The Fireborn Road

4. Preparations

4

PREPARATIONS

“I get why you do it,” said Derek, leaning back in the chair with a drink in his hand and his feet on the table. “All the running around pretending to be someone else, dressing up, conning people for information or whatever. I'm not sure where you get the guts to pose as Paravelian nobility at a Frisian dinner party but that's not my concern. There's only one thing I don't understand.” Sylas and Tollie, sitting comfortably on the settee with bottles of beer and not a trace of a fake moustache in sight, looked at him with a matched pair of quizzical expressions.

“In a world with such rich magic, where you can alter your appearance with the click of your fingers, where the richest ladies in the land have lady's maids who can magically straighten their conk if it's a little wonky,” as he said this he glanced at Iona who smirked into her glass. “In this world, what possessed you to make your fake facial hair out of badger's bum?” Tollie laughed and Sylas started to answer in earnest,

“Badger fur makes the most convincing beards because of its texture and it responds well to the more skin-friendly glues, also it smells a damn sight better than ocelot.” Derek laughed at him, and he muttered, “you can laugh if you like but it's bloody true,” under his breath.

“That's not what he meant,” sniggered Tollie at the frowning Sylas, “although he's right about the ocelot hide,” he continued turning back to Derek, “but it's nothing to do with that. Trust me, when you're up to something – and we're always up to something – it ain’t safe to go around wreaking of magic right? People get suspicious, then they check for magical trace signatures or whatever they do,” Tollie waved his hand to indicate the many and varied skills of book-learned magicians that were a mystery to him, “And believe me they can spot face facial hair no problem at all, but badger hide, that means nothing to them.” He grinned with an edge of self-satisfaction. “Mind you, magic doesn't melt in the warm weather.” The three men and Iona laughed.

They were sitting in the Guildmaster's office waiting for two other people to turn up. As the evening six bell chimed, there was a polite but decided knock on the office door.

“Come in,” said Derek, almost choking on his drink. No one was ever that punctual, and come to think of it he couldn't remember the last time anyone had knocked on his office door. A moment later, the door swung open and a very small woman dressed in a leaf-green tunic and brown hoses stepped into the room.

“You sent for me, Guildmaster,” she said in a quiet but self-assured tone.

“Yes I did,” he said, swinging his legs off the desk and straightening up.

Iona always found it funny when Derek switched into guildmaster mode. He started talking properly, and didn't slouch about. Presumably, because he thought that would set a bad example. No one else moved.

“Come in Reet and take a seat.” Derek indicated a stool to one side of his desk, and Reet obediently picked her way through the already crowded room. “Mead?” said Derek, pushing a small glass towards her. Aware of Iona's smirks he was trying unsuccessfully to appear a little more casual.

“Thank you,” said Reet seriously as she sat down neatly, making no attempt to pick up the glass. Iona studied her with curiosity. She didn't seem to be nervous, even in the presence of four much older and more experienced guild-members including the Guildmaster and the Guild Lore Master. She just sat on the stool with her feet and knees together and her arms folded, taking up minimal space and looking around with interest. Iona smiled at her, and briefly she smiled back. It was strange how this tiny woman had arrived in the room, and without making much of a sound or taking up much room at all, had completely changed the dynamics of the group. Iona emptied her glass and put it down next to the bottle on Derek's desk. Derek ignored the obvious hint.

“We're just waiting on one more person,” said Derek, who evidently felt the need to explain to the small earnest woman why they were drinking and not working. “She should be along shortly, I hope.” As he said this, he shot a meaningful glance at Iona.

“Ah, I see, okay,” said Reet and reached for the glass of mead in front of her.

Some considerable time later, the uncomfortable silence had crumbled into half-hearted chatter. Derek produced a map of the continent from his desk drawer and used the mead cask and an ugly pig-shaped paperweight to pin down the corners.

“It's a bloody long way to Jaffrian overland,” muttered Sylas as Derek outlined the route.

“We're going through Tartaria?” exclaimed Tollie at the same time.

