[CHURCH] COMPENDIUM XIV DRACA, INTO THE NIGHT ***** ***** ***** After learning that none present had seen the little girl, Draca mentally insisted, in a tone that would brook NO argument, that her search party would consist solely of herself. On her way out the door, she noted that the two spies in the corner paid her no mind... Indeed, who would suspect a crippled musician of any revolutionary intent... Once outside, Draca moved quietly to a nearby doorway, and sat down in the shadows. She needed to know if anyone followed, and also wanted to ascertain that her alibi was in order. Knowing that her accent would speak all too loudly of her upbringing, she had decided to wander as a mute. 'Reaching' into the harp case, she conjured forth a small wax tablet and stylus, tools of communication in a world where parchment was costly. The tablet case, little larger than a playing card, was carved of bone, and much like her crutch, ornamented with runes and scales. Its hinge, made of leather, also served as a pocket for the stylus, which, when in place, held the tablet shut. The thong on which it hung was long enough that it dangled at her hip level; a reasonable distance for showing the writing to others. Her harp case she rearranged, sealing the magical pockets with a thought, and strewing the interior with various healing herbs, and a few sheets of well-worn instrumental music that she had copied herself, long ago (and, of course, the harp). She was fortunate that the Bard who had designed the case had the foresight to put all the fasteners on the side nearest her back, in the middle, so there was little worry of thievery. She walked the side streets and alleys of Montfort, searching for the mental residue left behind by the grieving Francine. In time, she found the rubbish heap where she had slept, and the market stall where she had been unable to bring herself to pilfer an apple. But that was all, and that disturbed Draca, for there should have been more... After several hours of such searching, the young healer found herself near the fortifications surrounding the Church. She had turned around, preparing to return to the Inn, when she felt the waves of fear coming from Fran's mind. Once again, the child was lost in a nightmare, but, oddly, the emotion vanished as quickly as it had come... Was someone comforting her? She knew better than to attempt to probe the Church, and yet, she had a sense that someone within suffered greatly, feverish from a poisoning. She moved on, not wanting to attract attention. On her way back, she heard what sounded like an angry mob somewhere up ahead. Then she felt his pain... Hurrying as quickly as she could, she hobbled along until she reached the blind alley where he had hidden himself. Another elf, and this one needed her assistance if he was to escape. Bending over him, she sent a quick message. *I will help you, but you must first permit me to do so..* When he nodded, she began. The only wound she had time to treat, and indeed his only serious injury, was a tear in his leg; from his mind, she drew an image of a hay fork... a rather grisly weapon. The gash was not life threatening, but his inability to run might well be. She concentrated, and her hands began glowing, swirling patterns of green and gold bathing the wound. As it began to close, she heard voices in the distance, growing louder. She finished, feeling the familiar agony as her body took on the pain she had purged from the other, and severed the link between them. She had just enough time to cast a minor illusion to hide his ears, and send him out into the street. *Go to the Dragon's inn, you will receive help there* she thought after him, and turned to face a group of uniformed guards... A jumble of voices could be heard behind them. "I KNOW I saw him go down this street." "He couldn't have got far, I jabbed 'im good." "The blood leads into that all..HEY! Who the hell is that?" "Outta the way, cripple, we got us a elf ta fry!" The guards held the mob back, and ordered them to go home... Then one of them addressed Draca. "Speak up, wench. The elf.. where is he?" Draca touched her throat, shaking her head 'no', then indicated the wax tablet and mimed writing. When he nodded, she wrote: ________________________ | | | They were wrong. The | | man was human. I | | healed him. Praised | | be the Redeemer! | | | The man motioned to another guard, who read the note to him. Then he smiled, saying "We've been searching everywhere for healers, and here one volunteers. Follow me, girl, we've got food and shelter for you over at the Church. And no funny stuff." She merely nodded, and tried to keep up. The rest of the guards formed up around her, and 'escorted' her to the Church... In a way, it was precisely what she'd hoped would happen... and that's what had her worried... --Margaret Tayti Draca maintained her silence, pondering whether to actually make her vocal cords non-functional. She decided not to.. at least for the present, due to the extremely difficult nature of self-healing. She