EPISODE 46: PENANCE FOR THE PATHLESS“That’s one for us!” Corwin said, excitedly. “Progress, eh?”
Vash gave him a look as Topknot closed the large wooden door to the School behind him. “Puts us at one and one. I don’t think stalemates work out in our favor.”
“Gotta keep up the optimism.” Corwin said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Optimism?” Vash asked, deadpan. “When the next place on the list is a Temple of the Grand Pantheon?”
“It may end up differently here.” Corwin said, but his smile faltered a bit. “Besides, the School of the Wayward Path isn’t technically under the direction of the Grand Pantheon. They’re a lot more egalitarian. The patron god of Wayfarers is Rasander, and he’s in the Lesser Pantheon, so there are voices from that side of things, too.”
“How many voices?”
“One.” Corwin conceded. “But Edda is an old friend of Jabez’s. She won’t let you down…I think.”
“You’re filling me with confidence.” Vash said, dryly.
“Just keep an open mind and don’t go in there glowering like you’re about to piss in their baptismal font.” Corwin said, as they made their way back towards the cluster of buildings near the infirmary.
Vash bristled. “I never did anything like that.”
“It was a joke.”
“You have the luxury of joking about it.” Vash said. “Brother Enrick blamed every child with a broken bone, livestock illness, or drought on the sin of ‘mixed blood’. Made working in the shop the next day a real treat.”
“Enrick was an ass,” Corwin agreed. “A dangerous one, too. My brother Wil was putting together a petition to the Bishop in Vuln to have him replaced with someone more responsive to the village’s needs. Well, he was before…”
Corwin faltered, looking guilty.
“Only took, what, fifteen years?” Vash said bitterly. “After our little indiscretion, I wonder how far that petition got.”
Corwin looked away, and they walked in silence.
Vash felt a wave of guilt. The Walker family had also suffered under Brother Enrick’s rather pointed views on blood purity. Corwin’s father, Marcus, had been an elani, an ethnic group descended from the Malconians. That was where Corwin got his olive skin, dark hair, and almost black eyes. His mother, Nora, was a baedan like most Galadonians, descendants of a mix of Skjal raiders and mainlanders who populated eastern Solaria and Nosraval. The Walker family only settled in Durron’s Ford a generation or so ago, with no extended family or deep roots in the community. Brother Enrick used them as convenient targets as well, especially after Marcus died and Wil got hurt.
Vash thought.
Shaking his head, Vash tried to put the thought out of his mind. There was plenty of time to ruminate on the past later.
They crossed the village square, which by this time of day was becoming a bustling center of commerce. Pack mules, ponies, and hardy mountain horses stood at hitching posts, placidly accepting the heavy saddlebags being secured to their backs. Adventurers of every size, shape, and heritage crisscrossed the small square. They called out to one another, laughed, argued, and did all the normal activities of a village center. The only difference that Vash could see was the increased amount of weapons and armor on display.
The fighters were easy to spot. Chainmail, breastplates, heavy swords and axes marked them as surely as a sign around their necks. Rogues were a little more circumspect, but as they were adventurers and not criminal gangs, the standard combination of daggers and short swords were on display. Peppered throughout the crowd was a sight that Vash had rarely seen. Mages and clerics in adventure gear. The wizards wore loose clothing that allowed them to move and cast easier, but were far more practical than the long robes of Collegium mages that Vash was used to seeing in Sathsholm. Most carried thick wooden staves, intricately carved with spell runes and other sigaldry. The clerics were nearly indistinguishable from the fighters. The same weapons, same armor, but they all wore some token of their chosen deity. Failing that, they wore tabards with the iron wheel of the Great Pantheon.
“Master Ballard!” A familiar voice piped from nearby.
Vash looked around, confused, wondering who would know him in this place. Finally, he spotted a halfling with an impressive mustache waving enthusiastically from where he stood next to a sullen-looking pony. “Silas? What are you doing here?”
“Just a quick stop before we venture into the wilds.” Silas said, crossing to Vash. “There are few beds or taverns for quite some time after Amical Falls. Not to mention we’ll likely have to hire on a few Wayfarer guides and guards. Safest way to travel on the old ‘Glory Road’, eh?”
Vash couldn’t help smiling. Silas’ enthusiasm was infectious. “Well, good luck with that. I’m sure you’ll find what you need. It seems like there’s more than enough to choose from here.”
Silas sighed, “True, but most of these aren’t looking for caravan work. Wayfarers make their money from quests and dungeons. I’m hoping we can find a few heading to try their luck in Thorpe and can convince them to earn some coin on the journey.”
“Thorpe?” Corwin asked. “I’ve never heard of the place.”
“Apparently, it’s the only proper town in the Obrun River Valley.” Silas said. “Dwermothrax apparently tolerated the settlement so long as the folk left proper tithes. From what I hear, there was a meadow up near Drakenvult — Dwermothrax’s old lair — where shepherds would leave a few sheep each. So long as that meadow was never empty, Dwermothrax left Thorpe alone. Now, with the dragon dead, it’s primed to be a boomtown. Everyone is going to want to get in on that action. Speaking of which, if you lads are looking for a job, I’d be more than happy to have you and Master Jabez along for the journey.”
