New Clan

This is the first story I ever tried to write down.  I'm sure you'll see the rough spots.  But there are scenes that I really like in this one.  Let me know what you think...

Chapter 1.

Nighttime.  Shadows cloaked and masked the familiar making it new and strange.  Deep darkness and quiet feet rendered one invisible if the need arose.  Even the tiny splashes of light that man might throw about himself to offer relief from the encroaching void merely aided those who truly knew how to swim the murky depths of night.  In this ebony reality certain people had long learned to use darkness and pass unseen, unheard on their often dubious errands.  They were the folks who made the night their friend, their home.

One such figure moved quickly through a dark alley in the port city of Cagun.  The sounds of raucous celebration were never far on this night, but then the Clanmeet only happened every five years.  The figure grinned as he thought of the restraints lifted and the revelry released after such a long wait.  Then the grin faded a little at the thought of missing so many good parties, but he did have a job to do, and he always finished his jobs.

The street upon which he stood twisted down the hillside toward the harbor.  Piles of refuse and broken crockery and even scattered timbers and overturned carts filled the street.  Ships completely filled the harbor, in a multitude of shapes and sizes and flying flags from all the clans.  The celebration indeed filled the city, one of only a handful that could really accommodate the Clanmeet every five years.  Clanmeet, the very name inspired excitement. 

Seventeen clans sailed the waters of the Archipelago and the Inner and Outer seas.  Strange currents and unpredictable weather throughout the islands made it rough in the best of times.  It took a strong people to tame it and wring from it any kind of living.  Yet the clans did not just survive, they thrived.  That had to be.  The Archipelago was fully 1/3 of the continent.  With over forty major islands and thousands of smaller it was a nation unto itself.  Harboring the best and worst of humankind it was a rough and wild place.  The clans led a rough and tumble life, yet looked out for one another.  Held together by traditions and customs strong as laws, often convoluted and making little sense to outsiders, but giving the people of the clans the identity they needed, not only to endure but to flourish.  Those traditions welded them into a strong people able to tame the wild seas they called home.

Each clan controlled holdings, some which had grown into cities.  They ran routes from many markets, all of the major ports of the land bound kingdoms had open berths for clanships.  They competed with each other for trade and wealth.  Occasionally pirating vessels of rival clans, it was an eternal contest to grow and gain in reputation and wealth.

Seventeen clans, made up of several ruling families in each clan, then filled with the widest mix of peoples imaginable.  They sailed the seas as the uncontested masters of their craft.  Quick and harsh in justice but also quick and almost capricious in forgiveness, about them had grown a romantic and exciting reputation that was completely deserved.  Men made their lives by their strength and will, suffered little for fools and freeloaders, but gave freely from their abundance.  Often in conflict, yet strong and rooted in their traditions.

Tradition dictated that the clans would meet every five years.  The clan leaders would meet for council to brag, fight, connive, pirate, and take advantage of one another.  Also to resolve feuds, stay conflicts, establish holds and, to form or dissolve clans as the need arose.  Clanmeet was truly a spectacle, an uproarious, raucous, exciting party.  In this rising celebration the shadowy figure moved.

At first glance one could mistake this figure for an older boy tending toward a slight build, and sometimes that had been used if the advantage were right.  A closer inspection would show a few more years on the boyish face, a developed muscular thickness in the shoulders and legs, and the calluses on the hands.  And the eyes, they would tell the whole story to the skilled reader.  Those knowing eyes. 

He moved as if he knew exactly what he was about, and that he did.  At the corner of a stable he found the long, light pole left earlier in the day by just another laborer in a hurry to get to his home and not really caring why the older man would pay a silver penny for this pole to be left at this location.  After all it was not his problem.  He did not really care and would forget about it during the coming festivities.  Again Flynn smiled.

For Flynn was the name of the skilled little figure.  And though young, he was well schooled in his art by the older man with the silver penny; Horace, Flynn's mentor and teacher.  Horace set this job up, and sent his protégé out expecting success.  Flynn determined not to disappoint him.  Hearing an approaching crowd, Flynn, using a convenient drainpipe, scampered up the side of the building as lithe as any squirrel and deftly pulled the long pole up after him.  The cortege appeared moments later but he already blended into the shadows of the roof, the long pole behind him hidden in the shadows.  Watching from the roof he smiled ruefully down at the revelers.  This group obviously from one of the waterfront districts as their finery was wool, and cotton, with none of the lavish silks or satins from the more wealthy partiers further up the hill.  Still, they would have just as much fun, and maybe even more as their cares seemed less of a burden, more easily shed.  Their celebrating clearly evidenced in their staggered strides, too bright eyes, and slurred voices.  The noise provided too good an opportunity to pass up. 

It is human nature to have the eye drawn to light and motion and noise.  Such was the case with the guard stationed on the roof of a large warehouse.  As the party passed on the street below he glanced down with a sour look, then dropped like a loose grain bag as the stone hit him dead on the forehead, the noise from the party below covering his fall.  Not hesitating for a moment Flynn stuffed his sling in his belt, grabbed up the pole and from his vantage planted one end firmly in the middle of the street.  It was just long enough for him to vault from the stable roof to the top of the warehouse.  Had one of the revelers looked back, they would have clearly seen the act, but as it was, it passed unnoticed by the partiers in the street. 

Once on the warehouse roof, Flynn quickly pulled up the pole and then sat still for several endless minutes.  Other guards prowled the rooftops this night and if the wrong person had noticed his feat, the alarm would already be given.  His hearing would be the first to warn him if he were about to be caught.  So he listened and waited.  When satisfied that he remained undiscovered and with his night vision restored he moved quietly to the middle of the roof.  Had anyone been watching they would have seen an apparition vanish into nothingness so skilled was he.  He stopped in the middle of the roof and waited.  He knew there were other guards, but also knew that if the one he dropped first were on this side, they would likely be on the other side.  Again, human nature.

His hearing again proved useful, providing him the location of the next guard.  He turned his head and waited until he saw the movement.  Sure of his target, out came the sling, and...  Wait!  A slight noise to one side showed Flynn that almost fatal mistake he would make in releasing the stone.  Someone had shifted on the roof to his right.  The masking noise of the revelers had faded and a figure falling would have been all too audible.  Flynn thanked the stars he had not thrown the stone.  Then after cursing himself for being nine times the fool he carefully sat and listened some more. 

His focus surprised most other men.  His breathing slowed, his eyes half closed.  Again his ears were his best friend at night.  Ever so slowly he turned his head, always listening.  He tensed and relaxed his muscles so as to not tremble or shift to give himself away.  Only when he was satisfied that there were only the two other guards on the roof, and only when he was sure of their location did he act.

From his earliest days Flynn had used his sling.  He practiced it constantly, even to the point of insisting that buckets of rocks be loaded on Moedrenn ships so he could practice during voyages.  Other men laughed at his seeming devotion to what they considered a child's toy.  A stout bow was always better than a sling.  Flynn was good with a bow, but he had stopped counting long ago the times that a sling had saved his life.  Besides a sling was so much easier to conceal and quicker to deploy.  His arm, his hand, his fingers, merely extended into the sling, so familiar was he in its use.  Two stones.  Two throws.  The third guard fell as he was rising and turning to see what the noise was with the second guard.  Now the warehouse roof belonged to Flynn.  He secured the guards with tight cord and gagged them soundly, not risking the chance that they might wake behind him and raise the alarm.  Then he turned his attention to his real target, the upstairs window of the inn across the street.  The inn occupied by Doedric Regens.

Horace and Flynn had worked for more than two weeks just to find Regens.  Regens had made it as hard as possible for them, or anyone else for that matter.  Probably had something to do with the size of the mark Jamvril Rilloon had placed on his head.  Regens had to be dead by the time the clan chiefs met on the third day of Clanmeet, so said Jamvril Clan Chief of Rilloon.  Rilloon had sponsored family Regens as the new Clan Regens during the last Clanmeet, and Regens had failed at the most important part of it according to Jamvril.  Doedric had not paid the obligations required by the sponsoring clan.  Forget that he had the holdings, the money was not there.  And with the recent ships that Regens had lost, they were finished.  Odd that Jamvril once claimed Doedric almost as a son.  Apparently when prestige and money came into play, blood ties went down the scuppers with Jamvril.  Something to remember.

Why Doedric was even coming was a mystery to many.  He could go rogue and flee to the Knights of Dreyfort, it was rumored that he was friendly with them.  Except that he held to an odd sense of honor.  Even though considered a failure he would still stand before the gathered clan chiefs and report his efforts.  And Rilloon would then take anything and everything that Regens had built in the last five years and keel haul Doedric anyway.  There was very little that would or could alter that tack now. 

Anyway, Jamvril offered a sum that opened the eyes of just about every entrepreneur in the Archipelago.  The amount was the real surprise.  Flynn figured an insult of some sort had to play into this game or maybe a threat.  Only ego or fear would drive someone like Jamvril to offer that much money for Doedric's head.  Fear of what or what manner of insult was an almost academic question at this point.  Cagun was a dangerous city for anyone bearing the crest or colors of Regens and almost certainly fatal to the man Doedric.  Yet still he came, making every effort to stay hidden and reach the Clanmeet unhindered.  And it almost worked.  It took all of Horace's considerable skill to ferret out where he stayed, and even greater effort, guessing, and observation and planning to figure out how to overcome the obstacles set to prevent anyone from claiming the considerable bounty on Doedric's head.

So Flynn Tabereau now had his job to do.  As he surveyed the inn across the street he noted the lack of guards on the roof.  Probably does not have enough people and chose to use his guards on the adjoining roofs instead.  Kind of smart actually, put the guards where they could still see but would not draw immediate attention to the building they were protecting.  That also made it certain that there were some heavily armed men on the first floor of the inn, so the front door was out.  It took a while but he noted movement in one of the upstairs windows open directly across from him, locating yet another guard.  Probably right across the hall from the room Doedric slept in, if he could still sleep.  Flynn now knew his entry point. 

In a moment a disbelieving Flynn watched a serious problem materialize right before his startled eyes.  The Regens guard in the alley to the left of the inn stepped over the staggered form of a loudly snoring drunk laying on a sewer grate in a back corner.  Abruptly the guard doubled over and fell as the drunk kicked him first between the legs then in the head.  The falling guard made little noise and provided even less resistance to the fake drunk as the figure caught the guard and laid him down quietly.  Apparently others had found Doedric.  And even worse Flynn noted as the fake drunk threw back his hood and cloak, it was old Meecham.  Flynn watched with grudging admiration as Meecham went to work.  Grabbing up a stout pipe, still loudly snoring for the benefit of any listeners, Meecham levered up the sewer grate he had been laying on top of still snoring all the while.  Several large men began to emerge.  Flynn knew by his own inspection that the sewer below that particular inn was blocked by heavy iron bars and the alley grates were bolted down with large bolts.  Apparently Meecham had figured a way to cut the bolt off the alley grate.  Of course, thought Flynn, the snoring and the ratty cloak covered the sounds and actions of the hacksaw blade cutting off the bolt from below.  Merely another drunk sleeping off the effects of too much ale to any passerby, and he had played his part well! 

