the realm loyal to King Halcyos and the rightful progression of his heir.

Prince Wenreald was crowned King regardless of the efforts to destabilise the Royal House. By rights and common sense, the Phantom should have vanished into the pages of history after the coronation of King Wenreald III; his instalment on the throne was a fait-accompli.

But the Phantom Assassin, once unleashed, became a kingdom-wide terror. It soon became apparent that the Phantom had branched out, inducting lesser assassins into his circle that, collectively, became known as the ‘Shadow Society’. In effect, this group of murderers was a consortium of killers-for-hire, but their true purpose was unknown.

It was Judge Armstrong who figured out why the Phantom was continuing with his reign of terror; he was well placed to discover the truth behind the existence of the Shadow Society and, in his role as undercover agent inside the criminal gangs of Tysa, to identify the eight assassins who had joined with the Phantom.

Bear of Kolnia was one of them. The rest were identified through painstaking investigation and research: The woman known as ‘The Seductress’ was Dravnia, a murderess well known in Ryorsial; Sark Wormfoot was already wanted for murder in Tysa, him being a nasty individual who had begun his evil career in the employ of a slaver named Llorg (the very same who Ezekiel had suffered by); Jodd Stormtoe, also known as “The Ghost of Tryndmoor, was a bandit who showed his victims no mercy; Perryn Longblade was a killer from Phiadon, a pirate by all accounts; Yillura of Highgate was a past student to the teachings of the Red Witch, an evil woman who practiced the art of necromancy; Zijin was already practiced in the art of assassination, him being from Shay and belonging to the class of warrior called ‘krinju’; and, perhaps the most feared of them all was Goblineye, a veritable madman and harbinger of chaos.

Eight assassins who joined with the Phantom to become the Shadow Society, and, along with their master, they numbered nine.

Dear reader, do you see the correlation in this number?

There were nine assassins, and there are nine Judges! Judge Armstrong recognised the similarity, and this led him to a startling conclusion – the Phantom had created the Shadow Society as a parody to the Judges. He was working directly against their rule of Law!

Judge Fury was re-examining his knowledge of the Phantom Assassin in line with his current predicament when another thought occurred to him. Was it coincidence? The number nine wasn’t restricted to the memberships of the Judges and the Shadow Society. The prophecies were rife with the same number; nine trials, nine manifestations of evil, nine paintings, nine heroes.

Of a sudden, the colour drained from Judge Fury’s face as he remembered the exact hour Ezekiel had sat at the table of eight. He had sat down and bought a round of drinks for himself, Varsil, Young Ned, Bogmuck, Dragonbane, Jinx, Scout and Hawk. Ezekiel had sat down and been welcomed... as the ninth member of the Table of Eight!

*

[Badstench]

Rhia had suggested that the Phantom was active again, and Judge Fury had leapt to the conclusion that the presence of the assassin heralded something momentous. Someone was in immediate danger. He hadn’t known who or why at the time, but action needed to be taken nonetheless.

He had called on Thorndew, him being the Judge given responsibility for apprehending the members of the Shadow Society, but in light of this new revelation, Fury imagined that it was his companions at the table of eight who had attracted the interest of the grand assassin. They were in immediate danger, so the action that was needed, needed to be taken now!

“Keddin!? Can you hear me? Are you out there?”

It took a few seconds before Judge Fury heard keys being rattled at the door, then Keddin appeared.

“Yes?”

Judge Fury spoke with urgency. “Listen, Keddin. The Phantom Assassin is in this city right now. Even as we stand here, he might be sizing up his target. You have to let me out of here.”

Keddin looked at Judge Fury with an expression that bordered on disbelief. He’d heard a lot of reasons from prisoners why they should be freed, but his was a new one. The Phantom Assassin? He feigned a fit of coughing to disguise an involuntary scoffing sound. “The Phantom, you say? Would that be the same phantom who was public enemy number one.... twenty... no, thirty years ago?”

Judge Fury stared back at Keddin, stung to reality by the comment. Thirty years? By all that was reasonable and right, Keddin had uttered a simple truth; if the Phantom Asassin was in Trithik, here and now, why, he’d be pushing sixty years old! He’d be the same age as the Judge Advocate, at least!

“Keddin... maybe it isn’t the Phantom. Maybe his lieutenants are here under his orders. They haven’t all been caught. Dravnia is still out there, and Yillura and Perryn. Jodd Stormtoe was never found. Any one of them could be in Trithik right now.”

“And Igtheon could be marching up the high street with an army of demons,” returned Keddin with a hint of sarcasm. “Fury, I can’t let you out on such a weak petition. I’m surprised you would try a ploy so transparent.”

Judge Fury looked such a sight of misery and desperation that Keddin admitted, “You have another visitor, though I’m loath to allow him the visit since you thought to engage my sympathy in such a shameless way.”

“A visitor?” echoed Fury dully. He was drained of all stature befitting his position as a Judge, as a person deserving of dignity. He was in gaol, locked up and abandoned by his colleagues, helpless to his friends who, he was sure, were in peril. He looked a figure of utter despair.

Keddin felt sorry for Judge Fury. At that moment, he wished he wasn’t the captain of the City Watch, for then he wouldn’t have to see this man of high regard and reputation become, as he seemed to be right now... a wretch.

In this respect, the plan concocted by Varsil Demonsoul had reached fruition. His revenge against Judge Fury was materialised.

What a pity Varsil wasn’t there to see it.

~~~~~~~~~

When Scout entered the holding area, Judge Fury exhibited a gleam of hope. He could convey his suspicions about the Phantom Assassin to Scout, who could then warn the other members of the table of eight as soon as was practicable. Fury realised that he had to broach the matter cautiously and without opening himself to questions that might encroach on the subject of Scout’s father (him being inextricably intertwined in the history of the Phantom), but, as it turned out, he needn’t have concerned himself with that; Scout was just as dumbfounded as Keddin had been when Fury started blabbering on about the Phantom Assassin, though he was more circumspect in concealing his scepticism.

“Keddin has a good point, Fury. The Phantom would have to be an old man now, even if he’s alive at all. There might be a good reason why he disappeared from knowledge all those years ago... he could have just up-and-died!

“How convinced did Rhia sound about this? Is it possible she has her information wrong?”

“That’s always a possibility, Scout, but she’s not one to blab a matter as important as the Phantom without being certain of its validity.”

“Well, that begs another question – how reliable are her sources? I mean, from what you’ve told me about Rhia, she doesn’t exactly mix in the most trustworthy of circles.”

“That’s true,” Fury acceded, “but I respect her enough to trust her appraisal of the information. If the Judges didn’t have that trust, there would be no point to what she does for us.”

Scout had reached an impasse. Short of admitting that his opinion on the whole matter was preposterous, he didn’t know how else to dissuade Judge Fury from wasting his energy. As far as Scout was concerned, The Phantom was, indeed, consigned to the pages of history. His existence hadn’t been newsworthy since before he was born. If ever the name of the Phantom Assassin was spoken now, it was merely invoked as a threat from parents to naughty children... the Phantom had become nothing more than a bogey-man of fairy-tale and fantasy
.
All Scout could offer was a half-hearted promise to pass Fury’s suspicions to Bogmuck, then to everyone else when they got back from Charna. Judge Fury nodded his acknowledgement of the promise and felt somewhat better. “T’is better to be forewarned than... whatever the rest of the saying says,” he thought.

~~~~~~~~~

“I’ve got something else to talk to you about,” said Scout, “something further to this debacle with the murder charge.”

Judge Fury raised an eyebrow in query.

“I’ve been running over the events of the past few days in my mind,” Scout continued. “It occurs to me that Varsil has seemed very chirpy recently, and that only happens when he’s up to mischief. Regardless, when Mordi came to us with the news that Keddin was going to arrest you for Varsil’s murder... do you recall?... everyone in the bar was shocked. Even Vurii joined the crowd around Mordi to hear what he had to say.”

“I think I was too shocked, myself, to notice them,” admitted Fury.

“I don’t wonder,” agreed Scout. “But, of all the people who crowded around our table that day, there was one person I would have expected to be more horrified by the murder of Varsil than anyone else.”

Judge Fury pre-empted Scout’s observation... “Bogmuck!”

“Bingo! But, Bogmuck didn’t bat an eyelid. I remember, he just sat there with that gormless look of his. Fury, Bogmuck wasn’t surprised at all.”

“Bish! You’re thinking that Bogmuck already knew what Mordi was going to say?” and when Scout nodded, he rightly deduced, “So, whatever fiendish reason Varsil had for framing me, Bogmuck was in on it?”

Scout looked at Judge Fury affirmatively. “Varsil somehow got Bogmuck to collude with him... then to keep quiet about it.”

Fury slapped his hand against the bars of the cell in angry realisation. “That sneaky little runt!” he swore, but then he completely flummoxed Scout by throwing his head back to roar with laughter.

When Scout was convinced that Fury had finally gone over the edge of reason, the Judge got himself under control enough to explain, “That’s actually relieving news, Scout.”

“Eh?”

“Well, I don’t believe for one second that Bogmuck would’ve helped Varsil if he thought it would cause me harm. Bogmuck hasn’t got an evil bone in his body, but he is susceptible to a good joke... at least, his idea of what constitutes for a good joke. Varsil managed to convince him that they were playing a joke on me.” Fury laughed again. “This whole tragedy is nothing but Varsil’s warped idea of a prank!”

“Be that as it may, Fury,” said Scout indignantly. “There’s something you’re overlooking here.”

“What’s that?” asked Fury still chuckling.

“Fury! There’s a dead body lying in the morgue! Varsil’s ‘prank’, if that’s what you want to call it, required three people to pull off – him , Bogmuck and a dead guy. Who the hell is the dead guy and how did he become dead?”

[Badstench]

“You’re right,” said Judge Fury contritely. “You’ll have to forgive my levity, Scout. Over the last few days, I’ve been a bit stressed wondering why Varsil has tried to frame me for this murder. The realization that it was just Varsil being a wanker, as opposed to being a complete wanker, has lifted a lot of that stress from me.

“I have to believe that Varsil isn’t responsible for the death of that man at the morgue. To think he would murder someone as part of a prank against me, well... that’s a stretch too far for anyone’s imagination. Still, the true identity of the body might help in finding out exactly what happened to him, and that would expedite my freedom sooner rather than later.”

“How much later is ‘later’?” asked Scout. “I mean, just suppose we can’t identify who the dead guy is and Varsil doesn’t show his face any time soon... how long are you likely to be locked in here?”

“That depends on the Judge Advocate. He seems determined to see this thing go to trial, to make a public spectacle of the proceedings. I’m being used as a means to show the people that the Law is sacrosanct and that no one is above it.

“The Advocate, Pyrond... everyone who matters... knows the body in the morgue isn’t Varsil, and Thorndew has assured me that this will all be resolved in due course. If we can speed the resolution along, I can concentrate on the matter of the Phantom.

“Scout, your first task is to bring Bogmuck here. We need him to tell Keddin that Varsil isn’t dead.”

Scout paused. “There’s a problem with that, I’m afraid.”

“A problem? How so?”

“Well, I haven’t seen Bogmuck for the past few days, not since Keddin arrested you. I was looking for him earlier today, but he’s vanished... as effectively as Varsil did.”

Judge Fury stared at Scout incredulously. “How can Bogmuck disappear? He’s big and noticeably ugly! Someone must have seen him over the last three days.”

“He might be holed-up with Varsil somewhere?”

“For three days? If they’re in the city, they’d need to show their faces sooner or later, even if to satisfy their bellies. Someone must have seen them... a food-seller, a beggar, a watchman. No, I think it more likely they’re not in Trithik, and it may be they’re not together at all.”

Scout looked thoughtfully blank. “Fury, you know Varsil better than I. Have you any idea where he might hide?”

“My first idea would be somewhere in Gudderang’s End, but I discount that for reasons already stated. No, he’ll be somewhere outside the city, but I have no idea where.”

When Scout was unable to add anything more to the discussion, Judge Fury changed tack. “Perhaps we should concentrate on trying to find out who the dead guy is?”

Scout brightened at this. “Actually, I’ve already been thinking about that, Fury. The body was identified as Varsil because of the ring... Varsil’s ring. His face was so mashed that a positive ID couldn’t be made, but he wore clothes similar to Varsil, had the same colour hair cut in the same style, and he was the same build and height. It would be a simple thing to suppose the body was Varsil’s just because of the ring.

“Do you recall Ehris?”

Judge Fury blinked. “Ehris?”

“He’s a visitor to the Adventurers Collective. Turns up with that giant-of-a-fellow – I think his name is Grymlok. Anyway, I’ve sometimes mistaken him for Varsil at first glance.”

“You think the dead guy might be this Ehris?”

Scout shrugged. “It only ‘might be’. The person who could best help with finding Ehris would be Mordi.”

“Why Mordi?”

Scout looked at Judge Fury like he was a child. “Fury... how well do you know the adventurers who drink at the Collective?”

“What do you mean?” asked the Judge perplexed. “There’s Mordi, Scarsdon, um... Krynlym, Jadix, that axe-master... wotshisname?... Thordon? And... ummm.”

“Precisely. You might know their faces and a few names, but you don’t really concern yourself with them as people unless they’ve come to your attention through unlawful transgressions. I suppose you’re aware that our group is known as the Table of Eight?”

“Of course I know that!” spluttered Fury with an annoyed scowl. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“My point is that Varsil might have a good reason for playing this ‘prank’ of his. You hold yourself on a pedestal, Fury, even if you don’t think so. A lot of adventurers who frequent the Collective think that you’re an arrogant arse! You’re as bad as Rokmokkara!”

Judge Fury’s jaw fell open.

“Furthermore, quite a few of them are delighted to know that you’re in gaol. To some of them, it’s a rollicking good joke, even if they don’t know that it’s Varsil’s joke.”

Judge Fury stared at Scout for a moment, hurt of feelings. He broke the silence by saying petulantly, “I am not arrogant!"

“Yes you are. Did you know that the table in the opposite corner of the room also has a name, and that the adventurers who sit there are a group whose exploits are just as well known as ours?”

Judge Fury was blinking rapidly, betraying the fact that he was desperately trying to think who Scout was referring to.

“Bish, Fury! They’re known as ‘Mordi’s Mob’, and if you knew that, you’d know that Mordi is the recognised leader of a group of five adventurers, Ehris being one of them.”

~~~~~~~~~

Judge Fury sat in silence. Scout decided that he’d been too free with his opinions and, likewise, fell silent, shifting uncomfortably on the wooden bench outside Fury’s cell.

After an interminable amount of time, Judge Fury sighed. “Right, then,” he said matter-of-factly. “You now have two tasks, Scout.”

“I do?”

“Yes. You keep looking for Bogmuck, and you also find out from Mordi where Ehris is.”

When Scout remained seated, Judge Fury added, “And doing it now would be a good idea!”

Scout turned a shade of red, whether by embarrassment or anger, Fury couldn’t tell, but as his young friend rose to leave, Fury called after him... “Scout?”

“Yeah?”

“Was that arrogant enough for you?” he said with a huge grin.

~~~~~~~~~

If Scout’s visit had achieved one positive thing, it was to shift Judge Fury’s thoughts from his current woes to the contemplation of his own personality.

“They think me arrogant? Why? I have done nothing to warrant such a reputation. I have been good to all of those men... to the women, too! I have championed the existence of the Adventurers Collective, joined with them through adventures perilous, fought alongside them. I have lived with them, laughed with them, cried with them. I have saved quite a few from the attentions of the constables and the city watch.

“To be sure, I’ve had to stop some behaviour when it bordered too close to breaking the law, but that was done with their best interests in mind.

“So, I don’t know the names of many, but that’s no cause to resent me, is it? Without me, many of them would be dead, or knowing the displeasure of Thane Pyrond in his gaols, or...”

Judge Fury caught himself. He suddenly realised that he was thinking about the members of the Collective, not as free-spirited adventurers, but as wayward mercenaries who were requiring of his guidance and leadership, and it suddenly dawned on him,

“Oh, Igtheon’s nutsack!. I am arrogant!”

For adventurers are exactly what he’d already described; free-spirited men who put their lives in danger every time they heft a shield and a sword to go out and battle against denizens of evil. They are paid mercenaries or unpaid seekers of fortune and fame engaging against the enemies of the kingdom. Many of them are killed in this pursuit, others are maimed for life.

“And when they return to civilization whole of body and health, they don’t come looking for guidance from me; all they want is to enjoy themselves... to drink in the company of their friends... to commiserate over the friends who were killed. They get horribly drunk and brawl amongst themselves because they know... the next time, it might be them who doesn’t return.”

~~~~~~~~~

Judge Fury felt the lateness of the hour on day four of his incarceration. He ate the food delivered by a watchman, then laid on the cot in his cell, preparing for sleep and hoping that tomorrow would bring some developments to speed his release.

Before he drifted away to slumber, he wondered on the relationship between Varsil Demonsoul and Bogmuck. He remembered the meeting with the ugly villager... was it four or five years ago?...during the war against the goblins.

Sometime between then and now, Varsil had encountered Bogmuck again. He would be interested in knowing why Bogmuck had come to consider Varsil so highly; how they had become such close friends?

In actual fact, the last thought Judge Fury had before he slipped into the land of dreams was, “I could murder a mug of Hammertongue”

The thought had him chuckling to oblivion.

[Badstench]

INTERLUDE: THE TABLE OF EIGHT: BOGMUCK (Part 2)

Bogmuck and his five refugees encountered the encamped army from Trithik near the end of the same day they had fled the village. He was taken to the tent of Thane Pyrond after the message he carried, secured with the seal of Judge Fury, had been verified.

The Thane didn’t deign to acknowledge the smelly peasant when he was relieved of Fury’s message, and Bogmuck soon found himself escorted to the area of the camp that housed the support force. He asked one of the soldiers what he should do, but a shrug was all he received in reply.

“You’re free to make your way to Mirgspil or Trithik. There are carts emptied of supplies returning to those cities quite regularly. See if you can get a ride with one of those.”

“But I will fight. I come with soldiers and kill gobbles.”

The soldier regarded Bogmuck disdainfully. “This is a proper army, boy. There aren’t any draftees here. The soldiers of the Trithik garrison know how to handle a bunch of undisciplined goblins. We don’t need civilians getting in the way.”

When Bogmuck looked crestfallen, the soldier relented by offering, “If you want to make yourself useful, ask around the support camp… see if anyone needs a hand with anything.”

Bogmuck got a job with Provisions, peeling the endless number of potatoes that went with a piece of bread and a cut of beef handed out to the fighting soldiers twice daily. On the second day after his arrival, the army camped near to his abandoned village and, on the third day, very close to the eastern shore of Lake Ironrain. At the last location, Bogmuck helped with the digging of trenches and the erecting of wooden palisades; a semi-permanent camp was being built from which the Trithik garrison would launch its counter offensive against the goblins.

It was while Bogmuck was carrying one end of a wall-strut that he saw the riders of the ‘point-guard’ again. He noted that there weren’t as many as there had been two days previously. They were mud and blood soaked, and they rode past with jaws set in a grim weariness. Bogmuck recognised the one who had poked him with a spear… ‘Varsil’, he remembered. The man met his eye as he rode past; there was recognition in the look, but no acknowledgement.

Bogmuck was to see the riders one more time before the base camp was packed up and ordered to continue westward in pursuit of the defeated goblins; the numbers of the ‘point-guard’ had dwindled to half the original forty and, this time, the one called Varsil was not among them.