lightly scanned the minds of the sleeping populace, trying to get an adequate picture of the Redeemer, the Church, and the thoughts of the average 'sheep' in PJ's 'flock'. What she learned both worried her, and set her at ease. She would be able to run an appropriate set of surface thoughts with relatively little trouble, but was unsure what degree of psionic ability she would be up against. It would be best, she thought, to wall her innermost thoughts up within the pain she carried with her always, and let only the surface show to any probe. She knew the effect the pain had had on Dralen, and figured that there were few alive who could pierce it without succumbing to madness. As far as she knew, there were no healers like herself alive now... "Speed it up, wench." One of the guards behind her had grown bored of her limping gait, and struck her back with the butt of his spear, trying to propel her forward. She lost her balance and fell, still making no sound. Hearing the commotion behind him, the leader turned around, and strode toward the culprit. "You IDIOT! Do you want to bring the High Inquisitor's wrath down upon us all? We were told to bring the healers to the Church UNHARMED! If that means that we take all night to reach the gates, then so be it." He backhanded the offender, whose jaw snapped audibly. "Now go on ahead, and see to it that she has a space in the Quarters, and some robes. And then report to High Inquisitor Semareth for punishment. He won't be pleased." By the time he turned to offer her a hand up, she had gotten back to her feet, and indicated the road, writing "I _will_ try harder to hurry" on her tablet. There was now nearly enough light to read it, and the sun would soon be up. Indeed, the dawnlight was just beginning to peek over the horizon when they arrived at the gate. Draca was ushered into one of the guard towers, and given a white robe, trimmed in green, with the emblem of the Redeemer stiched to the sleeve. Then things began to heat up. First, they wanted to take her harp case from her, "Just for a routine inspection, we don't want any weapons or trouble." She clutched it to her chest, shaking her head vigourously, and scrawled "It is all I have, and the music is essential to my recovery. I will open it for you, but I will NOT be parted from it." When she received grudging assent, she opened the case on a table, showing all present the harp, sheet music, and jumble of healing herbs. When it became apparent that the contents were fairly innocuous, she was allowed to keep it. One of the mages present noted that there was a very faint dweomer of magic about the case and its contents, and Draca explained, through gesture and writing, that the case had once belonged to a retired bard, who had willed it to her, and that it, and the crutch and tablet, were all that she possessed. [This is essentially the truth.] That seemed to satisfy them, and they moved on to the next topic: they wanted her to change into the robes while they watched, to ensure that she was unarmed... Thinking quickly, she mimed being cold, and indicated that she wanted to keep her shirt on underneath. (She hoped that she looked frail enough that they would believe her, but in actuality, she no longer felt the effects of the elements... a side-effect of her Gift from the Wise One.) As she removed her breeches, vest, and belt, she thought gooseflesh into existence, and began to shiver. Before she reached up (with a trembling hand) to untie her shirt collar, the healer who was present (an old, grandmotherly sort) took pity on her, and said "It _is_ a bit chilly, isn't it dear. I don't see why you canna keep yer shirt. I'll search ye meself under't so's ya dinna feel _too_ uncomfortable, but search ye we must." Draca nodded, knowing the force field next to her skin would fool the woman's fingers, but writing "Please keep physical contact to a minimum, for I feel the emotions of others, and find it very physically draining if they touch me." The mage seemed surprised at that, but said nothing, and permitted her to continue as she wished. Next came the assessment trial... --Margaret Tayti After she had been playing for a time, Draca opened her eyes and began to take in her surroundings. The so-called Healers' Quarters, it would seem, consisted of a long, low building that appeared to be a cross between barracks and barn... Cots lined the walls, strewn with the hastily-collected belongings of every healer, from hedge-witch to High Priest, who lived in the area surrounding Montfort. Pets of every description padded, scuttled, trotted, and slithered their way around the room, searching for food, and leaving their waste upon the floor; presumably 'familiars', without whom the healers would not have come willingly. A field-mouse, nibbling on some dried herbs on a nearby bed, fell prey to an owl who had been watching it from the rafters... All in all, far from the sanitary, peaceful conditions promised her by the Redeemer's 'children'. Peering outside through one of the small (and filthy) windows, she