One did not tangle lightly with Meecham.  Flynn knew of five, maybe six people who could stand toe to toe with Meecham and have a chance at seeing the next dawn.  Of course he considered himself one of those people.  He could handle Meecham alone, probably; but Meecham brought help to do this job.  Normally Meecham worked alone!  Then again this was Doedric Regens and, Flynn grimaced tightly as he thought it, you would have to be crazy to try this alone.

The mark was just too high!  High enough that Meecham brought the extra hands.  But if Flynn knew Meecham, the extra hands would do the dying tonight while Meecham would be whole and likely alone when the fee was collected.  For now Flynn just watched from the rooftop of the warehouse across the street from the Inn.  Doedric, he figured, slept right now in the room right across the hall from the upstairs room into which he now looked.  That would still be his point of entry.  The guard in the room likely watched the street for any sign of untoward activity, The window opened to aid his hearing but he could not see the alley on the side of the inn. 

Six men!  And one of them Meecham.  Even now they where scaling the side of the building intent on striking at Doedric fast and hard from the roof, Meecham fading off on the snoring sounds now that the need for the noise was past.  Well, Meecham was no fool.  To try and hit that inn from the street would be suicide.  What men Doedric had left would be fanatically loyal.  One could be sure that there were at least ten of those loyal men on the main floor of the inn.  It was a formidable defense.  But Jamvril was offering a lot of money to remove Doedric from the scene.  And unless something happened in the next minute or so, Meecham would be collecting said money before lunch.  Well, Flynn would just have to stop that from happening.  Hopefully it would only take a small modification to his original plan.

Flynn drew another stone from the pouch at his belt.  Now he took quick aim and launched the small projectile at the guard in the upstairs room.  Almost before the stone struck its target, Flynn shoved his sling into his belt and grabbed up his long pole.

He vaulted across the street in the same manner as before and dropped to the inn roof right in front of the now unguarded window.  Ignoring the clatter of the pole on the cobblestones below he stepped through the window and to the door of the room, pausing only long enough to shake loose his sling and a stone.  He heard a warning cry go up but knew that it was not for him.  Meecham and his men were in the upstairs hall.  He pulled the bolt back on the door, yanked it open and stepped back, watching as two thrown daggers appeared in the door right at chest height. 

Whirling his sling, Flynn stepped into the hall and released the stone aiming by instinct alone.  The first attacker stumbled and went down.  Meecham was the second man in the rush.  Behind him two Regens men and one assassin lay jumbled on the floor.  At the end of the hall the sounds clearly told that the other three assassins held the stairwell for the moment.  Already Flynn could see that hall was too wide for one man to defend for any length of time, so he attacked.  Flynn lunged low blocking a dagger thrust with his hands.  Meecham checked his forward motion and kicked hard at Flynn's body.  Flynn half stepped back softening the kick as he grabbed the leg and pivoted throwing Meecham into the far wall.  He released his hold on the leg and stepped back to the door to Doedric's room just as it opened.  Meecham saw the door open and a new dagger appeared in his hand.  Without hesitating Flynn stepped past an otherwise well aimed sword swipe from the big man in the doorway and threw his weight against him tumbling them both to the floor.  The dagger quivered in the doorway behind them.  Meecham cursed.  Flynn was up like a cat, slammed the door and threw the bolt.  Doedric came to his feet sword in hand.

"Six men came in the building," Flynn said in a rush.  "They came up from the alley through a window and are holding the stairwell."

Doedric said nothing, his eyes flicked to the door, then back to Flynn.  He kept his sword raised.

"Can you block the door? Your men are already coming up the stairs, but if those guys have any tricks up their sleeve they could be in here before help can get here unless you can block the door."

Doedric raised his hand and held it palm out toward the door.  He spoke a series of words and the air seemed to ripple momentarily between his palm and the door.  Flynn knew that for the next few minutes, so long as Doedric’s strength held there was little that would now penetrate that door.  All the while Doedric’s sword never wavered once from pointing at Flynn.  Flynn heard another muffled curse from Meecham on the other side of the door and then the sound of shouts and retreating footsteps.

Doedric spoke to Flynn for the first time, "Does Marquinn seek to profit from my death now?  You may find me harder to kill then you think.  I still have a reason to live."

Despite himself Flynn was surprised.  "You know who I am?" he asked. 

Doedric's face was grim, "There are only a handful of men who could handle themselves like you do, and only one your age.  You are Flynn Tabereau, cousin to Marquinn Tabereau, soon to be leader of the new Clan Tabereau unless I miss my guess."

"You are more well informed than we thought you would be.  No I am not here to kill you.  I am just here to finish the job that my cousin gave me."

"What would that job be?"

"First, find you.  Second deliver a message.  Then...," Flynn trailed off as a pounding fist and shouts of Regens men sounded at the door

"And then what?" asked Doedric as he moved toward the door, still with his sword on Flynn.

"Then I keep you alive until Clanmeet," said Flynn sitting down on the bed.

Chapter 2.

A few hours later Doedric gazed at the sleeping youth, his mind in turmoil.  Adrenaline still surged through his blood from the night's attack.  That combined with the shock of the youth's message robbed the big man of any more sleep.

Meecham had escaped from the inn out a window and down to the street.  Almost before he was on the street Flynn delivered his shocking message.  Then he suggested the best course of action to take for Doedric's safety.  It's simplicity was startling.  Half of the remaining Regens men took to the streets shouting for Meecham's head.  They declared in a rage that Doedric was dead and that Meecham had done the deed.  They declared that the wily killer had taken Doedric’s ring as proof of the act.  Whoever took the ring to Jamvril would collect the small fortune.

The plan held true elegance.  Meecham would have to keep a low profile as any other entrepreneurs would shift their focus away from Doedric towards the supposed assassin.  He would be unlikely to return this night.  Word would reach Jamvril himself very quickly and his efforts to find Doedric would lessen considerably.  That done, Flynn simply suggested that Doedric occupy a room on the main floor of the inn.  The bodies of the dead assassins were dragged unceremoniously from the inn, but not before one lent some blood to be smeared across the bed and floor of Doedric's upstairs room.  All but two of the Regens men moved noisily through the streets in and out of the now brightly lit inn, spreading word of their leaders demise and calling for help.

And surprising enough it worked.  No one harassed the Regens men who were now merely objects of pity, leaderless and doomed to lives of obscurity.  Half of them did not yet know the truth, that Doedric still lived, so they played their parts well.  Ironically they were now safe.  No one would think to use them now to provide information, not now that the mark was presumed filled. 

Flynn assured those in the know that the morning would bring an opportunity for safe passage to another part of the city.  Then he had laid down to rest.  Flynn had dropped off to sleep quickly in spite of the two Regens men now standing with bared blades in the room with he and Doedric.

And so now Doedric pondered the message.  Truly surprising, and it threw him an unexpected lifeline.  Now he had to decide if he should take it.

Marquinn Tabereau would declare a new clan as most of the city surmised.  What came as a surprise would be that he would invite Regens to unite with him.  Unheard of in the history of the clans, still it might succeed.  Marquinn and the new clan Tabereau would assume the debts and obligations of Regens.  In exchange, Regens would become a partner in the new clan venture.  By tradition, Tabereau would have obligations to Moedrenn, the sponsoring clan, but there was no secret of the closeness between Moedrenn and Tabereau and there was no reason to doubt that the closeness would not continue.

But why make the offer?  Doedric knew of no reason for the generosity of Tabereau.  There had to be a reason, and at this point Flynn either did not know or would not tell what that reason might be. 

Doedric had a reason to come to Clanmeet, a desperate reason true, but he had only one avenue open to protect his wife and family.  He would appear at Clanmeet to deliver what he knew, even if no one believed him, and then he would die in the most horrible manner that Jamvril could concoct.  His death would be seen as honorable and his sons would not be treated as rogues, but would be allowed to walk free among the clans.  True, his sons and grandsons would be poor and forced to rebuild with nothing, but they would be free and have the chance to someday regain the position now lost to Family Regens.  That was cause worthy of his sacrifice.

Now this, an unexpected opportunity.  But at what price?  He knew even now that he would likely accept any offer that might allow him to see his family again.  But he knew that this offer had to come with a price.  What is the price for this deal?  He would be made lackey to Tabereau, and he was a proud man, not bowing willingly to any man.  Yet he was also honest with himself, he wanted to live.  This opportunity may be his only chance.  Nevertheless, the turmoil remained.

On impulse he raised his hand, feeling the flow of power in the room, he gathered part of the power to him.  This always seemed to offer relaxation to Doedric in times of struggle.  He liked to feel that power coursing into him and then through him when he released its force. 

The use of magic was all about the gathering and transfer of energies that existed naturally around the user  All living things had the ability to draw on that power to one degree or another.  Over the years some individuals discovered that they could draw more of that latent energy into their grasp.  Once this energy was held, it could be focused and directed at the will of the user.  The power was generally focused by runes and chants.

The natural energy ebbed and flowed in distinct patterns.  The first magic users had recognized these patterns and made use of them, developing physical representations of the energy they sought to control.  Thus the development of runes.  Energy held in its natural pattern could function for great lengths of time.  And as an added bonus, the natural flow of energy seemed to find and gather within runes.  All standing or prolonged magic required runes.  The drawback of runes, the details were hard to learn and runes could be difficult to employ quickly.  It took time to perfect the patterns and put them to use as they were three dimensional in nature and required some form of construct, be it stone, metal, or wood, the materials most often employed to this end. 

A quicker use developed based on the mental focus of the user, focus initially employed through language.  Different users matched language patterns to the runes, patterns that seemed to fit the natural flow of the directed energy and chants came into being.  The actual language was not strictly important, just so that it brought the mind of the user to the necessary focus and intent to direct the gathered power.  These acts of power were one time only and would fade as the user lost their focus and the gathered energy waned.  If the focus was lost or not implemented the gathered energy bled back into the surroundings with little effect.

Runes and chants were passed down from teacher to student and assisted in focusing the intent and were practiced accordingly.  As time passed, with certain oft used chants, the user became so familiar with the feel and flow of power that for those familiar deeds they could pull and focus their intent without the need of language.  This came from years of practice.  At that point a magic user was considered adept.