“We will have to see, Master Quartercall.” Corwin said, carefully. “Jabez took some wounds on our last job and is currently recuperating. As for myself and Vash, we have some Guild business to attend to before we can accept any new contracts.”
“Say no more.” Silas said. “But I will be in town for a few more days with the rest of the caravan. Come find me if you change your mind.”
With a jaunty salute, Silas turned back to where a pair of other halflings were securing bundles to his pony. He gave them several brisk commands in the lilting brogue of of the halfling tongue while making wild gestures for emphasis.
“He seems to be everywhere on this trip.” Vash commented as they continued up towards the cluster of temple buildings.
“Not that strange on the Glory Road.” Corwin said. “You end up traveling in the same circles for a time. People cluster together since traveling alone is a good way to get robbed or end up in the belly of some creature.”
“It’s that dangerous?”
“Can be.” Corwin said. “It’s the very edge of civilization. On the other side of these mountains are lands sworn to the shadow. Things come up through the Underlands, or spawn along the lines of power laid into the mountains themselves. Since it’s dangerous, it attracts people with nowhere else to go, or those who are looking for fortune and glory. So, you get bandit lords, mad sorcerers, shadow cults, things that theworld has pushed out.”
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Vash mulled this over as they approached the main temple. He had known that adventuring was dangerous business, but the realization that everything they had been through in the last week was not completely abnormal gave him some pause.
Passing through the simple, but well-crafted, temple doors brought his attention back to the here-and-now. The temple itself was an eight-sided room with doors in the north, south, west, and east. The emblem of one of the nine gods of the Great Pantheon stood on each wall. Vash glanced around, spotting the Flame of Valoa, goddess of Light and purification on the eastern wall, with her opposite, the Skull of Mordis, god of Death, on the western. North was the Owl of Ophea, goddess of Wisdom, while the southern entrance had the two-headed coin of Olom, god of fate. The center of the temple had an octagonal pulpit with an iron wheel hanging directly above it, emblazoned on both sides of the wheel was an iron crown, signifying Athair, the Lord of the Pantheon.
A small group had gathered around the pulpit. Vash recognized Sera, the novice who had tended him and Jabez back at the infirmary. An older woman with gray streaks in her dark brown hair stood beside her.
Vash thought.
A plump woman in a simple brown robe stood next to a towering man in a starched red and white tunic. The woman seemed uncomfortable, while the man had a grim set to his face. An orc, green-skinned and heavy-tusked, stood apart from the others. He carried a hammer that came up to his chest when he rested the haft on the ground. Even further from the group was an elderly halfling woman in a travel-stained gambeson. She chewed the stem of a long pipe and looked irritated that she wasn’t smoking it. Standing behind her was a tall young woman with close-cropped black hair, wearing a similar gambeson to the halfling woman and holding an iron-banded quarterstaff loosely in the crook of one arm.
All eyes flicked to Vash and Corwin as they entered. Vash felt the stares like a sudden weight being pressed down upon him. He felt anxious and guilty, though he’d done nothing but walk into the room.
Sister Clea leaned over to Sera and whispered a few words. Sera nodded and hastened over to meet Vash and Corwin. “Well, you two certainly get around. It’s barely been two hours since you left the infirmary and already the village is buzzing about the Council tomorrow.”
“Yeah, one of the Duke’s men isn’t happy with the quality of our service.” Corwin said, giving her a wry smile. “We were hoping to talk to the Master of the School, to see if we could convince him to give us his support.”
Sera’s own smile slipped a bit, and she glanced back at the gathering by the pulpit. “That’s not quite how things work here. The ranking masters get a say in what Brother Orban supports in the Council. We’re lucky that we have many of the ranking masters in town to provide their insight.”
“I’ll say it’s quite a gathering.” Vash said, glancing over at the clerics who were muttering among themselves. Most were pointedly not looking in their direction.
“You are welcome to stay and listen to the discussion.” Sera said, nervous. “But don’t speak unless someone directly asks you a question. No outbursts. Brother Orban is particular about decorum.”
Vash groaned inwardly.
“We’ll be on our best behavior.” Corwin said.
Sera smiled. “Great, you can have a seat. Brother Orban should be here any moment.”
The thunderous creak of a pair of great wooden doors startled them. A stocky man in his mid-forties strode through the northern door and down the aisle to the gathering at the pulpit. He had light brown hair that covered the first streaks of gray well. From his movements, Vash guessed that the man’s stockiness was from muscles that had gone to fat. And from the possessive way he strode into the temple and up to the pulpit, Vash felt certain that this was Brother Orban.
Orban looked down at where Vash and Corwin stood, cold blue eyes evaluating them and dismissing them just as quickly. “All right, let’s get this foolishness over with. I, Orban Androv, Brother of the Order of Athair, and Master of the School of the Wayward Path, convene this meeting of the ranking masters regarding the vote put forth by Lodgemaster Sallik for tomorrow morning. All present make yourselves known.”
“Sister Clea, Order of Taella, Master of Healers.” The slender older woman said. Her voice was soft, but carried well.
