From: "Avid Reader - Fledgling Writer" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 12 May 92 10:31:14 EDT

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 --   DargonZine Volume 3, Issue 5        03/23/90          Cir 971    --
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 --                            Contents                                --
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  Two Bits and a Silver I      Michelle Brothers      Yuli 17, 1013
  Materia Medica III           Max Khaytsus and
                               Michelle Brothers      Yuli 22-23, 1013
  Be Careful What You Wish For Bill Erdley            Janis 13, 1014
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1                        Two Bits and a Silver
                                Part 1
                          by Michelle Brothers
              <b.c.k.a. [email-masked]>

      The street-lamp  lighters had just  emerged to begin  doing their
 jobs when  Eliowy slipped  out from behind  the glass-blowers  shop on
 Atelier Street.  The purse she had  just lifted was heavy  in her hand
 but would  just barely cover the  amount she was supposed  to bring in
 for the  night. The purse  was heavy not just  from the weight  of the
 coins within,  but the  girl had  no time to  address the  feelings of
 regret she  had in taking  the coins from  their owner. At  the moment
 keeping her  own skin  intact was  of more  importance than  the moral
 considerations involved.
      Eliowy hurried down the street as quickly as she could without it
 being obvious that  she was in a  hurry. She was supposed  to have her
 day's wages, if  they could be called that, in  by sunset, and already
 the burnished disk of the summer sun was sinking below the horizon.
      She was running  a little late because she had  been trying, over
 the course of the  last few weeks to steal enough  extra money so that
 she  could buy  a  horse to  facilitate her  escape  from Dargon  and,
 incidentally, Liriss.
      Eliowy picked up  her pace. The memory of her  tall, hulking boss
 made her slightly sick.
      The deal that he had offered  her at first hadn't seemed too bad.
 He had  set her up  in a boarding house  until, according to  him, she
 could get back on her feet. This would have been fine, except that she
 hadn't really needed  any help but she wasn't able  to convince him of
 that. He  had insisted. Not  seeing any  immediate harm in  it, Eliowy
 accepted.
      A few days later, just as she was about to tell Liriss `thank you
 very much,  but I have  to be going', the  man had suggested  that she
 might like to repay him for his kindness in putting her up for a time.
      Eliowy hadn't been able to refuse.
      It took  her a few weeks  to realize that she  wasn't getting any
 closer to paying Liriss off. He still  paid for her room and board and
 just a week ago had purchased her a new tunic and cloak for winter.
      Frightened at the implications of this, Eliowy had given him more
 money, in hopes  of erasing the debt faster. This  plan backfired when
 she was unable  to produce the same amount the  next night. Liriss had
 warned her in a  low, cold voice that if she didn't  bring in the full
 required donation the next night, he would turn her over to his guards
 for a night  to teach her a  lesson. He had added, in  a much gentler,
 honey sweet  voice, that there was  no place in Dargon  that she could
 hide that he  couldn't find her, so she'd better  not even think about
 trying to run out on him.
      Eliowy had left that interview profoundly disturbed. She believed
 everything that Liriss told her, less  one. She believed that he could
 find her  in Dargon, but doubted  that his reach extened  much further
 than that. Besides,  she had out run and out-foxed  Teran for the last
 ten months:  Liriss, a  man she  had never seen  to leave  his office,
 should be much less of a challenge. The next night she brought him the
 exact amount  that she was supposed  to and saved the  difference in a
 small ceramic jar to put towards a horse.
      The thought  of her old mentor  made Eliowy walk a  little faster
 yet. According to Liriss, he had left Dargon two days after Eliowy had
 been taken into the crime lord's `care'. Whether this was true or not,
 she didn't  know, but she  did know that  sooner or later  Teran would
 make his  way back to  Dargon and  if she was  still here by  then, he
 would find her. She had to put as much distance between both Teran and
1Liriss as possible as soon as possible.
      Full night had fallen and the  last of the merchants had left the
 market square leaving only the rats  and other night prowlers out when
 Eliowy  arrived  at the  building  that  housed Liriss's  office.  The
 building was a  three story affair made of wood  and solid red bricks.
 Windows were  scattered all about the  face of the building  along the
 wall that  had the best view  of the market place.  Liriss, Eliowy had
 learned, was a great people watcher.
      The auburn-haired girl shuddered as she climbed the stairs to his
 office because lately that watching had included her.
      The door that  let her out onto the third  floor opened on silent
 hinges and Eliowy walked the  distance down the hallway slowly. Liriss
 was still having  her deliver her daily take to  him directly, instead
 of giving  it to one  of his lieutenants as  the other girls  did. She
 wasn't quite sure  why, although the intimidation  factor probably had
 something to do with it.
      She opened the office door.  Liriss's latest secretary, the third
 in the last month, was seated at the small desk set to one side of the
 entrace to  the crimelord's inner  sanctum, carefully applying  a pale
 green powder to her eyelids. She looked up as Eliowy closed the door.
      "You're late," she observed quietly. "He's waiting for you. Go on
 in." And  she turned back  to peering  in the polished  bronze mirror,
 wielding her eyebrush with care.
      Eliowy swallowed  and stepped up  to the last door.  She composed
 herself, knocked sharply, and entered.
      As usual, Liriss was standing with his back to the door holding a
 glass of some  dark liquor, staring out his prized  picture window. He
 turned slightly  as Eliowy entered.  She stopped  a few feet  from the
 polished oak desk he stood behind, leaving the door open at her back.
      "You," he  said flatly,  returning his gaze  to the  window, "are
 late."
      "I  have the  money," responded  Eliowy promptly,  to change  the
 topic. She had  gotten a lecture, not too long  ago, about the hazards
 of being late  with one's required payment. The  alternatives to being
 prompt that Liriss had chosen to mention had not been pleasant. Eliowy
 had mentally prepared  her lines of defense for the  next time she was
 late, because she knew there would be a next time, and wanted to avoid
 the consequences. Dodging the question was the first line.
      "That does not alleviate the fact that you are bring it in late,"
 snapped  Liriss, turning  to  face Eliowy  fully,  brown eyes  blazing
 angrily.
      "I brought in a little extra," added Eliowy quickly. "I got lucky
 today." Second line -- bribery.
      "You  know  the penalty  for  delivering  payments late,"  Liriss
 continued,  as though  Eliowy  hadn't spoken.  "You  were warned  once
 before--"
      "I had to out run the guard!"
      Last line  of defense.  Lying or  honesty. Whichever  sounded the
 best at the time, coupled with prayer. Liriss stopped talking abruptly
 and the glare in his eyes  became darker. Eliowy forced herself not to
 cringe under his gaze.
      "You  had to  out run  the  guard," he  repeated. With  deceptive
 casualness he  set his glass  down on the desk.  "Just how is  it that
 you're earning  this money, young  lady, that  you should need  to run
 from the guard?"
      Eliowy swallowed hard, not liking the look in the man's eyes.
      "Pickpocketing,"  she  said. "How  else  should  I get  it?"  She
 couldn't understand the look of  utter disbelief that covered Liriss's
 features.  How else  was she  supposed to  earn the  money he  wanted?
 Granted, he could,  like Teran, disapprove of stealing,  but it wasn't
1as though she had many options. No one would hire her for honest labor
 and she  really doubted that Liriss  cared that she was  thieving. The
 look on his face was one of surprise, not disapproval.
      "Pickpocketing. How  else could  you earn it!"  said Liriss  in a
 brittle voice. "Since you don't seem  to know, I think tonight will be
 very--"
      "Sir!"
      Liriss turned  with a  black look  to the open  door to  face his
 first lieutenant, Kesrin, who held one of his employees by one arm.
      "My  Lord,"  said  Kesrin   with  a  significant  look,  silently
 reminding him that he had other business to deal with that evening. He
 had been  Liriss's second lieutenant  until the disappearance  of Cril
 over two months ago, and was allowed a certain amount of familiarity.
      "Kesrin," Liriss  acknowledged him  with a  sharp nod  and turned
 back to the young  woman before his desk. "Eliowy, you  may go. Do not
 be late again, or you will be visiting the barracks. Am I clear?"
      "Yes sir!"
      Eliowy didn't  bother to  question her luck.  She ducked  out the
 door.

      Liriss took  a deep breath and  forced his temper down.  He could
 deal with  the girl and  her education later.  This was just  a little
 more important.
      "Come in, Kesrin. Tilden."
      Kesrin closed the door with a brief glance out, and shoved Tilden
 into a position before the desk while Liriss seated himself. The crime
 lord took a  swallow from his glass, narrowly studying  the man before
 him. Tilden stared at the desktop.
      "Rumor has it, Tilden, that you've been complaining about my work
 policies," said Liriss  after a suitable interval of  time had passed.
 "According to some of  my men, you seem to have  this quaint idea that
 you deserve better than you've been getting from me. Is this correct?"
      After being the sole survivor of a party of men sent out to bring
 back  Kera, a  thief in  Liriss's employ,  and returning  without her,
 Tilden had  been removed from his  cushy position as one  of the crime
 boss's scouts  and put to  work as simple  guard, watching one  of his
 gambling  establishments. Tilden  was  a little  upset  about his  new
 position.
      "I'm the best damn scout you've got, Liriss," said the man hotly,
 looking up. "I shouldn't be doing a job that you've got muscle for!"
      "I see,"  said Liriss, sounding  regretful, "I wish that  you had
 expressed your displeasure to me earlier, Tilden. Then I wouldn't have
 to  deal with  the seeds  of discontent  that you  have sown  among my
 troops." Tilden shifted  uncomfortably and Liriss took  another sip of
 wine. "Kesrin, take Tilden here to the blocks--"
      "NO!"
      "--I have no use for disloyal and incompetent men in my ranks."
      Tilden lunged  suddenly for  Liriss's throat  but was  caught and
 pinioned by Kesrin before his hands  made it halfway across the table.
 Carefully, almost gently, Kesrin knocked him out.
      "And when you're done with that, Kesrin," added Liriss. "See what
 you can  do about whipping  the men back into  shape. I don't  want to
 have to make any more examples of this sort."
      "Of course, Lord Liriss," Kesrin  pulled open the door. "And I'll
 send Hollis in to you."
      "You  do that,"  said  Liriss, distractedly.  He  stared out  his
 window for a long while before  designing to notice the woman standing
 there, crafting plans to tighten his grip on his people to make future
 repetitions of the month's incidents unlikely. People failing in their
 assigned tasks and having deserters did  not make for a smooth running
1operation. Liriss hated it when things didn't run smoothly.
      With a sharp gesture, he beconed Hollis to his side.