Each magic user had differing ability at touching and drawing the latent power that existed around them.  The focus and intent were actually the easy parts.  Doedric knew that he was on the stronger end of the magic user spectrum, not the strongest, but easily an opponent to be reckoned with.  He gathered the power and felt at his strength, not for the first time considering a blow directly at Jamvril, but he released the gathered energy with a sigh, that would condemn his family to death.  Besides which, Jamvril had several magic users in his employ that individually could cause him pause and collectively would spell his doom.

As the power slipped unused from his grasp, Doedric found the clarity he sought.  He was a proud man, but his desire to see his family was greater.  Now that a way presented itself for him to survive and see them again, he would take it.  He reasoned that this could bring his sons the opportunity that would otherwise be lost to them for generations.  His failure tasted bitter to him, yet he would accept that pill, bend his pride, and live a life that his sons would be proud of.

Again he looked at the youth sleeping soundly on the next bed.  He envied the obvious lack of worry displayed in the uninterrupted slumber.  He found himself admiring the young man.  He was good at what he did, he had demonstrated that clearly earlier in the night.  His skill spoke of diligence in practice and showed the effect of long effort to excel.  Largest of all in the big man’s thoughts, this young man had saved his life.

He turned to walk from the room.  One of the guards stood, showing a bandage from the earlier scuffle with the assailants.  Doedric reminded himself that three others had died tonight, but it would have been worse without the intervention of the lad on the bed.

“Leave him alone for the rest of the night Max, he has earned that this night.”

“Doedric, we know little of him.  It would be wiser to keep watch.”

“Max, the decision is made.  For good or ill, we are tied to him and to Tabereau now.”

Doedric saw the man shift ever so slightly.  Relief showed through the strict mien.  Doedric realized that his men were wondering what he would do, they had mourned his impending doom and now it became clear that they hoped for their leader to take the newly proffered lifeline.

“I want to live to see Hannah and the kids again.  I will take the offer of Tabereau.  I am not too proud to give up that chance.

“But I will still look to avenge myself on Jamvril.  I am convinced that he had a hand in our fall.  I will see that made right if it is the last thing that I do.”

A little of the wariness crept back into Max’s face, but he was obviously pleased with the course chosen by his leader.  He motioned curtly to the other guard and they followed Doedric out of the room, leaving Flynn to sleep the rest of the night in peace.

Chapter 3

Early the next morning a large procession of revelers wound their way through the streets of the city.  Returning from their festivities on the waterfront the tired band pushed several carts still filled with displays from the parades the night before.  The rowdy participants still laughed and jostled tipsily through the narrow avenues and alleys seeking a return to home for a few hours of sleep before the next party started. 

In front of the inn where Doedric stayed, one cart wheel jumped a curb and ran roughly into the hitching post by the door.  The axle apparently split and the wheel collapsed the cart, spilling over the display and creating general mayhem.  Several men milled around making a great deal of noise without much progress.  The front door of the inn opened and several guards stepped out.

“Hey there, watch what your doing!” called one.

“Get on there!” shouted another as he shoved two of the revelers out of the way of the door.

“Move that cart!”  cried another guard.

Their efforts were met mostly with laughter and good natured ribbing from the gathered partiers.  The guards became more surly as the situation developed, and by all appearances it came close to blows at one point, with several of the rowdy crowd even pushing into the front door.  Quickly expelled from the premises by the now incensed guards the group finally got the cart up and bound the axle well enough to continue on their way.  No one noticed the addition of the two extra revelers at the cart.

“Now we just need to keep our heads down until we reach our destination.”

“Right, and we have nothing to worry about until then,” grumbled Max, Doedric’s large guard.

“No mate, you really have nothing to worry about now,” murmured a man made up like a clown.  He winked at Flynn and pulled aside the wide sleeved jacket he wore.  A pair of long knives showed momentarily.  The man was obviously not near as far gone as he appeared.

“There are a dozen of us in this party.  All loyal Tabereau men.  We know the errand and will stick to the job.  Now have a drink my friend.”

He shoved a jug into Max’s hands.  Max went to shove it away but Flynn’s low voice stopped him. 

“Play your part my friend.  Any jug with a red band around the neck is good for us to drink.  The rest of the band knows not to offer us any other jug.  We just need to play our part.”

Max took a small sip and found that the jug held nothing other than water flavored lightly with lemons.  He drank more and passed the bottle to Flynn who drank deeply, then handed the bottle back to the clown who capered away.  Max warily eyed the group and counted out the dozen men who only drank from the red banded bottles.  He noted how they always mingled and moved, yet maintained a discreet circle around the cart He and Flynn now pushed.  A large bump brought a grunt from the cart.

“Watch the road!  I do not have a lot of room to move here,” came the muffled voice of Doedric.

“Well if you did not make it a habit to stand a head taller than everyone else in the street, we might have been able to include you in the band, as a nice clown perhaps,” came Flynn’s light reply.  “Besides which you do not have to push your own great bulk uphill!”

Another muted grunt was all the reply Doedric made.

The procession wound into a neighborhood almost wholly dedicated to the Moedrenn clan.  Each of the large cities in the clan archipelago had such districts in the larger cities, it was traditional.  Sometimes clans would pass the ownership of whole blocks back and forth, but if a clan was a clan they would have at least two streets to call their own in each of the big Clan cities. 

The party began to break up.  Flynn and Max turned and pushed their cart into the dooryard of another inn.  Only a couple of other revelers followed, allowing the rest of the group to continue to disperse in their own directions.

Once past the gate into the dooryard, all pretense of festivity was dropped.  Two men pulled the gate to and one pulled open the stable door.  The cart was pushed quickly inside.  Max nodded his approval as they pulled off the top of the display and let Doedric get stiffly to his feet.

“You made that transfer well.  This was well conceived, and well detailed, even the drink,” commented Max.

“Moedrenn has moved folks this way for a long time.  We actually do this as part of a game at all festivals.  The larger families in the clan will try to surprise each other by having key members appear unexpectedly at specific parties.  The family that can move their designated leader the most without discovery usually gets a small bounty paid from the other families.  Anyway, it is an old game that gives us good practice.  And the game serves as a good cover for more serious moves of the more valuable family members.”

“Such as myself,” murmured Doedric.  “As I do not know where I am myself, I suppose that I should feel safe, except that I am completely at your mercy now.”

Flynn put one hand on Doedric’s arm, “I know that this is a lot to ask of you, but I give you my word that you are now safe.”

“And so will my men be when they reach the ship in the harbor.  I know, but knowing your plan does not make this any easier.”

“Which speaks volumes for your courage for being here,” growled a voice from the back of the stable.

“Hail and well met O mighty mentor and teacher!” declaimed Flynn with a grand bow to the older man emerging from the shadows.  He was not much bigger than Flynn and had a liberal mixture of gray in his short cropped hair.  He grimaced at Flynn’s grandiose gesture but could not hide the fondness and even pride from his gaze as he cuffed Flynn good naturedly on the back of his head.

“Insolent whelp,” growled the older man.  Then he gripped the youth’s shoulder, “When we heard word that Meecham had done in Doedric for the bounty, we wondered if it was true.  I didn't know for sure until now that you were alright.  When I heard Meecham’s name I worried about you, Meecham's dangerous to cross.  I'm glad to see that you are alright.  That all of you are alright.”

The older man turned abruptly to Doedric, embarrassed by the show of emotion.

“At last I  meet the infamous Horace, clan fighter of Family Tabereau of clan Moedrenn,” greeted Doedric.

“Well met Doedric Regens.  I'm glad that you are here, we look forward to working with you.  I know you by reputation, a good one.”

“Jamvril is terrified of you.  He sets guards against you everywhere he goes, or at least that is what he did when last we were on speaking terms.  He seems convinced that you are going to kill him someday.”

Horace smiled grimly, “I think that I can live with that.  I do not much care for that fat man.  He is cunning, but cruel.  I never thought much of him.  Yes, I think that I enjoy the thought that I scare Jamvril.”

Horace interrupted his own reverie.  “To business then.  Breakfast and business that is.”

He motioned Flynn over and pointed to the back of the stable, “There're two cows that need milking back there.  See to it.  Then join us for breakfast.”

Flynn sighed and rolled his eyes, but he went where directed.  Doedric looked questioningly at Horace as Flynn found the milking stool and the bucket.

“Good for hand strength,” said Horace.  “Not to mention that it does wonders for keeping folks humble, and that kid needs a little bit of that every now and again.”  His eyes followed Flynn and Doedric saw the depth of feeling in them.  “I never stop trying to teach these Tabereau boys.”  He glanced back to Doedric.  “I also never ask them to do something that I will not do and they know it.  There are four milking cows belonging to this inn, I milked the other two waiting for you to arrive.  Like I said, it is good for hand strength.”

Doedric watched Horace with a measuring gaze.  He had to admit, he liked what he saw.

“Come on in, Marquinn is waiting for us inside,” growled Horace.

At the back of the stable there was a door into a small garden with a cistern in the middle.  They walked into the kitchen of the inn from the garden.  The kitchen was a busy place, not surprising at an inn at this hour.  No one paid any attention to Horace or his guest, other than to glance at the height of the stranger.  Though recognition showed in some eyes not a word was spoken.

“This inn has been in the Tabereau family since before there was a clan Moedrenn.  Everyone here is part of the family.  In Cagun, this is the headquarters for any Tabereau work.  This and the house at the back and the smithy on the corner are all part of our headquarters here.  Everyone here knows you are here as Marquinn’s guest.  You are safe here.”

Doedric only nodded in acknowledgement.  The lack of sleep the night before was starting to tell on him.  Additionally he had surrendered himself into the hands of others and now felt a resigned calm that allowed him to relax more than he had since arriving in Cagun.  He would soon need sleep.

As if reading his mind Horace added, “Quarters are already prepared for you and your man.  He'll be taken there now to set things up.”

Horace motioned for one of  the Tabereau men following them to lead Max away up the back steps.  Max refused to budge, arms folded stubbornly across his chest.

“Go with him Max, if they were going to try anything it already would have happened.  I think that we're alright here,” directed Doedric.

Max still hesitated, but finally allowed himself to be led up the stairs.  Horace led Doedric out of the kitchen on down the hall to a private dining room.  He entered without knocking.

Marquinn Tabereau sat at the table his back to the door.  He was slicing fruit, cheese, and bread onto a platter.  Horace never even paused, he lunged at Marquinn grasping him on the back of the neck and heaving him out of his chair.  Marquinn lunged up and back seeking to break the grip, pivoting and punching hard at Horace’s side.  Horace slipped to one side to dodge the punch and tried to pin Marquinn’s arms down with his own.  They grappled for several seconds more until Horace pinned Marquinn against a wall.

