All That Glitters...55

Chapter Fifty-Five

They were both up early the next morning.

"So, how did the rest of your night go?" Kal asked.

"What?" Viconia said in some alarm, before realizing that it was just an unfortunately selected turn of phrase. "Oh, I...I slept well."

"Glad to hear it," Kal said, with an unreturned smile. To his credit, he picked up on her morose mood immediately. "Is there anything wrong?"

"No...no, there is...nothing wrong," Viconia said, though her voice gave her away. "Is the squire awake yet?" she said in a more normal tone.

"Not yet, no. Something we planned on, right? You just need to be not so obviously in my room by the time that he gets up."

"I wonder why it is we bother just for the sake of his sensibilities," Viconia groused.

"Just for now, while I get him thinking past simple prejudices. Not for much longer, love. I promise."

Viconia nodded and left the room. Kal frowned. There was definitely something wrong, even if she had started hiding it right away. But she was too good at hiding it for him to know what it was. He couldn't exactly do anything - but he made a mental note to keep watching.

He left his room as well, choosing to wait outside. The Flagons had a decent semi-library consisting of roughly three full bookshelves, and Kal didn't find it particularly hard to discover something of interest.

Fifteen minutes later, Anomen emerged from his room, and Yoshimo left his room a minute later.

"Yoshimo," Kal said in greeting and surprise. "I didn't even think you really used your room."

Yoshimo grinned. "It turned out to be most convenient last night. The topic of discussion was the same in every establishment, and once that had been determined I had nothing more to do than return and get some sleep. It was almost disappointing."

Nalia's door remained firmly closed, and Anomen walked over to it. "Her father's funeral is to be quite soon," he remarked to the others, and knocked on her door. "Milady? Are you awake?"

"Yes," came the voice from inside the door. "I'm busy."

"If you do not mind a small reminder," Anomen said, "your father's funeral is to happen in under two hours."

"I know," Nalia said. "I'm just trying one last - LOOK OUT!"

Before anyone could react, a bolt of lightning sizzled its way through the door, rebounded off the opposite wall, bounced off the ceiling while turning purple and leaving a scorch mark, and then transformed into a fan-shaped wedge of bright colours. Anomen fell backwards with a suppressed cry of pain.

Nalia opened the door. "That didn't work as well as - Anomen, are you okay?"

"Not...not exactly," he replied through gritted teeth, holding a hand which had evidently been right in the path of the bolt.

"Anomen, don't try to heal that yourself, you wouldn't be able to with your hand burned like that. Viconia, could you-"

"No!" she replied, too quickly, and with such vehemence that everyone turned to look at her.

"Is there a-" Yoshimo began, but Viconia cut him off.

"I am...simply feeling a...a little out of sorts. I have not had time yet to...to regain my spells. That is all," she said, trying to sound normal.

Kal shrugged. "No problem, I can do it." He walked over to Anomen and pressed both of his hands to Anomen's injured one. With a burst of white light, his hand was restored.

---

Viconia looked upon Kal's healing touch and tried hard to suppress her burst of jealousy. He could still heal wounds, while she never would be able to again. There was a significant degree of bitterness in the thought, and Viconia could almost swear she could hear Shar laughing.

She considered just telling Kal what had happened, but her doubts tore at her and she decided against it. Despite how much she wanted to believe that he'd stand by her forever, she could not shake the nagging suspicion: what if Shar was right? What if he would simply fling her aside the moment he discovered that she was now utterly powerless?

No. She would not tell him. Not...not yet. Later, she decided.

---

The night before, Yoshimo had gathered information regarding messengers sent to find Nalia, but none of them knew where she was. "Good," Nalia had said. "Leave it that way."

They had, however, found Quint. He had been holed up in the Sea's Bounty taproom for three days, following Nalia's instructions to the letter. He'd run out of money halfway through the second day, but apparently Quint did have a glimmer of intelligence residing under that purple-and-green cap, and Nalia's spell seized upon it with a vengeance. He had decided that his guards could do without their armour and weapons, and he had dispatched someone to sell them for him. His guards couldn't, of course - they were following their own command, which was to follow Quint. That carried its own problems - Quint's drinking had had all of the usual side-effects, and fitting seven men (Quint and six guards) into a privy built for one had proved...quite the challenge.

Quint had then proceeded to sell his horses and his guards' horses. Fortunately for the guards, their spell had worn off earlier and they had been elsewhere when Quint's inspiration turned to clothing. Quint didn't get much for his doublet, but it was something. Nalia's spell wore off just as he finished buying his last round of beer, and Quint promptly spilled it all over the table and went to sleep in it.

He had been quite close to death by the time the messengers found him, but they had the presence of mind to get him to the Temple of Oghma and get some poison cures into him before the incredible amount of alcohol he had consumed could kill him. Many more Roenall gold pieces had gone into that. Nalia had been most pleased.