~~~~~~~~~~

[Dear reader, it behoves me to explain at this point, that the history of Bogmuck coincides with greater happenings in the world that is Sryth. To explain the history of Bogmuck, it is necessary to explain the momentous occurrences that were shaping the Kingdom of Tysa at that time. To do this, I will dispense with italics and explain the war against the goblins in a font that is easy to read.]

~~~~~~~~~~

To say that the goblins were defeated is to suggest that the humans were victorious. The truth is not as admirable as the proclamation!

The army from Trithik engaged the goblin forces in numerous battles until, by a miracle, they met with the remnants of the Mirgspil garrison. The latter had taken a defensive position inside a walled village and were perilously close to being overwhelmed when the reinforcements from Trithik arrived. A tremendous battle ensued that included all the reserves available to Thane Pyrond.

By strange decision, the goblin Warlord quit the battle and withdrew his legions to a distance beyond the comfort zone Thane Pyrond considered wise to pursue. This allowed enough respite for the surviving Tysian villages to pack up and ‘run-like-hell’!

The practical upshot of the war was to see much of the western territory claimed by Tysa be abandoned. Thane Pyrond used the remnants of his army to shepherd the surviving villagers back toward Mirgspil, by which time the main Tysian army had arrived from Graldok.

But too much ground had already been lost to the goblins, who were still pouring down from the Felrundin ranges in frightening numbers. The decision was made to erect a strong defence line rather than counter-attack.

To this day, the maps of Tysa show the lands west of Lake Ironrain belonging to the Kingdom of Tysa. The reality is that goblins now rule that territory, and the only thing that stopped them advancing further was... Spring arrived!

When the Fell Winter ended, so did the need for the goblins to migrate. They had been slaughtered by the thousands during the war, but they had kept coming; starvation had forced them out of the Felrundin ranges in search of food and better living conditions. They found those conditions on the lowlands west of Lake Ironrain, and when their camps were erected and made habitable, there was no reason for them to leave.

To the goblins, it seemed they had entered a golden age, but to the humans of Tysa, it was an affirmation that the Age of Igtheon had come one step closer.

*

[Badstench]

INTERLUDE: THE TABLE OF EIGHT: BOGMUCK (Part 2)

Bogmuck decided that he’d had enough of peeling potatoes and hoping vainly for a chance to fight goblins, so he took the opportunity to catch a ride to Mirgspil, there to discover a city and a city life. The man who drove the cart was a nervous sort, and when he spotted a company of goblins in the distance, he turned his mules so abruptly that Bogmuck lost his balance and fell onto the road.

Bogmuck was still trying to shake the shock of his landing when he realised the cart was already gone. He took refuge behind a large rock as the goblins ran in his direction.

About then, Bogmuck heard a voice swear in the Tysian language. He braved himself to peer above the rock, and saw...

There were twelve goblins chasing a human, and they had almost run him to ground. The human was near to Bogmuck’s hiding place when the man turned to make his stand. He pulled a sword from its scabbard and yelled defiantly at his pursuers, “Come get me, then, you fuckers!”

Whether the goblins understood him or not, they agreed that they were going to “get him”, and they snarled... which was their way of laughing.

When Bogmuck looked over the rock a second time, the man saw him and yelled, “Are you just gonna sit there and watch, or will you help me?”

Bogmuck said, “I lost my staff. I think I watch”

The goblins paused in the realisation that there was another human in the vicinity and that their odds had suddenly been halved.

This gave enough time for Varsil Demonsoul to say, “You know, if they kill me, they’ll kill you next!”

Either way... help the man or not... Bogmuck realised he wasn’t much longer for this world. The goblins knew he was there, and once they’d killed the man with the sword, their attentions would shift to him.

He shut his eyes and thought of a herd of goats being stolen, and that made him angry enough to stand up and yell, “You stole my goats!” and he threw a rock at the nearest goblin.

~~~~~~~~~

To this day, Varsil Demonsoul keeps a memory of the ugly goat-herder gone beserk. He was such a whirlwind of rock-throwing that it afforded Varsil the chance to cut two goblins down, slash another, and scare the rest so thoroughly that they ran away. But, it only took a few seconds for Varsil to realise that the goblin’s flight wouldn’t last long. They had been surprised by the presence of Bogmuck, but would soon rally for another assault.

To Bogmuck he said, “Can you run?” and without explanation, he sprinted away.

And that’s how Bogmuck met Varsil Demonsoul the second time.

*

Day 4:
Scout had every intention of pursuing Judge Fury’s request to locate Bogmuck and Ehris, but a more important matter claimed immediate precedence. The afternoon sun had faded to the deep blue/grey of evening when he exited the watch tower. He looked to the right, in the direction of Blade Square, then hitched his trousers, took a deep breath and strode purposefully in the opposite direction.

The Keep of the Thane stood in the East Quarter of the city surrounded by a moat and protected by armed guards. The function of the latter was mostly to act as a deterrent against the unannounced petitioners who constantly besieged Thane Pyrond on a daily basis. Everyone, it seemed, had a request or a complaint or a matter of importance that needed attending to, but presenting those matters to the Thane was only possible through a long and officious regimen of form-filling. If the petitioner could not produce the necessary documents, they would not get past the guards.

Scout approached the guards and was routinely challenged.

“Don’t waste your time,” said the guard in charge. “Even if you’ve got the right papers, it’s too late in the day.”

“I’m not here to see the Thane,” Scout answered. “I want to speak with His Worship, the Judge Advocate.”

“Oh, well, that makes... absolutely no difference at all. The Judge Advocate is not in audience, either.”

“I’m not here on business,” Scout lied. “I am acquainted with His Worship. I’m here on a personal matter.”

The guard looked unimpressed. He favoured the young adventurer with a sneer. “And I’m a good friend to the King. Now, piss off!”

The curt dismissal caused Scout to bristle with annoyance. He had never before used his authority as the son of a Lord to demand anything, but the smarmy manner shown by the guard irritated him. He drew himself to his full height, puffed out his chest and glared at the guard with as much righteous indignation as he could muster.

“Listen you, I am Lord Hollendale of Thulwy, noble by birth and entitled to see whoever I please within Thane Pyrond’s Keep. The Judge Advocate is known to me, and I’m willing to bet your rank against a swift demotion that he’ll be angry when I tell him the manner of the treatment I have received here.

“Now, you go see whoever you have to see to get me an audience with His Worship, or, believe me, it will go very badly for you!”

Scout kept his expression stern in the face of the older man, even though his heart was thumping and his hands were shaking, but the evocation of his title had an immediate effect. The other guards stiffened to attention, causing the first to follow suit.

“Lord... Hollendale was it?... of Thulwy?”

“That’s right.”

“Sir, I apologise. If you’ll permit me a moment, I will advise the Judge Advocate of your presence.” And Scout waited, feigning annoyed impatience for the benefit of the guards who remained by the gate.

Five minutes went by before the first guard returned in the company of another man. Scout almost up-chucked through a nervous reaction when he noted that the newcomer was walking toward him dressed in a bright cuirass emblazoned with the sign of a gavel, and it wasn’t the Judge Advocate.

The armoured man studied scout with a blank expression before breaking into a grin. The nod of his head was a bow of deference very slight, but enough to convey the meaning to the guards; Scout was recognised.

“Lord Hollendale, if you’ll follow me, the Judge Advocate will see you.” And he abruptly turned to walk through the gates of the keep with Scout in tow.

They had passed out of earshot of the guards when the man said, “That was a very brazen approach, Lord Hollendale. If the guards hadn’t believed you, you might be walking to the cells right now.”

Scout’s brow was furrowed. “Excuse me, but have we met before?”

The man paused and looked at the young adventurer. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. I was with the Judge Advocate when he went to Thulwy to pay his respects at your parents’ funeral.”

Scout gasped. “You’re the one they call ‘Bounty Hunter’, the personal protector of the Judge Advocate!”

His guide raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Bounty Hunter? Yes, I’ve heard that epithet before, though it confuses me why I should deserve the name. You are right that I am protector to the Advocate, but that is merely the assignment ordered of me by the King. I am actually the Captain of the Royal Huntsmen, which has nothing to do with the hunting of criminals or the claiming of bounties.”

Scout accepted the explanation without voicing the hundred other questions that begged to be asked, for the man known as ‘Bounty Hunter’ was a famous person renowned for his exploits and abilities. Instead, he followed the man in a stupor of awed silence.

~~~~~~~~~

They crossed the inner courtyard to an open door of massive dimension, climbed a wide staircase, proceeded along a hall lined with suits of armour and austere portraits, turned into a lesser corridor, and finally stopped at a plain door. Bounty Hunter was about to knock, but paused and turned a wary eye on Scout.

“The Advocate has asked for a private audience, Lord Hollendale, but I would be remiss in my duty if I didn’t ask you to divest yourself of any weapons you have on your person. Please assure me that you are not armed.”

Scout’s acquiescence was immediate and unquestioned; he lifted his shirt to show there was no sign of dagger scabbard attached to his belt, then sheepishly removed the knife hidden in his boot. “Just this little blade. It’s for protection, you understand?”

Bounty Hunter took it from him with a sardonic smile. “I understand completely”, he said, and knocked lightly at the door.

[Badstench]

Scout was nervous when he entered the chamber, but the Judge Advocate greeted him with a wide smile and an extended hand.

“Let us dispense with a shoulder cross, young master Hollendale. Your hand is more befitting this welcome.” And Scout was instantly transported to the memory of a man he had met eight years previously beside the graves of his mother and father. He had been curious as to the identity of the man, dressed as he was in robes of black and surrounded by the air of authority, but he’d also felt comforted by his presence – comforted and comfortable. The same feeling was instilled in him with this meeting as the Judge Advocate regarded him warmly.

They stood in a moment of shared regard before the Judge Advocate said, “Forgive me for staring. I am amazed at the resemblance to your father. You are so like him.”

Scout answered honestly. “I am pleased to hear you say that, my lord. Sometimes, I find it hard to remember him. I mean... it was a long time ago, and I only remember through the eyes of the child I was.”

The Judge Advocate nodded. “I understand. You were too young to lose both parents so tragically. How old are you now?”

“I’ll be 24 in a few months.”

“A man, you are, and a fine example of manhood, too, if I might say”. The Advocate held Scout’s hand a while longer, then seated himself in a comfortable chair. He waved Scout to a similar chair and poured two glasses of a light brown liquid from a decanter, handing one to his guest. “Ryorsian brandy,” he explained. “One of the few vices I allow myself in private.”

Scout sniffed the glass and blinked at the quality of the alcohol. “Whoa. We don’t have anything this nice at the Collective.”

The Judge Advocate watched him sip a few draughts before asking, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Scout stared into his glass, feeling a little sheepish. “I lied to the guard at the gate, my lord. I told him I was here to visit on a personal matter, which is only partly true.”

“Whatever the matter is, young master, I am happy to receive you. I was fond of your father. I see no reason to deny his son the same respect. Tell me, what is on your mind?”

Scout paused. “When I met you those many years ago, you told me that if I ever needed anything, I could ask.”

“Yes, I remember. The offer still applies to the Lord of Hollendale Estate. Is there something you require now?”

Again, Scout paused, followed by a slight cough as he cleared his throat nervously. “I don’t ask for myself, my lord, but for my good friend, Judge Fury.”

When the Judge Advocate made no response, Scout continued, “He is imprisoned wrongly. He is no more capable of murder than I, and to think he would harm Varsil Demonsoul is beyond belief. This whole matter is nothing but a silly joke played by Varsil that has got out of hand. I have come to you with evidence that Judge Fury is innocent, because no one else seems interested in it.”

The Judge Advocate listened as Scout relayed his ‘evidence’ by way of Bogmuck’s collusion with Varsil Demonsoul, and his suspicion that the body in the morgue was an adventurer who only resembled Varsil.

When the Advocate noted a pause in Scout’s reasoning, he interjected, “Scout, we already know Judge Fury is innocent. The task set us is to prove his innocence. Do you understand me?”

“But I have the proof!” exclaimed Scout.

“No you don’t. You have supposition. You have theory. You have an idea without facts.” And when Scout looked crestfallen, the Judge Advocate intoned his summation of events; “We have a body that resembles Varsil Demonsoul. The body was clutching a pendant that belongs to Judge Fury. Judge Fury was heard to threaten Varsil after an argument in the Adventurers Collective. Judge Fury was seen to leave the Collective sober and angry. The body was discovered an hour later, the victim of a vicious bashing.

“All the evidence points to Judge Fury being the perpetrator of this crime!”

“But you, yourself, said that Judge Fury is innocent! Why don’t you just proclaim it so and set him free?”

“Because we can’t, and Judge Fury knows the same. To set him free without letting the investigation run its full course would show undue leniency to a member of the justiciary, and do you know how that would look?”

“It would look like favouritism?”

“Yes, but it would also make the whole system of the King’s Law look corrupt!”

Scout had heard much the same from Fury, but when the explanation came from the Judge Advocate the reason seemed to hold more relevance. This was not just a matter of one person’s guilt or innocence, it was a public exposition designed to show the common people that the Rule of Law, the very fabric of society, applied to everyone, no matter their status or position. It was a stratagem necessary to prove to the people of Tysa that they could trust their King and His government.

Scout nodded his understanding, but the Judge Advocate saw that the young lord chewed his lower lip with his thoughts elsewhere.

“I see you accept the explanation, but it isn’t what you wanted to hear. Is there another matter that concerns you?”

“Forgive me, sir, I know you only arrived to Trithik earlier today, but Judge Fury has been locked in a cell for four days. When I visited him this afternoon, I was concerned when I first saw him. He looked lost, if you know what I mean. I’ve never known Judge Fury to be anything but in control, but it seemed to me that he was despaired. It was a shock to me.”

The Judge Advocate leaned forward in his chair, the fingers of his hands knitted together in a gesture of contemplation. “Despaired, you say? That is not a description I would associate with Judge Fury. He has a strong will and is intelligent enough to know why his incarceration is necessary. Are you sure it was a look of despair? Maybe he isn’t well?”

“No, he isn’t well. I think he’s made himself sick with worry.”

“How so? Judge Thorndew visited him today with words of reassurance. Fury is merely being held as a suspect toward an arraignment, and I can assure you, young master, the matter will not go to trial. Judge Fury will be freed in due course.”

“I don’t think that’s what he’s worried about.”

“Oh?”

Scout hesitated. He wasn’t sure if the Judge Advocate knew of Fury’s belief that the Phantom Assassin was in Trithik. Scout, himself, didn’t believe it, and he didn’t want to raise a matter that might indicate a lapse of reason from Judge Fury. His friend needed all the help he could get right now, not an examination of his state of mind. Any further complication to the matter of Varsil’s stupid prank might actually work against Fury.

Thinking quickly, Scout voiced his concern for the identity of the victim lying in the morgue at Lyrelock Monastery, and for the possibility that Varsil might actually have killed the fellow to initiate his prank.

The Judge Advocate wasn’t fooled for a moment. He recognised the obfuscation from Scout, but chose not to question it. He had already guessed why Fury would display signs of mental anguish, for he knew about Rhia’s hint to him concerning the Phantom Assassin. This was a subject he didn’t want to discuss with the young Lord Hollendale, a subject he would avoid by any means because of the connection it entailed to Scout’s father.

So the Judge Advocate continued the game begun by Scout, pretending that the current subject under discussion was all about the well-being of Judge Fury and to the reaching of a swift conclusion surrounding the ‘prank’ played by Varsil Demonsoul.

“It seems to me that Judge Fury’s advice is sound. If you can locate Varsil Demonsoul and discover the identity of the corpse, the arraignment would become a mere formality.”

Scout nodded, but continued to look rueful. “My lord, I’ve already spent two days looking for Bogmuck. He is the person most likely to know the whereabouts of Varsil, but I can’t find him, either. It is my worry that the search might go on for a few days yet. In the meantime, Judge Fury remains locked away.

“The reason I’ve come to you is to ask if the arraignment can be fast-tracked. Can it be done tomorrow, or even the next day?”

The Judge Advocate looked thoughtful. “It is not an impossible request, but it is highly irregular and it may work against Judge Fury. The reason this particular arraignment should be permitted to run its normal time-frame is to allow Captain Keddin a thorough investigation.

“Scout, we are not just sitting back for the sake of appearances. It is my belief that Captain Keddin will eventually find some evidence that will free Judge Fury even without the presence of Varsil Demonsoul. Patience is a virtue, my young friend.”

Scout sighed. “So, given a ‘normal’ time-frame, when will the arraignment happen?”

“If everything remains as it is now, Judge Fury will have to remain in his cell for another week, at least.”

~~~~~~~~~~

[Badstench]

Scout left the audience with the Judge Advocate determined, more than ever, to find Varsil Demonsoul. He bid the third most powerful man in the Kingdom of Tysa farewell, invigorated by the Advocate’s departing words... “Judge Fury is fortunate to have a friend like you, Lord Hollendale. Find your friend, Bogmuck, and find Varsil Demonsoul. Make your enquiries after the identity of the dead man, and when you are successful, come back here. My door will be open to you.”

But when the door was closed, the smile on the Judge Advocate’s face was replaced by a deep frown. He heard the soft click as another door opened behind him – a secret door – and he felt the presence of the silent watcher.

Said he, “The decisions we made those many years ago, Hyra... I truly hope they don’t come back to haunt us now.”

*

INTERLUDE: THE TABLE OF EIGHT: BOGMUCK (Part 3)

Bogmuck could only manage a lumbering run behind the swifter Varsil Demonsoul, which he did with much ‘whooping’ and hollering and laughter. The gap between the two fleeing humans was widening until the rogue, concerned by the cacophony of noise made by the goat-herder, was forced to turn around and run back in the direction from which he’d already come.

“What, by all that’s sane, are you doing?” Varsil demanded.

Bogmuck puffed to a stop and commenced to hop a strange little dance. “Did you see me? I hit a gobble on the noggin. He will hurt. Har har.”

Varsil’s jaw dropped open at the ridiculous sight of the big man grinning as he hopped from foot to foot. “Would you, please, shut up! With all the noise you’re making, even a bunch of totally deaf goblins could follow us.”

Unbeknown to Varsil, the goblins had already decided against a pursuit of the two humans; they had only chased Varsil because he had looked an easy target that might offer them a bit of sport, but when the second human had appeared and pelted them with rocks, and Varsil had used the distraction to kill two of their brethren, the rest decided that the ‘sport’ was no longer fun. They took their wounded comrade and turned away.

A short while later found Varsil Demonsoul and Bogmuck walking across a hoarfrost-covered field with their backs to the late afternoon sun. This was something Varsil had learned through his years of adventuring: that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, so if one becomes lost (as he was), one can always acquire a general sense of direction at least twice a day.

They mostly walked in silence, but at one point, Varsil asked the lumbering goat-herder, “Were you serious about simply watching while the goblins killed me?”

Bogmuck shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You killed two gobbles, I hurt one, we safe.”

Varsil persisted, “Yeah, but you do realize that if I’d been killed, the goblins would have killed you, too?”

Bogmuck returned Varsil’s look with a blank expression. “But you not dead and me not dead. You think too much.”

“Are you stupid, or something?” asked Varsil, not willing to let his ugly companion have the last say.

This caused Bogmuck to pause in his stride, and, for a moment, he looked incredibly sad. “Yes, “ he finally admitted. “I stoopid.”

Varsil grunted, and they resumed their silent trudge.

~~~~~~~~~

The following day, the two humans encountered a road, and it wasn’t very long before a cart happened by going in the direction of Trithik. When they arrived at the city, Varsil turned to bid the goat-herder farewell. He saw that Bogmuck was looking through the gates in frightened consternation.

“Have you got any money?” the rogue asked, mindful of the fact that neither of them had eaten since the fracas with the goblins. When Bogmuck shook his head, Varsil flipped him a few coins.

“There’s a few doss houses along Wall Street… that’s the road that follows the wall all the way around the city. You should also find a few food sellers to satisfy your belly, but don’t buy the crunchy things that look like cockroaches… because they’re cockroaches.” Varsil ended with a lame smile.

He made to offer Bogmuck a shoulder-cross, but since the big fellow had never experienced the gesture before, he didn’t respond.

~~~~~~~~~

[Badstench]

Bogmuck watched Varsil enter the City and disappear among the many passers-by. He was suddenly alone… more alone than he had ever been during his solitary life as a village goat-herder. The city was an alien environment full of unfamiliar faces and uncaring strangers, and though Bogmuck drew a few looks of startled curiosity because of his ugly features, people mostly chose to avoid or ignore him.