Doedric was stunned at the ferocity of the attack and had cried out in warning.  He instinctively gathered in power to seize and hold the two fighting men.  As he reached out he felt a stinging slap to his efforts and realized that one of the two men was blocking him even in the midst of the fight.

Horace glanced at Doedric and shook his head his eyes clearly warning him to stay out of it.  Marquinn cursed softly and went limp.

“My apologies Horace,” said Marquinn contritely, “I was sitting with my back to the door.”

“The worst part is that you know it and are still careless about it.  Things are going to change very shortly, you will be a clan chief and there will almost always be someone around who would like to kill you.  Never forget that,” muttered Horace.  “Between you and Flynn I always seem to have my hands full.”

Doedric still stood somewhat speechless at the display of ferocity, and even more surprised at its sudden stop.  His tired mind tried to grasp what had happened.  Horace released Marquinn and stepped back.  Marquinn turned and gave Doedric a rueful grin.

“So it is under these auspicious circumstances that we formally meet, Doedric Regens.”

“What just happened?” asked Doedric.

“Training session,” muttered Horace from the table.  His seat chosen so that he faced the door, able to identify whoever entered.  He had already gathered up fruit and cheese and started to eat.

“According to Horace, we never stop training, and he's a stern teacher.  You rarely forget one of his lessons,” chuckled Marquinn.

“I can see why,” replied Doedric.

Marquinn stepped over to him and extended his hand.  Doedric took it.  They took the measure of each other for several long moments.

“Doedric, I'm glad that you came.  It took a great deal of trust.”

“My options are somewhat limited and Flynn was pretty straightforward with the offer.  At this point I do not have much choice if I want to live.  And I have a lot to live for.”

“I was still not sure that you would accept.  It cannot be easy after recent events.”

Doedric’s eyes clouded and he released Marquinn’s hand.  “No, it is not easy.  But here I am.  What would you have me do?  I cannot say that I will gladly swear loyalty, but if you require it, I will do it, with one request.”

“No Doedric, I am not seeking an oath of fealty.  That you're here is proof enough of your willingness to listen, and I promise that I can make an offer that'll be more than fair for the both of us.  Come get some breakfast while we talk.”

Marquinn led Doedric to the table and they both sat and began eating.  Marquinn served his guest.  Doedric noted the fact and wondered at it.  The food tasted good, and it was a welcome break.  He suddenly realized that for the first time in weeks, he was not immediately worried about Rilloon assassins.  He felt an inkling of hope grow in him, maybe this would not be all bad after all.  Still he needed to know more.

“Why are you making this offer to me Marquinn.  You do not need me to establish a new clan.  Moedrenn will more than support you, and that will make the difference for you.  I failed at my clan, Marquinn.  As much as it shames me to say that, it is the truth and you must see that.”

“Straight to the point I see,” said Marquinn.  He passed a pitcher of milk to Doedric then leaned back in his chair.

           

“You're right Doedric, I could establish a new clan without your help.  I could build the holdings and get the ships that I need, and I don't doubt that I could pay off any obligations to Moedrenn.  Clan Tabereau would then be a subservient sister clan to Moedrenn for several decades.  Traditionally this is what usually happens with a new clan.  It's expected.”

Marquinn then leaned forward, “I have a larger plan for Tabereau.  For decades we clans have been guided by Garren and her ally clans.  They are bigger and more powerful than any others that could challenge them.  And they are leading us in the wrong direction.  They build themselves up and stifle some of the smaller clans.  They seek dominance over all the clans, and that is just not right.  I want to build a clan that will be able to lead the rest of the clans by their example.

“I have a plan in place to do this, a plan that will work except for one possible impediment.  You established a hold at the mouth of the river across from Dreyfort.  That was your first hold and you built it well.  If my information is correct that's where your wife and children are currently hiding.”

Doedric nodded, somewhat startled at the depth of Marquinn’s knowledge.

Marquinn noted his surprise and nodded toward Horace, “Horace is more valuable to us than most people realize.  There's little that happens among the clans that he's not aware of.  He would likely be the real leader of Tabereau except that he will not allow that.”

“Why I would want to lead a bunch of thick skulls like you no one can say,” grumbled Horace.  “I would rather not add the worries of leadership to the headaches that Tabereau brings to me.”  His eyes showed amusement and even pride as he looked at Marquinn.  It was clear that he thought highly of the younger man despite his words.

Again Doedric was impressed by the depth of the men he breakfasted with.  Perhaps this could end well for him after all.

Marquinn returned to the explanation of his plan for the new clan.  “A key element of my plan for Tabereau is access to the river and the lands beyond.  I have some interesting possibilities in those lands, possibilities that have never been opened to the clans before.  I know that you were planning to push the boundaries of clan trade.  I can promise you that you can do more with me in one year than you could have done in twenty on your own.”

“I already made inroads with Dreyfort and several settlements upriver,” said Doedric.  “That was my entire hope.  I have done well with what contacts I have, almost succeeding even in the face of what has happened.”

“I know all of this,” replied Marquinn, “And I was more than ready to treat with you and come to some kind of arrangement for travel up the river.  But I cannot see what you have done with Dreyfort and your hold lost to Rilloon.  I have to be honest, I am helping you in order to profit myself.  To be candid, your current position makes my work easier.”

Doedric’s face darkened and Marquinn hurried to continue, “Please understand that I do not take joy or satisfaction in this.  I simply state the facts so that we can be totally honest with each other.”

“At least I know that I bring something to the table,” murmured Doedric.  “I felt pretty much like a beggar coming here.”  Doedric shifted his position in his chair.  Feeling like he had something to add to the plan helped him to perk up somewhat.

“You need to know something before we talk any further about this,” declared Doedric somberly.  “Jamvril is most worried about that hold and I believe that he has been part of an organized effort to scuttle this ship.  You both know that I have lost many of my ships in recent months.  I believe that Jamvril is partially responsible for this.  This is one reason why I want to confront him at Clanmeet.  At least I can bring the accusations against him out into the open before he kills me.  Then at least others can be forewarned against him.  Then my family will be out of the middle of this mess, they will be safe.”

Marquinn and Horace shared a quick glance.  Then Horace asked, “Do you have proof of this?”

Doedric shrugged as he answered, “Nothing that Jamvril could not defend against, any witnesses are close friends of mine so they can be blamed for collusion with me in my dire circumstances.  Jamvril is slippery.”  Then the lack of surprise from either of the other men registered with Doedric.

“You already know of this, with Jamvril.”  It was not a question but a statement.

Marquinn nodded and looked to Horace.  Horace did not look happy, he put his head down for a moment and then looked Doedric in the eye.

“As Marquinn mentioned, I like to know what is going on with the clans.  Over the years I have developed some contacts within each clan and most of the greater clan families that help me with information.  I help them as well.  Our network is pretty much on top of things.  We noticed the loss of your ships and started to look into it.  We're aware of a possible connection with Jamvril and your troubles.”  Horace stopped talking at this point.

Doedric was suddenly completely awake, he leaned forward across the table unconsciously rising halfway out of his chair.  “Do you have proof, I mean proof the Clanmeet will accept?” he inquired.

Horace looked at Marquinn.  Marquinn sat back and responded to the question, “We may, but we have a problem with what we have found.”

Abruptly Doedric sat back, he felt suddenly angry.  “If you provide me with that information, you lose your hold on me, that’s the issue isn’t it.”  He stood and moved toward the door.

Horace cut him off with a simple statement.  “Our information implicates more than just Jamvril and Rilloon.”

Doedric stopped midstride.  “I am listening,” he stated flatly.

Horace sighed.  “I talked with a ship captain who carried a message for Jamvril to the port of Me’etholia.  The message had detailed information regarding the travel plans for two Regens ships."  After a pause he added, "ships that later disappeared."

“A Rilloon privateer no doubt,” spat Doedric.  “Who was the captain,” he demanded, “ I feel the desire to pay him a visit.”

Horace shook his head.  “I understand your rage, but please hear me out.  This captain was not a Rilloon captain, yet Jamvril entrusted him with an open message. And use your head.  Me’etholia is not a Rilloon port.  It leans strongly to Garren."

Marquinn continued quietly, "This is larger than Jamvril and Rilloon.  We might be able to scuttle Jamvril now, but this would only alert any others who might be involved.  This is why we need to provide new leadership for the clans."

Horace stood and crossed to bigger man, "We bring this to you and ask for your help Doedric.  You rightfully should have a new clan, and that has been taken from you.  Among those responsible is the one man who should have helped you more than any other.  But he is not alone in this.  We are still not sure just how big this is.  I would ask you to wait for your revenge."

"Why tell me this at all?" raged Doedric.  "My life was in ruins at an end, you give me an impossible hope.  I came here to die and you throw to me a chance to live, then a chance for revenge against my enemy and you expect me to turn my back on it?" 

"We have to be honest with you," stated Marquinn.  "I would have you with me Doedric, and I will not keep secrets from the man that I need as Clan second."

Doedric turned his gaze on Marquinn as he reached out to grab Horace's arms.  "You ask too much of me," he rasped to them.

"If we believed that," growled Horace, "we wouldn't have brought it to you."  Then he hit Doedric hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs.

Doedric reacted instinctively, lunging back even as he pushed the smaller man away.  At the same time he struck out magically by reflex with a burst of power aimed at his attacker.  Horace grabbed the bigger man by his arms and pulled in close to him as they both fell, even as Doedric felt his strike deflected away, saw a chair crumple under the blocked blow.  Marquinn was already moving back toward the far wall, watching intently with a worried frown on his face.  Doedric hit the floor hard with Horace on top of him, he was in shock from the suddenness of the attack, then realized that the next expected blows did not fall.  Horace held fast to Doedric's arms clearly waiting for the bigger man's next move.  Doedric knew instinctively that Horace was a better fighter.  He reached out to gather in power for a second strike, this one more focused and stronger than before.

Horace released his arms and stood, nodding with approval.  "You know how to change tactics when necessary.  You choose the surest way to fight, when you recognize that you are outclassed otherwise.  That is the mark of wisdom.  Use wisdom now my big friend and let your revenge wait for a better time.  Fight your battles now with the weapons that will win, fight with the help of a free clan behind you."

Doedric did not trust himself to speak.  Horace held a hand out to Doedric, offering his help to stand.  Doedric did not release his hold on the power he held.  He still hesitated, unsure how to proceed.

