ftp.ee.pdx.edu/2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar/ftp.ee.pdx.edu/pub/frp/tport/tport.zoo/etc/fiction/paulo

Text File | 1990-01-22 | 7KB | 134 lines

Article 18106 of rec.games.frp:
Path: bloom-beacon!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!CIS.OHIO-STATE.EDU!davenpor
From: [e-mail] (Jim Bassman Davenport)
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp
Subject: Tabolport Story - jld1
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Date: 16 Jan 90 22:40:55 GMT
Sender: [e-mail]
Lines: 121


MARCH 5th, 999 AD.

    "Shut Up, Sticks!" hissed Paulo. His companion stopped  whispering
and concentrated on being invisible. It didn't help much but it kept him
busy. Paulo stretched his neck until he could see over the crate that he was
hiding behind.
    They were hiding in a stack of boxes on the docks of the Kyrmark
Merchant House. They had been interrupted in their work by the untimely
arrival of a Kyrmark ship. Now the docks were swarming with laborers and
sailors from the ship.
    Paulo dropped from sight and considered their options.
    'All we need now is for a Kyrmark to show up.' He peeked again.
    " -fuck- ", he whipsered. There in the middle of the dock was Leon
Kyrmark on his favorite white charger talking to the captain of the ship. Paulo
eavesdropped.
    "...but we were unable to find August, sir. We expect he was eliminated
by the Patriarch of Corisi. We were even followed by Corisian warships until
we lost them in the storm four days past." The captain of the vessel had been
speaking and he was nervously fingering his swordhilt.
    "Well, John. That does hurt us. I suggest that you off-load quickly
and weigh anchor before daybreak. Those warships might still be following and
I can't have them led here. Go to Deaver's Isle, Sparian will put you up for
a week or two."
    Out of the corner of his eye, Paulo noticed the quick movement. One of
the workers was hurrying towards Kyrmark and the Captain. He almost called
out, but stopped to keep from being caught. He wished he had spoken.
    The figure did not wear the common dock boots, but rather a pair of
soft boots. His hands were pale; unaccustomed to strenuous hauling on hempen
rope. And one held a dagger, glinting silver and edged in purple stain. With
one blindingly fast motion, he grabbed part of Kyrmark's saddle and pulled
himself up, thrusting as he did so, under Kyrmark's breastplate.
    The assassin was not there more than a second before John tore him from
the horse and bore him to the ground. He slammed the man's head into the
cobblestone until he stopped resisting. At that moment, the charger moved
away from John a few steps and Kyrmark fell lazily down, his face white and
his body limp. John left the assassin to look at Kyrmark. The assassin jumped
up and took one step before being felled by the crossbows of Kyrmark's men.
    Paulo couldn't turn away from the scene. He knew he was in grave danger
for having witnessed the assassination, but he didn't know what to do. Even
Sticks was quiet, looking to Paulo for answers.
    An important looking Kyrmark warrior walked up to the body and spoke
softly with the captain. They agreed to something. The captain began to yell
for his men to get back on the ship, and the warrior had his soldiers put
Kyrmark in a wagon. Within ten minutes, the ship had disappeared into the
predawn mists and the echos of the Kyrmark hooves had died away.
    "What do we do now, Paulo?" asked Sticks in a voice Paulo hadn't heard
since they were kids in his Grampa Jules' barn after dark.
    "We get out of here, Stivko," he answered as he climbed off the crates.
    "What about the silks for Maria and Tawnya?" Paulo's look put an end
to any question of continuing their caper.
    They didn't see anybody as they slipped down the docks in the mist, but
Paulo had the nagging suspicion that their presence had not gone unnoticed.


    The chamber was dark, and smoky. The fire was warm, but did not
consume the oaken logs laid in the fireplace. All around were shelves with
objects seeming ready to flow off of them. Books, vials, boxes and skulls. It
was quite impressive and Martin used it to get him into his powerful wizard
mindset.
    Martin stroked the head of the eagle perched on his chairarm. He was
sitting in his den, observing events through a mirror propped before him on
an oaken table. It disappeared into mist.
    "Well, Vasparian. I think that Idian has overstepped his bounds. The
question is, should I help in the retributions, or stand by and watch?"
    The eagle said nothing, as was his manner.
    After contemplating his goblet of Brynnish White '09, he made his
decision, his face changing visibly with the event.
    "I shall wait and see, Vasparian. Wait and see."


    "Baron, I demand your attentions!" yelled Jerian Kyrmark. Some of the
din abated as the feasting guests turned to see who had spoken so to the
Baron. The Baron seemed rather upset with Jerian, mostly because he had
diverted the lord's attention from admiring the wonderful bosom of his most
recent maiden-to-be-bedded. His advisor, Lin Moritaine, leaned over and
reminded Anthas that he should not allow anyone to demand anything from him. It
would start a bad precedent.
    "You what?" spoke the Baron Anthas, drawing himself up into his best
regal and angered look.
    "I beg your pardon, lord. But I have urgent needs which I wish to
address with you."
    "What is so urgent with a merchant house that is should interfere with
the activities of the Baron of the City?" Anthas had already caught the eye
of the maiden again and made her blush.
    "The assassination of my brother Leon by the Silver Light."
    Now that stopped every conversation in the room. Only the wolfhounds
continued to bark for table scraps. The serving maids began to seep out of
the room, recognizing the subject as not for their ears.
    The Baron was also brought to complete attention. He turned to Lin
Moritaine.
    "Why wasn't I informed of these events?" Moritaine looked daggers at
the young Kyrmark lord.
    "No one has reported such a killing to the proper authorities, lord."
    "My brother was slain by the poisoned dagger of Evin Olgar, a known
member of the Silver Light."
    "And what do you expect me to do about it? If you have a private matter
with their house, you know how to deal with it." Jerian appeared to be growing
more frustrated with the Baron's posturing.
    "So you give me permission to begin a formal feud with the Society?"
    Moritaine almost knocked the wind out of the Baron as he threw his
arm against Athas' chest. Anthas looked rather annoyed, but nodded in
understanding at Lin's whispered advice.
    "I will give you an answer before dawn tomorrow."
    Jerian slammed his fists on the table in front of him, spilling a bowl
of fruit and knocking Lady Hubbard's wine into her lap. He glared at the Baron,
and even more at Moritaine before turning on his heel and striding out of the
hall.
    Conversation never did recover in the hall, but the mouths of the city
began whispering before Jerian left the castle with his warriors.



To Be Continued...



Jim Bassman Davenport

[e-mail]