noted that nearly everyone wore robes of black, trimmed in varying colours to denote position, or perhaps duties. From this, she surmised that her own robe (white, trimmed in green) branded her a newcomer, and that she would receive another once she was trusted... Her hunger soon overcame her curiosity, however, and she put away her harp, shouldered it, and proceeded to the door. As she had expected, there was a guard posted. She stepped out, and a pikestaff barred her way. "I don't suppose ye'd be tellin' me where 'tis yer goin'..." She reached for her tablet, but as she began, he stated simply "I don' read no writin', lass, can ye mime it fer me?" Nodding, she rubbed her belly, (which rumbled on cue...) and mimed bringing food to her mouth. She'd eaten only once in the past ten days, and was famished, and tried to explain this by pointing at the sun, making her fist travel through an appropriate arc, and displaying all her fingers... following this with a shake of her head, and the 'food' sign... He seemed to understand, and called out to a pot-boy running past to fetch some food for her. Scraps the hounds missed was more like it... she was given a tiny bowl of thin, lumpy gruel, an equally minute cup of water, and a chunk of moldy bread... barely enough to sustain a child of ten, and none of it of sufficient nutritive value to replenish her depleted energy. Was this the way all of the healers were being treated, or was this 'special' treatment reserved for newcomers? This was too much... She struck the underside of the tray with her crutch, and watched with an indescribable glint in her eye as its meager contents exploded upwards into the faces of both boy and guard, missing her completely... [Admin: ;-> ] She glared at them, and was surprised to see that the guard (who nearly struck her, but seemed to recall hearing something about her bringing back the dead, and thought better of it) backed down. She began writing, and pointed toward the watchtower, where she knew there was at least one literate guard... [anyone with a literate character can interrupt here... Thai??] The message read: _________________________ | | | I said I required | | nourishment to | | replenish my energy. | | _THAT_ was not food. | | I have had only one | | meal in the past ten | | days, and a child's | | ration of gruel will | | not sustain me. | | If you truly wish me | | to serve you fully, | | my needs must be met.| |_______________________| She handed the tablet to the guard, and waited for him to comply. --Margaret Tayti Draca watched from the doorway, her face unreadable, as her 'guard' scurried across the courtyard to a man moving stones. She could feel an injury of sorts centered on his chest, and was startled to note that it had an energy residue that 'felt' like one of Shan's threads... --Margaret Tayti "Sir. This woman 'ere asks for food, then she gaows 'n throws in my face." he said, whiping a greasy white substance from his clothing. "So, what do you want me to do about it?" He turned his nose from the rancid smelling man. "Well I'd strike 'er sir, but frankly...she gives mey the eevie geevies. Tha say she can bring back the dead, sir. 'Ere, she gave me this, she did." He said handing Mauq the tablet. [note snipped] Mauq looked at the tablet quizically for a moment and then handed it back to the guard. [beration of guard snipped] "Yes, well now you may see just how important these healers are. So next time be a little more curtious and oblidge their request for decnt food and bedding. The next person one of them heals may be you." The guard got the fealing that that last part was an indication that something would happen to him if he didn't get things in motion so went about sending the boy off for some better food. --Samson Gonzales She grinned at that, and went back inside. There was a small table near the door, and some slimy water in a trough nearby, so she grabbed a rag from a heap in the corner, and set to work. As she finished scrubbing, she looked up, and saw the guard standing there, holding out her writing tablet. She took it from him, nodding thanks, and retied the thong around her neck. "I sent the boy back to the Kitchens ...m'lady, an' I'm sorry ye din't like wot we sent ye first. I pers'nally don't blame ye, I wouldn'a et it meself, but them in the Kitchens has their orders too, and not a one o' th'others has said aught about the rationin'... 