1629, Early Storm Season
Context
Several people have not been in Boldhome since it was invaded by Harrek the Berserk. Around the time of Praxian Arc 21
Events
By Storm Season, much of the damage has been patched up. Most houses were looted but not burned, for Boldhome has plenty of open spaces, and a lot of adobe buildings, and so fires do not spread easily. Still even now there is evidence of break-ins. Thatch burns well, and tiled roofs are a way into buildings when the doors are barred.
The road to Varanis’ house is also the road up to the Air Temple. Here, there are burns on the walls, like Orlanth was stabbing at a low angle. The houses here are more expensive, which means many stood up to abuse well.1Battle: The lightning burns are weird. It’s like Orlanth kept on missing. Normally what gets burned is the person he aimed for.
The house stands. A porter with a very Wolf Pirate accent lets them in after some discussion, and a request to demonstrate that they are not in fact a Eurmali duck. Within, there is still some damage, and the Praxian room has been repainted. There are staff – the wolf pirate, a groom and general servant, and his wife, a cook and housekeeper.
Details that Dormal picks up from talking to the servants and others about the Wolf Pirate:
“He got captured by the Thane, and saved by the White Lady. He swore to her. He’s open about it, but you know, I think he’s lucky to be alive. He was important in the attack!”
His Tradetalk is basic, but he seems smart enough, and works out that intelligence has more than one definition pretty quickly. His price is teaching him more words.
Dormal finds the terms acceptable.
There is not a massive amount to tell, although he is careful not to get it wrong. The Wolf Pirates, under Harrek, were very angry. “Gunda has been killed where I captured. Wimskikh. Es… start of Harrek anger. Slow build, like big pot on fire. Pot full with oil, you see?”
His vocabulary is better than his grammar – he needs practice in talking more than more words.
Dormal offers to help him out with that although that’ll make his trade talk quite esrolian- inflected…
It will still be better than it is now.
Dormal is not trying to get deep intel yet, just establish friendship. Nevertheless he picks up that the pirate, Pallia, was called on to talk to the tall Humakti in black who was commanding the line that held.
From the Sun Dome Temple across the top of the Great Market, there was a defensive line. You can still see it, as there are significant earthworks there of the Major Elemental Did This sort.
“When pirate fly in, at night, light of sun suddenly, everyone see. You know how shoot practice bird? Like that.”
There was, apparently, a set of attempts to get over the earthworks in various ways, but none of them had Harrek in.
The house is suddenly busy, with Mellia and Venlar getting home from a visit. Their larger children are seeing to the animals in the stable, while Venlar holds the door for Mellia and a pair of servants of the sort needed by a young woman with a new family. Each of the servants has a tiny wrapped bundle.
Mellia enters the house. She tries to dry her hair with her cloak. This doesn’t work well.
Finarvi wanders in from the direction of the stables, a puzzled expression on his face. This turns to delight at the sight of Mellia and Venlar.
“Mellia! Oh, you’re soaked through. Here -” and the Grazelander is fussing in a basket for a blanket that is at least dry and warmer than the dripping cloak Mellia is using.
Venlar gives Finarvi a fond smile, and shucks his cloak onto the kitchen table. “You go sit down,” he tells Mellia. Finarvi gets told, “It is mostly snow, nothing to worry about.” He is, after all, a Sartarite.
“Finarvi! How have you been? Where have you been?” Mellia shucks her dripping cloak on a chair and sits down.
“Hah, since we saw you both last, Serala has had us galloping to Esrolia and beyond. It actually feels good to be on two legs for once.” He shrugs ruefully at this admission. “There’s hot water in a pot in the kitchen,” Finarvi adds, to Venlar.
“Beyond Esrolia? That’s strange. I will give you a hug as soon as I am dry,” Mellia tells Finarvi.
“Ah, there’s quite a tale to tell there, but Dormal would likely tell it better. We sailed to a burning mountain to destroy a curse for the centaurs.”
“I can make something hot,” Venlar calls. He reliably no longer falls over when walking across a room, and indeed sets himself to pouring hot water onto the herb mix left out helpfully by the cook. He can be seen through the hearth, faithfully not getting it wrong.
Mellia calls back, “Thank you, Love. Finarvi, that sounds like quite a tale. Where’s Dormal?”
The two women who came in start unwrapping their bundles. The bundles wriggle and complain about this, but the table in the big room has space for both, and neither are of a size yet to try to crawl away.
Finarvi is distracted all of a sudden. “He’s around somewhere. I saw him talking to Pallia earlier.”