When Bogmuck had spent the last of the few coins given to him by Varsil, he was thrown out of the doss house and left to wander the streets. The Fell Winter still kept an icy grip on the seasons, so Bogmuck experienced nights of bitter cold huddled in doorways seeking whatever comfort he could find. He had to rely on the pity of other people for his food, by begging or accepting the most menial of tasks whenever opportunity dictated. He cleaned sewers, swept chimneys, picked up manure excreted by horse and ox and mule, and sometimes by humans. When there was no work, he would trap rats for the few pennies offered as reward, incurring the wrath of the professional rat-catchers who would beat him when they found out. Sometimes, Bogmuck was reduced to eating cockroaches, and he would think wistfully of Varsil’s warning the first day he had arrived at Trithik... “Don’t’ buy the crunchy things that look like cockroaches”. At least those cockroaches had been roasted. Bogmuck was forced to eat the ones he caught raw and wriggling.

Hunger and the cold began to take its toll on Bogmuck. He lost much of his body mass, becoming gaunt and stooped, and, even though the Fell Winter eventually abated, it is likely the goat-herder wouldn’t have survived a second year on the streets of the city. Lesser beings in his predicament might have resorted to a life of crime for survival, but this never occurred to Bogmuck. For all the ill treatment he had received in the past, and for all that the inhabitants of Trithik ignored his plight, he never once considered hurting anyone to appease his hunger.

He missed his goats – that was the one thing he regretted in life, but if anyone suggested that his life had been one of misery and hardship, Bogmuck would probably have shrugged.

“It is what it is”.

~~~~~~~~~

One night, Bogmuck was walking along an alley. His gaze was turned downward, searching the cracks in the cobbled stones for the sudden movement that might betray the location of a cockroach. When he turned a corner, he was confronted by the sight of a group of men beating the bejabbers out of someone who was trying to fend off their blows with outstretched arms. Fists and boots were raining down on the victim with vicious intensity.

Without thought to his own safety, Bogmuck launched himself forward and crashed into the whole group. His momentum carried him past the surprised muggers and into an unforgiving brick wall, whereupon he bounced backward and fell to the ground unconscious. Bogmuck’s heroic intervention proved the saving of the man who was being beaten, for his assailants became quite distracted from their frenzy of violence. They took what valuables they could find, kicked Bogmuck a couple of times, and ran off.

~~~~~~~~~

When Varsil Demonsoul burst through the green door with a ragged figure slumped over his shoulder, Judge Fury couldn’t know that the first words out of his mouth were a repeat of the words he’d uttered the very first time he’d encountered Bogmuck.

“Varsil, what the hell have you got there?”

Adam Jadefang leapt dextrously out of the way as Varsil deposited Bogmuck onto the table, but his first words were not so dextrous. “Oh, Hell! What is that godawful stink?”

Young Ned plainly agreed with Adam Jadefang’s exclamation, for he was furiously fanning the air away from his face with one hand while pinching his nostrils closed with the other. Dragonbane was busy shuffling his chair backwards away from the source of the smell.

It’s true, Bogmuck was about as dirty and smelly as a human can ever get. Months of living on the streets without recourse to fresh water (except when it rained), decent food or clean clothes meant that his personal hygiene had become sadly neglected. His hair had grown long and matted, and little white ‘things’ could be seen skittering among the locks of the whole unsightly mess. His nails were long and filthed, and if there was any part of his skin that wasn’t similarly filthed, it certainly wasn’t on the visible parts.

~~~~~~~~~

For all that we know about Varsil Demonsoul, what possessed him to take pity on Bogmuck? One could suppose he was grateful to the man for saving him twice – from the goblins and from the beating in the alley. Perhaps he felt responsible for Bogmuck’s physical state, him having left the goat-herder in the alien environment of the city where he was not equipped to survive. Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

Whatever, when Varsil managed to lift himself off the ground after the attack in the alley (perpetrated by members of a local criminal gang who had been ordered to smack Varsil around because of an unpaid gambling debt), he thought to check on the unconscious figure to make sure the man wasn’t dead. It took him a few moments to recognise Bogmuck, whereupon he hefted the emaciated remnants of the once-big man over his shoulder and made his way to the Adventurers Collective.

Stranger still, it was Finkle, the dwarf masseuse, who took control of the situation after Bogmuck was laid out on the table in the shadowed corner of the room. Vurii was having a well-deserved night off and had left Finkle in charge of the bar. Initially, the dwarf was outraged that Varsil would sully the guild-room with a creature so smelly. It had been her intention to throw them both – Bogmuck and Varsil – back through the green door.

What stayed her? Truth is, when Finkle saw the face of the ugly man and his overall condition, she saw a person with deformities not unlike her own. She remembered the many difficulties experienced in her own past and took pity on Bogmuck.

She insisted that Young Ned perform whatever healing magicks he knew on Bogmuck’s injuries. She pointed at Dragonbane, who was of similar height and build to the goat-herder, and ordered him to fetch clean clothes… from his own wardrobe if need be. She ordered Adam Jadefang and Judge Fury to carry the bewildered man to the steam room. She looked at Varsil Demonsoul (without sympathy for his own bruises and abrasions), and ordered him to go buy a hot-meal from a reputable food-seller.

Bogmuck was conscious when they washed him. It was the very first time he experienced a hot shower. His head was completely shaved; the nits and lice were flushed down the drain along with whatever other nasties had made a home in his matted hair. He was dressed in the clothes provided by Dragonbane (which actually fitted quite well), and he ate the food sourced by Varsil. It was the first decent meal Bogmuck had eaten in a long time.

*

Do the gods bless babies when they are newly born? If so, then one can only assume that the attention of the gods was elsewhere when Bogmuck was born. Premature and misshapen, he was not gifted with looks, intelligence or dexterity. His life was one of servitude and solitude, and this is how he might have existed to the end of his days had fate not intervened.

What the gods miss, maybe angels take special notice of, and maybe Bogmuck was being lead by an angel the night he saved Varsil from more than just a beating.

Whether true or not, Bogmuck found himself included to the company of a group of men collectively known as the Table of Eight. This confused the goat-herder no end, for there were only five of them plus himself, and even he knew that the number eight configured more people than that.

Regardless, Bogmuck’s new companions taught him the ways of an adventurer, with Varsil being the patient teacher on most occasions. He would often tease and insult the ugly man, but no one sitting at that table was fooled… Varsil developed a special fondness for Bogmuck that was returned in kind. The two became inseparable, an odd pairing of misfits who would never admit to the word, ‘friendship’.

*

One thing more needs to be mentioned concerning the history of Bogmuck – just as the number of people that constitute the Table of Eight isn’t constant, nor is the physical reality of the actual table.

While Bogmuck was being scrubbed in the steam room, Adam Jadefang and Young Ned agreed that they would never again eat or drink anything placed on the table upon which Bogmuck had lain in his filthy rags and lice-infested hair. The table was rolled to the green door and thrown outside. Finkle didn’t notice the missing piece of furniture, because Adam Jadefang pulled a replacement table to the vacated position and rearranged all the others in a more-or-less symmetrical pattern.

However, the next morning, Vurii spotted the different configuration of the room straight away. She also noted the newcomer being plied with hammertongue at the table of eight, and also noted the bruises and black eye that adorned Varsil’s face. She wrongly deduced that the bar had hosted another brawl in her absence, but decided to let it slide this time. The place was looking clean enough, and she’d had a thoroughly entertaining time in the company of a very nice gentleman the previous evening.

She was in a good mood.

[Badstench]

Chapter 8
THOFYRA

Day 5:
Captain Keddin placed a large bowl of tepid water and a flannel towel on the bench outside the cell before unlocking the barred door. He called the Judge’s name in an urgent whisper. Fury blinked his drowsiness away, aware that the hour was early enough to deny the sun’s rise.

“Keddin? What is the meaning of this? What time is it?”

“Forgive me, sir,” Keddin said in a continued whisper. “There is someone waiting for you in the office. The early hour is necessary for discretion and some urgency, but I managed to convince the fellow to spare a little time for your ablutions.”

“Oh? Who is it?”

“The one called Bounty Hunter, the personal protector of the Judge Advocate. You are to accompany him to Trynd Keep.”

“At last,” thought Judge Fury. “Now I’ll get some answers and a chance to convince the Advocate to have me released”, but out loud, he said something that sounded quite strange to Keddin, “Bounty Hunter, eh? How did he look?”

“Sir? I don’t understand.”

“Ah, never mind,” returned Fury somewhat whimsically.

A few minutes later, he was acknowledging Bounty Hunter with a curt nod. “Thof. You’re still an early riser, then?”

“Greetings, Judge Fury.”

Fury noticed the formal use of his title immediately, obvious against his own use of familiarity. “It’s to be like that is it, Captain Thofyra? After all these years, I’d imagine we could address each other with greater congeniality?”

Bounty Hunter returned the remark with a baleful smirk. “I am here to conduct you to Trynd Keep for a meeting with the Judge Advocate. It is not an official meeting, being as how it bends the rules of legal propriety, and I was not asked to conduct you there in a congenial manner. All I require from you is to put this cape on and pull the hood over your head until we are safely out of the sight of any curious eyes.”

Judge Fury was about to say something more, but the presence of Captain Keddin stilled his tongue. Instead, he donned the cape and hood as requested and followed Bounty Hunter to a covered carriage waiting outside.

Keddin returned to his desk and sat down with a heavy sigh. “I wonder what that was all about,” he thought.

~~~~~~~~~

The carriage travelled slowly through the streets of Trithik, the driver ordered to proceed with as little noise as possible. This gave its occupants, Judge Fury and Captain Thofyra of the Royal Huntsmen, the opportunity to eyeball each other across the compartment. They were a number of minutes into the short journey to Trynd Keep before Fury broke the silence.

“I never figured out the cause of your anger against me, Thofyra. Against Varsil I could understand, but it was never my decision to see you punished for what happened. I didn’t even know about your demotion until after we were sent to Trithik.”

A spasm of anger flashed across Captain Thofyra’s face, but he would not be drawn to a response.

Perhaps unwisely, Judge Fury continued, “And it was you who gave Varsil his second name, let’s not forget. Is it any wonder the Elders were pissed off? They were working so hard to hide the existence of ‘Sryth’s Doom’ among us, and you start calling him ‘Demonsoul’! Hard to ignore that sort of indiscretion, don’t you think?”

Still the captain remained stonily silent, but Fury noted a slight narrowing of his eyes. Thought he, “One more push should get a response out of him.”

“It’s certainly not my fault you disappointed the Elders. You did that all on your own.”

“You Arsehole!” spat Thofyra. “You think I cared about being rapped over the knuckles for something as small as name-calling? Bish! ‘Demonsoul’ was one of the nicer things I called that little turd.”

“Then why, Thofyra? What turned you against me? We were such good friends once.”

Thofyra rasped, “Those days are gone, Fury. They vanished the day you defended Varsil Demonsoul over me. The punishment I received was nothing compared to the disappointment of your betrayal. As far as I’m concerned, you were never my friend!”

Judge Fury was utterly confused. “What, by Srythak, are you talking about? Betrayal? You’ve lost me.”

Thofyra barked a short laugh of derision. “You dare invoke the name of Srythak? I find that cruelly funny, Fury. You defend ‘Sryth’s Doom’, the supposed son of a demon, then defend your own actions in the name of the Holy One while not believing any of it – that’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

“But, you don’t believe this nonsense about the prophecies any more than I do, or Varsil, for that matter. We obeyed the Elders because there was no harm to it and it afforded the three of us certain advantages. We continue to obey them for the same reasons, and also because…” Judge Fury’s voice trailed away beneath the gaze of contempt from his opposite.

“Oh. You did believe it?”

“I’ve always believed it, Fury, and I thought you believed it, too! But, you had me fooled. I thought your disbelief was the pretence, affected for the benefit of Varsil. When he did what he did and you defended him, you left me alone.

“I wasn’t punished for any perception of disbelief. I was punished for not reporting yours!”

~~~~~~~~~

The carriage was entering beneath the gates of Trynd Keep.

When it rumbled to a stop, Thofyra aimed Judge Fury a parting shot before he opened the door, “You betrayed me, Fury, and every day you continue to mock the prophecies is a further betrayal. Whatever you learn here this day, I just hope it shakes you awake!”

With that, the Captain of the Royal Huntsmen stepped down from the carriage and strode through the wide doors of the Keep fully expectant of the Judge to follow. Fury dutifully did so, but with his mind gone blank. The venom displayed by his old friend had surprised him, as had the reason for that venom, but it had merely come as another attack on his already overwhelmed psyche.

Uppermost in his mind was the threat posed by the Phantom Assassin to his friends. He needed to prevent any such possibility, but for that, he needed to get out of gaol. He had spent the better part of the previous evening strategizing how he would approach the Judge Advocate with reasons for his immediate release. On top of that, he’d been stewing over the fact that two... now three... people had called him an ‘arsehole’ on three separate occasions over the past week; Rhia through anger, Scout through exasperation and Thofyra through disgust. Judge Fury was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner. His personal sense of self-worth was taking a battering that Varsil’s untimely prank had exacerbated.

The last moment before Captain Thofyra knocked at an ornate wooden door might have been Fury’s chance to offer his old friend some sort of explanation, but he didn’t. All that came from him was a stammered apology.

“Thof, I didn’t know… I didn’t realise… I’m sorry”

There was a moment when Thofyra’s expression softened, a wistful look that encompassed the memory of the years he spent growing to adolescence with his friend who was now a Judge, but that moment was fleeting.

“Save it,” growled the Captain. “Your apology is empty, especially when you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

*

Whatever strategy Judge Fury had devised for approaching the Advocate, it was forgotten when he entered the room and found himself confronted by… well, suffice it to say that any man of lesser standing than Judge Fury would probably have shit himself right there and then!

When a Judge sits in audience, it usually means that a matter of importance is being adjudicated. If the matter requires a judgement against a person, that person has usually done something pretty heinous. Judges don’t concern themselves with petty crimes and every-day petitions; these are over-seen by the magistrates. The Thanes perform the same duty for people of noble birth.

Dispensing justice is not the only task set the Judges, however. Society is an ever-changing entity; populations shrink and grow, new experiences and learning brings increased knowledge, inventions and discoveries open new horizons and possibilities. New ways of doing things necessitates the creation of new laws to keep everyone on an even playing field, and the Judges are kept constantly busy reviewing those new laws as well as changes to old laws. It can be a tedious occupation.

The practical upshot of this is to explain why the Judges are seldom encountered outside Talinus unless a specific reason dictates, and it is extremely rare for more than one to be encountered at any time. Therefore, it is not hard to imagine that an ordinary man might soil himself if he entered a room where sat three Judges!

[Badstench]

Captain Thofyra stood aside to admit Judge Fury into the room ahead of him.

This wasn’t the same room in which the Judge Advocate had hosted Scout; this was an antechamber next to the main court; an office, of sorts, where Thane Pyrond performed most of the routine business demanding of his position. Here, he familiarised himself with written petitions before facing the petitioners themselves in the main audience chamber. He would peruse documents then check the same against local ordinances and national decrees, sign approvals, rubber stamp denials, etc.

A large desk occupied the centre of the room behind which the Advocate regarded Judge Fury with a friendly smile. Behind him, Judge Knot was preparing a number of mugs for drinking, a pour into each of hot Kothian palo. Judge Thorndew was seated to one side of the desk, his eyes surveying the new arrival with warmth.

Opposite Thorndew sat Thane Pyrond, whose gaze was not so welcoming, but it was the person sitting next to him that caused Judge Fury surprise, for he had not expected to see the Guildmaster of the Adventurers Collective here. It added to his confused state of mind that set his head dizzying.

If Thofyra had not been attentive, Fury might have collapsed to the floor. As it was, the Captain caught him just in time. Judge Thorndew was first to leap out of his chair and grab Fury’s other arm.

“My friend, you are unwell?”

“No, no... I’m okay... just a bit light-headed.”

“Bish! You haven’t had anything to eat yet and precious little exercise over the past four days.” Thorndew turned a pleading eye to his superior, the Judge Advocate. “My Lord, we must delay this meeting.”

It was Judge Fury who insisted, “No! I need answers. You have come because of my summons to Thorndew concerning the Phantom. I know why the grand assassin is here, but I can do nothing about it if I’m stuck in gaol.

“This matter needs to be recognized and attended to now!”

With help from Judge Thorndew and Captain Thofyra, Fury was aided to a seat. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

“My apologies, Advocate. Thorndew is right... I just need some food and... Judge Knot?... can I have one of those mugs?”

The hot palo was soothing. Fury felt his strength return enough to wave Thorndew back to his seat. He nodded thanks to Captain Thofyra who, likewise, returned to his position beside the door. Everyone else was looking concerned, even Thane Pyrond, but Fury sent them all a smile of reassurance.

The Judge Advocate spoke an order to his protector, “Busy the cooks... get some food here.” upon which Captain Thofyra obeyed.

~~~~~~~~~

The moment the captain left the room, Judge Fury rounded on his superior. “You passed him over for what Varsil did? Thof was the best of us! Why did you punish him for our misdemeanours?”

It was Judge Knot who answered. “Be still, Fury. It was not the Advocate’s decision alone. All the Elders agreed. Thofyra was not worthy of a Judgeship.”

“Not worthy? How can you say that? He was top in all our classes bar one, and that was swordplay. Only Varsil was better.”

Judge Knot was about to say something when the Advocate silenced him with a raised hand. “Fury, whether you can begin to understand our reasons or not, Captain Thofyra was never going to be a Judge. His abilities were recognised, but recognised as being better utilised elsewhere. Many of your acquaintances at the Adventurers Collective have had their mettles tested by him. As a weapon-master, Thofyra fulfilled our need at that time.”

“But Thof wanted to be a Judge. He lived for the day, and now he blames me for his failure.”

“His failure was his own, Judge Fury!” This from Judge Knot. “Thofyra showed his skill in weaponry and his loyalty to the cause, but he lacked an important ingredient.”

When Fury raised an eye-brow in query to the statement, Judge Knot answered, “He lacked The Gift!”

“The Gift.” Judge Fury repeated the phrase like it was poison to his tongue. “Like mine?... the ability to commune with the dead? I don’t think of it as a gift at all... more like a curse.”

“Then pity Judge Gallows,” snarled Judge Knot, “for he was gifted with the knowledge of shadows. It is why he became the Executioner in place of Judge Goldworth”

“And your gift, Judge Knot? What makes you special?”

The Advocate raised his hand again. “Come now, let us not be drawn into a spat of personalities. Fury, you know full well that both Judge Knot and Thorndew are diviners. It is a trait you also possess, though yours is channelled in a different way. Your particular ability is unique. It’s what sets you apart from the rest of us.”

“Yes, yes... this was all explained to me at the academy, and I was singled out for special attention because of it. I was tutored differently and by sages unknown to Thofyra and Varsil.”

“And a fat lot of good that did us,” mused Judge Knot aloud. “It only helps to prove you right about one thing… possession of The Gift aside, Thofyra was eminently more qualified for a Judgeship than you. He was, indeed, the best of the three of you.”

The Advocate hissed, “Please, Judge Knot, let it go.”

“No, Advocate. Fury should know this, if only to teach him some humility.

“Your appointment was not made through a unanimous decision, Fury. I had deep reservations about your early ascension to a Judgeship, not only for your commitment to the prophecies, but to the King’s Law as well. As it turns out, my fears concerning the former were well founded…”

Fury had reddened under the accusation. He bristled with indignation and would have responded, but Judge Knot over-spoke him.

“… so it is well for you that I was proved wrong about the latter. Yes, you have performed your duties here in Trithik satisfactorily, albeit not without controversies, but if I’d had my way, you would never have been made a Judge at all!

“I saw your wildness early – your inattentiveness during important lessons, your preference for the physical exercises over academic studies, your proclivity for running off with friends to explore crypts and cave systems – it amounted to a mind unsuited to the discipline required of the justiciary.