A voice from the door seemed to break the tension.  "If Horace is now teaching Doedric lessons, I gather the discussion is going well and we have an agreement," Flynn declared lightly.  He noted Doedric's continued reluctance to take Horace's proffered hand with a raised eyebrow.  "When you take his hand, make sure that you have your other hand ready for a block, he likes to hit you when your attention is elsewhere."  Horace snorted.  "Just warning him great master teacher," smiled Flynn.  "Although he may be learning faster than either Marquinn or myself as he still hasn't taken your hand."

Doedric finally calmed enough to speak.  "This is common among you?" he asked. 

Marquinn nodded and answered him, "Horace never lets a teaching moment go with either of us, as you saw earlier.  He also rarely tolerates any of us losing control of ourselves.  I think it is rather abrupt, but apparently Horace has taking a liking to you."

"It's obvious he has," laughed Flynn, "otherwise Doedric would be left alone or dead."  He stepped around the pair of combatants to the table, eying the crushed chair that had received the full force of Doedric's deflected mental blow.  Doedric noted that Flynn never entirely turned his back on Horace and always stepped in just a way that he could react quickly should the need arise.  Horace saw that Doedric had noticed the unconscious care the youth exercised, and stated calmly, "Get used to it.  If you are clan second I will treat you the same way that I treat them, until you do the right things unconsciously." 

Doedric finally took the proffered hand and allowed Horace to help him to his feet, all the while keeping his free arm in front of his body just in case.  Horace just smiled.  Doedric released the power he held in reserve and felt it melt back into the surroundings.

"You have considerable strength in magic," noted Horace.  "That is a welcome thing in this party."

He eyed the broken chair critically, "You need to add more punch and focus to your initial strikes.  I was able to deflect your blow, although I would not have been able to block it directly.  You just need some finesse added to your strength.  I have drills that will help with that, we will start later today."

Flynn laughed around a mouthful of cheese.  He chewed quickly and swallowed.  "He will have you running before sundown no doubt!" he chortled.  Then he attacked a large pear.

Doedric eyed the youth then asked Marquinn pointedly, "Just how much does Flynn know about what we were discussing?" 

"He knows everything.  He is the closest thing that I have to a brother, in terms of family.  If I become clan leader, he becomes the head of the Tabereau family.  His mother and my father were the only two children of the former family head.  My father died when his ship went down in that storm ten years ago, and Flynn's mother died not long after he was born.  Our Grandfather raised us until he died.  Horace has been like a father since that time."

"I have been with the Tabereau family since just before Flynn was born.  Almost twenty years now," Horace stated calmly.  "Their grandfather had no reason to take me in, but he did.  I am not from the clans you see.  But we are getting ahead of ourselves."

Doedric nodded and took the conversation back were he wanted it to go.  "What are your plans concerning Jamvril?"

Marquinn picked up his end of the conversation, "He must be brought to task for what he did to you.  But so must any others involved.  We have that task before us, find out the rest of the story behind the Regens ships disappearing, and why Jamvril would be so concerned about your hold across from Dreyfort.  But that is only one task, and not the most important one as I see it."

Doedric grunted, "I may not agree with that vision." 

Horace gave Doedric a direct look and stated, "I thought that I pulled the blinders off, but I may have to work a little harder on that."

Doedric smiled grimly, "I am willing to listen to the rest of your ideas, but I am more than a little interested in what happens to Jamvril."

"Fair enough," declared Marquinn.  "What we need as our main focus is to make Tabereau a great clan, almost from the outset.  Moedrenn carries weight, but cannot alone provide leadership the other clans will accept.  Traditionally we will never follow just one clan.  Yet more and more every year that is exactly what happens with Garren, and there are those within Garren who I would not trust for any reason.  I am afraid of them and what they seem to be doing.  We need to provide another option for the clans, another power that they can follow.  Moedrenn is a power in clan waters, Tabereau needs to be a power outside of clan waters."

"Thus your interest in Dreyfort and in my holding their," reasoned Doedric. 

"Almost right," replied Marquinn.  "But now we come to another family secret.  As Horace mentioned, he is not from the clans.  He holds some contacts and possibilities for us that you Doedric, have not been able to address yet."  Marquinn motioned to Horace to continue.

"I was born in the north countries," explained Horace.  "I still have family in the northern kingdoms and have recently made contact with them again."

"How far north?

"Brenscourt," replied Horace.

Doedric whistled softly to himself.  "Brenscourt is the second biggest city in the northlands.  They hold sway over a score of smaller towns and probably above a hundred villages.  They hold land with vast resources."  He smiled to himself as the realization hit him.  "If you pull this off you will be one of the richest clans before the next Clanmeet.  They need goods and you will have a ready source of raw materials for trade.  All sides prosper, but with you in the middle, you get it both ways."

Doedric turned to Horace, "How good are your contacts?"

Horace replied with one eyebrow raised, "They are family.  And they can and will deliver on their side of the bargain.  I have already spoken with them.  They merely await our envoy following the Clanmeet."

Doedric's eyes narrowed.  "How is it that you got past my holding on the Dreyfort river without being seen.  I kept a good watch on that river."

Horace rolled his eyes.  "The river is not the only road, merely the easiest.  For trade it is a necessity, for travel, not so much."

Doedric accepted that with a grunt recognizing his mistake.  Horace grinned at him, "Looks like I have my work cut out with you as well.  Three boneheads instead of two."  He gave an exaggerated sigh and dropped his head into his hands theatrically.

Marquinn and Flynn just grinned.  Then Flynn asked, "Are you with us Doedric?"

Doedric looked at the two young men, meeting Horace's gaze as well as the older man raised suddenly serious eyes to his.

"I get to live," mused Doedric, sharing his gaze around the table with the other three men.  "And I get a chance to get even with my enemies.  Time will tell if you are worth following, but to get what I want I have no better choice.  Tomorrow, I will stand with Tabereau."

"That will do for now," acknowledged Marquinn.  "Now it is time for you to rest.  Horace will want to talk with you about training right after lunch."

"Yes, about lunch," murmured Horace.  Flynn suddenly looked wary.  Horace smiled at him.  "I feel like some of that sour bread from that bakery along the waterfront.  You know the place.  I would like some brought back here within the hour.  Kindly fetch some for me my humble student and apprentice."

Doedric knew that the waterfront was far enough away from the upper city that Flynn would be hard pressed to make the round trip in an hour.

"Also, in honor of our friend here I think that a good Rilloon man should pay for it.  Borrow some money from one of them on the way, unbeknownst to him of course."

Flynn sighed, then quickly left the room picking up a large chunk of cheese on the way out the door.  Horace waited for about five seconds after he left, then sprang up after him.

Doedric looked a question at Marquinn.

"Horace will follow him to make sure they both do it in time.  If Flynn sees him and can accurately describe the time and place, Horace will give him a gold crown.  Horace will always try to do whatever he asks us to do.  He has not slowed down yet, although I suppose that time will come sooner or late."

"And the stealing from Rilloon?" asked Doedric. 

Marquinn chuckled.  "Near the waterfront are several quarters for various different clans.  Rilloon is represented there and he will find a candidate.  Flynn will be careful in choosing which ‘good Rilloon man’ he cuts a purse from.  In this case it will likely be a good personal merchant friend of Jamvril.  Someone who openly funds Jamvril's activities.  That is also part of the test."

"You train constantly and you train hard," observed Doedric.

"That is why we're still alive," responded Marquinn.

Chapter 4

Doedric woke to unfamiliar surroundings.  For a moment he almost panicked, then memory came flooding back.  Max sat with his back against the wall next to the door, his sword bared across his knees.  Anyone who came through that door uninvited would eat several feet of cold steel.  Additionally, Max held lines of warding in his left hand.  Max had little magic ability beyond wards, and those that he could use were for warning only, they could not repel.  But that would be enough as he was utterly devoted to Doedric and would not fail him while living.  The dark circles around his eyes gave clear evidence of his exhaustion, yet still he watched.

The room remained just as it had been when he had been ushered in right after his breakfast with Marquinn, Horace, and Flynn.  Max insisted on letting Doedric sleep while he kept watch, even after staying up all night and most of the day before as well.  No amount of cajoling by Doedric would get the man to rest or relax his guard.  So Doedric had slept. 

Doedric glanced out the window of his room.  They were located in a room that looked over the small kitchen garden they had passed through earlier.  Although it was noisy around the kitchen it proved to be one of the safest places in the inn that still provided a window.  No street was immediately visible so no casual passerby would see them through the window.  Both men appreciated  the fact that the open window provided a fresh breeze.  Doedric rubbed the sleep from his eyes and estimated the time from the light through the window.

“It is just past midday,” mumbled Max, who was struggling not to yawn, finally surrendering to the inevitable with a jaw cracking stretch.

“Then it's well past your own rest time my friend,” stated Doedric.  “I got some sleep last night where you did not.” 

“You’ll keep watch?” queried Max.

“He won’t need to,” said a voice from the window.  Both men jumped in surprise.  Max pushed Doedric to the wall, taking position between him and the window.

Flynn’s head appeared at the window.  “Is the room warded?” he asked.

Doedric nodded to him and pushed his way past Max, guiding the man to a waiting bed.  “Release the ward Max, we are among friends.”

Max grudgingly complied.  Flynn stepped in through the window.  Max kept his hand on his sword, clearly not happy that he had missed the youth’s presence.

Doedric’s curiosity was piqued, “Why were you sitting outside the window Flynn?  You could have made your presence known and we would have let you inside.”

Flynn grinned in response.  “You were asleep and I didn't want to wake you.  Also I was keeping watch outside the window, and as long as you were asleep I had an excuse to remain here instead of running another fool errand for Horace.  I missed the parties last night and felt like I deserved a bit of a break.”

“You were keeping watch?” asked Doedric.  “I thought that no one knew we were here.”

Flynn sobered.  “This morning while I was running my errand for Horace we both heard that Meecham had reached Jamvril.  The word is out that you are alive.  Meecham is out looking for you and there is an even chance that he knows that we are here.”

Max growled low in his throat.  Flynn motioned him to remain calm.  “That's why I was on the roof outside the window,” he stated calmly.  “Max had the door but Meecham likes rooftops almost as much as I do.  If someone came through the door, you were protected, but Meecham can get through the window and kill someone even before an alarm is raised in spite of wards.  He is one of the best.”

Max started to look worried, but Doedric was already thinking of others, “My men?” he asked.  Flynn answered him, “They made it to the ship and are anxious to get back with you.  They will march to the Clanmeet tomorrow right after it begins.  We figure that most of the people will know what that means, that you are alive and present at the Clanmeet.”

“A nice piece of theatrics,” mused Max.  “People will appreciate the show and the tide of popularity would grow in your favor.  Lots of people feel sympathy for Regens right now.”

“We are not above playing with popularity and emotion,” replied Flynn.  “It is something that we must keep in mind.  Anyway, I am getting off track.”