'Cept fer that one fat, hoity-toity High Priest, an' they moved 'im to the main buildin' las' week." He looked at her sheepishly, and grinned. "I've jes' said a fair piece more'n I usually do in a week... mus' be them eyes o' yourn. They look kinda spooky like, what wif yer lef' one havin' green aroun' the edges, an' yer right one gold, but they bof' shade to brown in the middle, and th'effect's right purty... if you wasn't a cripple..." He trailed off, blushing at that blunder, and used the arrival of the food tray as an excuse to leave. Draca glanced at the plate, and took it from the boy with a satisfied nod. This time, there was a wedge of cheese, a chunk of fresh bread (still steaming... just out of the oven) a couple of small winter apples, and a turkey leg. Either the boy had communicated her needs to the cook, or he was in a world of trouble for stealing it... She didn't care. She ate slowly, ignoring the urge to gobble it down, for she knew the results of eating too much too quickly after a prolonged fast. The apples she saved for later, storing them in the empty pouch that hung from her belt. Going back to the door, she noticed that the wind had changed, and for just a moment, she thought she smelled dragon... the breeze shifted again, and it was gone... [Admin: She's been around dragons all her life, and now has the heightened senses that go with being one...] She went over to the cot that had been assigned to her, and lay down, thinking. She would ask her mentor about the scent later, she decided, for now, she would await instructions, and while away the time with music... --Margaret Tayti It was an exhausted Deaconess who finally rode back in the gates of the church. She rode slowly past the main buildings and around back to the stables. Nearby in the Healer's Quarters someone was playing a melancholy piece that matched her mood. She slumped tiredly and let the music soothe her troubled mind. The longer she was with Jarrad, the harder she found it to risk losing him and her newfound happiness. Shaitan halted outside the stables and dropped his head to awaken her from her thoughts. Thai swayed and then dismounted heavily, leading the stallion inside. She brushed him down by the light of the crescent moon and turned him into his stall with a shove. A measure of corn, flake of hay, bucket of freshened water and he was settled for the night. --Phaedra Whitlock Draca felt the woman's approach before she heard it, for there were still lingering effects from the poison in her system. She continued playing, and decided to bide her time, meekly awaiting whatever would come. The nearly full day of playing and meditation had done her a great deal of good, and she was recovering very well from the day of the battle that had ended the life of the Wise One. --Margaret Tayti As she started across the courtyard to the tower she heard the music still playing and found herself standing before the door. It opened quietly beneath her hand and she stepped inside the dark barracks. A lone healer sat on a bunk and seemed not to notice the slight scuff of her boots on the floorboards, or the whisper of her cloak as she moved inside and closed the door. Thai leaned against the door and watched the young woman play for some time. When the song ended she looked up. "Thank you. That was lovely. You seem troubled and I thought perhaps I could be of assistance." --Phaedra Whitlock It came as a slight surprise that this woman had some elven blood, as evidenced by the points of her ears protruding slightly from beneath a tangle of dark curls, but Draca's face did not betray it. She nodded thanks for the compliment, and waved her nearer, indicating that she could not communicate vebally, and writing on the wax tablet. "I am troubled, but none can assist me, for I grieve for a friend who has passed on. You, however, can use _my_ help. You still suffer from the taint of your recent magical poisoning, and are disturbed in spirit as well. I first require your permission." She waited for a response, hoping that she would soon be given sufficient freedom to search for Smith's mortal shell. --Margaret Tayti Thai looked surprised and a slender hand went unconsciously to her throat. "I thought I was over the poison." She stopped, if this healer said she was still poisoned, then she probably was. Thai had heard of her returning the cat to life, and the healer glowed strangely to her mage sight. --Phaedra Whitlock Draca rubbed a portion of the tablet clean, adding: "It is a mere residue of what was, but it may interfere with casting, for your energies are not in balance. Minor spells will work, but Major Magics would be somewhat risky." She did this to permit the woman to take time deciding, for she was uncertain of herself... --Margaret Tayti "I... My permission?" Thai hesitated, trust was not something she did often, and this woman was not converted or she would be with the others. "Alright." Her hesitation was obvious, but she did agree. Thai moved forward to sit on the bunk across from the healer, not certain what to do next. She watched as the healer ... --Phaedra Whitlock ...held out her hands, which were beginning to glow with a swirling green and golden light. The magical poisoning was something she had never encountered; a plague of thirst, presumably cast upon the water supply, and consumed by its victims. As she drew it into herself, she grew somewhat thirsty, but could discern the difference between the magic and true thirst, and so was unconcerned. This simple matter dealt with, she delved into Thai's soul, seeking its permission to continue with the emotional imbalance. She received it, but noted that