Renegotiation of Contracts
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 14932
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"Then that," said Splitgrave, "is an impression I would be inclined to
quash, your highness. I know about those who enter the caves under the
mistaken illusion that they are indestructible. They're all dead now, and
live only through my testaments." He looked at his books, his expression
almost approaching pleasure. "But you will find that the even deeper within
the caves than this it is a very dangerous place, even for those of a
magical breed, Astra... Especially now. Something large is afoot. I sense
it now, it began with whatever took my life... There may be things of which
even a djinn might be cautious." "I suppose," conceded Astra, stretching languidly.. Fred watched, his jaw falling open. When Astra shot him a sharp glance he managed to pull it into a fake yawn. An apathetic Splitgrave, long past the temptations of the flesh, watched with disinterest, and Fred inwardly wished that he would stop staring. "You are tired, D'Honaire," observed Splitgrave. "So rest." As Fred began to protest, Splitgrave muttered a cantrip, and he slumped slowly to the dirt of the cavern floor. Fred's eyes closed on the image of Splitgrave standing over him, Astra watching with a bemused expression. Fred awoke to the harsh scraping sound of stone on metal. The grating noise did not stop as he sat up, his neck creaking from the night on the rock floor encased in armor. As he blinked in the flickering light of his unchanged surroundings. It could have been night or day; Fred's sense of time had grown quite disproportionate from days in this subterranean realm. Astra sat at the same table where Splitgrave had summoned the imp previous to their magical sleep, alert and sharpening a blade with a whetstone. Surprisingly, she was now wearing the armor of the Aquilarian warrior women. Fred began to ask, but then realized that she was a genie after all. "Sleep well?" Astra asked, to which Fred nodded as he got to his feet. "That's good. Apparently we've a long, arduous journey ahead of us...according to the dead man." "That's correct," said Splitgrave, limping out from his library. He carried a big brass compass in one desiccate hand and a thin book bound in some unpleasantly organic material, with what looked like veins running underneath its surface. He forced both the compass and book into Fred's hands. The book felt as though it was cold, dead flesh. Fred could only grit his teeth and steel himself as Splitgrave continued. "With these, I've done all I can for you, D'Honaire." The compass was filled with a dingy liquid, but Fred was drawn to the book. Flipping the book open, his eyes fell upon the rows of small, spidery writing on each page, each page with a signature, written in very, very dark red ink... "Is this blood?" asked Fred uncertainly. "Noticed that, did you? Good. That's important. These are contracts, signed in blood by inhabitants of the caves over the years, pledging their souls to me after death, for various reasons, for various services, and with various possibilities for retrieving ownership of their souls." "Their souls?" said Astra, clearly horrified. "Why would anyone do that? And why would you want them?" "I have my reasons," croaked Splitgrave, "which are no concern of yours. And they have theirs, I assume. You will be able to ask them. They owe me, but since I will hopefully soon be laid to rest, they may have their souls back in full, in exchange for aiding those in my employ. I'm sure they'll be only too happy to help you destroy me. How ironic," noted Splitgrave, "that after all this time trying to escape my demise, I now must ask others to aid me in my return to mortality...Ah, but such is life. And death. And undeath as well. "Now, as I said to D'Honaire, the fact that the signatures are in blood is important." He took the compass, and the book back from Fred, who was happy to be rid of it. The loathsome thing and its clammy texture and gory contents revolted him. Splitgrave opened the compass lid, careful not to spill its contents. placing them both on the demon-table, he leafed through the pages. "Ah. Here. This one is recent. Alors Tremainey," read Splitgrave to Astra and Fred, index finger crossing the page. Blood was spattered across the page. Apparently, Alors had hit a major vessel in signing. "...regarding the murder of his uncle, aunt and cousins, all in one fell swoop, so he could take his 'rightful' place as Duke..." Splitgrave set about tearing out the cramped, jittery signature, almost obscured by blood. It didn't seem to matter to the lich, who gently placed the dry paper into the compass and shut the lid. There was a flash, then a steady glow. "The blood compass. It points to the donor of the blood, or a blood relative..." "But that's just an old superstition," opined Fred, "and I know Alors personally. He's a family friend, and besides, he became Duke back in-" "1211, I believe? On the old calendar. Yes." He held out the compass to a dumbfounded Fred. "It looks to be pointing back to the capital of Allaria. That seems appropriate. But it doesn't do us much good. So... Someone in the Southern Caves, then. Perhaps you should choose..." He returned the book to Fred, who accepted them gingerly. Paging through the book, he found a few likely names.
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The Inquisitor
1/7/2001 12:48:59 AM
Extending Enabled
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