“Sister Lyra, Order of Ellana, Master of Bounty.” The plump woman in the brown robe said. Although she declared herself forcefully enough, her body language spoke volumes of awkward discomfort.
The grim man in the red and white tunic stood straighter before speaking. “Brother Sammel, Order of Valoa, Master of Purifiers.”
Next was the orc, who rumbled in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Brother Thark, Order of Ramah, Master of Battle.”
They all looked at the elderly halfling, who seemed bored with the whole proceeding. “My turn? Edda Jorgunsdotter, Chosen of Rasander, Speaker for the Pathless.”
Orban frowned briefly at Edda, then nodded to the young woman who stood behind her. “And your novice?”
“Novice?” Edda cocked her head in confusion, then looked behind her. “Oh, you mean Charity? She’s no novice. She’s a paladin of the wandering path.”
A paladin? Vash thought, surprised. Those are rare, especially ones unclaimed by a god.
The tall young woman gave a slight nod of deference to Brother Orban.
“Welcome, Paladin Charity.” Orban said, hiding an aggrieved tone in polite formality. “Sister Clea, we already know your novice, Sera.”
Sera made a half-bow to Brother Orban, keeping her eyes lowered.
Orban then turned his gaze on Vash and Corwin. “Then there’s the two of you. Corwin I have met in passing, but the other one is new to me. I hear you are also an apprentice to Master Jabez?”
It took Vash a moment to realize that this was a question. “Oh, ah, yes. Yes, I am.”
“That you came to the Wayfarers in an…unorthodox manner.” Orban said, a slight frown creasing his lips.
“You could say that,” Vash said.
“Not only are you a branded Vagabond.” Orban continued, the frown getting deeper with each word. “But also a criminal and a cultist of the Hunter’s god, Kyrinos?”
Vash maintained a blank expression, trying not to let his true feelings surface. “I am a member of the Eth Mitaan.”
This caused a few mutters among the gathered masters. Some knew what the Eth Mitaan were, others were clearly clueless. Thark, the orc, looked grim and turned to stare at Vash.
Vash thought.
“Kyrinos was one of the Sundered.” Sammel, the Valoan, said. His expression was one of extreme distaste. “A broken husk of a god.”
Thark grunted in agreement. “Pathless and vile. His followers hunted my kind for sport.”
Vash opened his mouth to speak, but the sharp gaze of Brother Orban gave him pause.
Edda cleared her throat. “Regardless of the boy’s spiritual pedigree, this is more a matter of secular law. He was offered a pardon for pledging himself to the Wayfarers. Now Sath wants to renege on that deal.”
“A deal that was contingent on completing a quest of the Duke’s choosing.” Orban said.
“A quest which he failed to complete.” Sammel said.
Clea frowned at this accusation. “According to Wayfarer Apprentice Corwin, the subject of the quest betrayed them and attempted to take their lives. Guild Law does not rule betrayal as a ‘failure’ in the completion of a quest.”
“Nor does it rule it a success.” Thark countered, his deep-set eyes taking on a reddish tone as his temper rose.
“Then they should assign him another quest.” Lyra suggested, relieved to have thought of a solution.
Orban shook his head. “The Guild gave the Eth Mitaan a chance to prove himself. He did not succeed. Therefore, he failed. I am not inclined to get into semantics with these matters. I feel he should return to Sathsholm to answer for his actions.”
“As do I.” Sammel said firmly.
“It is only fitting.” Thark said.
“And we’re doing this without his master present?” Clea asked, reproach clear in her voice.
“Would the word of Jabez Ironbiter really make a difference?” Orban said reproachfully.
“I’m going to tell him you said that when he wakes up.” Edda said, gnawing on the stem of her pipe.
“Lyra, think rationally about this,” Clea said, turning to the plump, motherly cleric. “This is happening too fast, too recklessly. We would never even think of such actions with normal members.”
“But he’s not a normal member.” Lyra said, looking at both Sammel and Orban for confirmation and support. “He’s a criminal who used a loophole.”
“We aren’t supposed to judge based on the past—”
“I don’t agree.” Lyra interrupted, shaking her head. “If we ignored a member’s past, then we are just giving them license to do it again. Besides, I’ve heard of this Eth Mitaan. They aren’t just thieves and bullies, they’re murderers. I can’t, in good conscience, allow him to continue in the Wayfarers. It would upend the balance we’re trying to create here.”
“Balance, what a joke.” Edda chuckled.
“You’re lucky we let you speak here, pathless.” Lyra said with surprising venom.
Vash glanced over at Corwin. The color had drained from the big man’s face. Obviously, this wasn’t what he’d expected.
Without a word, Vash got to his feet and turned to leave.
“I haven’t dismissed you, apprentice!” Orban said, voice a whip-crack.
Vash stopped and turned to look at Orban. “I’m sorry. I thought you were busy yelling at each other about how awful I was. Do I need to be here for that?”
“Ungrateful whelp.” Sammel growled.
“It sounds like you had already made up your minds before I even came here.” Vash said. “Since you obviously will not support me, I have others I need to speak to.”
Vash turned and stalked out of the room, leaving a clamor of voices behind him.