      "Don't do this  to me, Kesrin! Kesrin, you can't  do this. Let me
 go!  Please, you  can't just  leave me  here to  die, Kesrin!"  Tilden
 struggled futilely against  the chains being locked  around his wrists
 and ankles.  His voice  raised to  a paniced  scream. "You  can't just
 leave me!"
      "Yes, I  can, Tilden," said  Kesrin calmly.  He stood a  few feet
 away, holding a torch, and watching  calmly as the guards manacled the
 ex-scout to the granite slab that Liriss used for his executions. "You
 were warned. You did not heed that warning."
      "Let me go, Kesrin," repeated  Tilden frantically as the men left
 his side.  They walked  quickly away as  the scout  jerked frantically
 against the chains. "You hate him as much as I do. Let me go and we'll
 kill him together!"
      "No," said Kesrin, just loud enough to be heard over the pounding
 of the waves.  "You cannot hate him  as much as I do."  He stared past
 the block to  the narrow stairs that the guards  were slowly climbing.
 "I  will deal  with my  Lord Liriss.  When the  time comes."  His cool
 reguard refocused  on Tilden's  sweaty, spray covered  face. "Goodbye,
 Tilden. May you  gain wisdom in your next incarnation."  And he turned
 and walked away, feet splashing softly in the rising tide.
      "Kesssrriiinnn....!"

      Two torches were  left burning in salt encrusted  brackets on the
 handrail of  the stairs  that led to  Lord Liriss's  private execution
 grounds. The  light reflected eerily  off of the slowly  rising water,
 turning the sea foam to silver.
      Liriss's lieutenant,  Kesrin, had  been gone  for some  time when
 Eliowy made her  way down the slippery stairs. The  water had risen to
 almost thigh  level as  she waded  out. As  she splashed  towards him,
 Tilden jerked in his bonds.
      "Did you  come back to  gloat, Kesrin?"  he demanded, in  a voice
 cracked raw from screaming. "Or is it you, `Great Lord Liriss', to see
 if your oh so faithful servant did his job properly!"
      "Neither, actually,"  said Eliowy. "And  if you hold  still, I'll
 try and get your wrists free."
      "Rescue! You're here to rescue me!" Tilden's hoarse voice dropped
 to a whisper  of desperate hope, unwilling to question  his luck. "Did
 you get the keys?"
      "No. I have to pick the lock. Now hold still."
      Tilden held,  while Eliowy  swore softly  to herself.  Before she
 left Rubel,  she had been  in the process  of learning to  pick locks,
 under  the friendly  tutelage  of  her friends  the  twins, Piper  and
 Skeeter. The  two were  first rate cutpurses  who had  developed their
 lockpicking skills for those rare times  when one or the other of them
 was caught.  They had just started  to teach her the  dubious art when
 she left. As a  result, progress was slow. By the  time Eliowy had the
 scout's ankles free, the ocean had crept up to her thighs.
      "Hurry," hissed Tilden.
      "I'm doing my best," retorted Eliowy.
      "Why  are  you doing  this?"  asked  Tilden abruptly,  as  Eliowy
 fumbled with the lock. Each wave, as it came, nearly lifted her off of
 her  feet,  making  the  effort  to pick  the  locks  that  much  more
 difficult.
      "Because," said  Eliowy, shaking sea  water out of her  face. "No
 one deserves to die like this. And  I owe you one. Your timely arrival
 saved  me from..."  Eliowy broke  off, then  began again.  "I followed
 Kesrin out and when  I figured out what he planned to do,  I had to go
1find a lockpick. That's what took me so long. Sorry."
      `I  can't believe  it,' thought  Tilden in  shock. `Liriss  hired
 someone with  a conscience. And  when I'm done  with him, he  won't be
 able to corrupt any more young people like her again!'
      "It's  all right,"  he said  to Eliowy,  forcing himself  to calm
 down. "You're here and that's something."
      Eliowy didn't reply. After what seemed like an eternity to Tilden
 she said, "Jerk your arm. I think I got it far enough."
      Tilden yanked on the chain  and felt resistance; he pulled harder
 and fell to one  side, almost off the block, as  his arm came abruptly
 free. "Give  me the lockpick,"  he ordered.  Eliowy handed it  to him;
 little more than  stiff wire twisted and curved to  try and strengthen
 it. Tilden  didn't bother to comment.  He was able to  unlock the last
 manacle with deft ease.
      "Let's go," he said, levering himself up, off of the slab.
      Together they waded over to the  wooden staircase that led to the
 top of Liriss's private pier.
      "Can you think  of anyplace I can hole up?"  asked Tilden as they
 climbed. "I can't exactly go back to the guards barracks and they know
 all of my hideouts."
      "I think I know a place where you can stay," said Eliowy, after a
 pause. "You  plan to take  on Liriss,  don't you?" she  added, knowing
 that that was the only reason the man would need a place within Dargon
 city limits to hide.
      "I plan to  make him pay for trying to  kill me," replied Tilden,
 eyes gleaming with  hate. "That man has lived far  too long and ruined
 too  many lives..."  He  continued ranting  about  Liriss and  Kesrin,
 laying out in detail the plans he had for each.
      Eliowy said nothing else as she led  the man to one of the places
 she had staked out as a  potential hiding place for herself. While she
 agreed with  Tilden that the crimelord  had to go, she  didn't want to
 get involved with  trying to assassinate him. After she  got the scout
 to safety, she planned to leave him. He could take care of himself and
 the time to leave Dargon was running out fast for her.
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
1                            Materia Medica
                                Part 3
                              Max Khaytsus
              <b.c.k.a. [email-masked]>
                         and Michelle Brothers
              <b.c.k.a. [email-masked]>

      A ten foot grey stone wall  came into view, appearing suddenly in
 the green of the  forest, after the bend in the road.  The gate to the
 courtyard was open and Rien and Kera were able to simply ride in. They
 did  not go  unnoticed,  however.  A lone  guard  looked  up from  his
 restless   pacing  and   after  straightening   his  tabard,   quickly
 approached.
      "Is this the Connall residence?" Rien  asked as the man strode up
 to him.
      "Yes, it is, sir," said the man politely. "May I help you?"
      "High  Mage Marcellon  Equiville  should be  expecting me,"  Rien
 said.
      The guard seemed to be taken aback for a moment. "Your name?"
      "Rien Keegan. I was sent by Dyann Taishent."
      "If you'll wait, sir, I'll go see if the High Mage is available,"
 the guard  responded and  turned smartly and  headed towards  the main
 house. Another guard  appeared to replace him in  the courtyard before
 he made it inside.
      "Well rehearsed," Rien commented to Kera as they dismounted. They
 remained standing next  to each other, holding onto  the horse's reins
 and looking over the noble's estate.
      The stone wall  went on for a good fifty  yards, forcing the road
 outside to turn deeper into the forest, while inside a large courtyard
 with trees and green,  well cared for shrubbery led up  to a two story
 stone house.  Other than  the single  man at the  gate, there  were no
 other guards or servants visible.
      The  first guard  reappeared at  the  house's front  door with  a
 young, dark haired  woman who could not be much  older than Kera. They
 were speaking  quickly to each other  as they walked over  to Rien and
 his edgy apprentice.
      "Good morning," the  woman said, inclining her  head politely. "I
 am Myrande Shipbrook, the senechal  of Connall Keep. I understand that
 you are here to see the High Mage."
      "We were  told he would  be expecting  us," Rien answered.  "I am
 Rien Keegan and this is my apprentice, Kera."
      "Please follow  me," Myrande  said, smiling. "Marcellon  will see
 you in the Baron's study. Sergeant, please see to their horses."
      Leaving their  mounts, Rien  and Kera  followed Myrande  into the
 house where they were taken down a  corridor and asked to wait for the
 wizard in  a large room. It  was the Baron's study,  filled with books
 and decorated with  weapons on the walls. By the  window stood a large
 desk, with a  disorganized stack of papers  on top. An ink  well and a
 nearly new  quill stood beside the  untidy stack of pages  and a large
 padded chair sat behind the desk, turned to face out the window behind
 the desk. Four  other comfortable looking chairs  were scattered about
 the room.
      "High Mage  Marcellon will be  with you  in just a  few minutes,"
 said  the senechal,  walking  to the  door.  "Please, make  yourselves
 comfortable.  I will  send  for refreshments."  And  she stepped  out,
 closing the door behind her.
      Rien walked over  to the bookshelf to take a  look at the titles.
 Most  dealt with  war and  weaponry,  but there  were quite  a few  on
 tactics, law, and a couple of histories as well.
1     "Rien,  I'm  sick  of  these wizards  and  witches,"  Kera  said,
 prowling the room.
      He  turned around.  "We  seem to  be  lacking alternatives.  What
 troubles you more? The disease or the people who can cure it?"
      Kera sighed and  sat down. "They both bother me,  but look at how
 much more trouble looking for a cure caused..."
      "Are you saying you'd rather have the disease take its course?"
      "Damn it, Rien! This is all my fault!"
      "Is it?" Rien asked. "How could it be?"
      Kera burst  into tears.  "I led  you down  that alley!  I stabbed
 you..."
      Rien embraced  her. "You  did not lead  me. I  followed...and you
 wounded me  in self  defense. That  dog could  have been  anywhere, as
 could I..." He stroked her hair back. "We got into the trouble looking
 for  a cure.  We have  to  look for  it together.  It's not  something
 magical that will find us on its  own. I don't want you feeling guilty
 or thinking that it's all your fault, because it's not."
      Kera didn't reply, merely buried  her head in Rien's shoulder and
 shook.

      Marcellon  and Myrande  stood outside  the study  door, patiently
 waiting for the sounds inside to stop.
      "How could  I go in there  right now?" Marcellon asked  no one in
 particular. "Can you imagine what they are going through?"
      "I don't even know why they came here," Myrande answered.
      "What?" Marcellon snapped around.
      "I  said I  don't know  why they  are here  in the  first place,"
 Myrande said again.
      "Come along," Marcellon said,  leading Myrande down the corridor,
 away from the door.  "The two mages who came to  see me yesterday sent
 them  over.  This   couple  was  attacked  by  a   dog  diseased  with
 lycanthropy...or perhaps a man diseased with it."
      "You mean like werewolves?" Myrande asked, eyes wide.
      "My Lady Myrande," Marcellon  smiled kindly. "Werewolves are only
 a myth. This  is a real disease  that, over the course  of time, makes
 severe alterations on the diseased body. I have a book on the subject.
 I may have brought it with me from Magnus..."
      "Are they dangerous?" Myrande asked. "Maybe I should have a guard
 posted."
      "Unless  they   bite  someone  they  are   not  dangerous,"  said
 Marcellon, the seriousness  of his tone belaying the  lightness of his
 words. "I doubt that there will be any problems."

