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We really have got to get better at this. Ben decided at the last minute he wanted to run a game after all, and about 1:00 Sunday we tallied players and found no one had ever called Al. This doesn't seem fair, since everyone else except Erich got to play; but you'll notice I didn't feel guilty enough not to play. One of Alfred's wounds got infected and he was in bed taking golden seal while we did stuff. Sir Otto was keeping a three-day vigil. Fortunately we had no combat. In many ways it was a desultory game, so at least Otto and Alfred didn't miss a whole lot. It took some writing up, though, as a lot of it was information or deepening mystery. Poor Sofia is having to live down Garnet's reputation for bullying people who won't tell her what she wants to know, and she doesn't deserve it a bit. Sofia's diary: 3/10 - Villa Simpronius at last! I cannot get over all the wonderful smells - gardens everywhere, not one tannery, and the stables well downwind. Cousins Gnaeus and Julia greeted us with no appearance of having their noses out of joint, which is a relief to me, as Julia will be the only other patrician woman in the household and my life would be miserable indeed if she chose to resent us. Decimus is fussing over the disposition of the prisoners - he doesn't like having them out of his sight. Alfredus lacks appetite and I think one of his wounds is infected. Mostly unpacked. Very tired. Found a good secure space for Scipio by an open window. I am not covering him, on the theory that the darkness will keep him quiet and if he squawks, I'll know someone is climbing in my window. Uncle satisfied with our report of the trip and TA's visit, and relieved Decimus of the ring, to his relief. Prayers first, then a bath. 3/11 - Consternation! We were invaded! I had first notice of it, when something disturbed Scipio in the middle of the night; but I saw nothing but shadows, and heard nothing but feline politics, so I presumed that he was merely reacting to Primus's attempts to establish himself in the local hierarchy, and went back to bed. All seemed peaceful when I rose this morning, said my prayers as usual, and reported to Fr. Salvius in the chapel. It was just us and Sir Otto, starting a vigil he considers essential to prepare himself for finding his skull. I was under the impression that country people rose early, but Fr. Salvius says they don't use the early hours for formal devotions. Alfredus had a slight fever, and the herbalist had prescribed golden seal, liquids, and rest. At breakfast, Decimus informed Gnaeus that his guards had fallen asleep on duty - two large, but not clever, farm hands, with a slave boy to turn the half-hour glass and run any necessary errands. He had arranged for the two prisoners to be kept in separate storerooms, manacled, gagged in the magician's case, and looked in on every half hour. Given that they had the hour glass to amuse them, and three of them to keep each other awake, it seemed odd that they should fall asleep; but the prisoners were not disturbed in any way. After breakfast, Robyn examined the perimeter of the villa, and found marks of someone wearing soft shoes coming over the wall. At this point I remembered Scipio's disturbance in the night, for the marks were not far from my window. They had visited the library - not Uncle's library, but the household library - and the prisoners, and left again. Uncle had already retreated to his study, and was not to be disturbed, so Decimus and I informed Gnaeus so that he could deal with examining the villa for missing items, traps, etc., while Robyn and Tamara followed the tracks. We came after them with horses - but not, alas, with picnic lunches and portable literature, which in the event would have proved just as useful! I was expecting to lose the trail at the main road, but Robyn reasoned that the road would not be frequently traveled at this time of day, and by assessing the frequency of fresh spoor deduced that they left the it a few miles toward the frontier, and picked up a cross-country trail which led us to an abandoned villa. Lacking both Alfredus and Sir Otto, we had no desire to confront the prowlers directly before collecting intelligence on them, and the only cover was tall grass, which no one could imagine Decimus and me traversing unseen; so Robyn and Tamara, accompanied by Primus, proceeded to scout the situation, leaving us in charge of the horses. Decimus amused himself by identifying the weeds in the ditches, but between anxiety, hunger, and lack of intellectual stimulation, the time seemed very long to me. There are an astonishing variety of birds in the country, I find. At length, Tamara returned, to report that the villa gave every appearance of desertion, except that an individual dressed entirely in black lurked in the cupola, keeping a lookout. He had failed to spot them, and Robyn was keeping him under surveillance with his bow while Tamara and Primus returned to fetch us. The suggested course of action was to ride boldly up to the front door and begin searching openly, with Robyn positioned to defend us and create confusion in our foes should we be attacked. Leaving his horse behind so as not to alert them that there was a fourth searcher, we did so; but the results were disappointing. Primus, who I think was more interested in mice than in our prowlers, led us on a wild goose chase through the cellars, where we encountered nothing more exciting than some unusually large spiders, which fortunately were not proof against Decimus's sleep spell. Meanwhile, Robyn observed a group of 7 men issuing from the house, evidently determined to evade confrontation. They attempted to disperse our horses, but desisted when they found we had taken the precaution of hobbling them. Robyn shot at them, wounded one, and was wounded in return as they rode off toward the road. He describes them as dark men of short stature and an odd style of clothing, at least some of them bearing crossbows of odd design. We found their living quarters in the kitchen of the villa, where they had abandoned some bowls of an unusual design, with snakes, and some bags of a grain with which I am unfamiliar - white, hard, oval, and translucent. Uncle says that he has seen similar grain eaten beyond the states of the Gilded League; but nothing about the scanty remains we found resembles the League's manners of making things. I cast Prevarication's Bounty on the magician for Uncle's questioning of him, and he repeated essentially the story he had told us. It occurs to me as I write this that I don't recall anyone asking him under the spell's influence whether he saw or heard anything last night, when the guards fell asleep; but I will put the question myself in the morning. It is not likely, since Decimus had him drugged. The servants are already making jokes about Decimus's caution with prisoners! Who these people may be and what they want is a great mystery. They stole nothing, though they disturbed papers in Gnaeus's office; nothing related to the ruins, which would seem to be the obvious thing of interest to outsiders. Tamara seems to have given up attempting to flirt with Sir Otto, though maybe this is because he wasn't available. She is concentrating on Decimus at present. She makes me dizzy, flitting from man to man this way; but I suppose there's no harm as long as no one takes her seriously. 