“Yep,” said Iona brightly, “The Clans Council have given permission for the Unified Portal Circle Network to be extended along their Southern border.”

“Oh,” said Tollie, trying to look as though this was some kind of reassurance. “Right.”

“We'll be getting transported as far as here,” interjected Iona, pointing to a spot on the Paravel-Tartaria border that was marked with a small circle with a T in the middle of it. “That's the closest circle in the existing network. We'll head this way,”

“That's Stonesnake land,” exclaimed Sylas, as Iona started to run her finger along the route.

“Relax will you,” smirked Iona, “Times have changed Sylas. The Stonesnake won't give us any trouble. They're too busy pretending they were coerced into following Salamander to go against the will of the Clans Council. Besides, this map is quite substantially out of date, and most of this is now Dragon and Boar territory.” Sylas' anxiety appeared to subside, Iona was too busy with the map to notice his frown. “The new circles are going here, here, and here.” She poked three spots across Tartaria, one in a market town on the Paravelian border, one on a spot labelled Nganda Rock in the middle of the vast empty expanse, and the final one in Asparlah on the Jaffrian border.

“According to Elor, that's so they can connect it up with the circle in The Jewelled City. Once the connections work we'll be able to get the last circle to transport us home. Before you say it Tollie, I asked Elor why we couldn't just pop up to the Jewelled City and he said a load of things I didn't understand to do with Pattern magic,” Here she waved her hands in the same way Tollie had earlier, although with a more general emphasis on the complex arts of wizardry, “Apparently, it's vital that we travel the whole route between the circles or something. I don't know, maybe the wizards are going to leave a trail of tiny magic beans or something. I didn't ask, I don't really care.”

Throughout the whole explanation Reet had remained passive, paying quiet attention and nodding every so often. Now she spoke.

“What exactly do you need me for?” she asked, looking around the room at the wealth of adventuring experience looking back at her. She had no idea who the other party member was, the one they were still waiting for even though the seven hour had long chimed, but she doubted it would another new recruit. Only veteran adventurers could get away with being so spectacularly late.

“Basically,” said Iona, “it's a bloody long walk and we thought it might be useful to have an extra scout with us. You'll be in charge of domestic logistics.” Reet just looked at her and then said levelly,

“You want me to take care of the hunting, path-finding and camping don't you?”

“Basically, yes,” said Iona, “We'll all help out, but it's a good idea to have one person in charge of that kind of thing, and Derek tells me you're the best.”

“Oh, does he? I wonder what gave him that impression?” said Reet in the same soft, unimpressed tone she had used all along, Iona's attempt at flattery was completely wasted on her. Derek sniggered, he was always amused when Iona's smooth-talking charm collided with a metaphorical stone wall.

“Look Reet,” he said, “We needed another body, your skills match what we need and without wishing to be rude you're a brand-new recruit and for a first mission this is an unbelievable opportunity, if you can afford to be away from the City for that length of time.”

“Okay,” said Reet, her facial expressions still placid. “That makes sense. No problem. Just let me know what exactly you need me to do.”

At that moment the office door burst open and a brightly coloured patchwork dress containing a round and jolly-looking woman with a dirty blonde ponytail bounced in.

“Morwenna,” said Iona with mocking crossness, “about bloody time.”

“Hey,” she said beaming broadly at the room. “Are we late?”

“Yes,” said Derek with nothing more than a mild hint of irritation, at the same time Iona said,

“Who's we?”

At that moment, a tall man with an untidy shock of ginger hair and the bewildered expression more usual on a small kitten appeared behind Morwenna. He was casually flipping a bronze coin that didn't look like an Aberddu groat and he was dressed in the most peculiar manner.

In complete juxtaposition to the riot of colours and patterns that Morwenna wore, this man was dressed only in black and white. His jacket and breeches were split vertically, so that one half was black and the other white, and the white half of the jacket was over the black half of the breeches. His black belt had a white enamel buckle in the shape of a sun. Even his black pocket handkerchief had the initials 'AJ' embroidered on it in fine white stitches. It was quite a sight.