“I remain unconvinced of your suitability to this position, Judge Fury, and Thane Pyrond shares my feelings.”

~~~~~~~~~

Even though the last statement was true, Thane Pyrond thought it prudent to appear neutral in this discussion. Judge Knot was right, but his opinion went against those of more important men, namely the Judge Advocate, the king’s chief advisor, Magical, and the King himself. One did not lightly align themselves against any one of those worthies.

Still, at the time, Pyrond had argued vehemently against the new Judge’s posting to Trithik. Truth be told, it hadn’t mattered that it was Fury who turned up; it could have been anyone. The Thane was simply annoyed that a permanent residence had been created in his city to house a person of equal standing to himself, and this annoyance was magnified when the new Judge turned out to be a wet-behind-the-ears kid who arrived in the company of a weasel called Varsil Demonsoul.

That had happened eighteen years previously, and Thane Pyrond had suffered no end of crisis and controversy since. Is it any wonder he displayed little patience or liking for Judge Fury?

No, it is not!

*

[Badstench]

Fury had always found himself at odds with Judge Knot. The Elder had never shown Fury, the student, any leniency or warmth, and that mien hadn’t changed through the years since he had been made a Judge and posted to Trithik. There is no doubt that Fury respected Judge Knot, and even feared him a little, but the Elder’s lack of regard for Fury had been returned in kind. The three friends – Fury, Varsil and Thofyra – had dubbed the grizzled old Judge with many unkind nicknames, not least of which was ‘Judge-got-his-knickers-in-a-Knot’.

It is a fact that the names of the Judges are not chosen by their owners; they are given. Fury’s name was proffered by Judge Armstrong as a sly dig at the student’s reputation for having a nasty temper. It’s true! Fury was a terrible child prone to tantrums and his early teen years were punctuated by angry outbursts directed at his tutors when his inability to grasp lessons manifested in table-thumping and wall-kicking. Thankfully, Fury seemed to mellow soon after his sixteenth birthday (Judge Armstrong had rightly deduced that Fury’s sudden show of maturity had coincided with him being introduced to the pleasures of a woman for the first time, a trip to a whorehouse provided as a birthday present from Varsil Demonsoul).

Judge Knot had no discernable vices or habits but one; he always kept about his person a ball of ordinary twine with which he delighted in playing string-games. Fury imagined this was how he had acquired the moniker ‘Knot’, but that was only partly true.

A day had come when Judge Armstrong overheard Fury, Varsil and Thofyra referring to Judge Knot in a disparaging way. He took the boys aside to chastise them for their lack of respect.

Varsil had sneered, “Respect is earned, isn’t it? What respect does a man deserve who plays with bits of string and doesn’t engage in weapon-play?”

“You are wrong to think that a man’s capabilities are proven by his prowess with a sword, Varsil.” Judge Armstrong had admonished. “There are other weapons that, in the hands of one skilled, are just as deadly as a blade. Some weapons are even more fearsome, though you might not recognise them as being weapons at all.”

This had caused the young Fury much interest. “How so?” he asked.

Judge Armstrong’s answer came as a warning. “In the case of Judge Knot, I pray you never offer him cause to find out. Do not provoke him with your adolescent antics, my young friends. You will regret the day, believe me.”

Of course, with Varsil and Fury, Armstrong’s warning was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, and the boys determined to uncover the meaning of the Judge’s innuendo at first opportunity.

The opportunity arose the day Talwarden held his annual archery contest, with the spectacle being in Talinus that year. All the students of the academy had been excused their lessons to watch the competition, but Fury, Varsil and Thofyra snuck back to the empty school intent on doing mischief. They were surprised to hear an odd cracking sound from the weapons training arena and moved to investigate. What they saw froze them in amazement, for Judge Knot had seized the chance of solitude to practice with his weapons of preferment.

A blanket had been laid on the ground, and on this was arrayed an assortment of ropes and cords, but it was the items Judge Knot held, one in each hand, that fascinated the boys the most; two bullwhips, each tipped with a nasty looking spike!

Judge Knot had placed an assortment of empty bottles approximately 25 feet in front of him, some in a line along a wooden beam, others on the ground, and a few at various positions on a straw training dummy. In a dazzling display of expertise, he would cast each whip forward in an offset rhythm then snap them back with a flick of his wrist. Each flick elicited the cracking sound that had attracted the attention of the three boys, and they were mightily impressed to note how none of the bottles were smashed; just the tops were neatly scissored away from the stems. But, if they thought that was cool, it was nothing compared to the grand finale they witnessed.

Judge Knot began a series of pirouettes, the whips a-whirl high above his head. Of a sudden, he lunged forward, bringing one whip down to crack at the base of a bottle placed on the outstretched arm of a training dummy. The bottle flew into the air, then the second whip lashed out. But, instead of smashing the glass vessel in mid-flight, the whip wrapped around the body of the bottle. Judge Knot dropped the first whip and deftly caught the bottle as he snapped it back to him, whereupon he took off the stopper and calmly took a sip of whatever liquid it contained.

It would be fair to say that all three boys watched this display with their mouths agape, and not one of them dared make a sound as they crept away.

If they’d looked back, they might have seen Judge Knot watching them depart with a self-satisfied grin. “I won’t get any more trouble from them,” he was thinking.

*

[Badstench]

The Judge Advocate had risen from his seat and crossed the room to kneel in front of Fury. In a soothing tone, he said, “Judge Knot’s opinion is his own, and so was his dissension to the decision that offered you this Judgeship. There were particular reasons why you were chosen for the post in Trithik, not least of which was your unique gift, but you possess other attributes that are just as important.

“And Judge Knot is also right about one thing… you have performed your duties here satisfactorily. No – more than satisfactorily! Of that, you can be sure.”

At that moment, Captain Thofyra reappeared, but without a tray of food or a retinue of cooks tagging along behind him. “My apologies, sir,” he offered to the Advocate. “I took the liberty of ordering a proper breakfast readied for everyone. It is being delivered to the dining hall this very moment.”

The Judge Advocate was relieved. The beginning to this meeting had not gone at all how he’d envisioned. He needed an excuse to diffuse the antagonism that had arisen between Judge Knot and Judge Fury.

“Thank you Captain. That was a good thought. Thane Pyrond, my friend, would you conduct our guests, Judge Fury and the Guildmaster, to the dining hall? Thorndew, please ensure Judge Fury receives every comfort available.

“Judge Knot, a quick word in private, if you will?”

The four dignitaries, accompanied by Captain Thofyra, left the room. Thane Pyrond had flashed the Advocate an aggrieved look at being ordered out of his own office like a servant, until he noticed that the Advocate was standing with hands clenched into tight fists. It was an indication that the Elder was angry, so the Thane gestured the Guildmaster through the door ahead of him without an argument.

The Judge Advocate closed the door after the last of them and turned an angry glare to his colleague. “That was not called for, Judge Knot. What possessed you to attack Fury like that?”

Judge Knot uttered only one word in reply, “Perspective.”

When the Advocate waited for a more complete explanation, Judge Knot said, “It occurred to me that your idea to coddle Judge Fury in the early stages of this meeting wasn’t a well thought-out approach, and that was proved when he took the initiative by opening the discussion with a matter that wasn’t on our agenda. In effect, Fury took immediate control of the meeting. I deemed it prudent to pull the rug out from under him and put him back in his place. To do that…” Judge Knot shrugged… “I hurt his feelings.”

“Yes, you hurt his feelings… and put him on the defensive,” countered the Advocate. “Now he’ll be wary and more difficult to manage when we discuss the real reason for our being here.”

“To discuss Rhia’s hint of the Phantom Assassin being in Trithik? I am still questioning the wisdom behind telling Fury the truth about that at this time. Instead, we could use this as an opportunity to do away with the Phantom altogether.”

“By continuing the lie, you mean? No. The danger of Fury discovering the truth for himself is always a real concern. The longer the lie is perpetuated, the stronger the possibility becomes. It’s better if he hears it from us, and the sooner the better. If we can control how Fury learns the truth, it might help us appear in a more favourable light.”

“We did what we thought was right, Advocate. The means justified the end.”

“Yes, yes… and all’s well that ends well, but in this case, Judge Knot, we haven’t reached the end, have we? Like I said to you yesterday, the decisions we made all those years ago may be our undoing now.

“We have to tread very carefully, and I don’t want Judge Fury being upset any more than you’ve already made him, do you understand?”

~~~~~~~~~

Captain Thofyra had done himself proud; he had ordered the cooks to prepare a breakfast fit for high level dignitaries that included only healthy foods. Thane Pyrond was a bit mystified to note the lack of his favourite morning dishes, but was placated to note that the Guildmaster tucked into his choice with a happy smile.

Judge Fury was seated next to the Guildmaster, studying his plate with amusement. The Guildmaster explained, “A poached egg, rather than a fried egg, is better for the bowels.”

“And the asparagus?”

“Aids circulation. My physician recommended it.”

Fury forked a sprig and bit cautiously, then spat it out. “You actually like the taste? It’s awful!”

The Guildmaster chuckled. ‘Yes, it’s an acquired taste. I nearly sacked my physician the first time I tried it.”

Fury let the Guildmaster enjoy his asparagus before asking, “Sir, forgive me for asking, but I’m mystified by your presence here. I was quite taken aback when I first entered the Thane’s office, and I’m still mystified. Why are you here?”

The Guildmaster put his fork down and finished chewing the last of the asparagus stalk, looking at Judge Fury all the while. “I have come to know you well, Fury, though you don’t know much about me, I’ll warrant. No one does, and that’s how I like it.

“Not for any reasons of secrecy or paranoia, mind you... it’s just the way I prefer things at the Collective.”

“Is that why you are constantly concealed? Because you prefer your privacy?

The Guildmaster laughed. “I knew you saw through the power offered by this trinket.” And he fingered one of the rings on his left hand. “Do you understand the magic of concealment, Judge Fury?”

“Not entirely, but I do know that people at the Collective don’t seem to notice you. Then again, you don’t frequent Vurii’s bar often, but I see you pass through on occasion. Which begs the question, do you own the bar, or does Vurii?”

The Guildmaster smiled. “I’m a businessman, Fury. I own the premises. Vurii owns the bar. She leases the space from me, that’s all.”

“So, you’re her landlord?”

“Yes.”

Judge Fury nodded his understanding, but he still had many questions. The first was one that concerned the legal dispensations afforded the Guildhouse.

“When I was posted to Trithik, I thought that the Law was something I had final say over, but I was denied any influence or interference within the walls of the Guildhouse. I soon discovered that the Adventurers Collective benefited from an amnesty to common law. Effectually, the Adventurers Collective is a territory separate from the rule of Tysa. Why is this?”

The Guildmaster answered by shifting the subject back to Fury’s own frequenting of the Collective. “You are a Judge. The Chambers were given as your domicile within this city, which was a high honour. You could have chosen to mix with nobility, the magistrates, the higher classes... but you didn’t. Instead, you gravitated toward mercenaries and adventurers for your company. This eventually brought you to the Adventurers Collective.

“And you’ve enjoyed that place for many years.

“You already know the answer to your question, Judge Fury, because you’ve been a leader of those men and a leading part of the things they do. You know without knowing... without having to be told.”

Judge Fury nodded. “It’s their reward, isn’t it? The members of the Adventurers Collective do the dirty work of the Tysian military; the jobs that can’t be sanctioned by the law?”

“That’s right. They are the vanguard, the front-line soldiers, warriors who are asked to go first. King Wenreald knows their worth and recognises their value. The Guildhouse and the freedoms open to its members, is the payment the King can’t give officially.

“But, as I said, you already know this, Fury. What’s your real question?”

Judge Fury lifted his eyes to stare directly at the Guildmaster. “Who are you and why are you here today?”

~~~~~~~~~

The Guildmaster returned Fury’s stare with an intensity that caused the Judge to look away. The stare from him was one of comfortable command, of a leader unaccustomed to being questioned, of a man in total control.

“I am the Guildmaster, Judge Fury. That is the ‘who’. I am also the person who has your best interests at heart. That is the ‘why’. Beyond that, I can only tell you to exercise patience.

“You are going to learn some facts today... facts that will shock and frighten you. When this breakfast is finished, we will go back to Pyrond’s office and you will sit and listen to all that is explained, and you will come to see your world in a way you never dreamed before.

“Judge Fury, today could be the most important day of your life!”

~~~~~~~~~

[Badstench]

The Judges Advocate and Knot arrived to the table while the Guildmaster and Fury were deep in conversation. They exchanged glances, wondering what they might have missed, but there was no sign from the Guildmaster to suggest his discussion with Fury had included anything of importance for them.

Breakfast was concluded with praise to Thane Pyrond for the excellence of his larder, and Judge Thorndew commented that Fury looked better for his morning repast. Judge Fury confirmed it with a satisfied pat of his paunch and an appreciative smile, but he did save a hesitant frown for the asparagus.

However, during the short walk back to Thane Pyrond’s office, Judge Fury expressed another frown for a different reason. He had been fascinated by the conversation with the Guildmaster, but when he thought back on it, he realised he hadn't actually learned anything new. His most probing of questions had been nicely skirted without having it seem so. The Guildmaster had manipulated the conversation so expertly that Fury was none the wiser to his identity or history; he simply remained as the Guildmaster.

And yet, the man’s manner had been commanding. The Guildmaster had shown himself to be a person who exuded charisma and a sense of great power, an almost overwhelming presence that he wore as naturally as a pair of shoes. As well, Judge Fury had seen signs that Thane Pyrond and all the Judges paid the Guildmaster deference. It was a puzzle that Judge Fury couldn’t fathom, but more puzzling was the refusal of his mind to concentrate on the subject. In fact, as he followed the Guildmaster along the hallway, all he saw was the same man he had noticed in the past; a man past his prime… a little untidy, his greying hair in need of a trim and his clothes oddly mismatched. To all intents and purposes, the Guildmaster now appeared unremarkable.

Judge Fury was aware that he was being affected by the enchantment infused to the Guildmaster’s ring, but it was strange that he found himself not caring. He was trained to recognise concealment magic and to investigate any and all displays of such enchantments, so it confused him to wonder why he wasn’t interested on this occasion.

Indeed, by the time he stepped past Captain Thofyra and into Thane Pyrond’s office, he wasn’t thinking about it at all.

[Badstench]

Chapter 9
THE PHANTOM ASSASSIN

The Judge Advocate addressed his personal protector, “Captain Thofyra, thank you for your thoughtful attentions this morning, but I must ask you to leave the room now.”

A slight pursing of lips evidenced Thofyra’s annoyance at the order, but he was in no position to argue the point. His rank in the Royal Huntsmen was second to none, but all the personages assembled in this room held positions of higher authority than he (save for the Guildmaster, and the Captain wasn’t even sure about that). Thofyra had no concerns for the Advocate’s safety; it was more that he was curious about the agenda of this meeting. However, a request from the Advocate was as good as an order.

“Yes sir, though I will be stationed on the other side of the door should you require anything.”

“All we require is complete privacy, Captain. We are not to be interrupted for any reason.”

Thofyra acknowledged the order with a nod and pulled the door closed in his wake. Once alone in the hall, he breathed a frustrated sigh. “Oh, to be fly on the wall in that room,” he thought.

~~~~~~~~~

When Captain Thofyra closed the door behind him, the Advocate lifted an envelope from the desk – the same envelope Judge Fury had sent with urgent speed to Judge Thorndew – the same envelope that alerted him to the presence of the Phantom Assassin in Trithik.

“The reason we are here,” said the Advocate holding the envelope aloft, “is because of this. The Phantom Assassin has long been a thorn in the side of the Judges, and to have it suggested that he has reappeared resurrects memories already laid to rest. The assassin has not been heard from since The Schism. Indeed, it is generally believed that he no longer exists, so to have the reverse hinted as a possibility has caused the reawakening of old wounds.”

“You forget,” interrupted Judge Fury, “the Phantom reminded us of his existence quite abruptly with the murder of Judge Armstrong.”

“That was many years ago, Fury, and it was never proven that the Phantom was involved, even though we suspected as much at the time.”

“Not so, Judge Advocate. Surely you are aware of Rhia’s investigation? She became assured of the Phantom’s involvement after discovering the identity of the murderer.”

“Ah, yes. You’re talking about one of The Shadow Society, and in particular, to ‘Bear of Kolnia’, is that right?”

Judge Fury nodded mutely. The name evoked a mental image of Dragonbane, a person he didn’t want connected with this matter, so he quickly continued where the Advocate had left off by referring to the Society and not the individual.

“That’s right. A member of The Shadow Society was almost certainly the killer of our beloved colleague, which means the instruction for his murder was most likely to have come from the Phantom.”

“The argument has merit, Judge Fury, but it is still inconclusive. Regardless, we are talking about a tragedy that happened sixteen years ago. If we assume the murder of Judge Armstrong was through the collusion of the Phantom and ‘Bear of Kolnia’, it doesn’t change the fact that we have had sixteen years of silence from the grand assassin since then.”

Judge Fury listened to his superior with growing alarm. The Judge Advocate had used words that were denying of the facts – words like ‘assumed’ and ‘inconclusive’ and ‘collusion’. In his mind, Fury deemed the matter of the Phantom Assassin to be one that demanded urgent attention, but the Advocate, by his use of minimising descriptives, had trivialised the message contained inside the envelope.

“Sir, Rhia gave me this intelligence. She has done us proud in the past and proved her worth. If she says that the Phantom is active again, why do you dismiss it?”

The Judge Advocate glared at Fury. “I don’t ‘dismiss’ it, Judge Fury, but I do question the validity of the information. The Phantom Assassin was a creature who rose from the years of The Schism. That was a troubling era in Tysian history some thirty years distant. To think that the same man is in Trithik to perform an assassination?... It’s a little hard to believe.

“This makes me wonder who would feed such information to Rhia.”

“But, sir, you are investigating, aren’t you? I mean... if there is the slightest possibility that Rhia’s information is right, surely we should follow it up? Rhia told me her information six days ago. I have been in gaol for five of those days, unable to conduct an investigation myself. At the time, I couldn’t have foreseen my imprisonment because of Varsil’s so-called murder, but I managed to get that message to Thorndew before Keddin slapped me in gaol.

“What has been done to pursue the matter of the Phantom since then?”

The Judge Advocate returned the envelope to the table then returned his gaze to Judge Fury. Said he, “We have not done ‘nothing’, Judge Fury, but we have not looked for the Phantom, either. Instead, we have been searching for Rhia.”

“What?”

“Rhia has vanished, just like your friend, Varsil. She hasn’t reported to Thorndew or me, and Judge Gallows reports that she hasn’t shown up in Talinus, either.

“Our first avenue of questioning needs to be directed at her; who is her source? By what suspicion does she hold any merit in the information? And, most importantly, why did she tell you, and not Judge Thorndew? He is the one given the task of hunting the members of The Shadow Society, and Rhia is currently operating under his direction, so why did she tell you about the Phantom and not him?”

“I don’t know! But she told me. What difference does it make which Judge she told? The message got to Thorndew regardless, so her task was fulfilled.”

“Not so, Judge Fury. By your message to Thorndew, we know she came to see you at the Adevnturers Collective. You know she called there via a journey from Charna that should have had her reporting directly back to us at Talinus. Her original task had nothing to do with you, so why did she stop in Trithik, and more specifically, at the Adventurers Collective?

“Why did she come to see you?”

~~~~~~~~~

[Badstench]

Rhia had called into the Adventurers Collective asking after Jinx. Fury remembered her reason being opportunistic – she had grasped a chance to earn some money by accepting employment to seek for a person from Shay, her employer being nameless.

Judge Fury sighed. “Rhia didn’t come to see me. She found an opportunity to earn some side-money... an opportunity that brought her to the Adventurers Collective. It was a coincidence.”

The Advocate stared at Judge Fury. “A coincidence? Do you really believe that? Fury, think about yourself – think about us, your colleagues. Do we ever do coincidence?

“The Judges don’t operate by accident and circumstance. We make our rulings after careful deliberation. We consider the facts and the evidence and we proclaim our rulings carefully. Rhia has been trained by Judge Armstrong and, as such, she learned the same approach. In effect, Rhia has the same mind-set and intelligence. She doesn’t do ‘coincidence’ in the same way we don’t. And she’s clever... very clever.

“Think, Fury... why did Rhia come to see you?”

“No. You are wrong. Rhia came to the Adventurers Collective on her way to Talinus; to earn her payment for locating Jinx. There is nothing sinister about this.”

It was Judge Thorndew who stepped into the conversation. “Jinx? Isn’t that the member of your table who’s from Shay?”

And when Judge Fury nodded, Thorndew turned abruptly to his superior, “By the Balances, this has something to do with Zijin!”

“Who?” queried Judge Fury, “Zijin? Are you referring to one of the assassins from The Shadow Society?”

The Advocate didn’t respond. His expression betrayed that he was deep in thought and hadn’t heard Fury’s query. It was Judge Knot who supplied the answer.