3/12 - Never, never, never again to I put off something I think of immediately before going to bed! The prisoners are gone, beyond recall! Scipio woke me again, and though I saw nothing out my window I immediately roused Robyn, Tamara, and Decimus, and set them looking for the intruders while I woke Gnaeus. We must have been on their heels, but they were fast and silent and away with the prisoners by moonlight without any of us so much as glimpsing them! Robyn tracked them to a copse of trees, where a large circle was traced in the ground. Decimus naturally concluded that it was a circle of teleportation, but when we tossed a mouse which Primus caught for us into the circle, it did not vanish. I wouldn't let Tamara enter it, however - these people are fiendishly clever, and there's no telling what might have happened to her. Even Robyn has stopped talking about how predictable people are. I think he resents these prowlers for fooling him twice, but perhaps he just has a headache. Uncle scryed the prisoners' neck rings - the manacles had vanished with them - and saw them being questioned in a dark room by men of the sort Robyn saw leaving the villa yesterday. They are almond-eyed and speak a language which sounds like cats howling. However, it is clear from the hostile interrogation the magician was undergoing that this was not a rescue, and they were not affiliated with the hooded man who hired the bandits; so Uncle has opted to let it go for now. No doubt we will hear more from these mysterious strangers in future. Clearly we need to address questions of security. Since Scipio noticed them, but the villa's cats and dogs did not, it is possible that what we need are watch-birds! But Uncle's owl noticed nothing untoward, either. We finished out our sleep as best we could. Sir Otto is still at vigil. If his superiors told him he must do this, I suppose he must; but he's a large man and it's a small chapel. It is not easy to conduct services around him without disrupting someone's ritual. I trust Orus recognizes such difficulties and is not too strict about them. Alfredus is better and should be able to resume his duties tomorrow. Thinking it would be a good thing to familiarize ourselves with our environs, I suggested a picnic. Julia thinks it brave of me to ride all over the countryside with only one slave to carry the picnic basket; but nothing untoward happened. We are not happy with the security at the site of the ruins, and warned them of the prowlers. No doubt Decimus will be full of suggestions for how to improve arrangements. The only surprising thing we encountered was a man spreading a runaway slave flyer, offering a 1000 gp reward for the return of Margareta and her son to Senator Valerius! No slave is worth that much; but it's enough to make most people not care to ask questions. We told the cryer we had not seen them but would keep our eyes open, and offered to save him a trip by taking the flyer destined for our part of the country, to which he consented. Of course we took Margareta aside as soon as we returned home, and asked her if she was sure she didn't know why V is so anxious to have them. She insisted she didn't know and was upset at being described as a slave. I told her that if she thought of anything she should not hesitate to inform one of us, even if it comes to her in the middle of the night, and withdrew, thinking that perhaps she would be more willing to confide in someone of her own class and that in any case secrets are not told to people in groups of four. Some time later she came to me in tears, anxious to confess. I cannot write down what she said in confession, but she authorized me to admit to Uncle that her son is one of several potential claimants to the throne of her country. The king and his declared heir died without a legitimate alternative, and now the country is plagued not only with the non-human invasions but with disputes over power. She naturally does not want her little boy embroiled in this, as he can at best be a pawn of some other ambitious person. V first tried to tempt her with his support, but she resisted, fearing that a mother would be found more an impediment than a useful tool, and he resorted to more forceful means. The poor woman is terrified that her son will be taken away from her, and not without reason. She also feels that Tamara and Robyn were threatening her by implication after I left, Tamara as good as accusing her of keeping V's son from him, and Robyn subjecting her to that disconcerting stare. I reassured her as best I could - it's just as likely Robyn thought he was conducting a polite pause in the conversation - and have spoken to Tamara about it, but I don't know how much impression I made. I must make her understand that it doesn't matter how well-intentioned we are, if Margareta doesn't trust us, she cannot be forced to accept our help. After all, V first offered to "help" her. Uncle thinks that being put on the throne with the might of Tarantium behind him might well be the boy's safest option, and for all I know he may be right; but it's her decision, not ours. If she feels herself caught between the frying pan and the fire she may panic and do something foolish. I have moved a trundle bed into my room and she will be staying here - we can call her my lady's maid for a time. The boy is best off hidden in plain sight among the other boys, and I think it would be as well to adopt a nickname for him. Orus grant us all a good night's sleep.
Last Updated:
Saturday, 26-Apr-2003 21:26:12 CDT
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