The party left the Five Flagons as soon as Keldorn arrived. Nalia made herself invisible and broke off from the group as they left. It had been decided that it was the best way to conceal her location, and Nalia assured them that it didn't require too much of her power to do. As it so happened, Nalia had a valid magic license for Athkatla, from when she had been tutored by Lady Vallirian. No one quite understood Nalia's explanation as to how they worked, but essentially her spellcasting would cease to attract attention, which was just fine by everybody.

She was already at the graveyard by the time the party arrived. The remainder of the guests seemed to be nobles of some sort, except for the few aging adventurers which Kal deduced had been part of Lord Arnise's party. The funeral was being held on the upper level of the Graveyard District - however lowborn Lord Arnise's ancestry had been, he had gathered a significant amount of respect and influence in his years ruling the keep. Still, the guest list was small.

The service was conducted by Thaddin Dawnhunter, Athkatla's Mornmaster. As with many Lathandrian services, it was short and to the point, mentioning the death mainly in terms of rebirth. Afterward, the party stood by as the guests who had known Lord Arnise mingled, and approached Nalia to offer their sympathies. Nalia didn't particularly appear to enjoy it, but she greeted each guest with a solemn handclasp and a nod.

Her face lit up when a dwarven warrior approached, next in line. "Bonchy!"

"Little nally Nalia! Oh, you are a sight for my eyes, I tell you! Oh, but girly, I am sorry for what has happened."

She smiled. "Don't be sorry. Father would love that you came. You scare the nobles something fierce."

"That I do, and rightfully so! Someone has to liberate the people beneath the yoke of the nobles! Soon comes the time to strike!" he declared, looking at the nobles all around him.

"Bonchy!" Nalia said in mild exasperation, though she was still smiling.

He laughed. "Heh. Look at ‘em squirm. I love doing that." Then his eyes returned to Nalia. "So what are ye up to right now? Not staying with the Roenalls, I know - Farthington was worried about where you were before the service started."

"I'm with these people, Bonchy," Nalia said, gesturing at the party. "Guys, meet Hurgan Stoneblade. He travelled with my father, a long time ago."

"Takin' to the Life, are ye?" His eyebrows raised slightly, and he leaned in towards her and whispered. "Watch out for Isaea. He has ideas for you, and you won't really like them."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is...is he here, Bonchy?"

"He was. He'll be back very soon. I think he just couldn't stand the service - Lathander bein' all too much goodness and light for that one's heart." He stepped back and looked at Nalia again, sighing. "Ah, ye remind me so much of your mother. Don't let yourself get trapped in all this," he said, waving at the nobles. "Ye hear?"

"I won't, Bonchy. I promise."

"Good."

Next in line was a young noblewoman, looking to be maybe two or three years older than Nalia. She said the obligatory greetings, then looked with distaste at the party and the former members of Lord Arnise's group. "Oh, Lord Arnise did fraternize with some... colourful company, I must say. Not what I would expect from a gentleman's funeral." She shook her head. "But, Nalia, this is about you, after all. I have heard how you have been in dreadful straits since your father's death. I can only imagine the horrors you have endured."

Nalia's eyebrows lowered suspiciously. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, Miss Tandolan."

"But my dear, the wandering like a gypsy, the company you have had to keep... Isaea has painted quite the unsavoury picture."

"Isaea has not seen me for several months, Miss Tandolan. I do not know where he is getting his stories from, but might I suggest that at the least they are exaggerated...extremely exaggerated."

Tandolan frowned. "He seemed quite sincere."

Keldorn cleared his throat. "Miss Tandolan, let me assure that Isaea was...misinformed."

"Oh! Lord Keldorn! Well, then, if you are certain. Isaea is, after all, so very trusting."

"Ah...yes, of course," Nalia said. "If you'll excuse me, I should probably take this up with Lord Farthington."

Nalia moved purposefully towards an older man dressed in simple finery, but then caught sight of a young man with what appeared to be a permanent sneer stuck on his face standing behind him.

She turned back to the party. "It's Isaea!" she hissed. "Let's get out of here before he sees...."

"Nalia, my dear, how good to see you!" he said, stepping around his father and headed straight for Nalia.

She pretended not to hear him and headed directly for the exit. The party began to follow, but Isaea walked up quickly and caught Nalia by the arm. "No, do not turn away. It has been so long since I have seen your face. So regal and...uh...a bit dirty actually."

Nalia turned a critical eye on Isaea's grease-slicked hair and sniffed at the heavy cloud of thick perfumes that hung about him. "I hardly think you're in any position to judge relative cleanliness, Isaea."

"Oh, I know what you've been doing," Isaea said, smiling condescendingly, and ignoring Nalia's words completely. "You've been slumming again. Naughty!" He shook a finger at her patronizingly.

"Kindly stick a cork in it, Isaea, I do not ‘slum.' Foppish fools looking for a thrill ‘slum' - like your dear cousin Quint," she said, relishing the look that passed over his face. "I help people."

