In the days following Cousin Enrique's arrest, gossip flowed through Tarago that the attacks on clergy had been brought to a halt though the intervention of the Rose and Cross. Andrea looked for commissions with the Swordsman's Guild, but the town was unusually peaceful for a change. Henri attempted to visit with Enrique, to explain that his attempt to defend his cousin's honor was instead drawing attention to her injuries, and that his strategy for luring priests to their doom was only catching the selfless and merciful, and finally left the man to his doom, feeling futile. As the Heroes gathered for their midday dinner at El Caballo d' Oro, Don Otavio came rolling in to join them, and was a most welcome sight.
With few other diners near, and those known, the Heroes asked about the progress of discussions with the former alcalde of Barcino, in particular the treaty with the ambassador from Vodacce. Don Otavio grew grim at this point, laying out an agreement under which troops supplied by Prince Mondavi would march westwards across the north of Castille, between the Forest of Fiends and the Iron Mountains, to anchor El Moro while Montegue took the remainder of the peninsula for Montaigne. All began to debate the motives for Vodacce aid to Montaigne, the dangers from the remaining Princes to Prince Mondavi, as Henri got a small, devious smile. Questioned by Don Otavio, who had learned to recognize that peculiar expression, he replied.
'It would certainly be a shame if Montegue learned of our Vodacce reinforcements coming to relieve the siege at El Moro, wouldn't it? Why, if he managed to catch them in the narrows between forest and mountain, he might virtually annihilate them in short order, no?"
Don Otavio began to grin. Suggestions began to be offered for giving this information to expendable spies, leaking it to double agents, but in the end it was agreed that Don Otavio had the seed of the remedy, and that he could find soil and fertilizer quite easily now. On a happier note, he finished his meal and departed in high spirits.
Quinn tried to check on the health of Master Knight Elijah and his daughter, to find that both had withdrawn to their rooms, and were not receiving visitors. Further inquiries were firmly rebuffed, and a dark cloud seemed to have settled over the Chapterhouse.
The next morning, a note arrived for the Heroes, asking them to come settle accounts at the livery stables, by now a well-understood signal to meet with Don Otavio privately. In his offices, he laid out an assignment for the Heroes, if they would assist Castille. Negotiations with the throne of Avalon were underway, and contrary to expectation, each nation had found a way to set aside animosity in favor of a common hostility toward Montaigne. There was currently no ambassador from Avalon at El Palacio de los Lobos in Vaticine City, and Cardinal Verdugo was known to be hostile to the idea of any such heretic being officially received by His Majesty. An ambassador had recently arrived in San Cristobal, and would need an escort so as to arrive safely at court. He was to be met at Don Carlos' orphanage north of San Cristobal, and taken into the palace itself. Quinn paused for a moment, then nodded soberly. The rest readily agreed to depart for San Cristobal as soon as Henri could get completed paintings from Roberto Garcia, and agreed as well to come celebrate at the cockfights that evening. All were in the mood for something to enliven their mood, and were anticipating an evening's wagers and sport.
That night, they arrived at a large round building, cleared out for the fights, and as they made their way past rings of spectators, their hats pulled down over their eyes, they felt men step onto the stairs behind them, escorting them forwards and down to the sand. Delighted to have ringside seats, they looked about for Don Otavio, only to hear the doors slam shut, and to see that all of the spectators wore a dark hood of black sacking under their hats that covered the entire face. Before they had time to wonder whether these were friends of Cousin Enrique de Basquez, a tall figure leapt out of the crowd and down to the sand. Wrapped in a swirling purple cape, and bearing a white mask with its harlequin smile, he drew a sword of the finest Aldana steel and saluted them with a flourish.
"I... am El Vago. These," he indicated the crowd with a wave of his blade, "are my compañeros."
*****
"Amigos, y amiga," he bowed to Andrea, "your aid to Castille
is known to me, and you have my thanks. Each of you has dared much for our
beloved country, though not perhaps so much as you will. In every town, every
village, every city of Castille, my eyes and ears bring to me what I must
know, help me in my quest to free Castille, to keep safe her beloved King
Sandoval, to protect her people from all oppressors. Indeed, in every land
of Théah, my hands stretch wide and my eyes are open, watchful and
ready. Will you join them? Will you add your strength to mine in the service
of this blessed land?"
Quinn stepped apart, hesitant,
"Señor Vago, I thank you, though as you can see by my clothes I have already pledged all that I am to another cause. I know your goals are worthy, and I shall gladly aid them when and where I can, but my first love is already known to you."
