All That Glitters...27

Chapter Twenty-Seven


"My word," Thalia Thunderburp said as the party climbed out of the playhouse. "Samuel! SAMUEL! They're back!"

Samuel dropped a plate with a crash, and he rushed over to the stairs. "Why, you've returned! We'd thought you lost!"

"A little quick to be making predictions of our demise, is it not?" Jaheira asked with a little bit of annoyance.

"Quick?" Samuel asked, a look of bewilderment on his face. There was a long pause.

"How long were we gone?" Cel asked.

"Well..near on to a full day!" Samuel told her. "You left in the morning yesterday, and it's two before dawn, now!"

"It could not have been more than two hours," Viconia said, though there was no assurance in her voice.

"Astral prison," Cel said.

"What?" Kal asked, but Haer'Dalis was nodding.

"Time passes in a different flow on the Astral, my raven. Or, as I should say, time passes not at all, but occupies some space on the Plane Material. Yet we feel its effects when we leave the Astral. If yon blade is correct, soon the curtain of fatigue should descend upon us in full." Then he yawned, and smiled. "Correct, I would say."

Very suddenly and surprisingly, everyone discovered how tired they were as twenty-three hours of continued wakefulness hit them like sledgehammers. Kal and Minsc nearly collapsed onto chairs, though both made sure that they did not collapse the chairs as they did so.

"Samuel, could you find us rooms? You wouldn't believe how tired I feel right now," Kal said, eyelids feeling heavy.

Samuel grinned. "Not a problem. If ye can just find the strength to drag yourselves upstairs..."

Later the same day, after each of them had gotten twelve hours of blissful sleep, the party reassembled in the Flagons taproom to get some food. As it so happened, Haer'Dalis was the one to start the conversation.

"I noticed yesterday, or should I say, this morn, that you seem to be quite the accomplished planar traveller, lady Celestis," he said, with a certain degree of respect.

"I've been around the Great Ring once or twice," she said modestly. "Many times to the Abyss. Quite a few of my wielders, for some reason or another, decided that a trip there was in order at some time or another."

"Ah." Haer'Dalis mouth quirked in a half-smile. "To ‘slay demons' I take it? ‘Cleanse the multiverse'?"

"The first few times were, at least."

"What's...what's wrong with killing demons?" Aerie asked.

"Well, my dove," Haer'Dalis began. "Firstly, ‘demon' is such a crude term - though it is a term that seizes the attention most effectively. They are the tanar'ri, and so do all planars know them. The reason for the utter futility of quests into the Abyss is because, on the Abyss, tanar'ri are as limitless as the grains of sand in all the deserts of the Planes. Not only that, but even an army of millions of prime worlds would not be able to make the slightest impression on the vast, uncountable masses of the tanar'ri. And when that army of millions died on the Abyss, they would become just so much more grist for the mill. The tanar'ri and the Abyss are eternal and infinite, and any quest to attempt to eradicate them is impossible by definition - not to mention, foolish."

"Exactly. After those first few times, and about a hundred years, I started complaining whenever some paladin with brains not much bigger than a blueberry suggested a ‘noble quest to the Abyss'. Then they'd call me a coward and leave me behind. Not that I minded staying here. I usually ended up making a trip to the Abyss anyway, in the hands of someone competent who made sure that what was left of the other one was really dead, and recovered anything important the idiot was carrying. And, who made sure to get out of there just as fast as possible. That last trip was about four hundred years ago. I have to say, though, I really don't mind staying on the Prime."

"Surely your travelling experiences were not so sullied by your exposure to the Abyss? There are wonders to go with all the horrors of the Planes, as I am sure you know quite well," Haer'Dalis said.

"Oh, there were places I didn't mind much. Elysium was nice."

Haer'Dalis laughed. "You understate! Elysium is formed by the very concept of ‘nice'. As yet I have found few who did not like Elysium - of those who could stand travelling there. But Elysium is calm, and, I would wager, all too calm for those who held you from time to time."

"I liked Arcadia, too," Cel said after a moment's thought.

"Ahhh..Arcadia. To my everlasting dismay, it is the one universe along the Ring that I have yet to visit or appreciate fully."

"No, they wouldn't tolerate your kind, would they? I won't say I agree, but you know what they say about arguing with an Arcadian."

"That brings an interesting question to mind," Jaheira said, cutting in. "Haer'Dalis, I hope this is not too forward, but what are you? Cel seems to know, but I doubt any of the rest of us do."

"I? A tiefling, dear Jaheira. I am part-fiend, though what fiend I myself do not know, nor do I know how much that part happens to be. I have speculated from time to time, but idle speculation, is, as it is often, just that."

