laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

The warmth of the oven filled the room as more wood went onto the fire. Strong, practiced hands kneaded dough and separated it into raw loaves while the sweet, inviting smell of the room told of others already baking. The door of the bakery opened, and Artorius looked up and smiled at his prospective customer. His smile faded as he saw Tas'on limp into the store.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," he stated flatly.

"Good morning, m'lord. I came to inform you of our success in the offering last week."

"Really? So, you're feeling better, now that the priest at Sursee got you stitched up? It’s a shame that Athek didn’t get the same opportunity."

Tas’on stared at him in blank surprise.

"Yes, Tas’on. I know all about what happened. You should know by now that dead men do tell tales, if you know the right way to ask. You should also know that we selected the boy for good reasons that your substitute could not satisfy."

"M’lord, if you know what happened, then you know that..."

"Tas’on," Artorius began as he wiped his hands on his apron, "what I know is that if you hadn’t been so incompetent, you would never have run into that knight in the first place. I know that even if you had, a little more forethought would have given you the upper hand instead of allowing him an opportunity to best you. I know," he continued as he walked around the counter toward his visitor, "that you have failed me for the last time. Cruciatus eximius."

As he murmured these last words, Artorius extended his hand toward Tas’on’s shoulder. He stopped just short of touching the man, who backed nervously into the wall, as his hand shimmered slightly and sparkled with magical energy. Tas’on immediately collapsed, writhing in pain on the floor, his mouth open in a silent scream. Artorius watched him for a moment as he convulsed, then dragged his twitching body into the back of the shop, out of sight of the customers. By this time, Tas’on was having trouble catching his breath between spasms and his body was curling into a fetal position. Artorius stepped over him, washed his hands, and went back to his bread.

It was bad enough, he thought, that they had to hide and skulk in the shadows. But this issue of the knights templar of Elminoir was getting particularly troublesome. He remembered the first time he encountered one, some twenty years ago. Come to think of it, it was the same one, this Sceva of Sonvico, who had come nosing around after that fool… what was his name? No matter. He had been an impudent whelp who stirred up a bunch of trouble, thinking he could usher in a reign of glory for the Father, and this Sceva had investigated. The knight ended up killing the fool boy and his followers, and the news of his work ingratiated the knights to the royal family. Sceva had disappeared for a while, but lately had reappeared with several more, riding around the kingdom making trouble. Artorius sighed.

"I suppose I’m going to have to put these knights in their place."

He removed the last of his bread from the oven and took a long drink of water. It was about lunchtime, so he entered the back of the shop to fetch the meal he had packed. He noticed that Tas’on had finally stopped twitching.

He munched lazily on his stew. Being the bishop of an illegal religious order had taught Artorius patience, if nothing else. He could afford time, and plenty of it. He needed to, if he didn’t want to end up like so many of his followers who hadn’t learned that lesson. He sent out word to his network of spies that he wanted information on Sonvico, especially Sceva, and the boy, Blaine. Then he waited.

Six months later, Artorius had the information he had hoped for. Blaine had struck a friendship with his rescuer and visited Sonvico regularly. He smiled at the news. This would make for an excellent lesson.

* * *

Sceva bid Trista and Vicana goodbye and mounted up.

"Is there anything you want me to bring back from Lebrassus," he asked.

"If you can find some cinnamon, we’re almost out," Vicana said. "Last time I got some from Sursee, it was pretty poor quality. Hopefully, you can find some that’s a little better."

"I will. I’ll see you in a month or so. If Blaine comes by, let him know I’ll swing by Ruswil to see him on my way back."

Sceva followed the road to Ruswil as he set out. He would follow this road for the first couple of days, before heading south toward Sursee. On the second day, he approached a bend in the road near where the road to Sursee forked from that to Ruswil. He thought back to that day when he first met Blaine. The Lady certainly had mysterious ways of bringing people together, he thought. Who knows what would have happened to the boy if he hadn’t come along? Now, more than six months later, Blaine was talking about entering the templar program.

As he rounded the bend, his blood ran cold. The unmistakable form of a person was dangling by the neck from a rope in the branch of a tree. As he got closer, the tears began to fill his eyes. It was Blaine.

He dismounted and looked around. There were no signs of who did this, or how many, or how long ago. He began up the tree to cut the body down. How would he tell Blaine’s parents? He stood on the branch and reached up to cut the rope with his knife.

As he touched the rope, a violent blast knocked him from the tree and across the road. Stunned, Sceva was still trying to regain his wits when a group of four men appeared. Three had the look of typical rogues, but the fourth was different. He was tall and thin, with a long, clean-shaven face and short, grey hair. He carried himself with an air of authority.

"There, there, Sceva," he said mockingly. "Did you fall down? Come on, boys, let’s help him."

Two of the three goons quickly moved forward and grabbed the knight, while the third planted his fist firmly into Sceva’s abdomen. Sceva grunted dully with the impact as his knees gave way.

The fourth man approached more slowly. "You see, Sceva," he said, leaning down to look at him face-to-face. "I find you tree-hugging templar to be incredibly annoying. You, Sceva, in particular, have been a splinter in my side for almost twenty years now. I intend to fix that problem today."

Sceva looked up into his malevolent eyes. "I could only be a splinter in your side if you oppose the common good."

"True enough," he said, standing. "I am Artorius, bishop in Baden for the great and glorious church of Sater." He leaned in again, as if sharing a deep secret. "And the common good is vastly overrated."

Artorius stood again and turned to face the man who first struck Sceva. "I must return to Turin before I am missed. I trust that the three of you can handle one unarmed man?"

"Absolutely, m'lord. You can depend on us."

"Good. As you may have heard, I don't deal well with disappointment. As for you, knight," he said, turning to Sceva, "I bid you goodbye and I leave you with this. Cruciatus eximius."

As he spoke the words of the spell, the men holding Sceva instinctively let go of him and backed away. Sceva felt the tingle of magical energy, then every nerve in his body exploded into pain. It was like being in the middle of a fire. Sceva found that he could no longer control his body; it convulsed and writhed on its own. He was able to open his eyes briefly in between spasms and saw Artorius finishing another spell. A magical gate opened in front of him and he stepped through and disappeared. Another convulsion took his breath away. Soon, he felt himself blacking out.

He found himself dreaming. A large tiger stalked its prey among the thick trees of the forest. It moved quickly, but carefully, pausing occasionally to smell the wind. It wasn’t hard for him to keep track of his prey; it was just ahead, making lots of noise in its panic. The tiger quickly circled around to the right, sprinting quietly between the trees. It stopped and crouched, waiting for just the right opportunity, then it pounced. The terrified man screamed, but was quickly silenced by the tiger, who leaped on top of him. The long claws dug into his chest, forcing him to the ground. The tiger gave a great roar, just before the fatal blow came from a bite to the face.

Sceva awoke in the road, his horse not far away. His attackers were gone, along with his clothes. Confused and exhausted, he slowly got to his feet and approached Victor. Victor seemed nervous at his approach, but eventually calmed down. Sceva retrieved a fresh cloak and pants from his bags and looked around. He was all alone. He could see Blaine’s body still hanging from a tree in the distance, but he knew he would need a mage to dispel the ward. As he began the ride back to Sonvico, he found large patches of blood in the road. He could only guess at what had happened, but it had saved his life.