“So… you did retain something from your history lessons, Fury. You are correct; Judge Thorndew refers to one of the Phantom’s lieutenants – Zijin, the krinju warrior.

“We heard a rumour that a person bearing that name was in Charna. Rhia was sent to ascertain the veracity of the rumour, and if it proved well founded, she was to report the fact directly to Judge Thorndew. Her orders did not include a side visit to the Adventurers Collective or a meeting with you, so we have to wonder why she did both, and why she would make mention of the Phantom Assassin.”

Judge Fury shook his head. “Surely it doesn’t matter. Rhia saw fit to warn me and that’s all there is to it. It’s not the messenger we should be investigating, but the message.”

“There is no need to investigate the message,” said the Advocate, roused from his reverie.

“How can you say that?” Judge Fury was exasperated. “The Phantom has been public enemy number one for as long as I can remember, and it doesn’t matter if he’s an old man now. His foul deeds aren’t forgiven by time, and nor are they forgiven by me. Even if the Phantom is a corpse in a graveyard, I’d still insist he be hanged for the murder of Judge Armstrong.”

Judge Knot snorted. “Do you realise how ridiculous that sounds? To wish the hanging of a man already dead only shows the depth of your personal attachment to this affair. Bish, even Captain Keddin knows the first rule of investigative procedures... impartiality, Fury… and impartial you are not.

“Right now, you’re not even rational!”

“Rational? Is it rational to ignore the possibility that the Phantom Assassin lies within our grasp at this very minute? Is it rational to ignore the chance to apprehend the most fiendish criminal known to history?”

Judge Knot was beginning to show impatience with his younger colleague again, so the Advocate quickly stepped between them. “Judge Fury, there is no need to investigate the message because there is no message to investigate.” And when Fury looked bewildered, he added, “The Phantom Assassin doesn’t exist!”

~~~~~~~~~

If a picture could accurately portray the word ‘dumbfounded’, then that picture would look exactly the way Judge Fury looked at that moment. The silence that followed the Advocate’s remark stretched interminably long while everyone else in the room allowed the gravity of the announcement to register. Finally, Fury appeared to understand what the Advocate had just told him, and he spun to face Judge Thorndew.

“You’ve already caught him? Or, you have irrefutable proof that he’s dead?”

“No, Fury,” answered his friend. “What the Advocate means is that the Phantom never existed. The grand assassin is not, and has never been, a real person!”

Another silence prevailed, shorter this time, and broken when Judge Fury goggled in a low voice “You’re all mad. You’re all stark-staring, raving bloody lunatics!”

*

[Badstench]

Judge Knot threw his hands in the air in disgust. “He’s not going to listen with reason. We’re wasting our time,” he opined to the Advocate.

“Peace, Judge Knot. We knew this would be difficult for Fury to accept, not least because of his friendship with Judge Armstrong. It was the same for Thorndew.”

Judge Thorndew confirmed the comment with a nod. “It was a cruel way to begin my Judgeship, I confess. Promoted into the position left vacant by Judge Armstrong, I was then forced to believe that the person who was responsible for his murder was a fallacy – a creation – albeit a creation of necessity.”

The Judge Advocate leaned close to Thorndew and spoke softly, “And that’s why I want you to do the explaining. You have empathy for what Fury is going through right now, and you’re his friend. He may be more open to accepting the truth if it comes from you.”

Judge Fury heard their voices as if from a far-away distance. Once again, his mind had retreated to a place of solitude, a place where he was desperately trying to assimilate all the information that was assailing his knowledge of the world. That world had been turned upside down, and now he sat like one in a trance, seeking for anything that would offer him a grip from which to claw his way back to a place he understood.

By chance, he looked up and into the eyes of the Guildmaster, and he remembered a sentence recently spoken – “This could be the most important day of your life.”

His reverie was broken when Judge Thorndew placed a hand on his shoulder. “My friend, I beg your forgiveness. I knew of this... stuff... concerning the Phantom and it pained me to keep the secret from you.

“Please, let me redeem myself by being the one to offer an explanation? Let me be the one to tell you how the Phantom Assassin came to be?”

Judge Fury returned Thorndew’s plea with a blank stare, then lowered his eyes to the floor.

“I’m listening,” was all he said.

*

Dear reader, the explanation given from Judge Thorndew requires a history lesson, most of which is already known to Fury, but for the sake of continuity and story-telling, this narrator would prefer to tell Thorndew’s dialogue without the many interjections made by Judge Fury.

I will make only three observations before this lengthy lesson is begun:

1) The Judge Advocate glared at Judge Knot and made him sit down with a warning to keep his mouth shut.

2) Thane Pyrond, in the meantime, was riveted to his chair. He knew the history, but not all of it, and certainly not the nuances that involved the Judges. He was listening with as much avidity as anyone.

3) The Guildmaster had found something interesting with his fingernails and was busy with the prying a speck of dirt from the pinky on his left hand.

*

Spoke Judge Thorndew:

“Fury, we both went through the rigours of the academy, albeit a few years apart. I was of an earlier class than you, but our lessons were much the same. Because I don’t know how attentive you were to the subject of history, I feel it necessary to recap everything that led to the creation of the Phantom.

“By explaining what went before will help you understand why the assassin was materialised in the time shortly after King Halcyos died...

“As far as kings go, Halcyos was not a bad king, but he ruled within a monarchical system that existed for the benefit of the few. There was a wide gap between the lifestyles of the nobility and the common people, and many were the injustices perpetrated by that system.

“You may recall that King Halcyos had two sons? The younger is our present king – King Wenreald III – and his oldest son, the son that should have been king, was Prince Tyranoth. This was before the days of the academy and the Judges, for Tysa was ruled mostly by the proxy of the Thanes in those days. There was no common law. The rule of law was arbitrarily decided on by the whims of the thanes and of local governors.

“It was a chaotic system that cried out for an overhaul, not least because it caused much suffering to the lower classes.

“Prince Tyranoth was born under a star of compassion. He must have been, for, by the time he began his studies at the old university, he had already set his mind on reforming the feudalism inherent of his father’s monarchy. He wanted a system whereby all men could aspire to the betterment of themselves and their children, an offering of hope, a way forward. To such an end, he surrounded himself with like minded people who became known as ‘Reformists’.

“You know them better as The Elders.

“King Halcyos was furious to learn that his oldest son had become, in his words, a ‘sissie’, but Tyranoth was still his son. When various nobles started to complain that Tyranoth’s politicking was causing undue influence over their own children, the King had Tyranoth removed from the university to continue his studies in the privacy of the royal castle. This was done mainly to limit the spread of Tyranoth’s subversive thoughts.

“However, some of the noble houses were sympathetic to the ideas of Prince Tyranoth, and these started to make a noise toward allowing more freedoms available to the common people.

“King Halcyos would have none of it, but when he fell ill, it became obvious that his wishes would eventually be ignored when Prince Tyranoth ascended the throne. Those nobles who desired the status quo started to mumble against the succession of Prince Tyranoth, and this gave an opportunity for Thane Mazembak to realise his dreams of higher power.

“Do you remember Thane Mazembak? He sat on the Thaneship of Talinus, which holds no real power even today, because the Thane of Talinus is always over-shadowed by the close presence of the King. But, one thing Mazembak did have was mandate over the Tysian army, and this gave him more power than he deserved.

“And because he had the backing of the army, Mazembak felt empowered to spread dissention among the nobles, asking them to rebel against the advent of Prince Tyranoth ascending the throne. He set himself up as the leader of the ‘Conservatives’.

“Mazembak had one goal in mind, and that was to usurp the throne, but credit goes to him for trying it through proper means first. However, King Halcyos was no fool. He recognised Mazembak’s aspirations against his family and, despite his misgivings about Tyranoth’s beliefs, he moved to ensure his son would succeed him. He assembled all the noble families loyal to him and made them swear fealty to Prince Tyranoth, and Mazembak’s aspirations might have come to naught except that Halcyos died soon after.

~~~~~~~~~

This is a year that should be etched in your mind, Fury, for it was the same year you were born.

~~~~~~~~~

“Swearing fealty to a living king and keeping your promise to a dead king are two different matters, and many nobles had a change of mind after King Halcyos died. Prince Tyranoth suddenly found his throne challenged by the Conservatives, those nobles led by Thane Mazembak, and he was in very real danger of losing his rightful place as Monarch of Tysa.

“And do you remember who came to Tyranoth’s aid then? That’s right... it was the High Mage, he who is known as ‘Magical’. If it hadn’t been for the intervention of The Grey Circle, we would all be living under the rule of King Mazembak now!

“Magical persuaded the nobles to delay the naming of a new king until the merits of both political entities – the Reformists and the Conservatives – could be debated, and here’s where the history gets interesting... for it seems that the majority of noble houses were uneasy with the thought of Thane Mazembak ascending the throne. As much as they wanted their feudal regime to continue in the same way it had for hundreds of years, they didn’t necessarily want Mazembak to be King, either.

“This was the start of the time known as ‘The Schism’.

“It was also the time when Tyranoth made the error of judgement that shifted the balance of power to Thane Mazembak.

~~~~~~~~~

“With the throne of Tysa lying bereft of a king, Tyranoth was dubbed ‘Prince Regent’, steward and protector over all the territories of Tysa. But it was only a title – a name without any mandate of power – and Tyranoth was nothing more than a symbolic figurehead. This frustrated the man-who-would-be-king, for he wanted to enact the policies of the Reformists and set the kingdom on the path of enlightenment it so desperately needed.

“And that’s when he committed his error. Against the advice and wants of his most loyal allies, Tyranoth instituted The Judges!”

[Badstench]

The last proclamation from Thorndew received an unexpected reaction from Fury; a low moan of anguish.

“Please, Fury, I know how it sounds – The Judges... us... we were instituted to write and re-write the Law, but we were instituted illegally! In the long-run, it doesn’t matter. We are still here, which is testament to the fact that Prince Tyranoth’s decree was successful in the end”

“Successful?” queried Judge Fury. “By whose standards were we successful? By Tyranoth’s? By those of the Elders? It certainly wasn’t by the Law, so what does that make us, eh? Are we the product of a personal agenda? Are we a living example of hypocrisy?”

Judge Knot leapt out of his chair before the Advocate could stop him. “You pious snot! What do you know about Prince Tyranoth’s reasons? You were a baby still squawking when the future of this kingdom hung in the balance. You have no idea what the real situation was!”

The Advocate hissed and ordered Judge Knot return to his seat, but the outburst had managed to raise Fury’s ire.

With a glare at Judge Knot, Fury said testily, “So... we exist, Thorndew. By the decree of a person who was not empowered, we exist. Thank you for the history lesson, but it hasn’t answered the question. Who... no... what is the Phantom Assassin?”

“Fury, Prince Tyranoth drove a spike between himself and his allies by creating The Judges. Many of them switched loyalties immediately. It was only the truest friends who remained loyal to the Prince. You know who they are – the current Thanes, Marindol and Monrell, and our gracious host, Pyrond.

“But that’s beside the point. The point is that Thane Mazembak then had the numbers to force a decision on the succession to the throne.

“The reason he wasn’t successful was because of a rumour, and this is when I ask you to think realistically and with a belief that what we do... The Judges... is a better system than what prevailed during the old feudalism. If you truly think that our system of law was corrupted from its beginnings, then none of this has any meaning.

“None of it!”

Presented with the gauntlet, Judge Fury had to consider Thorndew’s warning. Of course he believed in the rightness of his actions; his whole life had been spent learning the Law and seeing it implemented. It’s true, he had been a baby when the old feudalism reigned, and he didn’t have personal experience of the injustices the old system exacted, but he was cognisant of current affairs. The Kingdom of Tysa was enjoying a prosperity that denied the threat of the Age of Igtheon, and this was due, in large part, by the existence of The Judges.

This was Prince Tyranoth’s legacy. Peace, prosperity and a harmonious society... a kingdom which had the united base from which it was possible to withstand incursions from the minions of Igtheon. He had seen it for himself, first hand, during the Fell Winter. When the kingdom had been invaded by goblin hordes, all the thanes had rallied to defend the kingdom. Such a thing would not have happened in the old days.

Said Judge Thorndew: “My friend, we haven’t even got to the hard part yet, so this next bit should be a doddle.

“Thane Mazembak was poised to take the throne. There remained one question to be asked of him, and that involved the death of King Halcyos!”

“Eh?”

“Fury, Halcyos was poisoned. He was murdered!”

Another revelation, another piece of news that set Judge Fury to goggling all over again.

“Healthy kings don’t get sick overnight, Fury, lest they’re old or infirm, and King Halcyos was neither. The man was a veritable giant, a picture of strength and vitality. You’ve seen the portraits... he was a king who commanded respect by the muscles that rippled through his body. He was the finest example of human-exactitude ever to wear a crown, and he had the temperament to back it up.

“He fell sick and died within a few months. He was poisoned!”

“By the Balances! Mazembak?”

“No proof was ever attributed to Thane Mazembak. If the Elders had found it, history might be a lot different and we would not now be sitting here.”

“But I don’t understand. Why was this news kept silent? If the nobles had a hint of the King being assassinated, surely they would have rallied to Tyranoth’s banner immediately?”

“Proof, Fury. There was no proof. The majority of nobles were already aligned with Mazembak because of Tyranoth’s instituting of The Judges. To accuse him of murder without proof would have looked like a desperate measure by the Reformists to discredit him.”

“So?”

Now the Judge Advocate stood. “Thorndew had no part of what comes next, Judge Fury. It was a decision reached by The Elders, me included. We suspected Mazembak’s complicity in the death of King Halcyos, but without proof, we couldn’t say so. As a new institution created to show fairness in everything legal, our hands were tied. If we had spoken out, Tyranoth’s appointment of The Judges would have seemed self-serving and farcical.”

“So?”

“So we invented the Phantom Assassin!”

[Badstench]

“At first, we only suggested his existence. We planted a seed in the minds of the students at the university that a monster was loose, a man of no conscience who might slay a king as easily as a mosquito. We also suggested that Thane Mazembak was the only person who had the resources to command such a man. The students relayed the rumour to their parents and, before long, the nobles who had originally pledged fealty to Prince Tyranoth began returned.

“When the vote was cast for the appointment of a new king, the numbers were so close as to be inconsequential. Thane Mazembak was denied, but so was Prince Tyranoth. A stalemate was reached, but we took it more as a victory. The invention of the Phantom Assassin had successfully realised its purpose.

“What we didn’t foresee was our creation take on a life of its own. The Phantom became a supposed reality, not only among the nobles, but to the peasants and the common populace as well. Any time there was an unexplained killing, it was attributed to the Phantom Assassin.

“We had created a living myth.”

“But you could have stopped it any time. All you had to do was start another lie, a rumour that would cancel the original. You could have proclaimed the Phantom caught and hanged. End of story!”

“We tried that, Judge Fury, but the power of suggestion is not an easy thing to deny once started. The fallacy of The Phantom Assassin passed into folklore. It became a legend – the man who slew a king! You know this, for you have never believed otherwise.”

“But I would have believed it if you’d told me. Why was this kept secret?”

“Fury, we couldn’t tell you. We couldn’t let anyone know who wasn’t part of the original decision. It is one of the things that remain the cause of my nightmares.”

“But, Judge Advocate, now that I know... well... it sounds plausible, forgivable, even.”

“Yes, it may seem that way to you, but do you imagine the nobles would see it the same way? I don’t think so. Fury, Mazembak was denied the throne because we tricked them, and I don’t think they’d be very impressed to learn that. The nobles still wield a lot of collective power that can undo everything we’ve achieved.”

~~~~~~~~~

“Regardless, Thane Mazembak couldn’t be called to account. Without any proof that King Halcyos had been murdered, he was let go to lick the wounds of his disappointment.

“However, he was punished. The main army was restationed at Graldok to fall under the control of Thane Hasmir, effectively removing Mazembak’s power base. Muted so, the stage was nicely set for Prince Tyranoth to become King.

“And this is when we first hear about The Shadow Society. Nobles loyal to Prince Tyranoth suddenly started to die... by accident or acts of Srythak... it was never clear. Again, assassins under the control of Mazembak were suspected, but no proof was found until Judge Armstrong stumbled across the existence of the five assassins who constituted The Shadow Society."

“Wait,” Fury interrupted. “You just said ‘five’ assassins. The Shadow Society consisted of nine assassins. I can name them all. These are names that were drummed into all the students at the academy. The Shadow Society are assassins to be killed on sight, no questions asked.

“Sark Wormfoot is already dead, his body left for the crows under the hanging tree near Port Hallik. You recently hunted down Goblineye yourself. Bear of Kolnia was dragged into Trithik, a corpse for which the bounty was claimed by an adventurer.

“Three down. That leaves six... erm... five, because now I know the Phantom isn’t real.”

“We’re getting closer to the hard part, Fury,” spoke Judge Thorndew. “There were only ever five members of The Shadow Society. Like the Phantom, three of the Shadow Society don’t exist, either!”

[Badstench]

Judge Fury blinked rapidly, his thoughts a-whirl again. “So… The Phantom Assassin, and now three of The Shadow Society, are nothing but a figment created from the imaginations of The Elders?

“Which three are they, and why? Mazembak’s ambitions were already negated. Despite his efforts to destabilise the process of succession, Prince Tyranoth was a shoe-in for the kingship. Why would you resurrect The Phantom and add to the problem with three more lies?”

Answered Judge Thorndew, “I’ll get to the identity of the three non-existent assassins soon. The ‘why’ is the more important question to address first.

“You hadn’t long been admitted to the academy, Fury, so you may not remember... how old would he have been?” This last was asked of the Judge Advocate.

“Ten, perhaps eleven.”

“Okay, old enough to remember the night Prince Tyranoth disappeared, maybe?”

Judge Fury nodded. “I don’t remember the exact night, but I remember the consternation and shock that reverberated through the whole kingdom for weeks afterward. Prince Tyranoth retired to his private chambers one night and didn’t emerge the next morning. No one had seen him leave during the night and no one had heard anything that might suggest he had been abducted. He simply vanished, and he’s never been seen since.”

“That’s right, and you should also be aware of the consequences of Tyranoth’s disappearance. The Prince Regent was the captain of a ship that bore the hopes of the Reformists. Without him, the ship was left without a helmsman and the cause was put in danger of floundering. The one hope left to us was to present Tyranoth’s younger brother, Prince Wenreald, as the next rightful candidate for the throne.”

Judge Fury voiced a query that had bothered him about this subject for many years. “But the weight of suspicion was heavy against Thane Mazembak . The man is showing himself to be history’s slipperiest politician or it’s most misunderstood, but even circumstantial evidence pointed to him as having the strongest motive for Tyranoth’s disappearance. If I’d been a Judge then, I’d have taken the probability of his guilt as being enough to hold him for questioning at least. Didn’t that occur to the Elders?”

The Judge Advocate took over from Thorndew again, standing to pace his frustration at the memory of events. “Judge Fury, one of the things you have to keep in mind is that The Judges had not been legally instituted. At the time, we were doing everything possible to prove that our existence was a good thing, that we were impartial, and that the nobles could trust us. If we were seen to exercise too much influence, it could have caused them to abandon the Reformists altogether – Srythak knows, they were nervous enough.

"Prince Tyranoth had been our high hope for the institute of The Judges to be legally ratified after his coronation. Without him, we were forced to rely on the succession of Prince Wenreald.

“This meant we were right back at square one, for Wenreald wasn’t a popular choice even among the nobles loyal to our cause. Indeed, one of the nobles we thought was reliable turned against us, and that was Thane Hasmir. We now suspect that Hasmir had been sympathetic to Mazembak all along... regardless, the effect of his betrayal was to put the army back into the hands of our enemy.

“Between them, Hasmir and Mazembak felt empowered to raise the issue of the kingship again, and with Tyranoth gone, we could no longer count on the majority support of the nobles.

“Fury, the continued existence of the Judges was threatened. If we had been disappropriated, which would surely have happened if Mazembak had become King, the academy would have been shut down and everything we tried to achieve would have followed Prince Tyranoth – it would have vanished!”

“I see.” Said Judge Fury hollowly. “So you resurrected The Phantom Assassin and tied him to The Shadow Society. You decided to use the same trick that had worked so well the first time.”

The sentence had been spoken as a statement, a fact of truth, but Fury waited for the Advocate to nod his confirmation before he queried, “So, why invent three more assassins? To perpetuate a lie is one thing, but to create three more… that’s a risky gambit, isn’t it?”

“This time, Fury, we needed to jar the nobles away from Mazembak with an invention more threatening than just one assassin. This time, we needed a whole raft of assassins, a group empowered to act in whatever way they saw fit to achieve their purpose. We needed an enemy that threatened terror and wholesale destruction. We needed The Shadow Society and more. We needed an enemy so horrific to contemplate that the nobles couldn’t help but unite against the threat.

“And we needed to hold Mazembak responsible for their existence!”

This admission caused a look of horror to appear on the face of Thane Pyrond. “By Srythak!” he swore. “You framed him!”

And it was obvious from Judge Fury’s expression that he was thinking the same.