"Part fiend?" Aerie blurted out.

Haer'Dalis did not seem troubled. "That is the general term for it. Fiend is the category to which belong the baatezu, the tanar'ri, and the yugoloths. It was certain that at least one of these existed far in the darknesses of my ancestry, but whether it was three or three hundred generations, there is no way to tell."

"Oh, don't look so confused, Aerie," Cel said in a slightly scolding tone. "It's common enough on the planes. One thing you learn quickly there is not to judge people by their blood. Not all tieflings are as fiendish as their ancestors, just like not all aasimar - that's part-celestials, by the way - are as good as you might expect."

"I see that my jaunt upon the Prime will not be so difficult as I once believed," Haer'Dalis said. "I had believed that I would encounter nothing but Clueless; it is relieving to find someone, even in a place unexpected, who is not."

"Isn't ‘Clueless' a little too casual for an actor, Haer'Dalis?" Cel inquired.

Haer'Dalis smiled. "So it is. I backslide from time to time. A tragedy, but one cannot remain among the masses of Sigil without acquiring some modest degree of proficiency in their tongue."

There were a few moments during which no one spoke, only ate, but soon Aerie's voice piped up again. "Haer'Dalis...there was something you...you said that I...I didn't understand. You told...told Raelis that you'd meet again in...in ‘the End'...what did you mean?"

"By the End, my dove, I meant the end of everything. The moment when entropy claims all. Then shall we meet...in a figurative sense, at least."

Jaheira frowned. "Is that not somewhat far away to be constantly on your mind?"

"Far away? It is as far and as close as it needs to be - as it should be."

"Typical," Cel interrupted. "He's a Sinker."

"‘Sinker'? Please, my lady. A Doomguard."

Minsc directed a questioning stare at Haer'Dalis. "Boo says that ‘Doomguard' does not sound like a very good name...."

"What exactly do you mean by ‘Doomguard', Haer'Dalis?" Kal asked. "I'm curious as to what that means, myself."

"The Doomguard is the faction to which I am affiliated," Haer'Dalis said, with just a touch of pride in his voice. "There are fifteen factions of Sigil, representing various philosophical positions."

"Kal, you might want to note that belief is almost a physical force on the planes," Cel told him. "Philosophy has a lot more power than on the Prime Material, and so when someone on the planes refers to philosophy, there's much more significance behind the word than you are accustomed to."

At Kal's nod, Haer'Dalis continued. "The Doomguard's philosophy is that everything crumbles away in time. Entropy will consume all, in the march of years and seasons. Thus, when I refer to the End, I not only speak of the end of all things, but indeed of the ultimate goal - or end - of the multiverse, which is to reduce itself, little by little, to nothingness. Furthermore, we Doomguard believe that one should never try to stop the force of entropy - indeed, to let it take its natural course."

Yoshimo was present at this meal, a rare occurrence as usually he was gathering information. At five after noon, however, there was little information to be found. Now he leaned forward to ask a question. "Does this mean that your - faction, correct? - stands for simple destruction? I confess I do not understand how such a philosophy allows for functional members of society."

"No, Yoshimo, you misunderstand. We stand for the natural decay of all things. Consider a great mountain. Over time, wind and rain wear down its majestic peak. Men quarry blocks from its sides, and create great, towering structures. Over time, the structures wear down from weather, and crumble from sheer age. As time passes, the mountain wears down further, more blocks are taken, and more of the structures that were made from the blocks crumble. Eventually, there is nothing left of the mountain that once was, and there is nothing left of the structures which it became. It is part of a natural cycle. Another cycle you may be familiar with is mortal life. We are born, we consume, aiding in the decay of the multiverse, and we die. Eventually - and by eventually I say however much time is necessary - millions upon millions of years, if it should come to that - there will be nothing more to consume, and we shall all have been consumed ourselves by entropy. We simply believe that this cycle should not be interrupted, such as the animation of the dead done most commonly by necromancers of the prime worlds."

"But what else counts towards interruption of the cycle for you, Haer'Dalis? Would you oppose healing magic? Resurrection?" Kal asked.

"Yes," Haer'Dalis answered firmly. "Both are likewise interruptions of the natural cycle."

Then it was Jaheira's turn. "And what of the destruction of the environment - for example, woodcutters in forests?"

"They should not be interfered with. The destruction of the environment is part of the natural cycle of decay, no matter whether it is by wind and rain or by mortals."

"I see," Jaheira said, but she was frowning.

"An interesting philosophy, though I don't think I agree," Kal said.

Haer'Dalis shrugged. "Nor do I expect you to. On the Prime, you need not concern yourselves with faction beliefs, and I do not believe you are intending to wander the planes in the near future."

