Chapter 19 - Part 8

An hour later they were back at Duchess’, transferring the packages by light of a cheap lamp to the other two horses, and inspecting the arrows, food, and blankets that they had gotten from Karbal. Delegado was incensed at the exchange rate, and his disparagement of the bugbear innkeeper seemed to know no limit.

“I think he didn’t know why she got off the stage when she saw us, and he was trying to find out,” Orphan said, looking over the two throwing knives that he had gotten. Neither were as good as his one remaining shiruken or his dagger.

“No kidding,” Delegado said. “Hm, these bandages are decent at least. Hope I don’t need to use them.”

“She sounds fascinating,” Thomas said. “I have always been interested in the Silver Flame, but I have never had an opportunity to study it. If she is trying to convert goblins and orcs, maybe she will talk to me.”

Orphan winced when he saw Delegado’s face, but fortunately the half-orc’s response was civil. “If you do talk to anyone about it, do it out of earshot of me,” Delegado said.

“So you had no trouble here while we were gone?” Orphan asked, trying to change the topic.

“You asked me that already,” Thomas said, puzzled. Then he caught on when Orphan tipped his head at Delegado. “Oh, um, no, the eyeless gray lady kept finding excuses to check on me, but no trouble.”

On cue there were some feet coming down the corridor. Delegado took his bow from his shoulder, and Feather fluttered up to a crossbeam holding up the roof. Orphan turned to face the doorway that had once held a door.

Duchess came into the doorway, bowing her head as she smiled with yellowing teeth. “You have a visitor,” she said, sniffing at the air. Standing next to Duchess was the bugbear woman, Flamebearer, with a full backpack.

“That will be all,” Flamebearer said, giving the woman some coin. Duchess bowed and hurried back down the hallway.

“What the f’test do you want?” Delegado snapped.

“How about I handle this?” Orphan asked. Delegado swallowed and went back to packing. “Our apologies. Delegado dislikes your faith, but we bear you no personal animosity, nor are we evil.”

“I can smell evil,” Flamebearer said, making her broad nose twitch. “I am a paladin. A holy warrior. You are not evil.” She looked at the stormstalk. “Although that is, but this one seems to control it well.”

“Why aren’t you attacking and smiting, then?” Thomas asked. He seemed nervous at the attention she was giving to his symbiont. “Are you really trying to convert the people here?”

“I spread the word,” she said. “It is my duty. Once I was of the Order of Templars, but I was called to the Order of Friars. And pursuant to my order I laid the basis for repentance here. But it was not my main mission.”

“What was?” Orphan asked. “Smiting King? He’s dead.”

“Yes,” the bugbear said. “You ended his evil. But no, that is not it.” She examined them carefully. “You have declined being Labyrinth folk, and you came from the southwest. You are going to where the storm does not abate.”

“Yeah, House Lyrandar wants us to turn off the Sovereign Host’s drinking fountain,” Delegado snorted.

“You are going to Ashtakala,” she said simply.

Thomas kept a still face, as did Delegado, but Orphan wasn’t so smooth. “Who says we are?” the warforged asked.

“Do not dissemble, please,” the bugbear said. “I have a mission in Ashtakala. I have seen it. I have also seen that a strange group would take me there.”

“Well, we’re petty normal, and I’m not sharing my horse,” Delegado said roughly.

“I don’t need your horse,” the bugbear said. She said it with calm, but Orphan detected a buried note of scorn. She didn’t care for Delegado, but it was more than just returning his dislike of her. There was something else there, something she was doing a very good job of covering. “My own is waiting for me.”

“Are you a caster of holy spells?” Thomas asked her.

“I can channel holy energy,” she said. “I can smite with the Silver Flame, heal wounds with a touch, and make undead flee.”

“You’re a paladin,” Delegado said. “We get it. Now bugger off.”

“I will share my horse with you,” she told Orphan.

“I don’t need one,” he said simply. “I can outrun the horses.” She raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. “Are you sure your horse hasn’t been eaten?”

“My horse is not here,” she said. “Trust me. It is safer than Feather.”

“I would like to accept you, but our mission is not a light matter,” Orphan said. “If you are a holy warrior, undoubtedly you will attract the notice of those we seek to avoid.”

“My destiny is with you,” she said. “I did not want to believe it at first. I was dedicated to bringing the Flame to all the races of Eberron. But the Flame showed me the way, in my dreams.”

“Okay, that is it,” Delegado snapped. “She is not coming with us, because if she does, I am not coming, got it?”

“Delegado, calm down,” Orphan said.

“Don’t you ‘calm down’ me!” the half-orc said, beginning to shout. “Religious fanatics are not people you can rely on, be they Silver Flame or Dragon Below! I’m not going on this mission with one of the evangelical nuts from Thrane with us!”

“You dare equate –” the bugbear began to yell, color rising. Orphan held up a hand and she cut herself off. Delegado stopped as well, but fumed.

“You are set on leaving us if she comes?” Orphan asked Delegado. “Knowing what Oalian said?”

Delegado took deep breaths and calmed himself. “No. No I’m not. But not because of Oalian, because you and Thomas need my help to get into – to get where we are going.”

“You are most boastful if you think you can get past the storm around the demon city,” Flamebearer scoffed.

“And how were you planning to do it, hm?” Delegado snarled. “We you going to pray?”

“I always pray,” she said simply. “But the Silver Flame was held aloft by a halfling named Drorin, who spoke to me, and told me that the noble one with the evil attachment would use a blessed staff to mitigate the storm.” She pointed to the end of the staff poking out from Thomas’ cloak. “The halfling showed the staff to me. It looked exactly like that.”

Orphan turned to Delegado. “A halfling named Drorin,” he said.

Thomas said nothing, but merely nodded.

Delegado clenched his teeth, then exhaled strongly. “That little twitch is still screwing up my life from beyond the grave,” he said finally.

Orphan relaxed. “Look’s like you’re coming,” he said to the bugbear paladin. “Well, if Karbal didn’t already tell you, I’m Iron Orphan, or just Orphan. That’s Thomas and his stormstalk, which he controls. That’s Delegado d’Tharashk. Welcome.”

“Wait one second,” Delegado said. “Let’s get something straight before we get all cuddly. You want to babble about your little fire? Fine. Do it to Orphan or Thomas. Stay the Khyber away from me. Do not talk to me. Do not look at me. Do not come near me. I am not talking to you or looking at you unless it becomes absolutely necessary in battle. The sight of your kind makes me want to bathe my eyes.”

“Your terms are more than acceptble,” she said, her eyes tightening. “In fact, they are welcome.”

“Good,” he said, deliberately turning his back on her as he kept packing. A long, awkward silence followed.

“Well,” Orphan said finally. “Welcome to the party.”

“I’m fine with you so long as you don’t snore,” Thomas added.