Flynn turned to Max, “We are moving Doedric tonight, just you and I.”

Max thought long and hard.  “Why just us?”

“I am almost positive that we'll run into trouble, so we are going to try to decoy the interest away with a larger group leaving at sundown through the alleys led by Horace.  The three of us will then make our way through the sewers.”

“Will we make it?” Max asked Flynn with a direct look.

Flynn met his gaze calmly, “I believe that we will.  Meecham will expect a change, Horace taking Doedric instead of me.  He believes that Horace is the more formidable opponent.  In that he may be right.  Anyway, we will try to play off of that.  Horace will be looking for Meecham, we will focus on getting Doedric through safely.  It will be your sword, my stealth, and Doedric’s magic.  That is the best that I can offer.”

Max grimaced.  “I will need some sleep then.”  He looked into Flynn’s eyes, “Keep him safe Flynn, he is all that my people have left.  I will hold you responsible if anything happens to him.”

Flynn smiled as he replied.  “If anything happens to him it will be because someone had to kill me first, so I accept that responsibility.  Sleep my friend, we have a busy night ahead of us.”

Max laid back on the bed and was asleep almost immediately.  As a fighting man he was accustomed to taking rest whenever he could get it.  Flynn and Doedric stepped through the door, closing it softly behind them.  Doedric paused and laid a hand on the door, drawing power into him he wove the familiar patterns of the protective ward around the room and the sleeping man.

As they turned down the hall he responded to Flynn’s thoughtful look, “I owe Max my life.  Even though I feel safe with Tabereau I will not trifle with the lives of my men.”

Flynn smiled and patted the big man on his shoulder, “I was just thinking that I know now why men follow you.  It is a good thing to know.  I was also thinking about your ability with magic, it will be helpful to have tonight.”

“Are you skilled in magic?” asked Doedric.

Flynn shook his head.  “I have never been able to gather the power.  Horace has taught me as much as he could about it anyway.  It helps to understand what you might have to face.  I have a ring that Horace gave me years ago that discourages magical strikes, or rather will confuse them for a moment or two.  It still keys off of my strength so I get a notice when magic is being used against me.  I feel the loss of strength.”

Doedric looked at the younger man.  “That is a subtle but powerful gift.  That would have cost Horace a small fortune to obtain.”

Flynn grinned. “He made the ring.  That is one of his talents.  He can make rune objects.  Marquinn cannot summon great power although he can sense magic better than most adept at the art.  Horace gave him a ring as well, but as he can already sense and detect magic his ring is one that helps him gather some strength.  Still he is limited so you are a welcome addition.”

Doedric felt startled at the admission of the younger man.  This was a secret that he had not known and he knew why it was kept so tightly, yet here Flynn shared it with him openly.

“You share a lot with me Flynn.  Are you that sure of me?”

“I am sure of your situation.”  Flynn’s look became shrewd and direct.  “Doedric, I know that you do not trust us completely, you have to consider that we have ulterior motives, that we seek to use you.”

Doedric nodded without responding aloud.

Flynn continued, “We will use you, every bit as hard as you would use us in our place.  But we will also trust you and you will grow to trust us.  You are already above me in the Tabereau clan.  You are honestly the clan second, already.  Already the word is spreading to those who need to know.  When your men reach the Palace for Clanmeet tomorrow, they will not be marching alone.  Tabereau men from all over the city will march with them.  I do not ask you to give me trust without reason, I do ask that you give me the opportunity to earn your trust.”

Doedric smiled ruefully, “Do I have a choice at this point?”

Flynn stopped him.  “Yes you do.  We will not remove your choice from this.  If you ask me right now, I will take you to Clanmeet and let you stand alone, as you originally proposed.  We will make due or come to some arrangement with Rilloon.  You have to see that this works for you as well as for us.  You bring something to this and we are not here to force you to do anything.  We could be manipulative, but we would rather have your willing help.  Before this is over, we will need it.”

Doedric’s face was an unreadable mask.  He probed the youth’s eyes.  At the same time he gathered in a large amount of power and held it right in front of Flynn’s face.  Flynn never blinked.  Anyone skilled in magic would react, if only to draw similar strength.  It was the way that a master would test young children to see if they had magical ability.  So Flynn had told the truth about himself and magic.

He brushed his power against Flynn’s face and felt it slide off to one side, deflected unexpectedly from his target.  He noted that Flynn’s right hand twitched and his eyes started to move.  Doedric had been trained to fight and recognized the tension that came into Flynn’s body and stance.  Suddenly he was poised to act, a coiled spring, and Doedric knew that Flynn already had moves and ploys in mind.  Flynn was ready to act. 

Doedric released the power and motioned for Flynn to continue down the hall.  “Lead the way Flynn. I am sorry to test you that way.”

“We expect you to test us.  We are planning to test you.  Especially Horace.”

Doedric’s look suddenly became guarded, “That sounds somewhat ominous,” he stated.

“Believe me, it is,” replied Flynn rolling his eyes.  He walked on down the hallway to the stairs and then descended with the bigger man to the basement of the inn.  Horace waited in a half empty storeroom.

“About time,” grumbled the older man.  He sat at a table with a jumble of material and tools before him.  Doedric stared at the table in fascination.  Most of the material was precious metal and small finely formed gems.  Horace had fashioned rings and bracelets and small almost delicate chains from the gold and silver on hand.  But what really caught Doedric’s attention was the runework on the various pieces of jewelry.  Tiny, intricately wrought patterns of runes covered almost every exposed surface.  The patterns and combinations astounded Doedric.  Such detail!  Even half formed it was an impressive display. 

Scraps of parchment littered the table, with various plans and patterns scribbled on them.  Horace’s plans for whatever he was constructing.   Horace would be a tremendous source of training and knowledge in the magical arts.  Doedric suddenly longed for the learning that this man offered.

He tore his eyes off the contents of the table and met Horace’s amused gaze.  “I am glad at your interest.  Take a seat and we will talk.”

Flynn stepped back and declaimed with a flourish, “I will leave you two mighty mages to your `studies!  Those of lesser minds, such as myself, will leave you to your grand matters.”

Horace stabbed a finger toward Flynn wordlessly.  A flash of light jumped from his finger to zing into the younger man.  Doedric noticed that Horace’s aim was not impeded by the ring on Flynn’s finger.  Flynn yelped as he was struck by the flying sparks.  Horace snapped a hand up and suddenly a rock hovered inches from his palm.  Only then did Doedric note the sling now hanging limply from Flynn’s hand.

“I only caught it because I expected it,” said Horace.  “Very good.  That may be your best defense; so long as it remains unexpected.”

Doedric looked at Flynn in astonishment, it had just witnessed Flynn’s prowess with a sling for the first time.

“If you had not held back you could have killed Horace,” he murmured to the youth.

Flynn shook his head, “I didn't hold back.  I have to help Horace train as much as he helps me train.  That is the only way we will both stay alive.”

Doedric looked at Horace with no small surprise.  Horace just smiled.  “I expect  him to use his advantages, so that I will know what he can do when we work together, and so I know how to test him and hone his advantages.”

Then he grinned at Flynn.  “He is fast with that sling and that is likely his best weapon against magic.  But I do not expect that he will ever hit me with a stone, not while I am awake anyway.”

Flynn suddenly looked grave.  “I would never knowingly harm you.  If I held back you would never be able to hone your own abilities.  I am certain that I could never hit you with a stone, not when you are aware of the possibility and I would never try to hit you by surprise.”

Flynn then turned to Doedric, “Horace is the man who raised me.  I would never harm him as he is all the father that I have known.  My own father died before I was born, he was a herdsman who fell in love with a daughter of the family head, and she with him.  She was devastated by his death.  Horace took care of her and of me until her death.  He is the only father I have ever known.  So I will do his bidding.  When he asked me to not hold back in this type of retaliation I hesitated at first.  Then a member of the Tabereau family died because he did not have the edge he needed.  By that time, I was the best of Horace’s students.  He told me that he needed to keep his edge and that I was the only one who could hone it.  I will not hold back when Horace and I spar, ever, and neither does he.  We need each other.”

Then Flynn put a hand on Doedric’s shoulder.  “We will be there to help you now.  You are family.”

Doedric’s eyes were troubled as he asked the two, “Why treat me with that respect?  How can you do that?  You barely know me outside of reputation!”

“All that we hear from anyone that matters is good about you,” replied Horace gravely.  “What is more, why did you come to Clanmeet when you knew it would mean your death?”

Doedric put his head down.  “My pride!” came his sharp response.

Horace snorted.  “That is what you tell yourself, but all of us know that is not true.  Why come to Clanmeet?”

Doedric raised his head, his eyes fierce.  “It is the right thing to do.  This way I die clean and it is the most honorable and powerful way for me to bring news of Jamvril’s treachery forward.  Other clan leaders will hear and believe, and they will act with the caution they need to have with Jamvril.”

“But that is not all, not even the prime reason for your coming.” stated Flynn quietly.

“No it is not.  If I did not come to stand in Clanmeet, I would become outcast, hunted, and my family would bear that for generations.  My sons will know that their father is honorable, that he does the right thing.  The debt to Rilloon is real, the obligation freely accepted.  I did not meet the obligation and will need to pay the debt.  Don’t think for a moment that I will forget that obligation.  Regens will pay Rilloon, either with gold or my blood.  I will see it no other way.  Any other way and my family would be hunted, they would not be able stand in any clan without shame, they would be in danger, not just of humiliation, but of their lives.  I will not let that fall on my wife, or my children.”

“That is why we feel good about adding you to the family,” said Flynn as he again patted the big man’s arm.  He turned without another word and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Doedric turned to Horace, “That boy is something special.  You have done well by him.”

Horace’s eyes clouded in thought for a moment, then his clear gaze pierced Doedric as he said, “That boy is my family.  At first I took him in because I fell in love with his mother.  She was a beautiful woman.  I am ashamed to admit that at first I did not mourn at the passing of Flynn’s father.  He died just after I came to Tabereau, I fell in love with Flynn’s mother the moment I saw her and felt great jealousy toward that herdsman.  They never married, although that was her intent from the start.  Flynn’s grandfather hesitated on the issue and when the herdsman died…”

Horace trailed off and once again his eyes clouded, but this time with pain.  “I saw the heartbreak of that beautiful woman.  I saw  how much she loved that man.  She never held it against her father, but he regretted standing in the way of their marriage.  I am still in awe at her heart and her goodness.  When Flynn was born I vowed that I would do right by him so that I might become worthy of her.  I was not worthy to be his father, but I would do the best that I could.  I came from a hard and dark background, and by that time I recognized that I lacked the goodness that Flynn’s mother had.  The goodness that his father had.