"Haer'Dalis, now I've got a question," Cel spoke up. "Raelis...she's a Cipher, yes?"

"A most accurate observation. Yes, Raelis does belong to the Transcendent Order."

"Another faction?" Kal asked Cel.

"Yes. They believe in action without thought. That's a gross oversimplification, but that's all you need to know - don't bother hurting your head over the rest of what they believe. They don't call them Ciphers because they're easy to understand."

"If I may ask - what was the defining factor that led you to this observation?" Haer'Dalis asked.

"Firstly, it was the play - writing something about two factols can't have been the most practical thing to do, and even Anarchists and Xaosmen value their lives. That made her either a Bleaker, a Signer or a Cipher, and her concern to get away made her a Cipher for sure. Oh, and she didn't seem to think before plunging into the new portal...which led to Cathrys."

"Cel, do you realize I didn't understand a word you just said?" Kal asked.

"Yes, but I wasn't talking to you."

"Cathrys...oh, dear," Haer'Dalis said. "I would have to say that her ‘cadence of the Planes' has struck a rather jarring note. Or perhaps the symphony has embarked upon a new movement." Quickly, noticing that Aerie had finished eating, he changed the subject. "Ah, my dove, remember the part that I had been trying to find for you? I thought of the one which would be of utmost perfection to compliment your first voyage on to the stage. Come, the manuscript is stored in the playhouse."

"All...all right," Aerie said, rising from the table. She and Haer'Dalis headed down the stairs.

Once they were gone, Jaheira turned to Kal, or rather, towards Cel. "You have travelled with Doomguard before, have you not, Cel? I am concerned about his...philosophy. Will he attempt to stop us from providing healing? Will he attack us if we are healed?"

"I've known a few Doomguard in the past. If their faction philosophy hasn't changed, and they generally don't, he won't do a thing. He'll refuse to take healing himself, but won't stop us. We're not Sinkers, after all. It's a philosophical thing: they think that eventually, everyone in the multiverse will come around to their way of thinking, and so they don't do anything to offend others in the meantime. In general, at least."

"What happens if he gets injured?" Kal asked.

"No great loss," Jaheira said with customary bluntness.

"He'll take natural or herbal remedies. You see, that way he uses up whatever components were used to make them, leading to entropy and so on. He'll be glad to, in fact - Doomguard are faithful to their philosophy, but they aren't suicidal."

"Upon consideration," Viconia mused, "he may very well be right. His philosophy is eminently practical. And at the very end of things, should that ever happen, it might very well be that they might be correct. An interesting prospect."

"I, for one, have heard enough of it," Jaheira told her.

"I was merely thinking on its possibilities," Viconia responded.

"And what are Bleakers and Signers?" Kal asked.

"Bleakers are members of the Bleak Cabal, another faction of Sigil," Cel said. "Their faction belief is basically that the multiverse has no reason, meaning, or purpose."

"Sounds depressing," Kal commented.

"More than depressing. They aren't nicknamed the Madmen for nothing. They're all insane - or, to put it in the cant, they're completely barmy. And the Signers are members of the Sign of One, who believe that the multiverse is completely subjective, that we're each the centre of our own multiverse - and that we can make of it anything that we want."

"Uh...all right. Some of these faction beliefs would strain the boundaries of conventional philosophy," Kal said. "And where is Cathrys?"

"It's a layer of Carceri," she said, and Kal sucked in a breath. While he had not come across the layer names in his studies, he knew at least the names of the planes that made up the Great Ring, and Carceri, the Red Prison, was a well-known one indeed. Raelis may have just bit off far more than she can chew.

"Might I suggest," Yoshimo said, cutting in, "that we identify and sell some of what we recovered from the prison? There is time before the Adventurer's Mart closes, and I find it preferable to simply sitting about."

"An excellent idea," Viconia agreed.

"Perhaps Haer'Dalis can be useful after all. ‘Entertainers' like him are often pretty good at figuring out what things are. Let's go get him," Cel suggested.

"In the meantime," Jaheira said, "the rest of us can start sorting and organizing what we brought back. Especially that suit of plate mail armour that we had to divide into three pieces to fit the packs. We'll use the conference room upstairs."

Without his armour on, Kal naturally moved quietly. (He had not donned it again after removing it for sleeping, as sleeping in armour is extremely irritating, to say the least, and eating in armour not much better.) Though not as quietly as a thief, he moved soundlessly enough such that Haer'Dalis and Aerie did not hear him enter the playhouse. The fact that Haer'Dalis was talking - loudly - may have had something to do with that, as well. The two were backstage.