~~~~~~~~~

Judge Thorndew hurriedly interjected himself between the Advocate, Fury and Thane Pyrond. With hands raised in a supplicating gesture, he pleaded, “My Lord, Judge Fury… ‘frame’ is such a damning word to use.

“The assassins of The Shadow Society had been assembled by Thane Mazembak to further his own ends, and there is no doubt that murder was among the methods used by them. In fact, you said it yourself Fury… the motive and the evidence was enough to show good cause for questioning Mazembak. This could have required a number of years to achieve satisfactorily, time in which Prince Wenreald could have comfortably been installed on the throne.

“But we didn’t have that option. Any move against Mazembak would have given Thane Hasmir an excuse to attack the royal city, and it was uncertain whether enough nobles would have rallied to our side to prevent it. So… although you have termed it a ‘frame’, I believe the subterfuge used by The Elders was warranted. It was a way to discredit a man whose evil deeds could not be proven. In other words, he got what was coming to him.”

Judge Fury coughed his amazement. “What? He got what was coming to him? Thorndew, I don’t disagree that Thane Mazembak was an evil man who deserved execution, but what I am having a problem with is the fact that The Judges... no, let me re-phrase that... The Elders, made a mockery of the very law they were trying to establish!

“And I also agree that what The Judges stand for now is worth working to maintain and believe in, but the sorry way in which it started makes liars of us all. Knowing what I now know, I’m feeling greatly perplexed”

Judge Thorndew nodded his understanding “I was in the same place, my friend, until I realised that it wasn’t only the institute of the Judges that the Elders were trying to save, it was the very existence of the kingdom. Tysa was poised on the brink of a civil war that could have torn it apart. Using Mazembak’s own assassins against him was an expedient way to save the kingdom itself.

“What the Elders did might not have been right, but it was done for a good reason, and when I think of it in those simple terms...” Thorndew stared directly at his colleague... “I can live with it!”

*

[Badstench]

Judge Fury was left in silence to contemplate Thorndew’s last words, but it wasn’t long before his gaze was raised to Thane Pyrond.

“Sir, I mean no disrespect, but the history given me these past hours had nothing to do with you. Your thaneship was granted after King Wenreald ascended the throne, and I understand that it was granted by charter through your loyalty to the House of Halcyos. What I don’t understand is your presence here today.

“When Judge Thorndew related how Thane Mazembak was entrapped, you were as shocked as I.

“Sir, I need to hear your thoughts on this, for you gave me comfort in knowing that I was not completely alone in my ignorance. Please, can you tell me your thoughts, knowing what you now know?”

The thane regarded Fury with none of the glare he usually reserved for the Judge. Instead, he looked to the Advocate for permission to speak freely.

“Perhaps,” the Judge Advocate said, “We should adjourn for now. The morning is almost over and we have had no refreshment since breakfast.”

“No, Advocate,” returned Judge Fury. “I need to hear from Thane Pyrond, if only to satisfy my curiosity at his exclamation. I must warn you, without a reason for that exclamation, I am ready to rip this pendant from my neck and throw it aside.” And his hand closed around the symbol of The Judges – the silver gavel.

~~~~~~~~~

A gasp from Judge Knot caused the Advocate to place a hand on the arm of his Elder colleague in warning to keep his temper under control, then he nodded at Thane Pyrond

Said Thane Pyrond, “Judge Fury, I was made privy to most of the information regarding the non-existence of The Phantom, and also of the three additions to the Shadow Society, but not to the truth behind the downfall of Thane Mazembak.

“You are right. I was shocked to think that a noble, and a thane no less, had been destroyed through trickery. If I had known then what I know now, perhaps my loyalty wouldn’t have been so freely given to The Elders”... and Pyrond sent the Judge Advocate a meaningful glare... “However, I concur with Judge Thorndew. Mazembak deserved what he got if only for the wrongful actions he took against the other nobles. His ambition caused him to betray them, so why should I show any sympathy for him?”

Judge Fury seemed satisfied with that, but he spoke again. “Alright, but what I want to know precisely is when you heard about the creation of the assassins and why that brings you into this meeting?”

Thane Pyrond sent the Judge Advocate another glance of nervous acquiescence that was answered with another nod.

“I was told only five years ago, long after King Wenreald won his throne. The reason I was told was because I discovered information that caused me to approach the Judge Advocate with some alarm.”

“And what information was that?”

“Judge Fury, I discovered the true identity of Dragonbane – I found out that he was one of the Shadow Society!

~~~~~~~~~

Judge Fury turned a shade of white upon which Pyrond regarded him like a child. “Dragonbane arrived to this city – my city – as the hero who had slain the Moonshore Dragon. I had no time to verify the deed at the time, for the people were proclaiming the news ahead of his arrival. They knew he was on his way to Trithik and they had gathered to greet him... as their saviour from a creature that hasn’t been seen since... since I don’t know how long.

“Judge Fury, Dragonbane was made famous by popular opinion, and undone by the same. I was forced to welcome him to Trithik by that popular opinion.

“But, don’t think me a fool, Fury. I was unhappy with being forced to proclaim a hero of a person I knew nothing about, so after he’d been welcomed, I began an investigation. I went searching for the origins of the man named Joshua Blame.

“It actually wasn’t too difficult to discover he came from a small village in the Hartlands called Kolnia, and that he once bore the moniker of ‘Bear’. It was too big of a coincidence... ‘Bear of Kolnia?’

“I took the information straight to the Judge Advocate.”

Judge Thorndew then spoke. “And the Judge Advocate told me, as the Judge given responsibility for apprehending the members of the Shadow Society.

“Do you remember the day I came to The Chambers with this story and asked for your help to locate Dragonbane... and you sent me on a wild goose-chase? Did you really think the matter had been closed when an adventurer dragged the body of a man into the city and proclaimed it to be the corpse of ‘Bear’?

“Bish, Fury. We already knew that ‘Bear’ and Dragonbane were one and the same.”

Judge Fury looked up with his eyes reddened. “Then you know that I covered his identity. You know that I protected him.”

“Yes, we know. The question we had to ask of ourselves was “why?” Why would you jeopardise your position as a Judge to save a person known to be a member of the Shadow Society? This is a question I’ve wanted answered since that time.”

“Does it matter now?”

“Of course it matters! You and I have been friends a long time, so it irks me to know that you’ve kept this knowledge all these years without telling me. But more importantly, I need you to understand that, sometimes, the decisions we make against our better judgement are based on sound reasoning.”

Fury snapped his gaze to Judge Thorndew. “Are you equating what I did to the decisions made by The Elders surrounding Mazembak’s downfall?”

Thorndew avoided an answer by explaining... “My friend, I never doubted that you had a good reason for protecting Dragonbane. I persuaded the Judge Advocate and Judge Knot to allow the indiscretion until you came to us in your own time.

“That time is now, and I’m asking you to your face... why did you protect Bear of Kolnia?”

Judge Fury was about to offer his explanation when Thorndew forestalled him. “Whatever reason you give, Fury, give it with the knowledge that all of us, you included, are aware that ‘Bear of Kolnia’ killed Judge Armstrong!”

[Badstench]

The mention of Judge Armstrong had Fury blanch. In his mind’s eye, it still seemed impossible to equate Dragonbane with Bear of Kolnia, but in the presence of his fellow Judges, the unreality was forced closer to a truth. The association of Dragonbane to Bear of Kolnia, and Bear of Kolnia to Judge Armstrong, was one that contained memories and the pain of loss.

“The first time I met Dragonbane,” Judge Fury began, “he introduced himself as Joshua Blame.”

“This was in Trithik, was it?” asked Judge Knot.

Fury’s pause was telling. “No. I met him a few years before then.”

Judge Knot’s silent surprise was given away when his eyebrows shot up, and both the Advocate and Thorndew gasped.

“We weren’t aware of that.” Thorndew exclaimed.

“And there’s no reason you should have been,” Fury replied. “Like I said, I was introduced to Dragonbane as Joshua Blame. I had no idea at the time that he was also Bear of Kolnia.”

“When was this?”

“During the Fell Winter, right before Pyrond marched his army west to answer a call of help from Mirgspil.”

“I remember,” Thane Pyrond cut in. “The goblins had invaded from the Felrundins and you were tasked with organising the point guard from among your companions. Is that when you first met him?”

Fury nodded. “Yes. But I have a confession… although I didn’t know then that he was Bear of Kolnia, I was aware of something… bad… about him, something tinged with an underlying wrongness.”

This admission caused the Judge Advocate to lean forward with interest. “Your gift, Judge Fury?”

“I believe so.”

“Please, explain what happened.”

Fury wrinkled his brow in thought, trying to remember the exact emotions that had flooded his psyche after engaging in a shoulder cross with Joshua Blame. There had been a tumultuous roar of outrage from a number of embittered spirits, loud at first, but quickly pushed into the background beneath a different sound. The second sound had been no less disturbing, but in a much different way – a single spirit whose voice drowned out those of the outraged, a voice that wailed a sustained note of keening despair.

Judge Fury had stepped back from Joshua Blame with eyes wide in horror, for he had recognised the man as possessing a black soul, a soul that was lamenting its own existence. He’d recognised that Joshua Blame was seeking death.

“Judge Advocate, do you remember a few years ago… I was in Talinus when, by chance, Judge Gallows made us aware of a trial against a boy accused of murder? His name was Ignaceous Screwbottom.”

The moment Fury said the name, recognition showed in the Advocate’s eyes and by a suppressed smile. “Yes. That’s not an easy name to forget. We concocted a new identity for the boy and exiled him to Trithik. What was the name we sent him away with? ‘Hawk’, was it?”

“That’s right. Anyway, the boy was guilty of the murder without a doubt, but there were extenuating circumstances surrounding the deed that called into question whether he was deserving of any punishment at all. If his legal representative had been smarter during the trial, he might have used a defence based around the laws of provocation. Unfortunately, the boy was found guilty and sentenced to hang, and that’s when Judge Gallows brought the case to us for review.

“I was disguised as a prison guard when I touched him, mainly so there wouldn’t be any connection to the Judges if we decided to change the ruling passed by the original presiding magistrate, which – as it turned out in this case – we did.

“When I touched the boy, I felt absolutely nothing to suggest that a murderer stood before me. To the contrary, his whole aura was one of innocence. In the end, we let the boy go because I could divine nothing of malicious intent about him. He deserved a second chance.”

The Judge Advocate was looking thoughtful. “Are you saying you had a similar sensation when you touched Joshua Blame?”

“No… and yes. There was a distinct blackness about Joshua, but there was also something else. He was terrified!”

“So? I don’t understand what you’re saying,” said the Advocate

“Sir, I believe that Joshua Blame was trying to escape from Bear of Kolnia… escape from himself. His soul was black, but he was screaming against it. He was both honestly remorseful and truthfully sickened. He was also suicidal, and I think he was looking to join the point guard to meet his death against the goblins.

“Of course, at the time I thought he was just a troubled adventurer with a hidden past who clearly needed help, but when I met Joshua again – this time as Dragonbane – I remembered and understood.

“Sir, when I touched Dragonbane and not Joshua Blame, there was hardly any hint that Bear of Kolnia had ever resided within him. Whatever had happened to Joshua Blame since the Fell Winter, it seems he found some peace to his torment.”

Judge Fury finished his explanation by addressing Thorndew. “My friend, I am sorry to have caused you pain and distrust. It was not my intention, for I thought no one else knew of Dragonbane’s past but him and me. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want the Judges to know. By rights, you would have arrested Dragonbane for the sins of Bear, who no longer exists!”

[Badstench]

A judgemental silence followed Fury’s suggestion that Dragonbane deserved a second chance just like Ignaceous Screwbottom had been granted his. Judge Knot was stirring to make a comment when the Judge Advocate pre-empted him.

“Your gift is strange, Judge Fury, and sometimes it doesn’t manifest clearly, like all powers of divination. The things we glean from the ability require thought and debate to reach a consensus of interpretation. Only then can we make rulings both fair and just.

“What you have told us opens the possibility that Dragonbane is deserving of a fair hearing, for you are right about one thing... if we had got hold of him first, he would already be a dead man.

“Therefore, I am not averse to having Dragonbane explain himself to us in person.”

Judge Fury was seen to visibly relax, his shoulders lost tenseness and he sighed. “That is all I can ask for, sir, with gratitude.”

“But for now,” continued the Advocate, “I insist we take a break from these discussions. Judge Thorndew, I would ask you take Judge Fury to the courtyard... let him stretch his legs and enjoy the sunshine... get something to eat, etcetera. Thane Pyrond, I’m sure you have duties that need attending to?”

The thane knew an order of dismissal when he heard it and grumpily nodded.

“Good. I must have a private conversation with Judge Knot and the Guildmaster – a matter that doesn’t concern anyone else – but we will call you before the afternoon wanes too late.”

Judge Thorndew dutifully rose to obey his superior and offered Fury his arm. Together, they left the room, followed by Thane Pyrond.

~~~~~~~~~

When the thane had closed the door behind him, the Advocate turned to Judge Knot.

“I know we agreed on the method of approach, but aren’t you over-doing it? You have been rather too antagonistic.”

Judge Knot shrugged. “The tactic has worked well so far. Because of my seemingly harsh jabs, we’re achieving more telling responses from Fury than he might have given otherwise”

“Regardless, you seem to be enjoying your role rather too much. The good-guy/ bad-guy strategy is well known to Judge Fury. If you keep lambasting him, sooner or later he’ll recognise what we’re doing and be more careful with his responses.”

“Be that as it may, we have already learned much. From Fury’s own lips he confirmed the identity of Bear of Kolnia. It makes me want to choke when I hear his hypocrisies. Thorndew has already tried to tell him that his choices have been no less than ours. You heard him yourself. He denies any culpability for the wrongness of his decisions.

“The Law exists for all, Judge Advocate, not for the interpretation of an individual. Fury had the gall to defend Dragonbane after telling us he would dig a dead man from the grave to exact punishment. The Phantom didn’t kill Judge Armstrong. Bear of Kolnia did, and he did it by smashing Armstrongs’ brains onto a storm-wasted road – him and his wife! Can we ever forgive such a crime? If we do... if we contemplate giving Dragonbane a hearing... then Judge Armstrong died for nothing.”

The Advocate considered Judge Knot’s words before referring to the Guildmaster. “Sir, what is your take on this?”

The Guildmaster’s answer was given after a moment of quiet deliberation. “Judge Knot, I have some sympathy for your opinion, but the fate of Dragonbane is not the important consideration here – the continued path of the prophecies takes precedence. We can’t afford to estrange Judge Fury. We need him, if only to keep Varsil Demonsoul latent and under control.

“It had been my hope to enlighten Fury to everything today, but I see a great weariness about him. I don’t think he could cope with many more revelations today so we shall not speak of the prophecies, nor of the fate that awaits the slayer of Judge Armstrong. Instead, we’ll finish this session by concluding the subject of The Shadow society and finding out where Rhia’s source of information came from.”

Judge Knot’s expression belied his thoughts, but he nodded in deference and intoned, “As you wish, my Lord Tyranoth”.

[Badstench]

Chapter 10
The Shadow Society

*

Day 5:
“Alright,” said Judge Fury when the meeting resumed. “Who are the three assassins that don’t exist?”

“Perhaps,” Thorndew replied, “it would be better to first recap the identities of the members of the Shadow Society who do exist. By understanding them, you will more easily recognise why the three ‘non-existent’ assassins were created.

“First, we have Sark Wormfoot, a nasty little piece-of-work who earned his reputation as a highwayman. He was a thief first, but became a murderer in the process and that was the cause of him being placed on Tysa’s Most-Wanted list. His deprivations continued unchecked until after the coronation of King Wenreald, by which time the Shadow Society had been disbanded and its individual members gone into hiding. He next pops up as a member of a slaver’s gang, and I believe you’re aware who I’m referring to, Judge Fury?”

“Yes. Llorg.”

“Correct, and I believe it’s also true that you’re acquainted with the boy who exposed the crime committed by Llorg; the crime that caused the involvement of The Judges?”

Fury cast a searching glance toward the Judge Advocate, but there was no visible reaction from him. The Advocate, in a fit of anger at learning the fate of Lady Abrimort, had ordered Ezekiel placed into the oubliette at The Chambers, the domicile of the resident Judge in Trithik. There, Ezekiel had lain forgotten until Fury had innocently asked how the information about the Lady Abrimort had been discovered. He had been incensed at the oversight and had voiced his protest to the Advocate in no uncertain terms.

Again, Fury nodded. “Llorg kidnapped the Lady Abrimort. We don’t know whether his intention had been to kill her all along, but she ended up dead anyway. The boy who exposed the perpetrators said she killed herself, but he also suggested that her rapist had purposefully left a blade for her to do exactly that.

“And the description of the rapist matched that of Sark Wormfoot.”

Thorndew continued the story himself. “I was on my way from Talinus after being appraised that Sark Wormfoot was involved, but the adventurers had already stormed Llorg’s ship and killed the slaver before I could get there. Sark had escaped.

“However, we had a starting point from which to track his movements and finally apprehended him near Port Hallik. Judge Gallows had been ordered to accompany me, the fate of Sark Wormfoot already sealed whenever we caught up with him.

“As circumstance would have it, the place we apprehended Sark wasn’t too far from a Hanging Tree, and that’s where he met the end of his time.”

~~~~~~~~~

“Yilura of Highgate was apostle to The Red Witch, who we should all know by legend if not from history. The Red Witch was the name given to an evil necromancer who terrorised Southeast Tysa in days of old, and Yilura was her favoured apprentice. The hag’s long life is testament to her evil.”

Judge Fury felt a shudder of disgust course through his body. Of all the people present in the room, he knew best the extent of the travesty perpetrated by anyone who might tamper with the spirits of the deceased. Necromancers are often misidentified, being nothing more than magicians who have mastered the arts of conjuration and animation. They can raise dead bodies and re-animate corpses, but this is not necessarily an accomplishment of evil. A magician might do the same with a pile of sticks and stones or a straw scarecrow, and a really good conjurer might even cause a tree to extricate its roots from the ground and walk away. The general reason magic-users have a bad reputation is because people don’t like to think that their dead relatives might get up to shuffle about the neighbourhood.

The true evil of necromancy is made manifest when a magician interferes with the spirit world to abjure the souls of the departed. These magicians deserve the name ‘necromancer’, for they are summoners of spirits both good and evil. They are capable of binding the will of the spirits to their command.

An animated corpse is still a corpse, but a corpse infused with a summoned spirit gives rise to creatures of abomination – the Undead – among which are named zombies, ghouls, ghasts (not to be confused with ghosts, which are an entirely different matter) and the more powerful vampires and liche.

“Yilura is a necromancer of the worst sort,” Judge Thorndew stated. “She is capable of summoning any monster ever feared by Man and offers her unholy talent available for hire.

“Yilura has eluded us all the years since The Schism, but rumours of abomination have recently risen from the lands once controlled by her mistress. In fact I was about to head that way to investigate the validity of those rumours when this matter about The Phantom Assassin arose.