“Oh good,” says Mellia. “I want to talk to him.”
“I fear we can’t stay here more than a night or so,” Finarvi says regretfully. “Grandmother has sent him to find Irillo. Have you come from Blue Tree? “
Mellia replies, “No, from Cinder Fox. We’ve spent the winter here. Let me go get dry.” She heads upstairs.
The women find a basket and a blanket for the two tiny people, just as Venlar comes in with a tray of hot drinks and a spare jug of it. “Hail, Finarvi son of HorseLords. Welcome to… well, you have been here before. Have you met the twins? Do you need something hot? Did you scare off my wife?”
“Hail, Lord Venlar. Mellia has gone upstairs to find dry clothes. The twins… would that be the Impala children that chased me out of my nice warm stable?” he gives Venlar a crooked grin and accepts one of the drinks.
“The other twins,” he says airily, waving to the basket. “I am told I had something to do with it, in fact.”
The two non-identical women give him identical looks and pick up their drinks to go gossip in the kitchen. Venlar is left as victor on the field.
Finarvi takes this as an invitation to meet new babies and lavish them with attention. Drink and decorum both forgotten. There is cooing, and a degree of ponyish whuffling.
Venlar allows this for some time, but finally ventures, “How is Esrolia?”
Finarvi stops trying to make babies giggle and sighs. “Warmer than here, even in Dark Season. The family seems to be doing well. Nochet was peaceful, though the fleet of the Wolf Pirates passing by gave the guard a reason to show their spears.” He grimaces. “We had some hint of trouble on the road. Dormal feared assassins, but nothing since entering Sartar.”
Venlar nods, and the affable look sharpens briefly as he thinks. “Irillo was, last I knew, staying at the Temple of Commerce, but ready to head to the Blue Tree. I could not say whether he was doing so from fear of assassins. I believe that he was attempting to help them right matters, and then his room was warm and he shut the door.”
Mellia returns at this point, in a fresh, dry, warm white robe.
Venlar gives Mellia a bright look, and pours half of her drink into his, so that he can top up her cup from the still-hot jug.
Mellia gives Venlar a melting look and a hug before she sits down and sips her drink.
Venlar says, “I can send a runner out there, if you like? I could easily have missed his leaving. Once the market was working once more, he might very well have been headed for colder and less clement climes – you know how he loves the snow?”
“Perverse of him,” Mellia adds. “Come to think of it, we owe the village a visit.”
Venlar looks alarmed. “In this weather?”
“No, of course not. We will wait for the roads to clear,” says Mellia.
Dormal wanders in. “The assassins aren’t after Irillo. As far as I know. I suspect they’re after me. Still.”
Venlar pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is it worth asking why?”
“If I told you, they’d be coming after you too. And as I believe there are many people who’d be upset if you died, I shall decline to tell you.” Dormal grins.
“Oh. That was indeed worth asking. Now I know more than I knew, and enough to stop talking. Hot drink? I think it has warming herbs in too. And admire my children.” Venlar may have forgotten about Mellia’s contribution.
Dormal takes the offered drink. “Thank you. The children do seem delightful.”
“Small but perfect, and even the one with my hair does not seem to have my features, as I had so feared.” Venlar gives Dormal a little time to take a polite sip. “Father is very pleased with them.”
There is a brief pause from Dormal. “On a more serious note… I do not know how indiscriminate these assassins are likely to be. I wasn’t expecting children here. I can stay elsewhere.”
“There are wards here,” Venlar notes, but he looks towards Mellia for that decision, like a good Esrolian husband.
One of the tiny bundles in the basket gurgles.
Mellia emerges from the kitchen. “Dormal, you are my cousin. Of course you are staying here. Is there a way to get the word out that you are under my protection?”
Dormal tilts his head to one side. “I think these are the kind of people who would not let that slow them down. And probably make you a target.”
“You have met those before,” Venlar tells Mellia glumly. “But we can ward the place further.”
“These people seem addled,” comments Mellia. “Remember when Onjur-eel tried to get me assassinated and his people surrendered?”
Venlar winces. “The walls are strong, but the upper windows are too big,” he says. “You could sleep in this room, which gives you two exits and a room with a window that is defensible, to retreat to?”
Dormal looks up. “I can probably brace myself in the rafters and sleep there. And retreat won’t be a problem, I can get away from them. I’m more worried about what they might do to try and get information.”
“That would be warm, but will it be comfortable enough?” Mellia says.
“Oh, pff. I’ve slept in far worse. Practically luxury.”