      When the door opened and Marcellon walked in, Rien and Kera stood
 with  their arms  around each  other  by the  window. "I  am sorry  to
 intrude," he  said, not expecting to  walk in on something  like this.
 The pair separated. "I am Marcellon Equiville."
      "I'm sorry, sir," Rien answered. "It was not proper on our part."
      "It's  quite   all  right,"  the  wizard   replied,  smiling.  "I
 understand your situation."
      Once again Rien introduced himself and Kera and Marcellon invited
 them to sit down, after taking a seat behind the desk. "I will be more
 than happy to  see what I can  do for you," he went  on after everyone
 had seated themselves. "I am not very familiar with the disease, but I
 am a  doctor and from what  I understand, you have  never approached a
 physician."
      "No, sir, we have not," Rien said, "but it was your reputation as
 a wizard that made the final choice for us."
      Marcellon  smiled   good  naturedly.  "It  is   a  much  stronger
 reputation, I agree, but I intend to be a doctor. Magic does not solve
1all the world's problems."
      "Before you  agree to help us,"  Rien said, "I'd like  to discuss
 the matter of the fee."
      "I will not  charge you any money," Marcellon said.  "I have more
 than I know  what to do with as  it is. I simply request  that you, at
 some future  time, perform  a task for  me that I  will require  to be
 done."
      "I've  taken  that path  before--"  Rien  began warily,  but  was
 interrupted by Marcellon.
      "I can guarantee that it will in no way compromise your morals."
      Rien paused to think. "You do realize that we need two cures?"
      "Yes."
      "And that I am Ljosalfar?"
      "Yes," the  wizard said again.  "The price I named  accounted for
 all that."
      Rien looked at Kera, expecting approval  or at least some sort of
 comment but she said nothing. Realizing that it was to be his decision
 entirely, he  turned after a  long pause  and nodded to  Marcellon. "I
 accept."
      "Good," Marcellon  said. "Myrande will  give you rooms here  as I
 will need  you around  while I do  my work. We  can begin  right after
 lunch."

      Rien  walked  into the  room  Marcellon  converted into  a  small
 laboratory. Kera sat on a chair,  holding a cloth compress against her
 arm. Next to her stood Myrande  and Marcellon. The wizard was cleaning
 the side of a small glass tube filled with blood.
      "This is good," the wizard said, handing the vial to Myrande. The
 senechal took  the glass over to  another table as he  turned to Rien.
 "Have a  seat," he said. "You're  next." He returned his  attention to
 Kera, as Rien pulled up a chair, and removing the cloth on Kera's arm,
 cast a quick spell. "Go wash the blood off. It will be fine."
      Kera got up,  looking suspiciously at her arm and  went over to a
 basin of water and began washing the blood off.
      "Now, you," Marcellon  walked over to Rien.  "Elves are naturally
 nocturnal, is that correct?"
      "Yes." Rien's  expression darkened at  the use of the  slang term
 for Ljosalfar.
      "Then you haven't noticed any  changes in your vision?" continued
 Marcellon, oblivious to the change in expression.
      "No."
      "Any other changes?" Marcellon asked.
      "I'm afraid not," Rien said.
      "Nothing  to be  afraid about,"  Marcellon answered,  selecting a
 sharp instrument off  of the array on  the table. "It could  be a sign
 that your organism is putting up a  good fight or that you are immune.
 We'll see."  He looked at Rien's  arm and frowned. "Someone  had drawn
 blood before  and not too  many months  ago," he said,  indicating the
 lattice of thin scars below the inside of his elbow.
      "Yes," Rien said  with distaste. "I expect that you  will be more
 sparing with my blood than the other was." He smiled crookedly to take
 the sting out of his words.
      By this  time Myrande finished  with the  task that she  had been
 occupied  with  and came  back,  holding  a  clean, empty  vial  which
 Marcellon took  from her. "I wish  I could tell you  this won't hurt,"
 said Marcellon,  "but purposely desecrating flesh  almost always tends
 to be painful. Are you ready?"
      Rien nodded and  Marcellon made a small incision  in his forearm.
 Blood slowly dripped into the waiting vial.
      "There,"  the wizard  said after  a short  while and  removed the
1container, moving  quickly over to  the table where Myrande  had taken
 the first vial.
      Myrande quickly took his place and instructed Rien on how to hold
 the cloth compress to stop the bleeding until Marcellon could heal the
 wound, then went over to the wizard to help with the collected sample.
      Kera came over  to Rien and sat  down in a chair next  to his. "I
 was hoping  you'd be squeamish,"  she sighed and he  playfully swatted
 her.
      "You're hoping for the wrong things," was his quick retort.
      Marcellon came back. "Let me see your arm," he told Kera.
      She stretched it out, palm up  to display that there was no trace
 of the incision, not even a scar.
      "Good," Marcellon approved his own  work and turned to Rien. "Let
 me see yours."
      Rien stretched his  arm out, removing the  compress. The bleeding
 had stopped, but a bloodied cut remained.
      Marcellon examined it and cast his healing spell again. He looked
 over the arm  again and then said,  "this is the first  time I've cast
 anything on a member of your species.  It's good to know that magic is
 a universal doctor."
      "You had doubts about the spell working?" Rien asked.
      "Small ones,"  Marcellon admitted, "but  it appears as  if nature
 makes us all of the same dough. Go ahead and wash up."
      After cleaning  his arm, Rien  came over  to the table  where the
 others stood. In the  middle was a deep dish with  ice chips and water
 in which  stood the two  vials of blood.  Around the dish  stood other
 vials and  jars and medical  instruments, neatly arranged  by category
 and size.  Myrande was  quietly preparing  a solution  while Marcellon
 chatted with Kera. He turned as Rien approached.
      "What now?" Rien asked.
      "Now I  study the  blood," Marcellon  answered. "Actually  I will
 only study  Kera's for now,  as I am  vastly more familiar  with human
 physiology. You're free for the rest of the day. I will see you two at
 dinner." And the mage turned away and, picking up an empty vial, moved
 purposefully towards the other end of the table.

