Willow Wand 3:C The other side of the mountain.

By the leave of the gods and the blessed King Foril the First, long may he reign, I address the honor-knighted and thrice war-decorated Oversword Julian Garimond.

May Pelor grant ye strength, Tymora fortune, and Mystara foresight.

The whispers of which ye have made inquiry are fearfully sound.  We had shut up our gates and doubled our watch, thinking to keep the secret in, but anger and grief halt not at wall and weapon.  I first beseech ye, by our shared war wounds, that ye keep the matter hid, that all the city may not rise up against us seeking answers until we do indeed have at least one.  If ye do not, we shall all be burned like common witches, despite generations of honorable service.  With that desperate prayer, I do here disclose ye every letter of the matter as it is known to me.

Two nights ago, a promising second year abjuration student made study of a few books whose argument was the enchanting of one's own flesh against harmful natural elements, possession, or physical damage.  His dearheart, a fifth year student with a double major of conjuration and evocation, kept his company, making good the time by taking notes on a collection of ancient writings that did bind up conjuration, mysticism, and necromancy into one unnamed practice.  Whilst in these efforts, a slender journal tied with twine came from among some one of their borrowed tomes, and that wicked pestilence which stole away from us the Royal Mage Apprentice Michele Laurelson visited itself upon them both.  It seems, from look of the floors, walls, ceiling, and shelving, that the two together formed a dual ward- one to lock the contagion in, and the other to purposefully turn others away from the area.  These two spells worked together, due to opposing foci and too-close practice, did cause great damage to all things around about the students, including the offending journal itself, of which there was barely enough substance remaining to determine its tenor.

The young men did request, by signature in the librarian's log, access to the lower levels some three hours into the evening.  By the scorch of the turning spell, richer in hue than that of its more delicate partner, we suspect that both spells were cast and sustained for a little more than two of those hours.  So soon as that latter spell ceased to function, the librarian at once realized her previously magicked state, and believed the young men to be easing their shared baser needs, as they have- unbeknownst to any faculty prior to her piteous testimony- done before.  She sought them, calling their names aloud so as to shame and chase them out; instead, she discovered the nearly-destroyed journal, the sorely damaged notes and books, and the two young men themselves, clasped firmly in their final embrace, tears fresh on their cheeks.  A cry escaped the woman, powerful enough to make itself heard above ground, and two nearby elder mages did force the library's locked doors with their magicks, fearing that the escaped Drow had returned to the campus.  When they discovered the scene, they enveloped the remains of the journal in the best magicks they could imagine, bodily took up the librarian, whose terror and grief had already rendered her insensible, and called others down to make careful transport of the students' bodies.  The librarian was undone completely by harsh questioning made, in my opinion, far too soon, and could not but weep until she fainted some three separate times, by the which time the theme of her mourning was carried abroad by soldiers and students alike.  These two young men were so well cherished and famous a secret that in mere hours, all the campus was awash in tears, and we of command were compelled to act without the leave of the heretofore silent Alarphons.

We believe these   deaths to be proof positive that the pestilence is ended upon the expiration of its host, and cannot after that point spread in any manner to any other joining of flesh, be it Elf, Human, or Beast.  It also seems, as the Mage Apprentice Laurelson did write in her last testament, that the act of touch is mandatory for the pestilence to visit itself upon its first host; however, what we cannot know for sure, without the aid of that most terrifying of magickal arts, is which student did first lay hand upon the journal, and how precisely the illness moved itself to the second student.  Therefore, we have no safe ground upon which to stand as we consider the rest of the library, and have closed it entirely, for the greater good of all. 

We also know not whether the pestilence is natural, that it may be purged by a few skilled alchemists, or magickal, that it must be undone by a gathering of learned practitioners.  We seek, with diverse inquiries, to cure ourselves of this particular ignorance before we attempt to dispel the others.  We had sent secret word to the Bone College of Urmlaspyr, whose master has, outside of his use, both courted and successfully invoked the tenuous assistance of the Master Trizelle Ranclyffe.  Of the fact that he would also make contact with the Blighted Ones of Incabulos, both nested somehow in his city as well as in Freed Daerlun, we were wholly ignorant, and beg that ignorance be pardoned; while we must tolerate their assistance for now, we will so soon as it is possible prevail upon Master Semnemac to dissolve all ties with those people, as they are so dangerous to every living creature they find that it is entirely astounding that they should for once seek to cure any one instead of to further infect the general populace.