“Flynn has all the best characteristics of both his mother and his father.  I feel regret that I did not know his father more.  Just trying to fill his shoes made me a better man, and I needed to become a better man… Sorely.”

This time as Horace trailed off Doedric knew that no further information on that tact would be forthcoming.

“Flynn’s grandfather knew my history yet still he kept me on.  I guess that he saw something in me that I did not see in myself.  His daughter helped to start me on a new course a new life by becoming a friend even though her heart was broken.  I would like to think that before she died she grew to love me in a way.  Flynn, well Flynn has seen that this old tree bears fruit.  He has never let me down.  I am not afraid to teach him all the arts I possess because I do not doubt that he will use that knowledge well, for good and defense, never to needlessly harm or destroy.  And he is good at it.  He takes every challenge that I give him and finds a way to fill it.  I will not fail that boy if it kills me.  He means that much to me.”

“That is why family Tabereau will succeed as clan Tabereau.”  He looked at Doedric critically.  “You do not believe it yet, it is still too new to you, but you will come to see it Doedric, because for you it is natural.  You fit the same mold.  Others will sneer at that bond, that heart, but they will never be able to break it, just as you are not broken.”

“Now, to work!”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in exercises and practicing.  Horace had Doedric perform several tasks for him even as he tried to stop him from doing them.  It quickly became a competition between the two but Doedric learned much about himself and his power.  He found that he actually held an edge at strength over Horace, but could not best him due to the older man’s experience and speed.  Finally Horace set Doedric several drills that would increase the speed at which he could summon and employ his strength.

“You are a greater asset than I anticipated.  I am glad to have you aboard.  You show enough promise that I still have some hope for you, just like Flynn and Marquinn.”

"This may actually work out in the end," mused Doedric.

"Come, we must eat and then get ready to leave." 

Horace stood and gestured Doedric toward the door.  They moved up the stairs to the main floor of the inn and took their dinner in the same room in which they had breakfasted.  This time Max and two other Tabereau men joined the group. 

After they had eaten Marquinn laid out the plan. 

”I will leave in a little over an hour by way of a Moedrenn cortege from this street to the Clan Palace.  At the same time that we leave, Horace will leave by way of an alley behind the smithy attached to this inn with a body of picked men.  They will shadow the cortege on side streets and back alleys.  Between the cortege and the group with Horace we have three men who could pass, size wise, for Doedric."

"They will be in danger from any man with a bow on any roof," objected Doedric.  "I'll not join a clan just to get a man killed in my place.  That is not the way that I work." 

"Each man will be wearing a chest and back plate," reassured Horace.  "If anyone takes a shot at them they have some protection.  Not to mention that each man will be warded.  Meecham will know not know which is you but we will present him with three options to choose from.  I will be out there hunting for Meecham, or any other enterprising fellow."

"That is the strongest card in our favor," resumed Marquinn.  "Horace will be out and about, and any threat that matters will know what that means.  They will assume that Flynn is around as well."

"Have you chosen your route?" Horace asked Flynn.  Flynn was studying a chart on the table.  The chart showed the city of Cagun in great detail.  From what Doedric could see, every street and alley was shown, along with sewer paths.  All ways on the map were marked with shaded colors.  Neutral colors shaded the paths with less danger of observation.  The more vibrant yellows and reds showed the paths that would be most difficult to navigate.  All of the paths leading up to the Clan Palace in Cagun showed vibrant shades.  The palace was built to make a stealthy approach difficult.

Clanmeet was held every five years in one of the major clan cities.  Each of these cities had a palace built more or less in the center of the city.  By tradition, each clan had to participate in the planning and building of each palace.  They were of necessity fortresses, but theoretically fortresses with no secrets from any of the clan heads.  Each palace was held by a caretaker and a picked force supported by every clan.  By general agreement and established tradition no one of any authority in any clan could ever become a caretaker or a part of these forces.  Nor did those who joined a particular palace ever leave that palace again except on missions for the caretaker of the palace.  They literally lived out their lives in service to the palace. 

Any commoner could petition for admission into the ranks of the palace forces.  They would face the trials created to test their ability to become defenders and servants of the palace and its caretaker and, if accepted, become part of the palace force.  At that point they were to swear off any connections with any clan and live independent of all clans. 

Their life was good.  In between clan meets, they worked to serve the cities in which they lived.  The palaces included libraries, craft halls, hospitals, soup kitchens, and a myriad of other elements on the palace grounds.  They had large courts for markets and bazaars.  They served all the clans in their cities.  So the system worked. 

The caretakers were picked by the members of the palace guards and servants.  As they operated mostly independent of the city at large or the clans, they were able to remain aloof and neutral in most clan affairs.  The clans had also developed a protective sense over the palaces and their forces.  It had happened a few times that one clan tried to exercise influence or control over a particular palace, only to find itself facing the combined wrath of the rest of the clans.  The palaces were sacrosanct.  As such, they provided a perfect neutral ground on which clan leaders, even feuding clan leaders could meet in relative security.  The Clan Palaces were perfect for their purpose, but very hard to approach in stealth.

"The trouble is that Meecham and all the rest know where we are and where we have to take Doedric."  Flynn mused.   If they don't hit us in the first couple of blocks from here, then they will hit us near the Palace.  If an attempt on the streets near here turns up empty, they will be waiting in the sewers by the Palace."

"But they are reacting to us," observed Horace.  "We want them to hit our group in the streets.  Then I can track Meecham and keep him busy.  You will then be free to get Doedric to the Palace.  So long as we are taking the first steps and they are following, we lead the dance.  It will end where we want it to."

"With Meecham anyway, there are still the Rilloon forces and any other freelancer that just might get lucky," replied Flynn.  He looked at Max, "Have you seen enough?"

Max just nodded.  Horace was quiet as he gazed at the two of them.  Flynn turned to Horace, "I am heading down into the sewers now to have a look around.  If we run into trouble we will try to meet up with the cortege and make a dash for the palace."

Without another word he turned from them and left the room.  The others waited for several moments longer, then quietly left with only Max and Doedric staying in the room.

"When do we leave?" Doedric asked Max.

"Not long now," replied Max.  Within five minutes there was a knock from the floor beneath them.  Max moved to a corner of the room and fiddled with a light hanging on the wall.  A wall section between two beams swung back revealing a small hole down.

"What is it with small passageways?" grumbled Doedric.

Both men descended, Doedric squeezing and grunting to force his large frame through the opening.  Flynn waiting for them at the bottom of the short ladder.  He held a small, dim, shuttered lantern, with almost all the openings closed.  He wordlessly handed each man a muffled mail shirt, a short staff, a kerchief, and a long knife.  All of them donned their mail shirts.  They tied the kerchiefs over their noses and mouths, careful to keep their ears clear.  Max shifted his sword to his back and strapped his knife to his leg.  Then he took up his staff.  "Which way?" he asked Flynn.

"What plan seems best to you?" countered Flynn.

"It would be good to know if Meecham hits the force in the streets.  Then I think that if they hit the cortege we might be better off making our way through the streets," said Max.

"I would agree except for one thing," replied Flynn.  " We really cannot hide Doedric's size on the streets.  I do think that we need to know if and when the cortege is hit, though.  Then we will have a better idea of what we may face."

"Then lets go," replied Max.  Doedric tensed to draw in his strength when Flynn turned to him abruptly.  "Don't try any magic unless we absolutely need it.  The other side is sure to be searching for your power.  What we need from you right now is to know if anyone near us is using power.  Can you sense anything?"

Doedric recognized the error that he almost made.  Not a promising start.  He turned his head to the right and the left, opening his senses to the ebb and flow of power around them.  He felt stirrings from the street level, but recognized the feel of wards, not threats at this time.

"We seem to be in the clear," he informed the others.

Flynn nodded.  "I will go first, Doedric next, Max following.  I will have one candle lantern, Max another.  Keep them shuttered for now, just a faint glow, we may need our eyes down here.  We will be going mostly by ear.  Max, keep count of the passageways.  We go this way to start."

The three of them moved down the sewers, steadily but carefully to avoid any unnecessary noise.  At one juncture, Flynn brought them to a stop.  "I am going up here to see about the cortege.  Wait here."

"Hadn't we all better go up?" whispered Max. 

"There isn't room.  This is just a drop pipe from a street grate.  I won't be long."  Flynn shimmied up the pipe.

"That boy is part rat," murmured Max.  Doedric just smiled sourly.

It did not take long for Max and Doedric to hear the noise of the cortege above echoing down the pipe.  Shouts abruptly sounded from above, then a scream, then more shouts and even the tramp of running feet.  Flynn dropped down suddenly for the pipe.

"They hit the procession," he declared unnecessarily.  "I could not see much, but I saw enough to know that.  Right now I imagine that Horace is keeping Meecham or whoever hit them busy.  We need to move."

So they left the juncture and continued on their way.  Pipes and tunnels made up the sewer network of Cagun, growing in number and size nearer the center of the city.  Aqueducts supplied water to the high points in the city, the water not stored in cisterns or used by the populace flowed on through the sewers at a fairly steady rate.  This carried away most waste rather quickly.  Although strong, the stench of the sewers could be bourn through the kerchiefs tied across their faces.  Additionally the sound of flowing water covered up the noise of their passing, although it would do the same for any adversary.

It was evident that more traffic passed through the sewers than most people realized.  The larger pipes and smaller tunnels held wooden walkways and ladders.  In the larger tunnels the walkways alongside the central waterways were stone and mortar.  The more oft used paths clearly showed the tramp of many feet.  Torches and lanterns even burned at some junctures, evidence of immediate habitation and use.

The three men moved quickly but cautiously toward their destination.  They avoided any lighted points, always aware of the need to remain hidden.  At every noise they froze in their tracks, ears straining, anxious to avoid notice or discovery.

Doedric was the first to sense trouble.  They had just entered a main tunnel that they would need to traverse, one with lighted junctures, when he felt a whisper of power across his face.  The familiar touch told him instantly that he had just broken a ward.  Flynn, still in the lead, jumped when Doedric called to him.

" A ward!  We just tripped a ward!"

Max moved up with them in a moment.  Flynn turned back anxiously, "Are you sure?  I did not feel anything through my ring."

"That's because I tripped it," growled Doedric.  "It was set for a tall man, you walked right under it."

"It's for you then," Max declared, "and they know where we are.  Now we need to move!"

Flynn held up one hand.  "First, Doedric, can you check for any other wards in the area?  It will do us no good if we go blundering through wards every turn we take.  We will just run into a trap."