      Kera pulled at  her new tunic, trying to settle  the stiff fabric
 around her shoulders to her satisfaction.  It was a deep shade of red,
 decorated on the  hem and collar with gold thread,  and quite becoming
 on her. Kera couldn't stand it.  Dressing up to have dinner wasn't her
 idea of a good time, no matter  who the hosts were. The fact that they
 were  nobility  just  made  the situation  worse.  Frowning  into  the
 polished brass mirror, she tugged again at her collar.
      She turned at a knock on the door.
      "Come in."
      "Are you ready?" Rien asked through the door.
      "Yeah. Come on in."
      Rien  stepped into  the  room and  looked Kera  over.  She was  a
 contrast to him, with his dark blue and silver trimmed tunic and blond
 hair. He nodded approvingly.
      "You look nice," he complimented.
      "I don't like  this," declared Kera, pulling at the  front of her
 tunic to emphasize her point.
      Rien shrugged. "You don't wear  travel clothes when you dine with
 the Baron."  He looked narrowly  at her. "Be  glad I'm not  having you
 wear a skirt." Kera shuddered at  the thought and Rien smiled faintly.
 "Now, if you're ready to go?"
      Kera sighed,  nodded, and followed  Rien out into the  hall. They
 had been given rooms in Connall Keep proper, along the outside wall so
 that their windows over-looked the main courtyard and gave a wonderful
1view  of the  forest  over the  wall. Despite  the  simplicity of  the
 furnishings, Kera found herself a little in awe of the place.
      They  turned into  the  main  hallway and  walked  down the  main
 staircase. At the  foot of the steps, Rien paused,  trying to remember
 the directions he  had been given to  get to the dining  hall. After a
 moment he  moved off to  the right. A short  walk brought them  to the
 doors that  led to the  smaller of the  Keep's two meeting  halls. Two
 guards, in the  livery of House Connall pulled the  doors open as they
 approached.
      "You look nice, too," said Kera suddenly.
      "What?"  Rien turned  his  attention from  studying the  tapestry
 decked hall to his apprentice.
      "I said  `you look  nice, too'," repeated  Kera. Her  eyes darted
 nervously to the table in the middle of the room where four people sat
 talking. The hall was  lit with many candles and a  large fire was lit
 in the hearth  behind the table and the added  illumination made their
 shadows  dance eerily.  Kera  grinned  weakly up  at  Rien who  smiled
 reassuringly.
      "Welcome to Connall  Keep," declared a tall dark  haired man from
 the head of the table. He rose and bowed slightly. "I am Baron Luthias
 Connall. This  is my  Senechal, Myrande," he  indicated a  dark haired
 woman seated to his left.
      "We  met earlier  today," said  Rien, inclining  his head  in the
 woman's direction. "A pleasure to see you again, Lady."
      Myrande smiled  at him  and Luthias continued  his introductions.
 "Ittosai Michaya, my Castellan," a  black haired man with narrow brown
 eyes to  his right, "and I  believe that you already  know Marcellon."
 The red  robed wizard smiled and  inclined his head from  his place at
 the foot of the table.
      Rien  bowed politely  and  Kera quickly,  if  a little  awkwardly
 followed his example.
      "I am Rien Keegan, and this is my apprentice, Kera."
      Kera bowed again as the senechal smiled at her.
      "Have a seat," said Luthias,  gesturing to the empty chairs, "and
 we'll start dinner."
      Rien gestured  for Kera to  sit next  to Myrande while  he seated
 himself next to Ittosai.
      After they had settled themselves, servants brought out the first
 course of dinner, a hearty soup.
      "You are  here, I understand,"  said Luthias, after  everyone had
 had a chance to begin their meal,  "seeking the cure to a disease that
 you have."
      "Yes," confirmed Rien. "We managed to contract an illness that is
 rather difficult to cure and were  directed here by a mage who thought
 that Lord Marcellon might be able to help us."
      "I'm certain that I can  help you," said Marcellon. "Besides, you
 present me with  a rare opportunity. I've never had  a chance to study
 an elf before." He smiled, taking  some of the clinicalness out of the
 statement.
      "You  mean  that  elves  aren't a  myth?"  said  Luthias  vaguely
 surprised. "I've heard the stories but..."
      "Not the last time I  checked," smiled Rien. Kera concentrated on
 her soup, hiding a smile.
      "Pardon," said Ittosai  in a strangely accented voice.  "But I am
 unfamiliar with the term. What is an `elf'?"
      "A pointy  eared human," said  Kera. Rien  shot her an  icy glare
 from across the table.
      "Except  for culture,  there  are few  other differences  between
 ljosalfar," he emphasized the name, "and humans. Your social structure
 is much more rigid than ours is," said Rien to Ittosai reluctantly. He
1disliked casually discussing his  heritage. "My apprentice is correct,
 however. Our ears are somewhat pointed." He did not offer to show them
 and no one asked.
      "Where do you come from?" Kera asked Ittosai suddenly. Everyone's
 attention shifted  abruptly back to  her and she suddenly  wished that
 she had kept her mouth shut, but she pressed on. "You don't look quite
 like anyone I've ever seen in  Dargon before. Sir." She didn't feel it
 was polite to mention his accent.
      Ittosai smiled, his dark eyes sparkling.
      "You are correct. I am not from here," he said. "I am from Bichu,
 it is an island in the ocean of Valenfaer."
      Kera's eyes widened a little as  the rumors she had heard about a
 Bichuese  invasion  gained  a  bit more  credibility  because  of  his
 presence.  A  servant appeared  at  her  elbow, distracting  her  from
 further questions.
      The soup dishes were removed and replaced with the main course, a
 roasted fowl  with vegetables  that was finer  than anything  Kera had
 ever tasted. Finer,  even, than what Liriss was  accustomed to having.
 The thought of Liriss almost ruined her appetite, so Kera concentrated
 on  the conversation  to get  the thought  of the  crime lord  and his
 assassin out of her mind.
      "What sort of business are you in, Rien?" Myrande was inquiring.
      "I am an adventurer, Lady,"  replied Rien. Kera looked sharply at
 him as he continued. "I am still young. I want to see the world before
 I settle down to a trade."
      "Ah,  the restlessness  of youth,"  said Marcellon  with a  sigh.
 Again Kera's attention  was distracted. Youth indeed!  The mage looked
 no older  than a  thirty year  old man  and Kera  knew that  Rien, who
 looked  younger than  Marcellon, was  at  least fifty,  if not  older.
 "There is  much to see  in the world,"  continued the wizard,  "and so
 little time to see it in."
      `You're telling  me,' thought  Kera ruefully, thinking  about the
 disease coursing through her veins. Time  was short and if the old man
 couldn't cure them...Kera's musings were interrupted by Myrande asking
 her: "And how did you meet Rien, Kera?"
      "By accident, my  Lady," returned Kera promptly,  and, taking her
 cue from  Rien, did some  hasty adjusting of  the facts. "He  saved my
 life in  an alley and I  offered to...keep him company  after that. It
 does  get  kind   of  lonely  adventuring  alone.   He's  teaching  me
 sword-craft so I don't end up in that sort of situation again."
      "You're a swordsman?"  Luthias asked Rien eagerly,  laying down a
 bone from dinner.
      "Yes, Lord,"  said Rien  carefully. "I have  some skill  with the
 weapon. Every adventurer should, don't you agree?"
      "Of course,"  supported Luthias immediately. "It's  a skill every
 man  should  have."  Ittosai  nodded   in  agreement.  "Would  you  be
 interested in a sparring match tomorrow?"
      "No, Luthias," said Marcellon, as  Rien cast about for a suitable
 reply. "I  don't want you  beating on my patients.  I need him  in one
 piece tomorrow."
      "There is  no honor in  taking on an opponent  who is not  at his
 best," said Ittosai quietly.
      "Perhaps some  other time,  Lord Luthias," Rien  said, graciously
 inclining his head.
      "Yes, some other time," sighed Luthias.
      Myrande also sighed and the sound almost seemed to say `men!'.
      "Lady Myrande,"  said Rien, looking  over at the woman.  "You are
 the senechal of this house. Are you a doctor as well?"
      "I am  simply helping Marcellon,"  replied Myrande with  a smile.
 "And I have some experience with mixing potions." An unreadable glance
1was exchanged between her and Luthias.
      Rien nodded and concentrated on finishing his meal.
      Again servants appeared to clear  away the plates and dessert was
 served. There was  little discussion during this last  course and what
 was said was limited to sincere compliments to the cook's skills. Kera
 was  surprised  to  learn  that  the the  dessert  confection  was  an
 imitation of a Bichuese delicacy.
      As the last dished were cleared away, Marcellon turned to Rien.
      "I would  appreciate it,  Rien, if you  and your  apprentice," he
 smiled over  at Kera,  "would stay  around the keep  for the  next few
 days. I may need you for tests at odd hours."
      "That won't  be a  problem, Lord Marcellon,"  said Rien.  "I will
 need  to go  back to  the inn,  however, to  pick up  the rest  of our
 belongings if we are going to be staying here."
      "There's no problem  with that. Now, if you will  all excuse me,"
 he pushed  his chair back.  "I'm going to  retire to my  laboratory to
 begin my research."
      Everyone rose, paid their respects  to each other, and went their
 separate ways. Kera followed Rien out of the hall.
      "Why didn't you  agree to fight Lord Luthias  after we're cured?"
 she asked as they climbed the stairs to Rien's room.
      "Other than  not being  positive about  being cured?"  said Rien.
 "It's considered bad form to beat your host in a fight."
      "Are you so sure that you'd win, then?"
      "I am  not sure, but  I have many  more years of  experience than
 he," said  Rien, opening  the door  and pulling his  cloak off  of the
 chair he had tossed it on. "The odds are in my favor to win."
      "Just how old are you?" asked  Kera curiously as Rien swirled the
 cloak around his shoulders.
      "Wouldn't you like to know," said Rien. Kera glared at him. "I am
 going for a walk.  I will be back later this evening.  You stay out of
 trouble, understand?"
      "Of course  I'll stay  out of  trouble," Kera  replied, offended.
 "Where are you going?"
      "For a walk. I will be back soon."
      "Where? We're in the middle of a forest!"
      "Precisely."
      And Rien  walked back into  the hall  and down the  corridor with
 Kera trailing after him, muttering unkind phrases at his back.