"...called ‘Tersis' - written, if I remember, by a rather haggard tiefling gifted with the madness of true talent. You would play the goddess, herself...fallen from favour and bearing the slings of accusation and scorn with grace and confidence. With chin held high, she strides towards her former peers and dares to challenge the false verdict of the higher powers!"

"This...this is hardly the type of...of role I thought would fit me, Haer'Dalis. Did you not spend...spend time considering it?"

"Oh, but I did! Deliberated for every second of time I could spare. And the role fits you beautifully, my mourning dove. You have suffered the cleansing torments, borne under the impossible strains...and I'll wager there's a steel in your heart that you've yet to lay claim to!"

"I...I don't think so, Haer'Dalis...I don't think you know me at all...."

"I know you better than you think, my dove. The true thespian reaches down into a well of dark waters within them...a place where others dare not look. And you've a deep well, fair Aerie...be not afraid to dive within!"

Aerie smiled shyly. "Very well, I will...look at this role you have chosen for me." Haer'Dalis handed over a sheaf of papers, and Aerie began reading. Seeing this as an opportune moment to make his presence known, Kal walked into Haer'Dalis' line of sight and waved. Careful not to disturb Aerie, Haer'Dalis walked to the front of the stage.

"Haer'Dalis, I was wondering if we could prevail upon you for a few minutes. Am I correct in assuming that you are well-versed in the lore of various magic items?"

Haer'Dalis nodded. "That I am. I take it that you wish for me to assist you in the identification of the various items which you took from the mercenaries?"

"Yes. We're planning to lose some weight and sell off what we don't need with a trip to the Adventurer's Mart. You and Aerie don't need to go, the rest of us can carry everything."

Haer'Dalis did not miss the hint. "I would be most delighted to be of assistance." Turning to Aerie, he called out, "My mourning dove, continue to read. I shall return quickly, and I expect to see your heart's steel shine like twilight fire!"

The identification process went rapidly. Nothing was of particularly exceptional make, and the majority of it was marked for selling - which, unfortunately, meant for a heavier load for Kal and Minsc to carry. The only things they kept were a pair of speed-enhancing boots which Haer'Dalis claimed were of "absolutely standard make" (though he conceded that they were also "relatively uncommon outside Sigil"), and the three lumpy pole pieces.

"I have no idea what these could possibly be, but I know of one merchant amidst the many in this fine city who might," he told them. "We inquired with him for a portal gem, but alas, he could not locate one. He is a dwarf, by the name of Cromwell, and he lives in the Docks district, near the waterfront. Now, if you will excuse me..." Haer'Dalis stood up quickly and headed for the stairs.

Cel let out an explosive laugh. "Cromwell? That old fossil? He knows more about smithing than any dwarf ever will - but that's because he's not entirely a dwarf."

Haer'Dalis was already halfway down the stairs, but paused when he heard what Cel had to say. "Pardon? We were given to understand that he is one of a long line of distinguished smiths by the name of Cromwell to operate in Athkatla."

"That's what he tells everyone. No, it's one and the same Cromwell. He just adjusts his appearance every few hundred years or so as not to make anyone else suspicious."

"What do you mean by, ‘not entirely a dwarf'?" Jaheira asked her.

"Firstly, he's not a prime; he's a planar, from Mount Clangeddin on Arcadia. Secondly, he's a proxy of Clangeddin Silverbeard. Not that he ever told me, but he never counted on having someone else who didn't age taking notice. And that glowing hammer of his is a dead giveaway - though he never lets anyone see it. ‘Course, he couldn't NOT show it to me, especially when he was working out the latest acid burn or stress fracture I'd picked up - due to some idiot, naturally - with it."

"You are not indestructible?" Yoshimo asked with some surprise. "Most magical weapons, in my experience, have as a most basic enchantment immunity to damage."

"Indestructible really is a relative term, Yoshimo. I am, as are many magical weapons, completely immune to any regular wear and tear. Things that don't qualify as regular wear and tear are, for one, being used to wedge open a red dragon's mouth. Or being inside an alkilith after the idiot wielding me decided that charging into a living blob of corrosion vaguely resembled a tactic. Or being crushed between two of the great gears on Mechanus. I would guess that most magical weapons would snap like sticks under those conditions: for me, it just plain hurts."

"I see," Haer'Dalis said. "Most interesting." Then he jumped the last few steps of the stairs and ran across the taproom, obviously anxious to get back to the playhouse.

"All right, then. Let's get this stuff over to Ribald at the Adventurer's Mart. Then we'll pay Cromwell a visit before we get back here. Pass me the heaviest pack." Kal tapped the boots on his feet. "Now let's find out if these work."