Doedric already held power ready for direction.  With a gesture and a low murmur he sent fragile waves speeding up and down the tunnel, into smaller side tunnels and larger pipes, anywhere they might have to flee.  He immediately sensed several wards, and worse, a burst of power dropping quickly toward them.  Without thought he reacted to the impending attack.  He brought up his fist and opened his hand with a sharp word.  What had been a tentative breathe of power flashed into a hurricane and the descending strike crumbled.  Arcs of energy blazed abruptly above them and a crackling filled the air.  The abrupt light dazzled Max and Flynn, but Doedric seized the residual energy in both fists and sent it crackling down the tunnel in both directions, following the path of the earlier seeking wave.  Any warding or trap that the energy came in contact with flashed into action then faded uselessly.

Doedric felt the rush of strength leave him and watched the results with grim satisfaction.  "Most of the wards and traps in our immediate vicinity are now extinguished," he stated calmly.

Flynn's eyes showed the surprise and calculation at the display of strength.  "Good, we go that way then, and fast!"

The three immediately began to run.  Flynn held his staff across one shoulder as he ran.  Doedric gathered in more strength to hold in case of another attack.  While he held it he knew that another magic user could sense that power if they were close enough, but he dared not allow himself to be caught by surprise again.  Max brought up the rear, short staff in one hand, long knife in the other.

The literally ran into the attackers.  There actions were immediate.  Flynn swept his short staff off his shoulder in a strong overhand blow, clubbing the first man off the walkway into the water.  Stepping to one side in a pivot he let Doedric bull into the fight beside him.  The attackers scattered like quail.

Max suddenly cried out to Doedric pointing at a man further up the tunnel, "Torgren!"

Doedric stepped back and raised one hand.  A sharp edged shadow abruptly lurched into the ceiling in front of them, the only sign of the deflected attack, at the same moment a bolt of energy arced from his hand toward the attacking mage.  The man Torgren raised both of his hands to deflect the bolt then thrust them out abruptly toward Doedric.  The impending blow never came, as Torgren abruptly doubled over, the hilt of Flynn's long knife appearing as if by magic in his stomach.  Max stepped around Doedric and rushed the remaining attackers slashing with his knife, clubbing with his staff.  It ended quickly.

The three paused momentarily as they reached Torgren.  Doedric looked down at him, pity in his eyes.  "I once learned from you Torgren.  Why?  Why do you hunt me now?"

"Torgren is a Rilloon mage," explained Max to Flynn.  "His identity is not widely known, but he is good at what he does, magical attacks and so forth.  Or at least he was good at it," Max amended as they saw the light go out of the stricken mages eyes.

"I am sorry," said Flynn.  "I just reacted, I should not have killed him but I can fight mages no other way.  I did not know he was a friend."

"He tried to kill us," declared Doedric.  " He knew who he was chasing.  He is no friend of mine."

"We need to keep moving," growled Max.

So they continued on their way, Flynn pausing only long enough to retrieve and clean his long knife.

An hour later the three crouched on the rooftop of an inn some distance back from the wide boulevard surrounding the Clan Palace.

They had encountered no further trouble since the fight in the sewers, and that worried Flynn.  He did not know Meecham's status or location.  He did not know how many men from Rilloon now helped Meecham, or if they were out and about in spite of his efforts.  There was simply too much that he did not know.  But he suspected a lot.

If he were the hunter in this match up, this is where he would take the game.  Considering what had already transpired, their opponents knew they were tired and had a good idea of where they were to be found.  It was only a matter of time.  But then there were the crowds.

By tradition, the night before the clan leaders met, the clan leaders and large families in the clans came to the palace in large parades and retinues, the corteges, that met and spurred on a large party in the boulevards surrounding the Clan Palace.  The party was in full swing now, and it was not hard to see Rilloon men out in numbers.  Some cavorted with crowd, but most clearly kept a lookout for their quarry. 

Smashed and tumbled floats littered the boulevard, testament to the ruthless nature of the Rilloon searches.  Max sneered at their efforts, but acknowledged that smuggling Doedric to the palace inside a hollow float display, had been one of the idea of the Regens group had considered.

Flynn watched as a Clan Cortege arrived at the Palace.  Actual columns of armed Rilloon guards blocked the path to demand to search every person and item in the Cortege.  It looked as if things would turn ugly until the Clan leader graciously submitted to a search, at a price.  One hundred gold crowns for his clan to submit to the search.  The Rilloon leader paled at the offer, but the cheers from the crowd at the suggestion showed that this was the only way that he could get his way without turning the crowd against him.

Flynn watched the search begin.  Doedric and Max pointed out Rilloon men moving toward the cortege, but not all of them.  There were still several men still mingling in the festivities, eyes roving and searching, missing nothing.  They had been still too long already.  An itch started between his shoulder blades.  They had to move to the Palace, and it had to happen now.  But how to disguise Doedric's telltale bulk?

Abruptly Max spoke in a low voice, "There is no other way, we have to give them what they want, that is the only way to open any gap in their attention."

Flynn stared at him in surprise, not quite understanding. 

Max looked at Doedric, "The alternate plan we spoke of."

Doedric's response was immediate, "Absolutely not!"

"What is the alternate plan?" queried Flynn.

Doedric tried to shush Max, but the Regens man explained.

"When we determined to bring Doedric here we never truthfully expected to get this far, but we still laid out a plan for getting him into the palace.  As I mentioned earlier, the one that we settled on was smuggling him in inside a display.  But we had a fall back plan, and we know that it will likely work."

"No it will not!" growled Doedric.  There was real fire in his eyes and he faced down Max.  But Max did not relent.  He grabbed Doedric's shoulders.

"Doedric, we discarded the plan because of the cost.  You said that one life was not worth multiple deaths.  But the game has changed.  Now it is not a throw away.  Now there is reason for it."

"No!" retorted Doedric stubbornly.

Flynn shushed them both.  "What is the plan?" he insisted.

Max continued, "Doedric can cast an image of himself and place it on another individual.  That man could then draw away the searchers, spring the trap, while Doedric slips in through the holes that result.  It is a risk, but if they think they have him, they will strike first and ask later.  It gives us a chance."

Flynn pursed his lips thoughtfully.  "The decoy will almost certainly be caught or killed.  And once caught, he is as good as dead when they discover the truth."

Max nodded in silent agreement.  It was clear he was stealing himself to be the decoy.  Flynn declared quickly, "Doedric can cast the image on me.  I will take a route and a angle across from the cortege they are searching.  You two make your way straight across to the palace.  Once on the grounds hide.  Horace or I will find you."

Max snorted, "Why you?"

"I am the best equipped of the three of us to escape a trap.  I can get out where either of you cannot."

Doedric shook his head, "It can't be you Flynn."

"Why not," flared the young man.  He was feeling the tension on the moment and felt the opportunity slipping by.

"You cannot hold the image.  You have no talent in that regard.  You have to be able to hold some kind of power for this ploy to work."

"Besides which," added Max, "I cannot guarantee that all of the watchers will follow me.  You may have to fight your way through, and in a close fight around Doedric, you have a better chance of getting him through than I do."

Flynn looked sharply at Max.  He saw that the man spoke the honest truth.  Suddenly Flynn saw the full measure of the Regens man.

"Sometimes things are worth dying for." stated Max calmly, "I believe that Regens is one of those things."  He looked at Doedric and said simply, "Do it!"

Doedric shook his head but Max cut him off angrily, "Do it Regens!  You have the chance to save our people and get the revenge against Jamvril.  What power do you have to remove from me the right to make the same choice that you made?  I am a free man!  This is my choice!"

Doedric stared at the man.  Tears rising in his eyes he motioned from his face toward the other man's face.  Max closed his fist and suddenly Flynn was watching two Doedrics.  Max turned to Flynn. 

"I will follow the course you suggested.  Before they take me I will cast the image from me and try to cause a greater diversion."  The guard glanced at his leader and added with a suddenly husky voice, "Keep him safe Flynn.  Believe me that will keep your hands full."

He caught Doedric in a rough embrace and suddenly was gone into the street, entering the crowd.  Doedric watched him go filled with pain.  A hurried tug on his sleeve brought him into the crowd where Flynn hurried him along straight toward the palace. 

Doedric saw the first Rilloon man catch sight of Max.  His eyes widened then he waved his hand excitedly to a fellow seeker.  The word passed quickly through the crowd, and Rilloon men closed in for the catch.

Doedric heard Flynn hiss in alarm as the big man paused, drawn to watch as a moth to a flame.  Even as he gathered his power to strike Flynn grabbed his arm and spoke swiftly into his ear, "Do you cheapen his sacrifice so?"

The words stung.  He turned and cuffed the young man, instantly regretting the act.  Flynn ignored it and simply grabbed his arm and pulled him into a half run toward the Palace.

Doedric heard the shouts behind him and then the thump of blows and the ring of steel.  Shouts of surprise and alarm spoke of the discovery of the subterfuge.

Suddenly a compact form flowed past Doedric and he recognized Horace springing past him.  He cut down a seeker right behind the pair of fugitives but did not stop there.  He continued toward the fight surrounding Max.  Two men grabbed Doedric's arms and started to pull his head down.  He reacted instinctively striking out, surprised to find his blows blocked by Flynn.

"We are among friends now!" hissed the younger man.  Doedric realized that they were on the Palace grounds, running for a doorway, surrounded by a pack of clowns in billowing costumes.  An arrow appeared abruptly in the arm of one of the clowns, but the solid think of steel told Doedric that under the flowing robes he held a shield. 

Doedric was through the door in a heartbeat and let himself be bundled down into a waiting cellar.

Marquinn waited in the cellar, along with the Caretaker of the Palace in the city of Cagun.  A cot sat against the wall, and several palace guards stood around the room.

The Caretaker smiled wryly at Marquinn.  "I will not bet against you Tabereau."  Then facing Doedric he spoke, "Doedric Regens, be welcome to Clan Palace.  You are here as a Clan Leader.  If you will accept it, for your safety I would invite you to sleep here.  We will see to your security and will see that you get to the meeting tomorrow morning."

Doedric nodded mutely, still stunned at the speed at which it had all happened.  He had reached his goal, but at what cost?

Suddenly Marquinn's anxious voice penetrated the fog of his confusion.  "Where are Flynn and Horace?"

One of the clowns answered, "They went after Doedric's man."

Doedric spun on him, "Did they get to him?"

The clown shrugged, "I was more interested in getting you inside than watching those two so I did not see."  Noting the fire in the big man's eyes he added, "If anyone could get him out that fix those are the two to do it."

Doedric staggered to the bed and sat down hard.  Relief that Max had not been abandoned rushed into him, along with apprehension about his man's well being, but he would take them so long as they came with the added hope that Max just might survive.