      The following morning  Rien went directly north  from the Connall
 Keep,  wanting to  enter Dargon  from a  point where  he would  not be
 particularly noticeable.  After over two  hours of travel  through the
 forest he  reached the ocean, about  ten leagues west of  the city. He
 turned east, the horse slowly  trudging through loose sand which began
 a few feet past the edge of  the forest, creating a few yards of beach
 before being swallowed by the sea.
      The horse  slowed its pace on  the new terrain and  Rien relaxed,
 enjoying the ride and the crisp ocean  air. To one side, as far as the
 eye could see,  a broad leaf forest slowly turned  into evergreens and
 on  the other  side the  ocean ran  off into  the distance,  somewhere
 meeting with the horizon and becoming one with the sky.
      After  another hour  of  gentle riding,  the  forest thined  out,
 giving way to  cultivated fields and harder, open  ground. Rien guided
 the horse off the sand and nudged  it into a trot, towards the line of
 buildings visible a  league or so ahead. By the  time he reached town,
 the  red  disk  of the  sun  was  hanging  low  over the  ocean.  Rien
 dismounted, leading  his horse up  to the  pier, deciding to  walk the
 rest of the way, both so he could watch the sunset and give darkness a
 chance to cover the city.
1     Daily  life on  the docks  was coming  to a  stand still  and the
 transition to the  night-life was beginning. Loading  conducted on the
 few ships currently in port had been halted long before sunset and now
 crews  were lighting  lanterns  to illuminate  the  decks before  they
 retired to the ale-houses for the night.
      Rien paused at the pier that Kera showed him a few days before. A
 ship was now docked at it and  a lone guard patrolled on deck. Leaving
 his horse, Rien  came closer to examine the vessel.  It wasn't a small
 craft.  A good  sixty feet  long, but  nothing to  compare to  the one
 hundred foot giant  about a league back. Rien circled  forward to read
 the  ship's name,  out of  curiosity.  Large red  letters spelled  out
 _Ocean_Lady_ across the bow. Nothing  unusual about that, despite what
 he knew about the owner of the ship. He was about to turn back when he
 heard a commotion from beneath the  pier, followed by a splash. Noting
 that the guard was now on the far side of the ship, Rien went down the
 stairs beneath the pier.
      Two men  with swords  stood with  their backs  to him,  facing an
 unarmed young woman. From their  stances it wasn't difficult to deduce
 that they  meant nothing good  for her. Rien  was about to  rush them,
 when he noticed a third man getting  up in front of him. The other two
 were backing  the girl into deeper  water. Not giving the  situation a
 second thought, Rien kicked the man getting up and, drawing his sword,
 advanced after the other two.
      One of the men turned to  the sound of his companion falling back
 into the  water and decided to  change the subject of  his attack. His
 swing was parried by Rien and  the man's companion became aware of the
 new opponent as  the sound of their swords  clashing echoed underneath
 the pier. The girl,  now waist deep in the water  and no longer facing
 an armed opponent, stopped backing into the ocean.
      Rien parried two more swings, before  trying to disarm one of his
 opponents. The  swords met with a  loud clank, locking together  for a
 moment. In the dim light the soldier observed Rien's eyes change color
 and involuntarily took half a step  back. Rien took the opportunity to
 groin him and shove him into the water. So much for chivalry.
      Ducking the swing  of the other man, who was  finally able to get
 close enough  to engage  him, Rien  made a half  turn and  swung back,
 catching his opponent on the arm. The man's sword went flying into the
 water with a  dull splash, next to the girl.  She hesitated, wondering
 whether or not to pick it up, then deciding against it, ran out of the
 water past the two fighting men.
      Rien's opponent produced a stiletto to continue his fight, but it
 was knocked from his grasp with  a quick slash from Rien's blade. With
 another swing Rien finished the man and turned back to the one who was
 again raising  himself from the  water. A quick, deadly  thrust caught
 him in the chest and the man submerged one more time.
      Rien waited patiently, knee deep  in the rising water. Neither of
 the men rose again. The first one, the one Rien kicked, was lying face
 down in  the water, not far  from the shore line.  Rien resheathed his
 blade, ready to leave, when another man appeared on the stairs. He was
 wearing chain mail and carried his  sword in hand. Rien recognized him
 as the guard from the _Ocean_Lady_.
      The guard  looked around, spotting  Rien and the body  in shallow
 water. "You! Who are you?"
      Rien backed up to one of the  rocks sticking out of the water and
 climbed up. The  guard entered the water, sword at  the ready and Rien
 stood up.
      "I asked you a question!" the guard barked.
      Rien remained  silent, attempting to  lure the guard  deeper into
 the water. In spite of chain mail  not being excellent armor, it was a
 lot more  than what Rien  had to depend  on and some  compensation was
1needed. As  soon as the guard  waded into hip deep  water, the padding
 under his armor  started absorbing water. Rien jumped  one stone back,
 out of the guard's reach and drew his sword again.
      Seeing that his armor was weighing  him down, the guard was about
 to retreat, but  Rien's drawing of his sword was  an open challenge he
 could not turn his back on.  He proceeded further into the water after
 Rien, taking a swing when he was close enough.
      Rien parried and swung at  the guard's torso, changing his attack
 at the last moment. The guard tried to parry the attack, but the feint
 caught him  off guard  and Rien's  sword impacted at  the base  of his
 neck, cutting half way through the  chain and flesh. The guard dropped
 his sword  and spasmodically grabbed  at Rien, missing his  target and
 sinking into the  water. Rien stayed perched on the  rock. It was dark
 now and  only the  splashing of  the waves  disturbed the  night. Four
 people killed to save a girl from...what?
      Rien tried to reconstruct the scene  in which he entered. Back on
 the pier he had heard a commotion  and a splash. The girl had probably
 attempted to escape and in the process of doing so, knocked one of the
 men to the  ground. By the time  Rien made it down, the  two other men
 had the girl cornered. It all made sense, except for who the girl was.
 Her amber eyes reminded  him of someone he once met,  but he could not
 place the  person or  the event.  And why was  she here?  Perhaps Kera
 would be able  to identify the girl and her  conflict with Liriss, but
 that would have to be solved at a later time.
      With two leaps Rien made it to the first of the stone pillars and
 jumped off into the  water to return to the pier.  The only thing that
 could happen here now would be for someone to find the bodies and Rien
 did not want to wait around for  that. He returned to the pier only to
 find that someone had appropriated  his horse. He wasn't too concerned
 about the  loss of the animal  itself, but the loss  of transportation
 annoyed him  greatly. It  upset Rien  enough to want  to rough  up the
 first person in sight,  but luckily no one was around  and by the time
 Rien finally saw  a person wandering the streets,  he was sufficiently
 cooled off.
      It took him three times longer than  it should have to get to the
 inn, but he  finally arrived, with his temper more  or less intact. At
 the inn, as he  made his way to the stairs, the inn  keeper came up to
 him. "Sir, a woman stopped by  yesterday evening asking about you. She
 didn't want to  leave a message, but  I thought I'd mention  it to you
 anyway."
      "A woman?" Rien asked, wondering who in the world it could be. He
 knew few people in Dargon and to his recollection, an old woman wasn't
 one of his acquaintances.
      "An elderly  lady, on the  plump side,  with grey hair,"  the man
 answered.
      "She didn't say what she wanted?"
      "No, sir. Just asked if you were in and then left."
      "Thank you for letting me know," Rien said. He dug into his purse
 and produced  a few coins.  "See if  you can find  me a good  horse by
 tomorrow   morning.  I   am  willing   to  pay   for  promptness   and
 inconvenience."
      Promising he'd try,  the inn keeper returned to  his place behind
 the bar and Rien  went up to his room. He took out  the key and put it
 in the lock. He met resistance when  he tried to turn it. He applied a
 little more pressure but neither the key nor the door budged.
      Removing the  key, Rien examined it  and the lock. For  the first
 time in a  week there was a  problem with the door.  He reinserted the
 key and  forced it about  in the lock  before turning it.  The locking
 mechanism clicked and he pushed the door open.
      The first thing that caught Rien's eye when he lit a candle was a
1crescent,  sloppily drawn  in red  on  the opposite  wall. He  glanced
 around  the  room,  but  nothing  else appeared  out  of  order.  Rien
 approached the  wall to get  a closer look  at the design.  The symbol
 seemed to be painted  in blood. He went back to  the corridor, to call
 in the maid  who had been lighting candles while  he was fumbling with
 the lock, but  she was no longer  there. Rien looked both  ways in the
 corridor, then turned back to the  room. To his surprise, the wall was
 clean. Closing the  door, Rien approached the wall  again and examined
 it closely. There was no trace of anything ever having been spilled or
 written there.
      Rien sat down  on the bed, wondering exactly what  he saw...or as
 it stood,  what he thought he  saw. Footsteps behind him  alerted Rien
 that he was not alone and he looked quickly over his shoulder, but the
 room was empty. Somewhat shaken by the apparent failure of his senses,
 Rien blew out the candle and sat down in the middle of the bed, trying
 to free his mind  from all that seemed to be  cluttering it, but found
 he was unable to concentrate.
      Rien opened  his eyes. The candle  was still burning, but  by the
 time he made  it over to the  table, the room was once  again dark. He
 sat on  the edge  of the  bed, wondering what  could have  caused this
 madness.  Madness...was  lycanthropy  finally taking  its  toll?  Rien
 looked at his hands. They were covered with short grey fur. "No..." He
 dropped back onto the bed, ignoring the phantoms around him and forced
 his mind to go blank. The world descended into darkness.

      It  was nearly  midnight when  Myrande made  her final  rounds of
 Connall Keep. Luthias had long since  retired, but Myrande felt it was
 her duty to  see that everything was settled for  the night before she
 sought her bed.
      Ordinarily there  was nothing that  needed her attention  at this
 late hour,  so when she entered  the minor dining hall  seeing a small
 figure seated on a  bench in front of the banked  fire was a surprise.
 As she advanced further into the room, the figure resolved itself into
 the young  woman who  was guesting in  the Keep with  the man  who had
 sought Marcellon.
      Myrande moved  around the  dining table,  her soft  leather shoes
 making almost no  sound against the well worn stone  floor. She sat on
 the edge of the  bench, on the side opposite of  Kera, before the girl
 realized that Myrande was there.
      Kera's reaction to  what seemed to be the sudden  appearance of a
 stranger was to  make a grab for  her dagger. It took her  a second to
 realize that Myrande  was not a threat. Silently  she berated herself.
 Myrande should not have been able to  sneak up on her like that. Being
 with Rien so much must be causing her to lose her edge.
      "I'm  sorry, my  Lady,"  she mumbled,  releasing  the dagger.  "I
 didn't realize that it was you."
      "It's all  right," said Myrande  softly. She paused for  a moment
 then said, "it's late. I would have expected you to be asleep by now."
      Kera shrugged  noncommittally, staring into the  dying fire. "I'm
 not really tired," she said.
      Myrande waited patiently.
      "He's  not  back  yet,"  said  Kera  abruptly,  turning  to  face
 Connall's senechal. "It's almost midnight. He should have been back by
 now and I'm afraid that something's happened to him."
      "Rien?"
      Kera nodded. Fear lurked in the  back of her dark grey eyes. Fear
 that Liriss, or one  of his men, or the assassin  had gotten him. Fear
 that the  disease had taken  an unexpected turn  in him. Fear  that he
 might simply have left her.
      Myrande slid further down the bench to sit next to her.
1     "You're very  worried about  him, aren't  you," she  said gently.
 Kera nodded again. "Have you known him long?"
      "Not very  long," replied Kera. "But...he's  different. Different
 from all of  the other men that I know."  Myrande smiled knowingly and
 allowed her to keep talking. "He's  the only person who's ever treated
 me like a  human being and I  never really gave him much  reason to. I
 haven't known him  for very long, but I think  he's pretty special and
 yes, I  am worried." Her  gaze challenged  Myrande to laugh  or refute
 anything that she had said.
      Instead  of  ridiculing her,  the  dark  haired woman  nodded  in
 understanding and smiled.
      "I   do   understand.  I   feel   pretty   much  the   same   way
 about...someone, too." she said softly.
      "What if  something happened  to him,"  cried Kera,  sudden tears
 coursing down her  cheeks. "He could be  dead in some alley  for all I
 know or the  disease could have..." she choked on  expressing the last
 thought.
      Myrande wrapped her arms around  Kera's shoulders and let her cry
 herself out. They talked a little, after that, about love and life and
 death, then Myrande led Kera back  up to her assigned room, reassuring
 her that if Rien wasn't back by  morning, a search party would be sent
 out.
      She retired to her own room, hoping that he would make it back by
 the next day. There were enough problems right now, without adding yet
 another one to the list.
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
1                      Be Careful What You Wish For...
                              by Bill Erdley
                        <b.c.k.a. berdley@bucknell>

      All I was supposed to do was feed the horses.
      It was my turn to do the  barnwork chores. Telia smirked at me as
 I got  up from the  breakfast table. Last week  she had done  the barn
 work; this week  she was helping Mother with the  house chores. It was
 cold and wet outside; it had been snowing all night, and that made the
 upcoming trip to the barn look even  worse. I don't think I would have
 minded so  much if she wouldn't  have made a face  at me as I  took my
 cape from the hook. She stuck her tongue out at me, and I replied with
 the same.  As usual, I was  the one who  was caught by my  father, who
 clouted me  in the head and  yelled and promised more  punishment if I
 didn't tend to my  chores "right this minute." As I  made a hasty exit
 from the house  into the cold morning air, I  vowed that someday, very
 soon, she'd get what was she had coming to her.

                  Just because she's seen five summers less
           than my fifteen, Mother and Father treat her like a
           queen and me like a slave.  It's not fair.

      The snow that  had fallen the night before had  mixed with enough
 rain to make the ground a slushy, sloppy mess. It was too warm for the
 snow to  stay frozen for long,  and between the snow,  the puddles and
 the mud, my feet felt frozen by the time I reached the barn.

                  One of these days, when no one else is
           around, I'll get her good.

      I grabbed the old, wooden  pitchfork and started cleaning the one
 empty stall in the barn. Father still hadn't replaced the gelding that
 had broken  it's foreleg in the  fields last year, but  I didn't care.
 With an  empty stall  to move horses  into, I didn't  have to  clean a
 stall that was occupied by a huge, smelly beast.

                  I should take some of these horse cookies
           and put them in Telia's bed.  That'd get her.