"Señor Smythe, I do understand, and salute you. If you will be so good as to wait by the door, you may enjoy the cockfights with us soon, eh?"
The man in purple turned to the remaining three, waiting.
Henri bowed stiffly, feeling more conspicuously Montaigne than he had in his entire previous life.
"Señor, I have not lived a long life, but in all of it so far I have looked long for a thing that was actually worth doing with it. I think that in your land, in this beloved Castille, I have finally found that thing. I would be honored if you would have me as companion, as your helper."
Andrea, with glowing eyes, rapidly agreed. Cecil nodded as well, pleased to join the company. The spectators rose to their feet, hands on the hilts of their swords, or on the handles of knives. El Vago turned his mocking smile back upon the Heroes, and began to lead them in an oath. With the spectators quietly echoing them, they pledged their aid to the defense of Castille, her people, and her beloved, unquestionable King from all enemies within and without, from corruption of the church, for the cleansing of that church, with every resource of money, energy, skill, talent, and life they possessed. The man in purple bowed, sweeping his blade wide, and the interior of the building suddenly plunged into darkness.
Hands on their arms pulled the Heroes to seats at ringside, and the noise of feet shuffling back and forth could be heard all around them. When the lights returned, and the doors were once again opened, Quinn was beside them, and all masks, hoods, and swords were hidden away. El Vago was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any indication on the faces of the spectators that anything other than preparations and frenzied wagering for the fights had ever taken place here.
On the morrow, as Henri retrieved the paintings for transport to the glazier in Vaticine City, Quinn hit upon a splendid plan for raising the spirits of the Rose and Cross, and consulted with Henri about preparations for a party. Though notice was short, Henri began to rattle off goods to be purchased in town, a hall that might hold such a gathering, and the suppliers for suitable beverages and comestibles for the celebration. With much of the local neighborhood in attendance, together with the Chapterhouse Knights-- with the notable exception of Señor and Señorita Basquez. Don Luis did grace the party, whom Henri took aside and asked if he would take the young lady out of town on an outing to relieve the tedium of the Chapterhouse into which she seemed to have retreated. Music ad merriment echoed long into the night, and with a long road trip to San Cristobal ahead of them, they decided to simply dance through the night, resting in the coach on their way in the morning.
It is remarkable how troubling the sound of hoofbeats can be to a person endeavoring to sleep off a night's revelry. Finally, however, the hostel at the midway point was reached, and rest was eagerly taken. The morning saw them on their way again, and by late afternoon, the orphanage north of San Cristobal came into view, and the coach was soon at the center of a whirlpool of children. Don Carlos welcomed the Heroes, lamenting his inability to say a proper farewell at their departure months before, and showing them to rooms where they might refresh themselves before supper and an early evening's rest.
The morrow brought visitors. A light and elegant gig pulled up before Don Carlos', whose lone passenger alighted, brushing the dust of the road dust from his cuffs, and squinting a smile into the morning sun. He was a slim, dapper figure of sandy hair and slightly crooked smile, in impeccably cut clothes that seemed at once quite simple and exceedingly expensive. Regarding the Heroes for a moment through a delicate silver looking-glass, he stepped to greet them with a slightly sardonic bow.
"James, Lord Westkirk of Avalon, at your service."
With luggage quickly transferred to the black coach, the Heroes soon took the road north to Vaticine City. The morning passed in light conversation, in which Quinn seemed unusually quiet. Henri remarked to himself that it was perhaps a mercy that Asgard had taken up with a sailor in Tarago-- or was it a captain? She would certainly have gone for Lord Westkirk in quite a big way, and that would have raised jealousies that he was just as happy not to consider. In the midst of these considerations, the sound of gunfire came from outside the carriage, which had begun slowing.
Luis reported armed men in the road ahead, and was unwilling to drive straight at them and be shot himself. Henri drew his pistols, and called from the window to ask what the horsemen wanted. Hearing the order to halt and surrender their goods, he cocked both pistols and smiled to his companions, then raised an eyebrow as Andrea took one from his hand. Cecil stepped from the slowing coach to retrieve his musket from the luggage, to find himself being herded away from the coach by a horseman in the rear. Henri and Andrea leaned from either window and fired as the bandits drew near, and were delighted to see one of them sag in his saddle, badly wounded.