“Is he a bard?” asked Iona with the kind of disparaging tone that made bard sound like a contagious condition.

“No,” chuckled Morwenna, “he's a fallen Law Cleric. Apparently.”

“It looks like he's fallen quite a long way,” said Sylas in a voice that suggested he didn't think the man could hear him. “What's he doing here?”

As Sylas said this, the man deposited the coin into his shirt pocket and stretched out a hand in no particular direction. As he smiled, Iona half expected to find that half of his teeth were black but she was disappointed. She was met by a gleaming pearly white grin.

“Adarius Jaegar,” he said in a pleasant, if slightly bemused, voice. Reet took his hand and shook it warmly. Tollie turned to Morwenna and with a certain incredulity said to her,

“Exactly where did you find him?”

“On the steps of a temple,” she said with a mischievous wink.

“Which one?” said Tollie suspiciously.

“Mine,” she said. Her smile reminded Tollie of a cat with a half-concussed shrew.

“That's one hell of a fall,” muttered Sylas. “Blimey.”

Morwenna turned to Derek, who had moved from behind his desk when he finally decided that really ought to shake hands with Adarius Jaegar as well, and said,

“Sorry we're late. Morning prayers over-ran.” Derek opened his mouth to say 'but it's nearly eight in the evening' when he caught Iona's eye, she was giving him a 'don't ask' look. “Mr Jaegar here wants to join the Guild.”

“Which Guild?” asked Derek artlessly, before he realised what he had said.

“The Adventurers Guild of Aberddu, sir,” said Jaegar smartly, with what Derek considered to be a fine, if not slightly over-blown, impersonation of an Albion sergeant.

“I'll vouch for him,” piped in Morwenna, her smile turning positively crocodile-like.

“I bet you would,” snorted Tollie darkly to Sylas as Derek said:

“No need, we don't ask for vouching in the Aberddu Adventurers Guild – but if you turn out to be a Frisian spy, a demon or a dangerous wizard of any kind we will kill you. Okay?” Adarius nodded taking in the grim array of faces as Derek said, 'Frisian spy'. “And if you kill another Guild member you will be hung, possibly after a trial. Understood?” Adarius nodded again. “Excellent,” said Derek hefting a large leather-bound tome down from the shelf behind his chair. “I assume you can write?” Adarius nodded once more and Derek placed the ledger in front of him with a dull thud. “Here,” he said handing Adarius an ink pot and quill. He ran his finger along the top of the ledger and flopped it open on a marked page. It contained a set of neatly ruled columns in which prospective Guild Members were asked to record their vital details: name, race, country of origin, basic skills, religion and any known outstanding bind-overs or arrest warrants. The ledger contained the names and details of every member the Guild had ever had, and for good or bad there they had all remained. All but one. Iona had tried to convince the rest of the Guild council not to erase Josephine's name from the ledger, but apparently even as an 'awful warning' they couldn't stand to leave it there.

“Fill in this and this and sign here.”

“Brilliant,” beamed Morwenna. “Can he come with us?”

“Where?” said Sylas, Derek and Tollie simultaneously.

“To Jaffria, of course,” said Morwenna, choosing to ignore the looks of horror on the faces before her. “You said we could use another cleric.”

“We could,” said Iona, who clearly thought it was a good idea. Derek had to concede she was right. They did really need another cleric and they weren't in a position to be choosy. It had been impossible to prize any of the Light Alliance priests away from Temple duties for this long a journey, and he couldn't bear the idea of walking halfway across the continent with either a Trickster or a Sea God Cleric who would be unbearable the entire time they were travelling inland.

“Okay,” groaned Derek, against his better judgement, “but he's your responsibility, Morwenna, and if he annoys Tollie or Iona you'll have to deal with the consequences.”

Morwenna let out a delighted squeal and jumped up and down on the spot so that the feathers in her hair flew wildly. Then, all of a sudden she stopped and became coldly business-like. Sitting down in the chair that Tollie had been occupying before she came in, she bent over the map she said,

“So, what's the plan?”