"Of course," Isaea said, smiling unpleasantly. "One must have one's little hobbies. I think it is time, though, that you honoured our little...ah...agreement? The honour of your house is at stake, you recall?"

"My house? What house? I am the only surviving member, and I care little for things such as honour. And doubtless you've already sent half an army to take the keep and all of its possessions. You've probably even already taken steps to incorporate all of my father's holdings into your own." That last one was a guess, but the drooping corners of Isaea's smile confirmed that she spoke the truth. "Well, then. If my rights to control of my father's dealings are void then why are the conditions that built those dealings still in place? Do you plan to release control of the keep to me? Do I have the authority to halt the incipient merger of your holdings and my father's?"

"Well...well I...ah...er...," Isaea said.

Now it was Nalia's turn to smirk. "I thought not. No, I don't think I will be marrying you, Isaea. I do not have to, nor do I need to, and, above all else, I do not want to."

Isaea was angry now, and his voice rose to a shout. "You may be entitled to ruin your own reputation but I will not have you dragging me down as well by denying what is mine by rights! I will not stand for it!"

"Dragging you down? I'm offering to distance myself completely, you clod. What part of that don't you understand?"

"I shall have you, Nalia...and that is all there is to understand!" He pulled on her arm as if to drag her off.

"Unhand the lady," Anomen said, stepping forward.

"It can speak! Nalia trained you well. Oh, did I provoke you? Your reaction will be violent, no doubt. On your first move I shall have the wrath of the City Guard upon you!" Isaea lifted his hand as if to summon his guards. "Go on! Be violent! I know you want to!"

"You, sir, have a rather strange conception of the world around you," Anomen answered with cold civility.

"Get away from me!" Isaea snarled. He yanked on Nalia's arm again. The party moved toward Isaea, and it seemed that there would be a confrontation. At that moment, however, Lord Farthington, looking like a kindly old grandfather, happened to walk by.

"What is going on here? Who are these...oh, hello, Nalia. My deepest sympathies to you this day. Your father was a fine man."

Nalia cleared her throat and extricated her arm from Isaea's suddenly loose grip. "Thank you, Lord Roenall. He would be pleased to hear such praise."

He smiled at Nalia gently. "Stop this ‘Lord Roenall' business. I'll not have such formalities. ‘Farthington' is my name among friends, ‘Farthy' if out of sight of the missus." He rubbed at his chin in thought. "Now, there was something I wanted to say...oh!" he said, remembering. "Isaea says you abandoned your home to wander as a peasant. Really, if your estate needs guards or accountants I would be happy to..."

"Isaea said what? Abandoned? It was wrest out from under me! What has..." Nalia spluttered in outrage.

Isaea cleared his throat loudly. "Thank you, father, but shouldn't you be getting back to the guests? Do not mind Nalia, she is still somewhat ‘lost' without her father. You understand, of course."

It didn't look like Lord Farthington understood, but he simply nodded. "Quite, quite. All my best, my dear," he said to Nalia, then moved off.

Nalia turned to Isaea angrily. "Isaea, what have you told him? That I was run off and afraid to go back? Is that how you intend to take control of my life? Have the keep - I don't care for it - but you will stay out of my life. Understood?"

"No, Nalia. You do not understand that your proper place is at my side. Come now, I can give you the life you deserve...and all you give up in return is your name. In fact, I can't imagine why any woman wouldn't want a life with me."

"I can imagine a million reasons, one in particular being you. I refuse to be locked into such an arrangement. I'll say it only once more - stay out of my life!"

Isaea's face was contorted in anger. "This is not over by any means!" he shouted.

"Oh, I think it is," Kal said, stepping forward. "She's said her wishes. And you wouldn't want to deny a lady's wishes and be...ignoble, would you?"

"She is deluded. You have led her astray. She obviously does not know what her wishes should be. She is definitely misguided."

"And what makes your viewpoint so superior, worm?" Viconia snapped.

"Because...because," Isaea said, drawing in a breath. "I am better than you!" He turned away in a huff - then his foot slid forward strangely and he went rolling down the stairs.

There was a clatter of metal and then "Ow! Oh! Ah!" and a crunch as Isaea met the wall opposite the stairs. There was silence for a few seconds, and then a wail of pain. His guards dutifully rushed to help their lord, but slipped and tumbled down the stairs with clattering noises. Isaea shrieked as the first guard slammed into him - which meant only that he had no breath to scream more as his other three guards piled on in rapid succession. When he recovered his breath, he screamed again - though it was somewhat muffled this time.

"Oh, dear," Lord Farthington said. He walked over to the top of the stairs and leaned down, touching his finger to the floor just at the top of the stairs. "My, whoever could have spilled all this grease here?"

"I have no idea, Lord Farthington," Nalia said, quickly lowering her hands back to her sides. "No idea at all."