1629, Earth Season, Fertility Week, Around Fireday
Context
Maalira is riding through Prax with her friends, and they are enjoying the hospitality of Duke Raus. Session Prax 6.7
Events
It takes two days for Sword Daine to make up his mind. He talks with the Duke, and the other adventurers, and then with Humakt, putting questions about the Hero directly. During that time Berra invites Maalira to ride around the area, fist-fights with one of the guards present and loses in a drawn-out slugfest, and attempts to go fishing in a swamp.
It is possible she is nervous.
Evening two days after the dawn conversation brings a Humakti with muddy clothes to Maalira’s side. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Maalira replies, smiling warmly.
“I might’ov got a little stuck when I was fishing.” She sounds proud. “But I caught three people who asked me what I was doing!”
Maalira snorts. “That sounds productive.”
“Well, it was that or bait my hook.” Berra grins. “Um, he’s probably going to say yes. Daine, I mean.”
“Oh, good! I did hope he would. He asked some very good questions.”
“He asked me a few as well. I don’t think he’s doing it for Lord Eril, to be honest. I think he’s doing it because it’s a thing he can do for his Duke. A link to Sartar, with a lot of conditions. But it’s dangerous.”
“What’s dangerous?” Maalira sobers instantly.
“It’s a week of him being drugged and me having to look after him and also sometimes having to be unconscious.” Berra shrug-winces. She wants to make it be a nothing but it is not.
Maalira winces in response. “I see. How can I help?”
“Just be around? There isn’t a White Lady here right now, and there are Ernaldans, but that’s not always the same.” Berra gives Maalira a smile. “If something goes wrong, Lord Raven will let people know I need help. Or Lord Daine does.” Beat-pause. “It’s most likely going to be him, but he’ll take me down too.”
“Not if I can help it, he won’t,” Maalira says fiercely. “And yes, I can be around.”
“I’ve never done this myself,” Berra admits. “Last time I was the Priest, but there was a Temple around me, just in case. He’s got an altar room.”
“Would it not be safer to travel to somewhere with a full Temple?” Maalira suggests.
“He’d be a week away, and the time it takes to travel. That kind’ve news gets around. And apparently the Duke’s going to want Va… Thane Varanis to be here just in case. I hear. From Daine.” Berra shrugs. “It’ll be fine, right?”
“We’ll make it fine,” Maalira says firmly. “I can see why being away that long would be unwise.”
…
Of course, a few days later, when Berra and Daine are unconscious, it is evening and two very ill-looking boat-people come ashore, to ask for help. They look… less than healthy.
Maalira goes straight to them, though she keeps glancing back towards Berra’s location, just in case.
Berra is in a little room buried deep in the wall somewhere. The last time that Lord Raven reported in, all was well.
The men are being hurried towards where the Duke is, but as Maalira catches up a servant is looking at the stairs and reconsidering taking two exhausted people up there. The newtlings, bulgy-eyed and soft-skinned, who helped them here, are now looking bulgy-eyed and soft-skinned. It is hard to tell what they are thinking.1Maalira passes First Aid.
Maalira gestures to get the servant’s attention. “Can I help them down here?” she suggests.
The woman nods. “Yes, please.”
One of the half-naked men sits down on the stairs. It looks like blood loss, although he is a little too pink for that. At least it does not feel like disease.
“What happened?” Maalira asks, all business.
“Vampire!” one of them blurts. It may not have really been a vampire. For one, they are still alive.
“We have come to see the Duke,” says the man who is sitting.
“May I heal you first, so that you can report to the Duke more effectively?” Maalira asks.
“Please.” The seated man looks up at Maalira gratefully.
Maalira looks over the man carefully, examining him. “Do you have any wounds?”
“No, no. We’ve just all been feeling this way.”
No broken skin. No fever. A strong pulse, but fast. They are cold, but they are also wet from the river nearby.
From above, footsteps sound. Expensive footsteps, with the quiet confidence of the man who owns the fortified stead in which he lives, and has a well-appointed private office.
“Hmm,” Maalira says. “When exactly did it start, and what was happening then?”
Duke Raus comes down the stairs, but all he says is, “Answer the lady. I want to know. His trade-talk is accented by the Lunar heartlands, where presumably he also learned to kill people without a blink, and worship Chaos.
“We’ve come out of New Pavis. One passenger. Even before we cleared the Big Rubble, something felt wrong,” replies the man who is sitting. Then he realises who is there and struggles to his feet despite Raus gesturing him down. “We swum ashore, your Grace. We knew there’d be help here.”
- 1Maalira passes First Aid.