      As I pushed the first stall's waste out the barn's back door into
 the pit, I thought I saw a couple  of horses at the edge of the woods.
 They were probably neighbors headed to our house, to talk to Father or
 to invite themselves  in for some of Ma's elderberry  pie. I went back
 into the barn and closed the door.

                  They'll stop and I'll have to take care of
           their horses.  They'll be all wet and need to be
           brushed down and bedded in the empty stall.  I'll
           smell like a horse for days.

      I transferred Steos,  our stallion, into the bare  stall. I began
 to clean  the now empty stall,  moving as fast  as I could, so  that I
 could be  done before  those stupid  neighbors arrived.  Several field
 mice, who  probably came in to  get out of the  rain, scurried quickly
 away when  I disturbed their home  in the straw. I  finished the stall
 quickly, and pushed  the refuse to the  back door of the  barn. When I
 opened the  door, I could see  that the horses were  closer, and more!
 There weren't a couple of horses;  there were at least twenty or more!
 I stood there  and watched for a  moment, but they were  still too far
 away to  see anything, so  I pushed the dirty  straw into the  pit and
1went back into the barn. There  had been rumors of war spreading among
 the farmers  in the  area, but Father  always answered  the neighbors'
 fearful musings with "There ain't  nothin' here worth fightin' for, so
 calm yourselves."
      I moved the old mare, Yonda,  into the clean stall and moved Seh,
 the other mare, out  of her stall. I put a halter  on her and tethered
 her to a barn post. Now I could clean both stalls at the same time. If
 Father came  out and  saw the  mare out of  her stall,  I would  get a
 whipping, but I hoped that the weather  would keep him in the house. I
 desperately wanted to get the stalls cleaned and the horses fed before
 the men and the horses got here.

                  Maybe they are soldiers heading for a
           battle, dressed in armor and carrying huge swords
           and crossbows and pikes.  Maybe they will stay the
           night, and tell us stories of storming castles and
           skirmish lines.  That way I won't have to sit and
           listen to Telia practice on her stupid harp.  She
           sounds like a wounded cat when she sings, and her
           harp playing is horrible.  She'll never become a
           bard like Mother and Father say she will.

      When I was pushing the last of  the dirty straw to the back door,
 I  thought I  heard  the sound  of horses.  The  travellers must  have
 arrived more  quickly than  I had  hoped. I kicked  open the  door and
 pushed the straw out toward the pit.  As the manure fell into the open
 hole, I  saw the knight for  the first time.  I knew he was  a knight,
 dressed in his magnificent armor. His  shield hung from the saddle, as
 did his  sword and scabbard. A  second horse held a  smaller man, also
 armored, but  by his face  I could tell that  he was younger.  A third
 horse  was ridden  by an  ugly man,  who had  thick black  hair and  a
 scowling face. The rest of the  horses were still a good distance from
 the barn. My eyes were drawn back to the knight.

                  A real knight!

      Father used  to tell us  stories about knights. Telia  didn't pay
 much attention, but I did. Father  used to say how knights were chosen
 by the king to defend him and  his people against evil wherever it was
 found. He  said that knights were  the greatest fighters in  the land;
 that they fought with flashing swords  and shining armor, and that the
 best knights were chosen to defend the king himself!

                  I want to run up and beg to see his sword
           and his armor and plead with him to tell stories,
           but that wouldn't be polite.  Oh, admit it, you're
           scared of him...

      The young man  saw me first, turned toward the  knight and spoke.
 The knight immediately  looked in my direction and,  raising his hand,
 brought the  men to  a stop. Then  he and the  young man  turned their
 horses and rode toward me.
      "Boy," the  knight spoke  as he  reigned his horse  to a  stop in
 front of me, "I would speak to your father. Take me to him."
      His voice rang with authority. It  almost felt like his voice had
 the power to control my very actions. It was thick with an accent that
 I had never heard before. I  found myself leading his horse around the
 barn by the bridle, followed by the younger man. I turned to look back
 at the  knight, and saw  him sitting  straight in his  saddle, looking
 directly forward. The youth was looking around, as if he were watching
1for something to jump out from behind every tree and building. I don't
 know what he expected to find, since our closest neighbors were a long
 ways off, and Mother, Father, and Telia were all in the house.
      I held the  horse's halter while the  knight dismounted, assisted
 by the youth  that I finally realized must be  his squire. Father said
 that squires were knights-in-training and that  they had to do all the
 chores for  the knight and  that I could never  be a squire  because I
 hated  chores  so much.  The  squire  helped straighten  the  knight's
 tabbard once the knight was on the ground, then accompanied him to the
 door of  the house .  The knight turned  before he knocked  and looked
 right at me:
      "You had better return to your  chores, son. I wouldn't want your
 Father to be angry with me for taking you away from them."
      I turned and ran back toward the barn. I don't know why I ran; it
 was as if  my legs just decided  that they had seen  enough and really
 wanted to get away from there. I looked back before entering the barn,
 the knight had already gone into the  house. I stood there at the barn
 door, looking toward the house, straining to hear what was being said.

                  The house is too far way for you to hear
           anything, you dummy!  Besides, he's a knight.  What
           use would he have for you?  You can't even talk!

      When you live way out here,  away from other people, it's easy to
 forget that you're not like other  people. Mother and Father and Telia
 are used to  seeing what I wanted  to say in my gestures.  When I made
 the trip into town with Father  a while back, people laughed when they
 realized that I couldn't talk. They acted  like I was a dunce and made
 fun of me. So I just don't go into town anymore.

                  They wouldn't dare laugh if I was a knight.
           They would stand and admire my armor and my sword
           and my horse.  It wouldn't matter that I couldn't
           talk.  I could just imagine myself on the knight's
           horse, riding into battle beside my squire and
           fighting the enemy, swords flashing and armor
           shining in the sun.  The battlefield would be
           filled with the shouts of victory as we fought our
           way from one end to the other, dispatching our foes
           with ease.  Other knights and their squires would
           be fighting, too; and soon all of the enemy would
           be gone and we would triumphantly ride into the
           city, to the cheers and admiration of all of the
           people...

      "Derrio, come here! Now!" My Father stood at the door and shouted
 at me.

                  Great.  There's a knight in the house and my
           Father is standing outside the door and yelling at
           me like a little child!

      I  ran back  across the  yard, thinking  that perhaps  the knight
 needed something and that I was to run and get it for him.
      "Derrio, go  out to the barn  and move the horses  into the lower
 pen. Then make sure that each  stall is bedded with fresh straw. After
 you've done that, make sure that the loft ladder is up so that the men
 in there can use the loft to rest. Go!"

                  Boy, does he look scared!  Why is he so
1          afraid of the knight?

      Seeing the fear  in his face made  me run all the  faster back to
 the barn. I can't remember ever seeing  his eyes so big or hearing his
 voice shake so much. That knight  must have said something that really
 frightened him. I wonder what he said...

                  Maybe he needs another squire.  Maybe he
           just told Father that he is going to take me along
           with him and that Father would have to manage the
           farm on his own.

      I heard  men inside the  barn even before  I managed to  open the
 door. I guessed  that they must be  the men that I saw  far behind the
 knight, near the woods. I couldn't  hear what they were saying, but it
 didn't matter. All of  a sudden I was scared; I  mean REALLY scared. I
 couldn't figure out  why, but I knew  that I didn't really  want to be
 anywhere near them. Father's orders were clear, though, so I knew that
 I had to go in,  no matter what I wanted to do or how  I felt. So in I
 went...
      The men  were scattered all  over the  barn and many  had already
 taken to the loft. Most of them  were busy taking off their armor, but
 there were  several by each  door and a  couple were in  Steos' stall,
 checking him  over like I  had seen Father do  when the horse  threw a
 shoe. The  two by the front  door watched me  as I went past  them and
 headed for the stalls. I quickly untied  Seh from where I had left her
 tethered, then opened  Yonda's stall and led her out.  I grabbed Seh's
 halter as I  passed her and led  them both toward the  front door. The
 men that were there opened the door  for me without saying a word, and
 soon I had  both of the horses  in the lower corral. I  turned and was
 surprised to  see two other  men leading Steos  out of the  barn. They
 turned to come toward me, but  I pointed toward the upper pen. Putting
 the  stallion in  with the  mares was  just asking  for trouble,  so I
 decided to put Steos in the other  pen. As I closed the gate, I nodded
 to the men in thanks, but they ignored me and went back into the barn.

                  Rude.  And mean-looking.  These men give me
           the creeps.  Boy, I wish Telia were out here doing
           this instead of me.  These guys would scare her
           silly.  That would serve her right for making fun
           of me this morning at breakfast.

      I re-entered the barn and headed for the loft ladder. I still had
 to throw straw into the stalls, so  I grabbed the pitchfork on my way.
 It  wasn't until  I was  heaving straw  into the  empty stalls  that I
 realized how  much these men  stank! They were  all in the  process of
 removing their  armor, and with each  piece that came off,  the stench
 got worse. I never thought that men could smell worse than horses, but
 these men...
      "Derrio, Mother and Father want you  to hurry an' get done so you
 can come  into the house." Telia's  voice seemed a little  higher than
 usual, like she was scared.

                  Good.

      "And Father said to make sure that you put Steos in the upper pen
 and not in the lower pen with Seh and Yonda or they'll be fighting all
 day."

                  Great.  Now he'll think that I put Steos in
1          the upper stall because he told me to instead of
           remembering it myself.  Why doesn't he ever let me
           do things myself?!

      I heard several  of the men start  to laugh and one  of them said
 something about "having some fun with the young lady."

                  Tickle her.  She hates that.  Oh, if these
           smelly, ugly men start tickling her...

      Telia screamed.

                  I may not like my sister very much
           sometimes, and I've made her scream myself plenty
           of times; but I can tell the difference between an
           "I don't like this" scream of displeasure and a
           scream of sheer terror.

      I ran to the  edge of the loft and saw several  of the men around
 her,  and one  was reaching  under her  skirt! She  was screaming  and
 trying to get away, but two other men were holding her down.

                  Hey!  What are you doing!?  Leave her alone!

      I ran for the loft ladder. I  still had the pitchfork in my hand,
 so I couldn't  climb down very fast.  I jumped the last  few rungs and
 ran toward  the men. I  heard one  of the men  still in the  loft yell
 something, but I was too busy running and hoping I could get my sister
 out of there before they could catch me. I turned the pitchfork around
 so that the prongs curved up; that  way it wouldn't stick the man that
 I hit. I ran right toward the  kneeling man, looking right at the back
 of his head.