Finally, what records are available to us have been opened, and we have recalled every student and master of lycanthropy to cross the campus's limits in the past one hundred years, that they might be questioned.  We expect that when made aware of the gravity of the situation, the Alarphons will agree with our measures; but despite the absence of their permission, we the elders of the War Wizards intend to do what is necessary to avenge the tragickal loss of three of our own, and to prevent any further deaths.  

I crave on behalf of these purposes, and our sorely bereaved student body, your most earnest prayers.

With the honor and respect due to a comrade of battle,

Mage Commander Caeleh MacArghaile

Scribed in part by the faithful hand of War Wizard Aurtencia Finney, and completed by War Wizard Turienne Garres du Palivane. 

Now I, Garres, ask your rememberance, against any thought that War Wizard Finney is unfit for duty, that the deceased evocation student was not only her classmate and dear friend, but also a much beloved and oft spoken of maternal first cousin.  Finney has up to this point borne this tragedy with a grace like unto that of her patron goddess, Mielikki; therefore, I do earnestly entreat you to overlook this uncommon appearance of weakness.

Ever in the service of the gods and the crown,
TGdP

With a sigh, Garimond put the letter down at the center of his desk, planted his elbows on either side of it, and pulled his dry, cold hands over his face.  He folded them as though he would pray, rested his chin on top, and stared at the back of his office's hearth, which he had left cold all day, despite the chill in the room.

They're out of their depth, and they know it.  I must tactfully ask someone about whatever witch or warlock makes practice of speaking with the dead, he counseled himself sternly.  They can shutter up all the buildings, drag in every Semmite nutter, question their people for days, call for the Shadovar, or rouse the cursed Shar herself, but if those with first hand experience and testimony are going to keep being forced beyond the gates of death, we need someone who can get past them.



"It's a terrible way to find out your son's enamored of another man," Dani sighed quietly, looking over one of the broadsheets that had been handed out at the burial by fire.  "Allowing the other family to pay for a joint service was merely economically convenient, but to unexpectedly accept the invitation sent her, and then publicly speak of her struggle and heartbreak is another matter.  I hadn't thought much of her before, but it seems she's quite changed, now that she realizes how afraid he'd been that she would disown him."

"His father wants to call for it," Cimaretto said bitterly.  "Trying to get himself on the docket even now."

"La, la," Dani said dismissively, waving a hand over her lap as though she were shooing a fly away from the written material resting there.  "No judge is going to strip a young man who's already gone to the gods of their family name, on harmless charges cobbled together from his infancy.  If the case even gets to the Pillars, half the city will testify against it, and it'll be thrown out."

"The man's got a few lions to him," Cimaretto reasoned.  "It might not be so simply dealt with."

Dani gave a quiet snort and began folding the broadsheet carefully.  "Any money being offered the court ought to be in answer to the fines the boy would've had to pay, had he yet been alive to pay them.  Absenteeism, petty theft, street brawling, and marketing wares without leave aren't worthy of being disowned.  They're hardly worth more than a thousand gold; if the upstanding gent's got that amount stacked in a chest somewhere, let him put it to the more honorable use."

"Perhaps I've been on the other side of these types of cases one too many times," Cimaretto sighed.  Dani tucked the folded broadsheet into her personal study journal as he watched.  "I've seen hands so greasy that their offerings ought to slide right off the altar."

Dani looked firmly at Cimaretto, whose face had firmed into the same unpleasant mask it had been when he'd threatened her some weeks before.  For the first time, the woman wondered what experiences might have taught him to set his visage so coldly.

"Ahl dun!" Hindy announced cheerily as she bounced toward Dani's chair to hand over her notes.  "Gerrintid et's Weit Crag folk, but sipereitid, so's thir's nae lenk back to't.  'S breit, es't nae?"

"Well, that's one word for it, I suppose.  Trishinda, you're a born researcher, and Diego, your records access, restricted as it is, has been invaluable.  We'd better get all this back where it came from, however, before the oversword and the mage commander feel anything missing."

Cimaretto shook his head with a rumbling hum.  "The records, no problem, but word is that the library'll be closed a week at least; better let me hang on to the books."

Dani raised an eyebrow at the suspended Purple Dragon.  "So that your commanding officer can have a real reason to put you out with no pay at all?  Take the records; leave the books.  I'll return them myself when the library's opened again.  These days, I find that people are even more eager to be rid of me."

"It's the cane," Cimaretto smirked.  "Brandish it just one time, and you get a reputation."