there was little that needed her attention. Thai was progressing well, and even the Proctor's coercion was crumbling. The mage had found a degree of love and independence that had been missing in her life for quite some time. Seeing this, Draca strengthened the mage's resolve, and trained her subconscious mind in a simple technique that would improve her mental shielding. Thai would feel calmed and more confident, but most importantly, she would _not_ feel violated or 'interfered with'. The woman's wish for privacy in this matter had been honoured, for Draca did not pry, even though it would have earned her information regarding Proctor John. [The stuff she mentioned would just be obvious on the surface, due to the trust involved in permitting the healing.] Only one thing disturbed the healer. This woman was a practitioner of Necromantic magic, albeit on a small scale, and not recently. She could but hope that the young mage would learn discretion as she aged, and use the Dark Powers as little as possible. --Margaret Tayti Now that the experience was over Thai felt the situation was again under her control. She relaxed feeling calm and confident. --Phaedra Whitlock "Have you been at this long?" The woman, girl, looked about her own age of 20. "Oh, I forgot you can't..." She looked down, embaressed at her faux pas, and watched Draca from under her eyelashes. There was a spell that she had learned once that linked two minds for ease of communications. The healer was correct however. She was disturbed and it would not do at all for this woman, or anyone to find out what disturbed her. --Phaedra Whitlock Draca shrugged, smiling, and wrote "I have been - what I am - all my life. My mentor once told me that, even as an infant, I felt the pain of others over great distances, and healed minor injuries simply by touching them. He is one of those I mourn." --Margaret Tayti Draca observed the woman's behaviour, hoping that she would learn much by gaining her friendship, while knowing that such things simply cannot be coerced, and that it would be wrong to try. The healing had gone well, and Thai was relaxed and, it seemed, in the mood for conversation - such as it was... --Margaret Tayti "You mourn for many then? Is that why your song was so..." She waved her hand aimlessly, the song had been many things. She suddenly realized something else. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name." --Phaedra Whitlock Draca wrote "I mourn for all, for I am always aware of suffering that goes on. I have shared dreams, nightmares, pain, and, rarely, love and joy. These lattermost are rare, for I have not lived in populated areas. My mentor was somewhat of a recluse, who raised me when I was left to die of exposure by a family who could not deal with my deformity. He, and those who cared to know me, called me Draca. I know not why. --Margaret Tayti Thai placed her chin on her hand as she thought. "Well, in one ancient language I know, "draco" is a version of the word dragon, the feminine version would be draca, and that is what you remind me of a little bit. You're obviously not a dragon though, or one in disguise, I'll think on it and let you know. Perhaps it has something to do with the magic you carry." [referring to the two spots] --Phaedra Whitlock Draca wrote "There are things that I cannot yet tell you, which render the name appropriate now, but I am unsure why it was chosen in my infancy. --Margaret Tayti "As for the other, I'm sorry you haven't experienced much joy from your profession. I learned to treat battle wounds as a girl accompanying my father on campaign one summer. There wasn't much to enjoy, and I would guess it must be worse for you." --Phaedra Whitlock "Indeed, for I take the pain upon myself, bearing it until such time as it would have naturally passed. This prevents any taint from being sent elsewhere, as in a mage-healing, or lingering until the earth or gods have dealt with it, as in clerical healing. I would not change it even if given the opportunity." --Margaret Tayti "You may find you enjoy it here somewhat, you may not but if I can help your transition I'd like to. If you need anything, contact me. I'll tell the guards in the morning that it's alright." "Do you already have a religion? The ways of the Redeemer are new in this area, and strange to many. Often people find those ways difficult to accept. If you feel a conflict, perhaps we can discuss it and see what might be arranged. I have need of more mageguards. We use magic in groups and singly for various projects and it can be very fulfilling at times. Few understand what a mage does but another mage." --Phaedra Whitlock "I follow no religion in the normal sense, but do adhere to a form of ancestor worship taught me by my mentor. He still guides me, even in death, as do the Ancients. Perhaps someday we can discuss this further, but for now, I believe that faith in the Redeemer does not run counter to my training." [rubs tablet clean] "I have heard many conflicting things regarding the Mageguard, but had