“We’ll catch up with the witch one day.”

~~~~~~~~~

“It is also my belief that, when we find Yilura, we’ll find Jodd Stormtoe as well. He is more commonly referred to as ‘The Ghost of Tryndmoor’, a moniker that aptly suits his method of operations.

“Jodd Stormtoe first came to the attention of The Judges through his piracy on the waters of the Loch Isles, and it’s mainly because of him that merchant shipping between the isles was halted for a few years. The special navy force commissioned to apprehend the pirate met with failure, for Jodd only struck on those days when heavy mist obscured his approaches. The man had an uncanny ability of being able to thread his way through the mists to pick out a merchantman, even though navy galleons protected it, and he used the same mist to make good his escapes, leaving behind a vessel of dead sailors and vanished cargo.

“There is conjecture that ‘The Ghost of Tryndmoor’ was aided by Yilura and that the mists were somehow conjured by her, but the truth of this has never been verified. What has become noticeable is how tales about Jodd Stormtoe invariably include Yilura at some stage, leading to speculation that the two are somehow inter-connected. As I said, if we find one, we will hopefully find them both.

“I suppose I should talk about Jodd Stormtoe in the past tense but, just because he hasn’t been heard from since King Wenreald’s coronation, doesn’t mean he’s not still out there. ‘The Ghost’ was known to use many aliases and, to this day, we don’t know whether Jodd Stormtoe is his real name or not.

~~~~~~~~~

“We don’t need to examine Bear of Kolnia too deeply, for we already know his current guise and whereabouts. However, there is much of his history that remains a mystery, and the fact that he had no criminal reputation before Judge Armstrong found out about The Shadow Society only strengthens that mystery.

“Certainly, your defence of Dragonbane, Judge Fury, and your explanation of the man goes counter to what we know of the assassin he used to be.

“I won’t go into any conjecture now, for Dragonbane will have the opportunity to exonerate himself in due course.”

~~~~~~~~~

"And that brings us to Goblineye!

"I’m sure everyone here is aware of the events that took place in Anger’s Vale recently? It was a triumph for The Law and for and The Judges, though I wish we’d managed take him alive. The spectacle of a public hanging might have offered the people closure of a more... satisfactory nature.”

Thane Pyrond snorted, “I think you achieved that by stringing his body up in the town square. From what I hear, the crows left little of the corpse for actual burial.”

“And that was more than he deserved,” Thorndew growled. “If I’d had my way, the remains would have been thrown to the dogs, though that might have been a disservice to the dogs. Regardless, Goblineye is dead.”

“I believe Mathias Squib deserves some credit for that,” Judge Fury interrupted.

Thorndew smiled. “Indeed he does, and Captain Thofyra too, for if it hadn’t been due to the actions of both, Goblineye might have got the better of me and this meeting would be one Judge lighter.”

“What I don’t understand, Thorndew,” Judge Fury continued, “is why you and The Elders insist on numbering The Shadow Society with only five members. You have already named five, but I understand that Dravnia is currently wallowing in the dungeons of the Royal Palace. She makes the equation six.

“And just this morning you exclaimed the name of Zijin, a seventh assassin. If I’m to believe that there were only ever five, I’d be interested to hear the explanation”

The Judge Advocate assumed the centre of the floor again. “I’ll explain this part, for it was a plan concocted solely by The Elders."

[Badstench]

“The five members of The Shadow Society were brought together by Thane Mazembak to destabilise the alliance of the Successionists. They were specifically created to wreak havoc across the kingdom and, by a reign of fear and terror, to cower the nobles into joining him.

“His plan was only partly successful. Many of the greater houses of nobility have existed for hundreds of years and were not easily frightened, not even when Mazembak had the support of Thane Hasmir and the Tysian army behind him. In fact, by my reckoning, Mazembak actually lost as much support as he gained, and this gave me the idea to exaggerate the threat posed by The Shadow Society.

“When The Elders saw merit in the idea, we adopted a plan to create three more members of The Shadow Society and tie them all in with the Phantom Assassin. The genius behind the idea was to increase the numbers of The Shadow Society to nine members... do you see the correlation of this?”

Judge Fury nodded. “Very devious, Advocate. You set it up to look like The Shadow Society was the antithesis of The Judges. That’s how you confirmed Thane Mazembak’s responsibility for the assassins; by polarising the issue to one of politics rather than crminality.”

“That’s right, but there was another aspect to the plan that, in retrospect, wasn’t so brilliantly constructed.”

“You needed three more assassins to make up the numbers, is that what you mean?”

“Yes, and we needed three more assassins who the nobles would recognise... three assassins of terrible reputation... as further evidence to the outrage perpetrated by Thane Mazembak.

“The first of the three decided on was the Phiadonese pirate, Perryn Longblade. He was a nasty bugger at the best of times, and his devastating raids along the coastlands of northwest Tysa had been like thorns in the side of many nobles who own lands in that area. Happily for us, Perryn had been captured already. He was resident of the royal dungeons, so there were no concerns that he could ever refute our claim to being a member of The Shadow Society.”

Both Judge Fury and Thane Pyrond were gawping. It was Pyrond who spoke first, his tone disbelieving.

“You’ve got Perryn Longblade in the palace dungeon?”

“He ‘was’ in the palace dungeon – past tense, I’m afraid. He died there a number of years ago.”

Judge Fury tensed. “You say that too nonchalantly,” he said quietly. “I have never been told this, nor, by his reaction, has Thane Pyrond. So, tell me, Advocate... who did know that Perryn Longblade was in the dungeon?”

“I know what you’re thinking, Fury, but you’re wrong. Perryn Longblade got his trial. It was not a public trial, admittedly, but he answered to The Law nonetheless.”

Judge Fury pierced the Advocate with a stare. “I don’t doubt he had a trial, but was it a fair trial? It sounds like he was conveniently imprisoned and expected to die there.”

Judge Knot slammed a fist onto the desk-top. “How dare you! You accuse us of impropriety against a known murderer? Perryn Longblade was tried and found guilty. The same outcome would have happened in a public court, but with a difference... in a public court, he would have been sentenced to hang!

“At least we offered him time to repent his sins to whatever god he prayed to.”

“Hush, Judge Knot.” The Advocate waved him to silence before explaining further, “Fury, it’s true we couldn’t make Perryn’s capture public knowledge, not after we made the decision to name him as part of the Shadow Society. Perhaps executing him would have been more merciful than imprisonment, but would that have been any more palatable to you? I doubt it.”

Judge Fury couldn’t argue with that, but the fundamental tenets he believed in had been seriously bent, if not broken, and he was feeling very uneasy.

“What about Dravnia, then?” he asked. “If it’s true she’s in the dungeon, is she also going to die there?”

~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, Dravnia. What, exactly, do you know about Dravnia, Fury?”

“She was a murderess who specialised in seduction. When she had her intended victims alone, she killed them.”

“True, but do you know that her victims included only people of noble birth? That’s why she was chosen to be another member of The Shadow Society – because of the particular abhorrence her existence held for many nobles. All the other assassins were monsters, but only Dravnia had a reputation that truly frightened them. For whatever warped reason she had, ‘The Seductress’ targeted only nobles, so her inclusion in The Shadow Society personalised the threat to them specifically.

“Unfortunately, we made a mistake with Dravnia. She had been most active in the years just prior to the disappearance of Prince Tyranoth and, for all we knew at the time, she might very well have been a member of The Shadow Society – perhaps an assassin that Judge Armstrong hadn’t known about. I don’t believe this, for Dravnia’s victims were chosen from noble families loyal to both Mazembak and Tyranoth. I think she was merely an embittered young woman with a grudge against nobles in general.

“It was a moot point, for murders subject to Dravnia’s modus-operandi ceased shortly after Prince Tyranoth disappeared. There was a rumour she had killed herself, but a body was never found and the fact never verified. Perhaps the lack of proof that she was dead should have rung alarm bells, but Dravnia was just the assassin we needed to make up the numbers and we used her. If she wasn’t a member of The Shadow Society in life, she certainly was afterward.

“That willingness to be blinded by necessity came back to trouble us last year when three nobles resident near Graldok died in the same mysterious circumstances that mirrored the methods once employed by Dravnia... it appeared she wasn’t dead after all.”

Judge Fury looked to Thorndew. “And again, you were sent to investigate. You located and arrested Dravnia, and now she sits in a cell in the dungeons of the royal palace. How many months has she been there without trial or representation? How long do you plan to keep her there?”

“There is more to this than meets the eye, Fury.” Judge Thorndew warned. “Do not cast aspersions against my loyalty and adherence to the Law, if you please. I’m your friend and you should know me better.”

Chastised but unrepentant, Judge Fury challenged Thorndew to enlighten him. “Then help my eye to see the ‘more’, friend, for I confess to be being sorely vexed by this seemingly lax attitude to due process.”

Thorndew acquiesced. “Dravnia does have representation... Me!”

“You? That’s hardly impartial, is it? You’re the arresting Judge. You can’t be her counsellor as well. The two are mutually exclusive!”

“Fury! I requested to be her counsellor for her benefit, not so that I could, as you seem to be suggesting, ‘stitch her up'. Her guilt in the three murders at Graldok is unquestioned, let alone the numerous killings she committed years ago.” Thorndew’s tone betrayed that he was quietly seething, but he paused and took a deep breath before continuing.

“The truth is, Dravnia has refused all offers of representation and she has never confessed or denied her actions. In fact, she sits in her cell and says nothing... not one word has she uttered that might offer us cause to pass any sentence other than execution. By rights, she should have been tried months ago and, if not for me, she’d have been hanged!”

“Then that’s what should have happened,” argued Fury. “You can’t keep someone locked up indefinitely without cause.”

“Of course we can!” interrupted Judge Knot. “We’re The Judges, for Srythak’s sake! If we deem that there’s a direct threat to the security of the kingdom, we can do whatever we damn-well like!”

~~~~~~~~~

The stunned reaction that followed The Elder’s outburst was deafening in its silence. Even The Guildmaster looked horror-stricken, for Judge Knot had just proclaimed the institute of The Judges to be more powerful than The King. He had just spoken treason!

[Badstench]

The Advocate hurriedly came to Judge Knot’s rescue. “I think what Judge Knot means to say is that The Judges are empowered to advise the King on the best course of action pertaining to certain matters of security that involve the law, isn’t that right Judge Knot?”

“Of course that’s right! If you’d all stop imitating beached mackerel and engage a bit of common sense for a second, you’d realise that that’s what I meant.”

“You should take more care with your words, Judge Knot,” warned Thane Pyrond. “I serve the King, not The Judges, and my loyalty already has a home.”

“Yes, yes… and I wouldn’t dare test the resolve of your loyalty, Pyrond You have proven it time and again, so consider my words ill chosen.”

The apology (if you could call it that) placated the Thane and alleviated the tension in the room enough for Judge Knot to address Fury.

“I am pleasantly surprised to hear you speak so confidently of ‘due process’, Fury. I use to fear that the efforts of your tutors were being wasted, but it seems you weren’t entirely incorrigible.

“Be that as it may, Dravnia’s stubborn silence was not seen as an excuse to keep her imprisoned indefinitely. We’d have been better off if she had stood trial… her guilt is a matter of certainty rather than probability, so the verdict would surely have resulted in an execution. In fact, it went against my better judgement when I agreed to allow Dravnia time to find her tongue.

“As it turns out, that decision may have been a blessing in disguise.”

“How so?” asked Judge Fury. He was still feeling indignant at the liberties taken with the processes of the Law, but Judge Knot’s purposeful faux-pa had succeeded in deflecting Fury’s anger from anything more than the initial outburst. It was a ploy Judge Knot often used to great effect; counter indignation with cause for greater indignation, camouflage a lie with an awkward truth, posture and stomp, affect anger and frustration, fool your opponent with obfuscation… smoke and mirrors.

“The real question, Fury, is not why we’ve kept Dravnia imprisoned for months, but why she allowed us to capture her in the first place.”

“What do you mean? Thorndew caught her after she murdered three people. How does that constitute ‘allowing’?”

Judge Knot looked to Thorndew to continue the explanation.

“Her complete ambivalence at being captured was disconcerting, Fury. She didn’t even try to cover her tracks after committing the latest three murders. I was given no reason to conduct a demanding investigation, there was no unravelling of clues, no desperate pursuit. I simply walked into a tavern in Graldok and there she was… it was almost like she was waiting for me.

“This caused me to start asking why Dravnia allowed herself to be captured so easily, and that led me to wonder why she’d committed these new murders at all. Why did she draw attention to herself when The Judges were of the opinion she was already dead? Why resurrect ‘The Seductress’ now?”

Fury joined Judge Thorndew in his look of bewilderment. “I see. Is this why you’ve kept her in gaol – to uncover the answers to these questions?”

“Yes.” But for a brief moment, Judge Fury thought he heard something else in Thorndews clipped reply… something avoided. There was another matter to this that Thorndew wasn’t expressing, but Fury wasn’t sure if the secret was withheld against him or against everyone in the room. He decided not to remark on Thorndew’s stumble.

~~~~~~~~~

“And that,” interrupted the Judge Advocate, “is a good place to segue into the explanation for the third assassin, Zijin.”

“Wait a minute.” Fury demanded. “Has anything been discovered about Dravnia’s motives? You’re leaving me with more questions than answers.”

“I’ll get back to that, Fury. For now, you only need to understand that Dravnia’s capture and the unexpected appearances of Goblineye and Zijin are somehow connected. This, coupled with Rhia’s message to you concerning the Phantom Assassin, is the real reason we are here today.”

“Judge Advocate!” Fury breathed with exasperation. “Now you’ve really got me going. That statement has to be explained. How is all this connected?”

“Fury, earlier I said that Rhia’s hint of the Phantom Assassin being in Trithik wasn’t a message worth pursuing because it wasn’t a message at all. That wasn’t strictly accurate. There is a message contained in the news, but it isn’t what you might expect.

“What we believe is happening is that someone is sending us – The Judges – a message. We think someone other than the people in this room knows everything we’ve discussed today, and it is my personal belief that that ‘someone’ is trying to warn us – either as a friend or an enemy – that the existence of our institution is not secure.

“If someone else knows what we did to discredit Thane Mazembak, it could expose The Judges to complicity in fraud and undermine the position of King Wenreald.

“Fury, I believe the throne of Tysa is under threat again!”

[Badstench]

Judge Thorndew ended the Avocate’s statement by saying, “That’s why Dravnia is important, and why it’s important that we hold her. We need her to explain why she’s appeared now, because we believe she’s tied up in this somehow. Until we get that information, she will remain in the dungeons.”

Judge Fury looked thoughtful. “So, how does Zijin figure into this?

The Judge Advocate responded, “Zijin was the third assassin we chose to bring to The Shadow Society. He was chosen simply because we couldn’t think of another suitable candidate.

“I know you were taught about the individual members of The Shadow Society at the academy, Fury. Zijin was the most mysterious, yes?”

“Yes,” agreed Fury, “but that’s only because we don’t really know much about Shay, his land of birth. All we were told was that Zijin belonged to a special warrior caste that was very secretive. In effect, they were the top echelon of the army commanded by the ruling Warlord. Zijin was said to be their best warrior and an assassin unequalled.”

The Judge Advocate nodded. “And that’s all the nobles knew about him as well, but it was enough to give them cause for alarm. We chose Zijin as the third member of The Shadow Society because of his dire reputation, but we never imagined he would ever appear in Tysa to gainsay us.

“So, you might appreciate our shock when we learned that Shay has got itself a new Warlord and that an ambassador recently arrived to Charna seeking trade concessions.

“And the name of that ambassador is Zijin!”

When Judge Fury let out an audible gasp, the Advocate wrongly took it as surprise against the information as it pertained to The Shadow Society.

“Yes, I know. Another of our ‘non-existent’ assassins appears out of nowhere to haunt us. This is why Rhia was sent to Charna… to ascertain if the ambassador from Shay might be the very same assassin we created into The Shadow Society.”

Judge Fury had risen from his chair in agitation. “Maybe it’s not him. ‘Zijin’ might be a common name in Shay. It could be a coincidence.”

“You might be right, Fury,” the Advocate answered, “but we can’t operate on that surmise. Like I said earlier, The Judges don’t believe in coincidence. First Dravnia appears, then Goblineye attacks Judge Thorndew and Zijin shows up in Charna, and then Rhia delivers her message to you. There’s more to… Judge Fury?”

The last was said in consternation, for Fury had hidden his face in his hands and was muttering the most astounding array of swear words. “Shit! Bish! and Godamn! were just some of the milder expletives.

When he halted the flow of obscenities, he lowered his hands to reveal a wild-eyed and desperate expression.

“Judge Advocate, if Zijin is the assassin you suppose him to be, Jinx is in mortal danger!”

The Advocate looked puzzled. “Eh?”

“The Shayite who sits at the table of eight as one of my companions… she’s gone to Charna to meet Zijin. Her purpose is to kill him, if he doesn’t kill her first!”

Judge Knot leapt out of his chair. “What the hell are you talking about?”

So Judge Fury explained everything he knew about Jinx... he told them her true name and of her relationship to goji-san, the one-time taipan of clan goji. He explained how Jinx and her brother had been forced to flee Shay and how Jinx arrived at Trithik to become a member of the table of eight. He told them about the night Rhia had come searching for Jinx at the Adventurers Collective and of the medallion that had committed her to search for Rhia’s employer.

And when he was finished telling them everything, he let loose with a string of swear words again.

It was Judge Knot who interrupted Fury’s tirade of obscenities by asking, “What did you say the name of Jinx’s brother was?”

“Zi-Mot-Djar,” answered Fury. “Why?”

When Judge Knot looked at the Advocate, both their expressions were of disbelief until the Advocate whirled to face Judge Fury.

Said he: “Zi-Mot-Djar is the name given to the new Warlord of Shay!”

Fury sat heavily in his chair. “But if that’s true, it can only mean that Zijin is in Charna at the behest of Zi-Mot-Djar. Therefore, the medallion is real… and if the medallion is real, Zijin has no intention to kill Jinx. He’s here to re-unite her with her brother!”

Everyone was staring at him without comprehension, so Fury had to spell it out for them. “Jinx doesn’t know her brother is now the Warlord of Shay. If she recognises Zijin as being the famed assassin, she’s going to try and kill him regardless!”

Thane Pyrond reacted. He hadn’t understood much of the preceding discussion, but he garnered now that an ambassador to the Kingdom of Tysa was in danger of being slain. As a responsible appointee to a thaneship he could not allow such a thing to happen.

“This Zijin might or might not be the assassin alluded to by The Shadow Society, but he is an ambassador and enjoys the same protection we afford all foreign diplomats. If your friend is going to make an attempt against his life, she must be stopped.

“From your story, Fury, it’s highly probable that Jinx and her travelling companions have already arrived to Charna. We have no option but to contact Thane Monrell through the seerstones if we are to prevent a tragedy.”

Thane Pyrond now addressed the Judge Advocate directly. “Sir, I request permission for release of the Trithik seerstone.”

The Guildmaster interjected before the Advocate could give his answer. “The seerstone? You know the perils inherent of using that artefact, Pyrond. Have you given thought to the protection of the city?”

Thane Pyrond regarded the Guildmaster disdainfully. “I protect this city day and night, Guildmaster, and I have never failed in my duty since becoming its thane, nor shall I do so now. I will instruct the Trithik garrison to deploy within the city with special attention to Blade Square and the Adventurers Collective. It will require a couple of hours to complete deployment, so if you gentleman have anything necessary to secure, I suggest you do so.

“As for the risk associated with using the seerstone, it does not weigh as heavy as the consequences should we fail to prevent the killing of an ambassador. If we don’t even try because of the possibility of inconvenience, then we will soon be preparing for the probability of war.

“So what would you have me do, Guildmaster?”

In answer, the Guildmaster turned to the Judge Advocate. “It’s really not my place to say. The decision is yours Advocate. In the absence of The King and Magical, you are the next highest authority.”

The Judge Advocate looked to Judge Knot for guidance, but was answered with a shrug. “This is the power you wield, my friend. Yay or nay, I will defend your decision, but only you can make that decision.”

After a moment, the Judge Advocate nodded toward Thane Pyrond. “You are right. We cannot do ‘nothing’ when a clear alternative exists, even if there is a risk involved. You have my permission, Pyrond”

*

The afternoon had passed into evening as Thane Pyrond repeated his warning.

“Two hours, gentlemen, then I activate the seerstone. I will be marshalling the city garrison until then, so anyone wishing to speak with Thane Monrell can meet me in the north tower at that time.”

Before the Thane could hurry away, the Advocate bid him wait. “It has been in my mind to allow Judge Fury a little more freedom than the confines offered by his cell at the City Watchtower. I know it’s irregular, but I would appreciate it if he could be accommodated in Tyrnd Keep. Do you have a room to spare?”

“There are plenty of cells available in my dungeons, Advocate… take your pick,” said Thane Pyrond deadpan.

“No. What I meant is – if you have a private chamber available?”

“I know what you meant,” grinned the Thane. “Speak to my chamberlain. He’ll sort something out.”

When he departed, Fury raised his eyebrows and commented. “Well, what do you know, Pyrond has a sense of humour after all.”

The Guildmaster chuckled as he rose from his chair. “I must depart as well. If the seerstone is going to be activated, I’d better see to the security of the Collective.”

Judge Fury forestalled his departure. ‘If you please, Guildmaster, I’m aware of the magic bound to the seerstones and cognisant of the consequences such magicks can manifest when unleashed in the physical world, but I don’t understand why you have twice singled out the Adventurers Collective for the need of special attention. Care you to enlighten me?”

“If I had twice a decade of years, Judge Fury, I would be delighted to explain it to you, but two hours is not enough time for even a basic telling. Perhaps the Advocate or Judge Knot might explain it to you instead, for I must away before the seerstone is activated.” He bowed to the Judges and exited the room.

Fury turned to the Advocate expectantly, but his superior disappointed him. “Our time would be better spent looking for the chamberlain and getting your quarters sorted, Fury. I don’t want to be late to the meeting with Thane Monrell.”

“I must proffer my gratitude for that consideration, sir. I wasn’t looking forward to being returned to my cell.”

The Advocate dismissed Fury’s thanks. “Thorndew was right… you were looking a bit sickly this morning. If anyone grumbles about ‘leniency’ or ‘favouritism’, I’ll deal with it at the time. You should take advantage of your freedom to walk about the grounds of Trynd Keep tomorrow, Fury. Get some exercise, etcetera. I only ask that you confine yourself to Trynd Keep. There’s no sense in offering our detractors a reason for protest by being too obvious, eh?”

Judge Fury nodded. “I hear you, sir.”

[Badstench]

*

Day 5:

Scout had spent a fruitless day searching for Bogmuck. He had trudged from one end of Trithik to the other, visiting locales Varsil Demonsoul was known to frequent in the hope that one or other of them might be found.

To no avail.

The sun had sunk beyond the buildings of Trithik when he walked into the Adventurers Collective and sat himself at the table of eight.

Allura breezed up to him with a happy smile. “Hello. I’ve missed you today. Have you missed me, too?”

The answer received was not what she expected to hear. “Has Bogmuck been in today?”

“The big ugly bloke?”

“Yes. Have you seen him today?"

“No.” Allura stood by the table, waiting for Scout to notice the effort she’d made for his benefit - she’d splashed herself with an expensive perfume and placed a daisy in her hair – but her smile wavered a little when he looked down at the table and absent-mindedly traced the etching of Adam Jadefang’s name with his finger.

“I could do with a beer. It’s been a long day,” was all he said.

Undaunted, Allura made a swirl of her new skirt as she pirouetted. “Hammertongue, or perhaps something nicer?”

Scout looked up with a frown. “You need to ask?”

For a moment, Allura narrowed her eyes, but then she offered Scout a lilting giggle. “I thought that... because you’re alone... you might ask me to join you?”

Scout, it is fair to say, was distracted by the frustrations of his day and didn’t pick up on Allura’s hint. This was compounded when the green door opened to admit The Guildmaster who strode purposefully toward the bar.

“Hammertongue,” he said to Allura dismissively, and was then perplexed when she called him a ‘prick’ and stomped off to serve someone else.