                  You will be first.

      When I swung, he moved forward slightly, so that I hit him in the
 back instead of in the head.  He groaned and slumped sideways, falling
 into another of the kneeling men.  I raised the fork and turned toward
 another man. Suddenly the fork was torn  out of my hands. The ugly man
 that I  had seen  riding the horse  earlier had run  up beside  me and
 grabbed  it. He  clouted me  in the  head with  his fist  and sent  me
 sprawling.
      Telia screamed harder.

                  Telia!

      I tried to get  up but the ugly man swung the fork  at me and hit
 me in the legs. Both legs buckled and felt like they were on fire.
      A man knelt over Telia and yelled at her, shaking his fist.

                  Telia, get out of here!

      I  rolled over  but I  couldn't stand  because my  right leg  had
 cramped. The ugly man swung the fork again and hit me in the back.
      The man hit Telia across the face with his hand.

                  Leave her alone, you bastard!!

      I was trying to crawl backwards, but I found that I was against a
 stall and I couldn't go anywhere.
1     The  man hit  Telia  again,  harder this  time,  and she  stopped
 screaming.

                  Come on, Telia, fight!  FIGHT AND SCREAM!!!

      The ugly man raised the fork  again, then a hand came from behind
 him and grabbed it. He looked  and saw another man, in horribly dented
 and tarnished armor, take the fork away  from the ugly man and hit him
 once  with it,  hard. The  ugly  man fell  to the  floor groaning  and
 holding his head. The armored man turned toward me, but I couldn't see
 his face  because of  his helm.  He dropped the  fork toward  me, then
 turned and ran toward Telia.
      The barn door  flew open and the Knight came  in, sword drawn. As
 soon as  he saw the  men around Telia, he  sheathed his sword  and ran
 toward them.  The armor-clad man who  had saved me from  a beating ran
 towards Telia also,  and got there first. One of  the kneeling men saw
 the Knight coming and tried to stand, but the man that saved me kicked
 him away from Telia while he swung his sword at the man who had hit my
 sister.
      The  knight  roared  something  in a  language  that  I  couldn't
 understand. All of the men, including  the one that helped me, stopped
 instantly.
      I wanted to get back to my  feet, to run over and help Telia, but
 my legs still  felt numb and didn't  seem to want to do  what I wanted
 them to do.

                  Come on, legs.  I've got to get to Telia!

      I finally managed to get back to my feet, and I staggered over to
 where Telia  lay. The armored  man pushed the  dead man off  Telia and
 knelt beside her, but I managed to squeeze past him.
      Her head was twisted all wrong!
      She was lying on her back. Her skirt had been torn away and there
 was blood all  over her legs and  on the ground. The  armored man slid
 his hand over her face, then stood back and I knelt beside her.
      "I'm sorry, kid," the man said as I lifted her head into my lap.

                  You're sorry?!  YOU'RE sorry!  They've
           killed her!  She's dead and they've killed her!
           Kill them all!  KILL THEM ALL!  I'm sorry, Telia.
           I didn't mean it.  I didn't want them to hurt you.
           I didn't want this to happen.  Why did you come in
           here?  Why?  Why did Father have to send you out
           here?  It's not fair.  Damn them ALL!  I didn't
           really want you to get hurt.  I wished for it but I
           didn't mean it.  WHY DID I WISH FOR IT AT ALL?!?
           IT'S ALL MY FAULT!!

      I  knelt there  and cried,  not knowing  or caring  what went  on
 around me. Nothing else mattered except  the fact that I had, somehow,
 caused my sister's death  by the stupid wishes that I  had made. I was
 finally drawn  from my self-pity  by a hand  on my shoulder.  I looked
 around and saw my Father kneeling beside me.
      "Derrio, I will take her into the house." That was all he said. I
 could tell that he was almost crying  himself, and for once I was glad
 that I  couldn't speak; it  saved me from  having to say  something to
 him. I  rose and  removed my  cloak, draping it  over Telia's  body as
 Father picked her up.  He walked to the door, then  out into the yard,
 but I couldn't follow.

1                 How can I face them?  It was what I said;
           those things that I wished for caused Telia to die.
           I never wanted her to get hurt.  I didn't want her
           to die.  I was angry and I thought some mean things
           and I wanted for revenge.  Now she's dead and I'm
           to blame.  And they will know; Mother and Father
           will know the minute that they look at me.  They
           can always tell my thoughts, even when I try to
           hide them.  They will take one look at my face and
           they will know.  How can I face them?  What am I
           going to do?....

      Many different thoughts ran through  my head as I wandered around
 aimlessly in the strangely deserted barn.

                  I could run out the back of the barn and
           into the woods and as far away from here as I can
           go..., but where would I go?  I could jump off of
           the loft or out of the upper window..., but Mother
           and Father have already lost one child today.

      My mind ran  wild with possibilities, each too scary  or noo hard
 or too stupid to  consider. At the end of it all,  I realized that the
 only thing that I could do was to go and confront them; tell them that
 it was my fault.

                  They will hate me.  Mother will scream and
           cry and Father will stand there and quietly tell me
           to leave and never come back.

      As I  walked toward the door,  one of the knight's  men came back
 into the barn. He  ran past me without looking at me  at all, and went
 directly to the ladder. I stepped  through the door and headed for the
 house. It  was then  that I saw  the knight and  the armored  man that
 saved me.  They were standing in  the yard, swords drawn,  facing each
 other.

                  They are going to fight each other!

      I stopped dead in my tracks. They  were the two that had tried to
 save Telia. Now they were going to fight!? It didn't make sense.
      I heard  the loft  door open and  I looked up.  The man  that had
 passed me must have opened it,  but I couldn't see him, standing where
 I was almost  directly beneath the door. I stepped  back into the barn
 and walked into the first stall so  I could see him. He appeared to be
 bending over, tugging  at something. He turned back  toward the window
 and I saw that he held a crossbow!

                  He meant to shoot someone!  The knight!!  Or
           the other one!  Damn this stupid tongue!  How can I
           warn them?  If I try to run out there I'll be too
           late!

      I saw  the pitchfork lying near  the stall where the  armored man
 had dropped  it. I  ran and grabbed  it, then ran  for the  door. Once
 outside, I saw  the two fighting. They couldn't know  about the man in
 the loft. I  turned and hit the  barn with the fork,  again and again.
 When  I finally  stopped to  look, the  armored man  was lowering  his
 shield, which now  had a crossbow bolt imbedded in  it! The knight was
 pointing to the barn and shouting. Several men came running toward the
1barn. I stepped out  of the way, hoping that they  were coming for the
 man in the loft and not for me.  I was right, for they ran past me and
 into the barn. Very soon they  emerged, dragging the man from the loft
 with them.  They took him to  the knight, who slapped  the man's face,
 spoke to  him, then waved his  hand in dismissal. The  crossbowman was
 dragged to  one side and  thrown to  the ground, his  captors standing
 beside him. He didn't even try to get up.
      The knight  and the  other man resumed  their fighting.  I didn't
 understand why they were fighting, but  I knew that they were serious.
 Several times I saw the second man falter, but he recovered each time.
 Then I saw the knight almost fall in the mud, but he recovered, too.
      I  was so  enthralled  by the  battle that  I  almost missed  the
 movement out of  the corner of my  eye. Looking past the  house, I saw
 something moving just inside the  forest's edge. When I looked harder,
 I saw that there were men all  along the forest border. Several men on
 horseback emerged and  galloped toward the house. I had  tried to warn
 the two armored men, but several of  the other men grabbed me and held
 me back. I tried  to tell the other men, but  they were too interested
 in the fight before them.
      Then again, so was I.
      I turned back  toward the fighting men and saw  that they were no
 longer fighting. Much to my amazement, it was the man in the tarnished
 armor that was  standing over the knight, who was  kneeling on a muddy
 patch of ground. The knight held  out his sword to the mysterious man,
 who  shook his  head. The  knight stood  and removed  his helm  as his
 opponent removed his  own. I had gotten close enough  to hear what was
 being said...
      "... You promised  me that, should I conquer. I  have. You are an
 honorable man, and you will keep your word."
      I looked for the first time at the speaker, the man who had saved
 me. His face was drawn and haggard  and his hair was disheveled by the
 helm; he was  almost as sorry a  sight as the tarnished  armor that he
 wore. The voice, however, was strong  and rich; like the knight's -- a
 voice of authority.
      "I have  what I  want. I  won't kill  an honorable  enemy without
 need, sir. Return to your home."
      The knight stared at the man who had just defeated him and spoke:
      "Whoever your  teacher was, he  trained you  well in the  ways of
 fighting; and in  the Knightly Code. Would to God  we weren't enemies,
 Luthias Connall;  this day, you  would have your Knighthood  from me."
 The knight offered his hand to the man named "Luthias Connall."
      Luthias' smile grew,  and content calm flooded his  eyes. "I have
 never  been so  honored,  Sir Lawrence,"  he said,  and  he shook  the
 Knight's hand.
      "I  believe, Sir  Lawrence, that  I can  fulfill that  office." A
 mighty voice  boomed from behind me.  I turned to see  ANOTHER knight,
 who was  dismounting from his  horse. He  was accompanied by  an older
 man, much too old to be a squire, climbing down from a horse as well.
      "Honor given by  an enemy is a high compliment,  one that Luthias
 has well earned. Count Connall, kneel."

                  A COUNT!!  Knights and Counts?!  What is
           going on here?

      Count  Connall knelt  in the  mud, and  the knight  who had  just
 arrived walked over to him, drew his sword, and spoke:
      "I, Edward Sothos...."
      Luthias lunged forward  and grabbed the speaking  man's arm. "Sir
 Edward, you can't!  You know what I need!" There  was a desperate look
 in Luthias'  eyes, one  which I  have seen in  the eyes  of frightened
1animals. There was so much going on here that I didn't understand.
      "You no longer need it." The older man, who now walked past me to
 stand near Sir Edward, spoke for the first time. His voice is strange;
 soft and soothing, yet there is something about it that was out of the
 ordinary. I couldn't  quite figure out what it was.  "The drink I gave
 you... I cured you. By accident, I cured you."
      The look  on Luthias'  face changed  to a  look of  confusion. "I
 don't believe it."
      "How long since the last time, then?" The older man, who wore red
 robes, was smiling.
      Luthias' face changed.  He eyes went blank for a  moment, like he
 was trying to  remember something. Then his eyes slowly  widened and a
 smile took over his face.
      The knight named Sothos began once  again, as if taking the smile
 on Luthias' face as a cue.  "I, Edward Sothos, Knight of Baranur, have
 been  called upon  to convey  upon Luthias  of Connall  the office  of
 Knighthood..."