not given it any thought, believing that I would be wanted only as a healer. Now that you ask, I accept, on the condition that I be permitted to continue acting in the capacity of Healer, for that is my purpose, first and foremost. --Margaret Tayti She found herself looking at the crippled leg of the healer and wondered about it. Thai knew of several spells that could cure the condition. Would it be polite to offer? She looked again at Draca's face as the healer began. --Phaedra Draca noted Thai's attention on her leg, and guessing her intentions, added "A birth defect, and one I could do away with myself, but choose otherwise. The Gods saw fit to create me imperfectly, and their Gifts more than compensate. It has but made me stronger. She watched the mage, and waited. --Margaret Tayti Thai watched Draca for a moment, admiring the unusual eyes. They matched the patterns on the girl's collarbones. --Phaedra Whitlock [She cannot see the patterns themselves, but their presence is apparent to her mage-sight's view of Draca's aura...] --Margaret Tayti "Thank you. Not knowing of the poison I would have severely injured myself on the morrow." Thai leaned back and gazed at the flow of energy around Draca. "If you don't mind my asking, what type of magic do you use? I've seen something similar only once, a few years ago, and it's so unusual I had to ask." "I don't suppose you deal in nodes or channeling energies do you?" --Phaedra Whitlock Knowing of Thai's struggle against the Proctor, and having gleaned a sense of her position, the healer pondered a moment, and worded her answer carefully. "I have some knowledge of several types of magic, and can cast some spells. I did not mention this during my 'interview', because I did not want to attract too much attention, and the test dealt with my healing skills only. I cannot _be_ healed, and will not use blood or death magic, but otherwise, I am fairly verstaile." She rubbed the tablet smooth, then continued. "I also generally avoid combative magics, for they run counter to my nature. The magics of the earth and the energies found in her nodes _are_ within my capacity." "I felt it best to be honest with you, in hopes that I might find myself worthy of friendship. I can tell you feel very much alone here. --Margaret Tayti Thai watched the hand cease writing and glanced at Draca's face. "I prefer honesty, but friendship is not something I give often. Sometimes I am alone, but I usually find someone to fill the hours, and I have my magic. Am I that transparent to you, or are you a psionicist as well?" --Phaedra Whitlock Putting aside the tablet, Draca 'knocked' mentally at the forefront of Thai's mind, and waited until she had permission to continue. She then sent *I am able to utilize psionics, but prefer not to, as it is impolite around those who cannot. None thought to ask me before, so I didn't volunteer it. I did not need these abilities to fathom your troubles, however, for I am empathic, and could feel your distress before you even entered this building. If you prefer, I will communicate with you thus, but will also continue the use of my tablet, to prevent others from feeling uneasy about me. The fewer who know, the better.* She awaited Thai's response... --Margaret Tayti None came for nearly a minute as Thai thought carefully behind her shields. Sections of her mind opened up to Draca one after the other, but Thai's wariness was more obvious than before. To succeed she needed willing allies, not just blind servitors. Without Jarrad there was no way to know if Draca would help her, but she had to take the risk sooner or later. --Phaedra Whitlock Draca felt the shields open for her, but did not enter them. Instead she sent *I see that you are trying to trust me, and I feel honoured by it, but for now, I decline your offer... Perhaps when we know each other better? I do not wish to endanger either of us by knowing too much at this time...* --Margaret Tayti 'First a foremost I am a warrior. My weapons are the blade and my magic. I will be honest with you in the hope that you will be with me. That you do not wish the Church to know anything about you is obvious. I too have secrets from the Church. I intend to assassinate Proctor John. To do this I need the assistance of others. If you wish to continue as a healer, that can be arranged. If you wish to leave the church, that too can be arranged. I would prefer your help. Will you give it to me?' Thai's reasons and her plans were open to Draca if she looked for them. Now she awaited Draca's response. --Phaedra Whitlock *Given the option, would the position of Mageguard permit me to come and go more freely? If so, then that is my choice. I will merely trim one sleeve in green, for too many know of my healing trial, and the cleric would have known if I were casting some spell.* *I am willing to assist you, for one such as the proctor cannot be permitted to become too powerful. He has already overstepped his bounds; using Necromancy in the name of Religion. That is why I allowed myself to be captured. I am here to obtain a portion of Smith's body and bring it to his friends for a 'memorial'. Once that has been accomplished, I will help you in any way I can. Is this acceptable?