"I regret nothing," Dani stated flatly.  "These findings lend Michi's ideas weight, but it's a rare vampire that would let a mortal tell it what to do.  I don't know that we should take the time to search for anyone who's had vampirism practiced upon them in the manner that lycanthropy was practiced upon Ser Thom."

"T'are's wone en Oormlisper," Hindy said as she crossed her arms.  " 'S feymus too, 'cuz 'e keim up teh ba'ul Shar-folk.  Leik as na'ny uf 'em'll be after mekkin' rivenge en'em, maire'n kuntrohlen'em."

"That's a sound theory; one that actually puts him, and any fledgelings he may have, in a fair bit of danger."  Dani gathered the borrowed journals and books and handed them to the man at her side.  "Were I a younger, more fearless woman, I might try to make some contact.  Diego, do me a favor, please, and take these in to my room.  I want them close enough to hide, should anyone think to look over the names of those who've made recent requests to borrow."

"Right away, my lady," Cimaretto replied, getting up and moving around Hindy, who'd decided to sit on the floor.

"Now, Trishinda, sit in a chair like a decent person," Dani commanded at once.  She heard Cimaretto chuckle to himself as he went on his way, but ignored it.  "You have about as much magical history and research know-how as a young woman three times your age.  Yet, you're new to the College- to whom were you apprenticed before you came to us?"

"Me mam," Hindy replied.  "Ahl of us're trenned up by'r mams, onley I were pow'rful deff'rnt.  Twa'f me sesters're ivokers, leik me gram en' me mam,  but I'm... I... et's nae th' seyme fer me, eh?  So me mam en' 'em were after keppin' et quiet.  Th' neibers got cyuries, en' saw a theng, er so.  Next yeh know, et's th'gards, en' off I go dun'eere.  Neythen' me pap er mam c'n do.  Lahs're lahs.  Gotta meind 'em, eh?  'At's wha' me mam seys, ennyweh, en'er li'ehrs."

Dani blinked at Hindy for a few moments, then laid her arms on the arm rests of her chair.  "How many sisters have you?"

"Fahr," Hindy answered.  "Nenny, Memmy, Lendy, en' Ta.  Bei th' rekird, et's Glindre, Meighen, Lughanna, en' Kerrintaughlisane.  Nenny en Ta've ahrt, but Lendy en Memmy're nae yoose.  Ta's nemmed fer twa'f me da's grannies, wha' ha' dei'd th' seyme yer, en tha's wey 'er neme's soh... ehm... deffic'lt."

" 'Difficult' is a gentle way of putting it," Dani breathed, gathering her courage.  "We heartlanders do share that fashion of crushing names together to form new ones, but... the results are... not quite as interesting as Kerry-tock-lin-zay-in."

Hindy blinked wide, suprised eyes at Dani, and from somewhere farther within, Cimaretto's faint chuckles could be heard.  At that sound, Hindy's stunned face transformed into an amused one, with reddening cheeks and a smirk that was desperate to become a smile.  The older woman folded her lips between her teeth, grateful that her attempt was seen as funny instead of insulting.

At last, after a few seconds that felt to Dani like minutes, the girl at her right side fearlessly laughed at the miserable pronunciation.  "Jus' cawl'er Ta, leik ev'ribuddei'lse," she urged when she could manage a response.  "Et's no ohne after seyin' th' hawl then' 'less she's in muckle trubble.  Unto me mam wud'n' sey et, seif uh cahl t'th' keine!"

"I see," Dani managed, her voice breathy, but still controlled.  "I'll bear that in mind.  Please go and fetch some of that white pudding Diego was so kind to bring us, and heat some water for tea, if you would.  Perhaps in your temporary absence the goodly officer can find it in his heart to laugh in front of my face, as opposed to snickering at me from down the hall?"

"My apologies," Chimi said at once, appearing at Dani's left side as though conjured by a spell.  Hindy sprung up, but waited for Dani to wave a hand at her before she left the room.  "Well done, Hindy!  That's two wilderness folk you're training at once, isn't it, Lady Laurelson?"

"Oh, leave the use of that," Dani grumbled affably.  "You have your ways, and I mine; if I find myself fortunate enough to ever see Skullwatch, or Hindy's village, wherever it is, I should hope you'd be kind enough to take me into some private place and educate me on how to be a proper lady of the mountains."

"Rogiet Llanwyddn is carved deep into the Sunset Mountains, between Eagle Peak and Skullwatch," Cimaretto smiled genuinely.  "You can hear the Isles in the first name and the mountain languages in the second- great testament to who found and bested the place.  And it's easier to hear it than spell it, trust me.  But we'd better get you wise before you even leave these gates.  Out there, a city woman's scent carries for miles."