Venlar considers. “Start with telling us nothing, then? Although if anything needs said we can find a way.” Ever the Orlanthi, he still looks hopeful of gossip.
“It will profit their sponsor not at all if they get me. She’s just being spiteful.”
“And with any luck they didn’t even make it up to Sartar.”
“I think I still have one of their picture things here. Ah, here it is.”
Dormal unfolds a scroll with a drawing of a face on it. His face. “Not a terrible likeness, all told. I don’t think they got the eyes right.”
Venlar looks at the picture and then at Dormal. “They got enough to let people know. Esrolian papyrus?”
“Yes, it is.” Dormal taps the runes at the bottom. “And this, I’m told, tells you which cult.”
Mellia thoughtfully says,” I have never known Grandmother to be a coward.”
“Oh, Grandmother has been very good about providing guards and such at the Palazzo.”
Venlar raises a brow. “Now you’re narrowing it down for me…” Nevertheless, he looks.2Insight: Venlar seems to have recognised what was written under the drawing. Either he is well educated, or he is very narrowly educated in a worrying way.
“I’m just not in Nochet anymore and apparently they haven’t given up yet.”
Venlar goes to pick up the child that is wriggling. “Tenrya,” he says, “Hush.” Dormal gets his attention. “Still, my wife has spoken, and my lady Varanis owns the land on which this house is built.”
The way that Venlar says the name sounds like the Sartarite version of the far more civilised name Tenriya.
Dormal nods. “Well, I appreciate the hospitality. I shall attempt to lead them away if they show up. I take it the Humakti temple is still in the same place?”
“Speaking of Varanis, I have no idea where she is,” Mellia says.
“Oh, uncle was very sure to make sure it stayed there. Would you like me to hire someone?” Venlar seems serious, and he does look awfully rich.
“That’s a good idea, sweetheart!” Mellia tries to kiss Venlar on the cheek.
“No, it’s fine. Probably polite to warn the temple they might be in the area, or about to pass through.”
Venlar bends politely to allow the kiss. “I felt like taking my life into my own hands and speaking to the High Sword anyhow…”
“Besides, it is my function to do… needful… things. Harder to do with a bodyguard in tow.”
“Want me to go there instead?” Mellia looks for her cloak.
“Oh, no. It is cold outside, and besides, the look on his face when he cannot throw me out yet can keep a man warm for hours. Is he imagining my pyre? Who knows.” Venlar settles Tenriya properly on his shoulder. “As soon as these two can be pried away from me, and perhaps after I have eaten, I will let them know.”
Dormal notes, “I should probably come with you.”
Venlar sighs. “Are you sure? I was hoping to send in a note and have the credit for survival. That will make it harder.”
Mellia nods. “Besides that, the city watch still insists on an escort for me after dark.”
“Pointlessly,” Venlar whispers to the tiny baby.
“I’m never sure, but I imagine they’ll have some questions.”
“In that case, I can come with you anyhow. I am inveterately curious, and I have a question for him myself.” Venlar tries to put the child down again. She stares at him, confused by existing.
“Perhaps I should go with you after all. Uncle Eril owes me.” Mellia is beginning to look thunderous.
Venlar looks confused himself now. “Oh, is this about debt? This is more about politics, I thought. We tell him about a potential danger, he gets interested and possibly helps us later, if anything occurs to him.”
Dormal adds, “I feel it’s only polite to warn the temple. I’m sure they have Opinions about assassins.”
“If you want to do it as politics, then the debt will keep. I would like a guard for the children.” Mellia is attempting to calm down.
“Politics is the politeness of… let’s not think about that yet. Have you been informed of the interim situation?” Venlar looks down at the cradle and adds lightly, “I can pay for guards…”
“My mind is mush; who did the Ring choose as Regent?” Now Mellia looks embarrassed.
“The Ring?” Venlar smiles lightly. “Lord Ebron of the Sun Dome is currently doing the task of Elmal, keeping the stead. There was a marriage to a Redalda with impressive haste, and Lady Kalis may or may not have been the Redalda in question. I have not managed to get to the bottom of that, which indicates nobody wants me to know yet.”
“Not a bad choice,” she says.
Venlar gets Tenriya lying down once more, and lifts his hands very carefully out of the way.
- 1Battle: The lightning burns are weird. It’s like Orlanth kept on missing. Normally what gets burned is the person he aimed for.
- 2Insight: Venlar seems to have recognised what was written under the drawing. Either he is well educated, or he is very narrowly educated in a worrying way.