* --Margaret Tayti Draca listened carefully to Thai's explanation, quietly thanking any intervening gods for their help in bringing she and Thai together. --Margaret Tayti 'A mageguard is subject only to me. I use them often as couriers, as has Proctor John on occasion. I can send any of them on any errand anywhere in the church except into Proctor John's chambers in his absence, or anywhere outside the gates. If at any time you needed a reason, all you'd have to do is find me, or in an emergency say I sent you on an errand. So long as I know what I'm supposed to have done I would see little problem.' --Margaret Tayti Nodding, Draca sent *You could always say you sent me to the Dragon's Inn to relieve one or both of the mages spying in the corner. I have an ally there who might be able to assume my form, and take my place, so that I can travel farther afield.* --Margaret Tayti "Oh?" Thai's brow lifted but she didn't pry. Shapeshifting? 'I was thinking perhaps you could contact others to be brought into the Mageguard to work with you.' --Phaedra Whitlock *I do not yet know whether they may help me... and I am reluctant to endanger them, for they are of... persecuted races.* --Margaret Tayti She didn't hide the thought, nor conceal it, that it would be amusing if Proctor John returned to find his staff composed mainly of Refusers. --Phaedra Whitlock The gist of Thai's mental grin was not completely lost on Draca, who had been considering the implications of an _entirely_ draconic mageguard... --Margaret Tayti 'So you know Smith is dead. I should ask how, but I won't. His body needs to be cared for until Proctor John returns, and then it is to be Cleansed. For obvious reasons those having access to Smith are few. I take it you'd like the assignment?' --Phaedra Whitlock *I will likely tell you, in time... But for now, I admit that I would find it much easier to do what I must with physical contact. I should be able to prevent the changes from being noticed, but I can make no guarantees... I have never dealt with an enemy such as the Proctor.* --Margaret Tayti Thai sighed, the stress of this conversation getting to her, and rubbed her temples wearily. All she wanted was to be able to trust someone besides Jarrad. Was that so much to ask? Obviously it was. Was it possible to go through life hated and alone but for Jarrad? Would Jarrad stay with her? Was he only using her to... No. She refused to believe that. She was simply under a great deal of pressure. Always before she had had companions, other adventurers, soldiers, or Niki, to turn to. Here there was nothing. She had betrayed Proctor John's trust, and that was hard too. She had always been honest in her deals and this wasn't easy for her. Was Draca going to betray her? Did it really matter? --Phaedra Whitlock *I am truly sorry to have placed you in such a position, and, were it not for the importance of timing, I would have waited, and tried myself at a later date. I thank you for taking the time to speak with me, and I hope that you soon feel less alone...* --Margaret Tayti Thai sighed wearily. 'It's my job to talk to people. Proctor John gifted me with a glamour to enhance my own talents, and in a way it's his fault I'm betraying him.' 'I've always been alone Draca, except for my cousin. I just never noticed it before.' And part of me wishes I still didn't she added silently, only half meaning the thought. --Phaedra Whitlock 'Where are these friends and how long will it take you to deliver a package to them? I'll have to come up with an excuse for your venture. When you return,' If you return, she added behind her barriers, 'Then I'll tell you what I need done. If that is acceptable to you, then it is to me.' When this was over she would go and meditate. It had been days since she had been able to free her mind of concerns and she felt the need badly. --Phaedra Whitlock *They are less than half a day's journey outside the gates. If you permit, I will go to the Inn tomorrow morning, and see if my allies are able to help. If they are, I should be able to leave the city undetected. Tomorrow, I will assist with the casting, and perhaps begin my duties caring for the body, leaving on the errand the following day, or later if necessary. I see that you are tired, and regret making this day more stressful than usual for you. If this is adequate, merely arrange to have my new robes delivered here in the morning... May you dream of better times...* --Margaret Tayti Thai smiled, with the wards changed perhaps she would see Jarrad again tonight. She nodded and rose from the bunk. "I'll have your new wardrobe sent before breakfast. Welcome to the Church Draca. Praise the Redeemer." Thai smiled, then left the barracks. First her room, then meditation. The weapons room would be empty at this time of night and she did need to think. --Phaedra Whitlock