As riders approached the coach to herd the passengers out, Quinn and Andrea suddenly leapt from the coach doors, driving one rider to the ground, and leaving Andrea riding behind one bandit. Pounding franticly to dislodge him from his saddle, she met an elbow swung hard and tumbled to the road cursing. The bandits began to close in, and saw their quarry draw blades and narrow their eyes at the mounts they rode. Dismounting, they drew blades of their own and once again closed in laughing.
The leader leveled a pistol at the ambassador, who snorted a derisory, "Oh, I think not," and stepped from the carriage drawing his sword. As the leader of the bandits tried to fathom how he had come to be holding a lump of crumbling bleu cheese where there had been a gun the moment before, Lord Westkirk saluted another bandit and moved to engage him. Battle had begun in earnest now, with slashes and thrusts of startling skill. Henri marveled to himself that a fight of this sort would have been utterly beyond him a few months ago, but was now quite manageable. He noted with delight that his opponent was trained in the Aldana School, and began to watch the man's dancing feet, waiting for the chorus of his rhythmic moves. Gradually whittling the man down, he began to press his attacks home, warning the man that if he surrendered or fled, he might yet live to tell his employer that he'd failed. If he stayed to fight, he and his comrades would surely die in the road like dogs. The bandit went pale as he saw his adversary laugh and copy his dancing movements, stabbing and slashing again and again.
Elsewhere, Cecil pummeled his two assailants into jelly, though he was bleeding from several wounds by now. Andrea had dispatched her man, and went to assist Lord Westkirk, who was after all, their particular charge...
The Avalonder blocked a clumsy thrust, then gave a mocking laugh.
"Silly diego! Bringing your offering to the picnic, are you?"
With a curse, the man drove his point home, to find himself smearing slightly runny Brie across Lord Westkirk's coat. With a similarly passionate curse for spoiling his clothes, the ambassador responded with a slash at the man that opened his forearm, ensuring that the fellow would not hold a sword for some time to come.
As the bandits began to hit the ground, the remainder ran for their lives, were tied and disarmed, and their horses hitched to the back of the coach. Three were taken to the next town ahead as prisoners, after Quinn and Henri had dressed wounds, stitched and wrapped the ambassador's arm, and made sure of Cecil, who was bleeding from too many places to be believed.
Questioned thoroughly, the terrified bandits revealed that they had not known the name of their employers, merely that he was a distinguished man of educated speech and middle age, graying slightly at the temples and clean-shaven. Pondering the identity of the shaven man, wondering how closely it would match the energetic Cardinal, the Heroes arrived in the capital city of Castille.
Luis drove to El Palacio de los Lobos, where the ambassador's apartments were located, and rooms were assigned to the Heroes as well. These lackey's quarters were found to be more sumptuous than the best rooms they'd been in since Henri'd left Paix! Henri inquired after the best of the glaziers in the city, and dispatched a message to Emilio Garcia, requesting his presence for a commission.
Joining Lord Westkirk for supper, the Heroes found his own rooms even more lavish. Henri ate sparingly, his appetite spoiled a bit by the gnawing suspicion that he would have to wear the clothing he'd bespoken that afternoon in the royal court on the morrow. His night was spent with dreams of stumbling into a lavish throneroom clad only in his underclothes, to be met by Lady Jamais in a black wig and a king's robes, while governor Ivan sat by in cardinal's red and heated irons in a great fire...
On the morrow, the Heroes escorted Lord Westkirk to the throne room, and waited at the back among the Dons for the audience to be over. Far, far at the end of the room, a young man with raven hair could be seen, flanked by a clean-shaven fellow in red and a Don in elegant black. By midday, dinner at Lord Westkirk's rooms saw the Heroes dismissed from service, with bright hopes for a treaty that would aid in the fight. Their meal was interrupted by the arrival of a guest, who was announced as Don Andres Bejarano de Aldana, advisor to the King.
Elegant and well spoken, the aristocrat thanked the ambassador for his visit, and repeated the King's hopes for a mutually advantageous arrangement between the two nations. Westkirk, surprised by his noble visitor, remarked that normally a mere page would have been sent to relay such a message. The Don smiled, replying that in this instance he wished to bring his thanks personally to those who were assisting his King, Castille, and its entire people. Shocked, Henri drew in a breath, then wiped an imaginary bead of sweat from his temple to give the man assurance that he was recognized and welcome. To think that so great a man was also a helper to the champion in purple boggled the mind, but it was apparently the case!