                  A Knighting Ceremony!!  This is a real
           knighting ceremony, just like father described!

      "Who asks this charge for him?"
      The red-robed  man started to  speak, but the other  knight spoke
 first.
      "I so ask." This seemed to surprise Luthias.
      "You know him worthy?" Sir Edward asked.
      "I so know."
      "So  be it.  I, Edward  Sothos,  Knight of  Baranur, charge  you,
 Luthias of Connall, to take up the office of Knighthood. Do you accept
 the charge, with all its honors and obligations?"
      "I so accept," Luthias answered,  his voice now stronger and more
 confident.
      "Do you  vow to protect and  serve your homeland, your  lady, and
 your King?"
      "I so vow."
      "Do you vow to  be in and above all things,  a Knight, a follower
 of Chivalry and Honor?"
      "I so vow."
      "How do you so vow?"
      "Upon my honor, my sword, and my life."
      "Then I, Edward Sothos, Knight of Baranur, with this silver chain
 do  convey upon  you, Luthias  of  Connall, that  office." Sir  Edward
 turned toward  the older man,  who mumbled something, then  handed the
 knight a  silver chain. Edward  turned back toward Luthias  and draped
 the chain  across Luthias' shoulders.  He then slapped Luthias  on the
 cheek with  the flat of his  sword. "Let that be  your last unrequited
 blow." Sheathing his sword, Sir Edward  spoke loudly, for all to hear.
 "Rise, Sir Luthias, Count Connall."
      Sir Luthias began laughing as he got to his feet.
      In a quieter voice, Sir Edward said "I am proud of you."

                  Strange.  I know that there are enemies
           here, but at this moment, I can't tell who is
           friend and who is foe.

      Sir Luthias  turned toward the  knight that he had  been fighting
 only moments  before. "Return  now, Sir Lawrence.  You will  have safe
 passage out of the country. You have my word, as a Knight."
      Sir Lawrence grinned. "Thank you, Sir Luthias. May you and I live
 to laugh about this someday."
1     "I'll treat you to a drink," Sir Luthias said.
      "I drink to you now," Sir Lawrence answered, taking a silver horn
 from his  belt. Without  putting anything  into it,  he raised  it and
 pretended to drink. When he was finished,  he held the horn out to Sir
 Luthias, who repeated the action.

                  I wonder what is meant by this ritual; or
           even if it is a ritual?

      "Thank  you," Sir  Luthias said,  handing  the horn  back to  Sir
 Lawrence.  He hesitated,  then held  out  his sword  to Sir  Lawrence.
 "Again, thank you."
      Sir Lawrence took it from him. "This  sword was given to me by my
 master  when I  was made  a Knight.  Today I  took the  place of  your
 master; today you became a Knight."  He held out the sword to Luthias.
 "I have had no student more worthy than you."
      "I am deeply honored." Luthias  took the sword from Lawrence once
 again.
      Sir Lawrence bowed to the other two knights and the old man, then
 turned to the main group of men that had come with him. "Let us ride!"
 Lawrence's squire brought  the knight his horse.  Sir Lawrence mounted
 and rode  around his  men, shouting orders  to hasten  their progress.
 When they appeared  to be ready to leave, Lawrence  turned back toward
 the other two knights, who still  stood near the muddy patch of ground
 where the  duel took place. He  drew his sword and  saluted Edward and
 Luthias, who returned the gesture.
      While Sir Lawrence  gathered his men, I stood near  the older man
 who had  arrived with Sir Edward.  He was dressed in  robes, much like
 the  local Vicar,  but he  smiled at  me when  he noticed  that I  was
 looking at him, which is something  that the Vicar would never do. His
 gaze felt  strange, though, like  he was  looking inside me.  I turned
 toward Luthias, who was watching the departure of Sir Lawrence and his
 men.

                  How can I thank him for saving me and for
           trying to save Telia?  He is a stranger.  He will
           not understand me.

      I felt compelled  to speak, yet I knew that  the only sounds that
 would come from my mouth would  be groans and grunts. I approached the
 two knights and caught Luthias' attention.

                  Thank you.

      I put  my hand over my  heart, touched my lips,  then extended my
 hand  toward him.  Mother  had taught  me a  few  symbols that  could,
 hopefully, be understood by others.
      He looked at me questioningly.

                  I knew it.  He doesn't understand!

      I pointed toward the barn. I swung  my arms as if I were swinging
 the pitchfork, then pointed to my legs.
      He  looked at  the barn,  then  back at  me. He  nodded, but  the
 confused look remained in his eyes.

                  How can I make you understand.  You saved
           me!  You tried to save Telia!

      I clasped both hands over my heart, then extended them toward him
1once again.
      "He  is trying  to thank  you,  Luthias." The  older man's  words
 startled me, but I nodded and made the signs once again.
      "You are welcome. I am truly  sorry about your sister. Had I only
 arrived a few moments sooner, I  might have been able to save her...."
 An old, haunting look crossed his  face. "But I couldn't save Roisart,
 either."

                  Your eyes are so sad.  Are you going to cry
           for my sister, even though you didn't know her?  I
           wish I could be like you.

      I  hesitated for  a moment,  then knew  what I  wanted more  than
 anything else in the world. I wanted to become a knight; a knight like
 Luthias. Perhaps by becoming a knight,  I could clear my conscience of
 my sister's  death. I  approached Luthias and  reached toward  him. He
 didn't back away.  I touched the chain upon his  chest, the chain that
 had been placed on his shoulders by  Sir Edward, then I touched my own
 chest, tracing a line where the chain would fall across it.

                  Please.  Teach me.  Show me how to become a
           knight.  Please.

      Luthias seemed to  understand immediately. He smiled;  a warm and
 genuine smile  which told  of compassion  and kindness  and, strangely
 enough, of sorrow.
      He turned, grinning,  to Sir Edward. "Since I am  now a knight, I
 will have need of a squire, won't I?"
      "At least one," Sir Edward replied.
      Sir Luthias turned toward me. "Will you become my squire?"
      Sir  Edward's  eyes seemed  ready  to  fall from  their  sockets.
 "Luthias, you  cannot make this  boy your squire!  He is not  of noble
 descent; he is just a farmer's son.
      "What difference does that make?" Luthias argued. "I know 'noble'
 sons  who are  dishonorable  cowards. This  'farmer's  son' was  brave
 enough to  try to rescue  his sister from  twenty armed men  -- alone!
 This  display of  bravery by  itself is  an indication  of this  lad's
 worthiness. Social class has nothing to do with it."
      Sir Edward frowned. "I see your  point, Luthias, but still, it is
 quite rare  to make a  peasant into a Knight.  You do realize  that he
 will have to be Knighted someday if he becomes your squire."
      "That is the general idea," the robed man observed dryly.
      "He's already displayed Knightly qualities," Sir Luthias reminded
 Sir Edward.  "He tried  to rescue  a lady and  defend her.  He bravely
 faced  the danger."  He paused.  "Look,  Edward, I'd  rather Knight  a
 peasant with a noble heart than a coward with a noble name."
      "Again, you have a point,"  Sir Edward admitted. "I'm not certain
 I approve, but I can't stop you. To a point, I even agree with you."
      "So," Sir Luthias began, "would you like to squire to me?"

                  Yes!  YES!  I'll learn, I promise.  I'll do
           all of the chores that you ask me to do, and I
           won't complain.  Thank you!  THANK YOU!

      "We'll have the  ceremony later this week. I  cannot keep calling
 you 'boy',  though. What  is your name?"  Then he  winced, remembering
 that I couldn't talk.
      "His name is  Derrio." My father's voice startled  me, although I
 should have seen  Mother and him approaching. "Is it  true? Is there a
 war coming?"
1     The grim Sir Edward nodded. "It is already here. The Beinison men
 that  were here  were  an  advance scouting  force  sent  to find  the
 locations of our forces. As it  appears, they will invade through this
 area, so your farm is no longer safe."
      "Let us leave  this place," my mother said to  my father, holding
 back the tears that  must be for Telia. "I no longer  have a desire to
 stay."
      "Could your  armies use  another archer?" Father's  voice wavered
 slightly. "I may  not be a good  as your regulars, but I  have won the
 county's archery contest for the last two  years in a row. And my wife
 could cook and care for the wounded."
      Sir Edward smiled. "We can always use archers." He then looked at
 mother, who stood looking at the ground.
      Sir  Luthias laughed  loudly. "And  a  cook, a  REAL cook,  would
 probably boost morale more than anything else!"
      The  robed man  looked over  his  shoulder. "Come.  We should  be
 getting back to Pyridain. Another  storm is coming." He approached me.
 "And I find myself curious as to why this boy is unable to talk."
      I suddenly  remembered Sir Lawrence's  silver horn. He  wore that
 horn like a symbol; something that set  him apart from the rest of the
 knights. I broke and ran for the house.  I knew what I needed to do. I
 burst into the house and headed straight for Telia's room.
      When I  entered, I  saw Telia  on the bed.  She was  lying there,
 under the quilts, as if she were asleep. On the other side of the room
 I saw what I had come for. Her tiny harp stood on a table by itself. I
 picked it up carefully. This was the first time I had ever held it.

                  You will never sing again, little harp.  The
           fingers that coaxed you to play are gone.  Your
           strings are silent, angry over what has happened.
           No, you will never sing again, but you will speak.
           You will speak to me every night when I lay you
           aside before I sleep.  You will remind me of what
           has happened here, and of what I have done.  You
           will remind me when I forget about her.  Her voice
           is stilled forever, so now I must be that voice.
           And I will speak for you, Telia; I promise you.  I
           will speak through my actions; through my deeds and
           through my presence.  One day, I will be a knight,
           and on that day, this harp will become my symbol.
           It will become a symbol of ... of ..."

      I had run  out of words, but  not tears. I watched as  a tear ran
 slowly down one of the strings of  the little harp. I knew that it was
 one of mine, but for that moment, the harp wept.
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1------------------------------------------------------------------------
    (C)   Copyright     March,    1989,   DargonZine,    Editor    Dafydd
 <[email-masked]>. All rights revert to the authors. These stories may
 not be reproduced  or redistributed save in the case  of reproducing the
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 the author involved.