~~~~~~~~~~

Vurii was taken aback when she looked up to find The Guildmaster standing at the bar. Her landlord didn’t often visit the common room lest it was a matter pertaining to wayward behaviour displayed by adventurers that might reflect badly on the guild-house. She automatically glanced at the table of eight before remembering that those particular idiots had been absent for the past week, so whatever it was the Guildmaster needed to voice couldn’t be the fault of Varsil Demonsoul and company.

She needn’t have worried from that quarter, for the Guildmaster was simply there with a warning that the Trithik seerstone was going to be activated and that she (Vurii) might want to batten down the hatches. She nodded her understanding then sighed with annoyance as the Guildmaster disappeared through the door to his private quarters.

She knew it couldn’t last… the relative peace of the past week had seen her furniture and crockery survive the days unbroken, which meant her overheads had been kept to a minimum and profit-after-tax had improved slightly. Her actual ‘take’ was down because of the absence of the Table of Eight, but in this business, return wasn’t as important as profitability.

During the times when the bar went quiet, she often wondered whether her life mightn’t be a lot easier if she simply barred the Table of Eight from her establishment altogether. It would be a shame because, individually, they were rather nice fellows… except for that rogue, Varsil, of course… but as a group they were want to stir up trouble on a regular basis.

However, Vurii’s negative thoughts along that line never lasted long; she couldn’t imagine the Table of Eight not being part of the Collective. To begin with, Judge Fury had made everyone nervous when he first started frequenting the place, him being a highly placed official within the justiciary, and Dragonbane had arrived as a cause célèbre, which made him both an object of curiosity and standoffishness. Young Ned wasn’t the only member of the Collective who dabbled in the use of magic, but he was regarded as the most accomplished, and this was always a reason for ordinary folk to show wariness. Adam Jadefang had been a colourful character, always ready with a quip and a story that had, more often than not, been the cause for someone to take offence. He had been the yin to Jinx’s yang, for the foreigner from Shay was a silent fellow whose features never engendered much in the way of familiarity or friendship. Varsil Demonsoul was a despicable rogue who, unfortunately, could often get away with being described as a “likeable” rogue. He had as many friends as he had enemies, though it was never obvious who belonged to what group. Bogmuck was just “lovable”, even though he was certainly the ugliest man Vurii had ever met, and he was desperately stupid.

Hawk and Ezekiel were still relatively unknown to Vurii, but from what she’d noticed of the two young adventurers during the first few days of their acceptance to the table of eight, they looked like a couple of lads full of enough mischief to deserve their seats alongside the rest.

No… Vurii couldn’t imagine the Adventurers Collective without the Table of Eight; the place would be a lot less interesting if such colourful characters took their business elsewhere. For all the trouble they caused, Vurii was actually quite fond of those idiots.

And especially of Scout, who was currently sitting by himself at the round table in the shadowed corner of the room looking at Allura with complete bewilderment. Vurii smiled to herself; watching those two dance around each other in the early days of their courtship had become another source of entertainment.

“Ah, young love,” she thought wistfully. “Make the most of it, my friends. One day, Mother Time will creep upon you, and what happens then will be reflected against the memories you keep of now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Vurii materialised her cudgel from beneath the bar (the one she sometimes used to whack brawlers over the head with) and used it to attract the attention of everyone in the common room by banging it on the wooden surface of the counter.

“Gentlemen… and lady,” she nodded toward Taleria. “Most of you here this evening have been members of the Adventurers Collective for a number of years, and many of you will remember the Fell Winter when we experienced troubles with the goblins from the Felrundins. Those were harsh times, and many good friends were lost to the war against those horrid creatures.”

Someone in the room was drunk already and raised his mug to offer a toast to fallen comrades, until one of his companions deduced that Vurii was about to make an announcement and told him to shut-up.

“Some of you were here the night Thane Pyrond used his seerstone to contact Thane Marindol... a call for the main Tysian army to mobilise northward in defence of the western provinces... and might remember the peculiar things that happened when the seerstone was activated.”

A few heads nodded, but most of the adventurers looked lost, Scout among them. Scout had been resident of Trithik that night, but was still in training with a weaponmaster at the time and hadn’t yet become a patron of the Adventurers Collective or a member of the Table of Eight. He was listening to Vurii interestedly, albeit with a tinge of confusion.

Vurii continued, “I have just been advised that the seerstone is going to be used again this very night... in about forty five minutes.”

There were a few gasps elicited from those adventurers who understood what her announcement entailed. Indeed, one person exited the green door rather hurriedly.

At the same time, Mordi, Grymlok and Scarsdon walked in. They looked around the room bemused. “What’s up?” asked Mordi.

Someone told him, whereupon he pushed his way to the bar and asked for three mugs of Hammertongue. Vurii held up a hand to bid him wait before she concluded her speech...

“So, if you haven’t already got a drink, come and get one now. All I ask is that you keep a tight grip on your mugs and don’t attack the furniture if it does something strange.

“Also, you might want to take the clips off your scabbards and be ready to draw your weapons in case we get any uninvited guests.”

~~~~~~~~~

Allura rushed to Scout’s side. “Oh my! You will protect me won’t you?”

Scout tried to balance a look embarrassment at his girlfriend’s public display with an expression of concern. “Of course I will! I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, my love. But, if you wouldn’t mind getting off me for a second, I still need a beer.”

Allura leapt off his lap and gushed, “I will get it for you right now,” and she tripped away to the bar.

Scout had seen that Mordi and his cohorts were looking for somewhere to sit. Their usual table was already fully occupied, so their eyes had alighted on the table of eight.

“Might we join you, friend Scout? You have chairs to spare, and I hear your friends have gone off to Charna.”

Scout was happy to oblige, seeing an opportunity to ask Mordi about his friend Ehris, among other things. He nodded at the empty chairs in agreeance and asked his first question before any bums actually had a chance to sit themselves. “Mordi, what’s this thing called the ‘seerstone?”

And to the best of his ability, Mordi explained what he knew about the artefacts possessed by the Thanes, though his explanation was incomplete and quite incorrect.

*

[Badstench]

To explain the seerstones, it is necessary for you, dear Reader, to gain a rudimentary knowledge of the inter-relationship between the physical world in which we dwell and adjacent dimensions. Fear not, for you won’t be subjected to an examination following the explanation. What you choose to absorb and believe is yours alone, suffice it to say that the world in which this story takes place... Sryth... is just one world in a universe of worlds. The universe is also known as the ‘material plane’.

Existent alongside the material plane are dimensions where the laws of nature as we know them don’t apply. Together, they exist in a broader expanse of existence called the ‘Multiverse’.

Between and around and through the Multiverse course energies that make all life possible. These energies exist as positive and negative forces. Many religions refer to these energies as the spirit world, and it is here that the realms of Heaven and Hell are reputed to exist.

On Sryth, the spirit world is more commonly referred to as ‘The Neverness’.

The Neverness and the world of Sryth are separate. Imagine, if you can, a house with two rooms and no door to connect them; there would just be a solid wall that disallows egress between the rooms. A seerstone acts like a key that can create its own door; touch the key to anywhere on the wall and a door will magically appear allowing movement from one room to the next.

In wider terms, the seerstones are capable of opening a door between the material plane and the Neverness. These artefacts encapsulate energy endemic of the Neverness. They imprison a force that is pure power.

Who it was that first figured out how to release the power of the seerstones is forgotten, but the method wasn’t. Certain persons have been privileged with the knowledge of how to ‘activate’ the stones to affect the opening of doors, and what this means in practical terms is that it becomes possible to send instantaneous messages from the location of one seerstone to another.

So, all we are really talking about is the ability for someone to talk to someone else over vast distances.

However, any use of an item that possesses the power to open a ‘door’ between the dimensions comes with risk. The material plane operates under strict laws of physics and science, and the universe is subject to those laws. Any time a ‘door’ is opened between the dimensions, it creates a rift in the fabric of the Multiverse.

Rifts are uncontrollable. The consequences of creating a rift manifest in a mixing of the material plane with the Neverness that causes distortions in both realms. In other words, when a seerstone is activated, any manner of weirdness might occur in the material plane, and especially where the fabric between the dimensions is weak.

One such point of weakness exists on the location over which the Adventurers Collective was built.

*

Mordi was nearly finished with his explanation (which, as previously noted, was nowhere near as complete or accurate as the preceding passage) when the seerstone kept by Thane Pyrond in the north tower of Trynd Keep was activated.

Scout quickly came to understand why Vurii had asked everyone to keep a tight grip on their mugs; his was on the table when it returned to its pre-natural state – the mug softened and collapsed into a heap of sodden clay. Fortunately, Scout had drunk most of the contents, but his attention to the fate of his beer was short-lived when the common room suddenly shimmered and went out of focus. It seemed that reality tipped askew of itself; the room blurred and looked to stretch at an odd angle, like giant hands had gripped opposing corners of the building and was giving it a good twist. The sensation made Scout’s innards retch. He’d never been on a ship before, but if he had, he might have recognised the disconcerting motion that caused sea-sickness – the floor felt like it was tilting backwards and forwards.

Startled voices found themselves as various adventurers exclaimed their consternation. Allura screamed. Scout saw her stumble as she endeavoured to cross the room toward him. He tried to rise, but found he had become inextricably stuck to his chair.

Behind the cries of the patrons in the common room, a sound could be distinguished that wasn’t normal. It began as an intermittent creak that soon developed into the disconcerting noise of splintering wood.

Mordi yelled something, but all Scout heard was an incomprehensible nonsense that sounded like, “Iggle-de-dorph!” He looked where Mordi pointed and gasped, for the door behind him was bending into the room. The door was one that had never been opened (at least, not during the few years Scout had been coming to the Adventurers Collective). That door had become the subject of a recurring joke – fanciful stories were often concocted to describe what lay behind it, and someone had even nailed a sign to its surface that proclaimed it opening to “The House of Arkrol, Familiar Keeper. (Coming soon)”. That door was now bulging with apparent threat to explode into the common room.

Pandemonium erupted as adventurers tried to stumble away from the threat, and a few weapons were drawn against whatever it was they envisioned might come through the opening. Scout was still stuck to his chair and, if the situation had been less worrisome, he would have made a comical sight as he rabbit-hopped across the room. As he neared an adjacent table, he quickly rabbit-hopped in a different direction as it folded in half with a mighty clap. The two adventurers sitting there, were forced forward until their heads met with a sickening thud; they butted themselves into unconsciousness.

The room shimmered again and reverted to its proper dimensions. Vision seemed to right itself in the correct way people were accustomed, and Scout found he was suddenly freed from his chair. Normalcy returned enough to allow him a quick passage to Allura – she threw her arms around him with a whimper of terror. Everyone was standing or sitting in awed silence, expectant of further weirdness, but the normalcy remained intact. Only Mordi moved; he was backing away from the table of eight, his gaze squarely fixed on the worrisome door behind it. It was no longer bulging at an angle that suggested it might burst asunder, but it was undulating in and out like it was breathing. Of a sudden, the door stopped moving and became a proper sort of door again, but everyone kept looking at it in silent expectation.

The silence made the click of another door opening seem overly loud, and everyone whirled to the the corridor from which The Guildmaster’s private chambers and small conference rooms could be accessed.

Three monsters were framed in the doorway: a diminutive creature that looked like it had been sewn together from different body parts, an even smaller creature with wings that looked like it was made of stone, and a tall thing that looked like a zombie. For a few seconds, the creatures and the members of the Adventurers Collective stared at each other.

Grymlok was closest to the creatures and with his sword already drawn. He yelled a battle cry and leapt forward to strike, only to have his sword thunk against wood as the door was slammed closed. By the time he managed to prise his sword free and wrestle the door open, the three monsters had disappeared.

Backed by a few hardy souls, Grymlok conducted a search of the rooms along the corridor, but the monsters were not found.

~~~~~~~~~

Vurii banged her cudgel on the counter. “I think we can safely assume that the event is over. The bar is now open. Anyone who didn’t hold onto their mugs owes me three copper coins.”

*

[Badstench]

Both Thane Monrell and his chief advisor were indisposed when the seerstone was activated – the message was actually received by Monrell’s chamberlain. In lieu of anyone more senior, The Judge Advocate advised him to despatch a security detail to guard the ambassador from Shay and conduct an immediate search for the adventurers known as the Table of Eight. Once apprehended, the adventurers were to be held as guests of His Majesty… meaning they were to be locked in a cell for their own good until the safety of the ambassador was assured or until further notice.

Unfortunately, the hapless chamberlain was unable to pass the vital communiqué to his master until the following day. If he had been less self-deprecating and more conscientious, the adventurers might have been intercepted at the gates of the city and taken into custody before they could do any harm, but by the time the guards were alerted, Jinx and company had already entered the precincts of Charna.

~~~~~~~~~

Day 5:

In the meantime, Judge Fury retired to the chambers provided him in Trynd Keep. He was desperately weary and longing for sleep, but such is the way of over-tiredness that sleep proved elusive. He lay awake for a long while, fitting the truths he had learned earlier that day to the perceptions of the world he had previously known. His education had come with rude abruptness, shaking the foundations of everything in which he believed; The Law, the institute of The Judges, even the legality of King Wenreald’s ascension to the throne.

The evils perpetrated by Thane Mazembak were well documented. There was no doubt he’d deserved some sort of punishment, but to learn his penalty had come only after The Elders concocted a trick against the nobles – towit, the creation of The Phantom and three more assassins (who were actually innocent of any involvement in The Shadow Society) – was unsettling. The Law had been used by its creators in a way that was never meant to be. The Elders had interpreted it to suit their own ends, and even ignored it all together when necessity demanded.

This was something Judge Fury would have to think about in depth before passing his own judgement. He had to consider the possibility that a lesser evil is sometimes necessary for the realisation of a greater good; that the decisions made by The Elders were justified.

Because the truth was that Judge Fury had himself ignored the proper precepts of The Law when it suited him. He had often turned a blind eye to activities of a questionable nature perpetrated by Varsil Demonsoul and others at the Adventurers Collective. Furthermore, he had acquiesced to Judge Gallows’ plea of clemency for Ignaceous Screwbottom and been the instigator of the boy’s new life in spite of the sentence demanded by The Law. Hawk should have been executed for murder, but Fury had purposefully muddied the intent of that ruling to spare the boy.

Judge Fury was lying in the darkness of his room looking toward the ceiling. He was experiencing an inner turmoil brought about through the confused state of his belief system, and it was in this state that his eyelids slowly closed.

He was floating in the place between true sleep and wakefulness, his last thoughts on Rhia’s visit to the Adventurers Collective – the visit that had sparked his involvement in the current crisis. Everything was inter-connected, or seemed to be, and Judge Fury couldn’t help but wonder who might be threatening the stability of the Kingdom by displaying knowledge of The Elders’ past indiscretions. Who would benefit by exposing The Elders now? Who were the enemies that could have gained access to the information and would use it to cause the downfall of The Judges? How did Dravnia fit into it?

The thought of Dravnia caused Judge Fury a frown. The name evoked images of The Shadow Society, with Bear of Kolnia figuring ever prominently because of the person he had become: Dragonbane – a member of the Table of Eight and Fury’s friend. Time and again, Judge Fury had pushed away the thought of Dragonbane being responsible for the death of Judge Armstrong. He had been sure the dragon slayer and himself were the only ones who knew the secret, so to have the truth proclaimed as common knowledge by Thane Pyrond and the other Judges had been a shock. From Pyrond’s explanation of the investigation into the background of Joshua Blame, it seemed to have been a ridiculously simple task to unmask Dragonbane. Rhia had also achieved it, a fact Fury had confirmed during their discourse at the Adventurers Collective.

Fury’s frown suddenly deepened. The alternate reason for Rhia’s visit to the Adventurers Collective had not been explored during the day’s meeting. Fury had meant to broach the subject after Thane Pyrond had announced his knowledge of Dragonbane’s true identity, but he’d been distracted when the conversation took a different course. Rhia had initially called at the guild-house to make enquiries after Jinx, but when she had seen Dragonbane sitting at the table of eight she had interrogated Judge Fury the reasons he allowed what she saw as being a travesty. She already suspected who the dragon slayer really was and seemed very indignant of his presence.

Fury’s eyes sprang open.

Rhia had been indignant and angry, which was not immediately surprising considering the close relationship she enjoyed with Judge Armstrong. But, something had gone awry with their conversation after Fury had confirmed Dragonbane’s identity… Rhia had made mention of The Phantom Assassin almost in passing – as part of her farewell to Judge Fury – like it was inconsequential.

Understanding crept upon him slowly, the way cold fingers of a winter’s morning might grip an exposed heart; a chill at the re