Further pleasantries ere exchanged, and the meeting concluded. A page did arrive, asking the ambassador's lackeys to move to rooms at the nearby inn, The King's Carriage, to make room for new guests tot he palace. The Heroes agreed, and making the best of their demotion shifted quarters. Henri met with Sr. Garcia, explaining the item he wanted constructed, and padding the artist's fee liberally to ensure that he was neither rushed nor pressed for materials, so that he could do his finest work. When completed, the perfect eye was to be delivered to the Chapterhouse of the Rose and Cross, in Tarago, to the daughter of the Master Knight.
Relieved of serious thoughts now, Henri and Cecil decided to show Andrea a fine evening at the Carriage, while Quinn undertook a pilgrimage to the House of Seven Crosses, to hold vigil at the sacred site. Henri noted a striking young woman, not particularly attractive, but of disturbingly familiar demeanor. While struggling to recall her face, Henri and Cecil found two lovely dancers alighting at their table, eagerly engaging them in conversation and eating up their every word. With a curious glance to Andrea, Henri shrugged and continued the conversation. He laughed to himself listening to the plays they were making for the two men, for they so closely resembled ploys he had used himself to attract the favors of young women in Paix. Cecil likewise appeared flattered but unswayed. Perhaps it was the confidence the men enjoyed that they could have these women if they had wanted them; perhaps the trip had left them wearier than they had realized; perhaps Henri at least had discovered something approaching fidelity now that his love for the good Lieutenant had finally borne fruit. Whatever the reason, the young women found themselves leaving alone after a time, perplexed at their failure and examining each other's teeth for stray bits of food.
The evening's revels had taken their toll on Mr. Jackson in the meantime. Steering their friend upstairs, Henri and Andrea reached a quandary. After pouring Cecil into his bed, they realized that if they locked the door with Cecil's key, he'd be locked in his rooms when he awoke. If they locked it from the inside, one or the other of them would have to stay the night-- and neither wanted to deal with the Avalonder once his bed commenced to spinning. With a sigh, they left the key on the bedside table, and hoped for the best as they retired for the remainder of the morning.
Cecil did not join them for breakfast, to no one's very great surprise. After their meal, the Heroes sent a tray up with a servant, which was brought back down again with the word that the young man was not in his rooms. Upstairs, the Heroes found the room quite empty. No luggage remained. No note, and no notice to the staff. Luis recalled seeing a woman leave in the morning, with three men-- actually two men supporting a drunken friend. Jaws began to drop as Quinn asked about the look of the men-- burly, hairy twins. With a curse, Henri remembered where he'd seen the woman-- in Falcon's Point, nursing a loose tooth and waving a handbill in anger. A handbill offering a bounty for the return of Cecil Jackson to Avalon, alive or no. Quickly sketching out a map of Castille, they realized that there were any number of routes by which he might be taken, and that their only hope was to reach Avalon first, and recover their friend before the enraged Earl of Lloyd could exact his revenge for Cecil's defaulted debt.
As the rest packed quickly and made ready to depart, Henri raced to El Palacio, craving an emergency audience with Lord Westkirk. Explaining matters, he begged a passport into Avalon, and any word of ships that might be bound for the Glamour Isles from San Cristobal. James smiled wryly, called for paper, and began to write. As he did, he commended to Henri a ship dubbed The Lucky Lady. If it were still in harbor, Henri should show this letter to its captain, and sail for Avalon forthwith. With profuse if hurried thanks, Henri rejoined the company and made for San Cristobal.
At the town where they had left their prisoners several days past, they learned that another coach had passed, switching horses and taking on food. Doing likewise, the coach flew southwards, past the orphanage, through San Cristobal, and down to the very piers. The Heroes' boots pounded along the planks as they scanned the harbor anxiously for The Lucky Lady. Finding a long-boat to row them out, Henri hallooed the crew of the vessel and the Heroes were soon taken aboard. The captain frowned over Lord Westkirk's letter, allowed as how it would take a few hours to round up crew for the sudden departure, and ordered the Heroes stowed in rooms scarcely bigger than the alcoves in which their chamber pots had rested two days before. Bringing his trunks through the bleeding holes he tore in space, Henri at last breathed a sigh of relief. With luck, they'd be in time. If need be, he could haggle with the Usurer's Guild to stand surety for Cecil's debt. But he remained uneasy, wondering why Quinn had gone ash-white when told they would need to return to Avalon at once. Was it merely fear of the Sidhe, those inhuman monsters of legend that seemed to lurk under every rock of the islands? Was it concern for his friend, and a thorough knowledge of the danger in which he now lay? Or was there something darker? Time alone would tell, and time was all they had now, as they sailed at the mercy of Wind and Mother Ocean for Avalon.