"No one would... hunt me, would they?" Dani asked, the faintest twinge of real fear forcing its way into her heart.

"No, not like that!" Chimi replied laughingly.  "I don't know any cannibals up there these days, though I suppose there could be one or two.  But any of us would make sport of talking around you instead of to you, or making poor trades with you, or trying to prove that you're somehow physically weaker.  We'd complain of your frailty, your fork-tongued piety, your useless fashions, your wont to settle everything with coin, your inability to do real work... just as city people complain that we mountain folk're hard to understand, that we can't count, write, or read properly, that we're godless, or that we're so close to animals that we may as well give up walking on our hind legs.  To each their own; I've lived long enough at home and down here that I see the flickers of truth in every lantern."

Dani sat back in her chair, her right hand gently toying with the end of the arm.  "Well.  You might leave me just as I am, then, and let them have a bit of fun.  I hadn't often thought twice, you know, of that sort of thing before... well, before.  Hermit's Wood is, comparatively speaking, much more cosmopolitan, but- was Michi easily integrated there, or...?"

"She was," Chimi replied firmly.  "She'd made a study of the people of Blustich, and they noticed immediately.  At first, some made fun of her behind their hands, but they began to understand it wasn't an act.  It was the result of careful learning, and the desire to learn was borne not of the intention to mock, or even to successfully imitate, but to be respectful.  And so they taught her more- protective dress, private customs, sacred places.  She took it all on with the bravest of faces.  Made a separate study journal from those she sent back to her commanders- and it seemed to me that it took a lot of her time and energy, to keep private books like that.  We first met because she caught me trying to pray to her ancestors, so that they might strengthen her, because she sm- seemed lonely, and tired- like the one weary faun too worn out to keep up with the herd.  It... might not have worked, but..."

"Of course," Dani breathed, closing her eyes.  Unexpected tears began slowly slipping from them, and she didn't wipe them away.  "She didn't write about any of that.  Probably thought it'd just give me more reason to demand that she come home."

Cimaretto knew by smell alone that Hindy had returned with the food, and, without looking at her, gently flapped a hand to get her to put it down.  Hindy turned around and put the plate back in the kitchen, then crept slowly out toward the seated woman.

"Parenting is... so hard, you know?" Dani continued, whispering her words into the silence Cimaretto's lack of response had left.  "It's a delicate thing.  We bear these people, wholly new and different people, and... and of course, we don't really know them.  Sometimes we get to know them, learn to protect and respect the precious individuals that they are becoming.  But sometimes, to deal with the not-knowing, we pretend that they're us.  And that's wrong of us, isn't it?  It's unfair of us- unfair of me."

"It's fear, I think- being afraid of what they're becoming, because it challenges what you know, what you're familiar with.  But you're changing too," Cimaretto offered warmly, despite being hesitant to actually touch her.  "And Michi knew you would.  She had hope, even when...  And wherever she is, she's probably happy about it.  It's not all for nothing, not too late.  Even now."

Carefully avoiding Dani's foot, which was still bandaged, Hindy eased herself onto Dani's lap and began wordlessly wiping the tears away.  Dani's right hand naturally came away from the arm of the chair in favor of supporting the middle of Hindy's back.

"I wonder, Hindy, when the last time you wrote your mother was?" Dani managed, attempting valiantly to recover.

"Fahrtneyt'ugo," Hindy said very quietly, wiping her damp hands on the bottom of her dress.  "Et's nary a carrier goen' past afahr-"

"I shall commission a carrier," Dani said firmly.  "And I shall write her, as well.  I shall see to it that whatever it is, Man, Elf, or Beast, be paid well to secure our shared communication for so long as you are here among us.  We owe it to your sisters, and to your mother, to encourage them with the knowledge that you are so very proficient in your studies, as well as in your extracurricular activities.  And should she make question on those activities, we might perhaps make an accomplice of her, if she will stand it."

"Aye'at she wud!" Hindy enthused.  "Et's naethen' she's after maire'n deggin' ento enythin' heddin!  Et's 'er feindin' ahl the le'ul crafties 'at I c'n cast without enybuddy gitten' weise to't, eh?  She'd bern afaire en'elpen' enny wei poss'bl."

"Ah-hah!  A woman after Michi's own heart," Dani smiled wistfully, her eyes still pink from her tears.  "Let's recruit her, then; please find me the paper by my bedside, and bring it back with the inkpot.  The quill should be just beside it."