Barbarienne

And A Note...

2004-11-22T11:08:00.000-08:00

Right - 60 days seems a good time to bring to a close this attempt to bring the world of Barbarienne to a new audience, at least for a while - it's kept me away from writing new scripts for upcoming projects, about which, no doubt, more will appear soon over at the www.barbarienne.com website.

The stories we've related here correspond, generally, to the eight issues of the Barbarienne comic series published a few years ago. The origin tale in issue one is covered, roughly, by days 4 (September 27th) & 5; "Captives of the Churmuk" from issues two and three is covered by days 14 (October 7th) to 18; the "Fever Dreams" in days 21 (October 14th) to 23 come from issue four; "The Slavers" from issue five is covered basically by day 41 (3rd November); and the "Barbarienne versus Cuirass" saga, from issues six to eight, runs from days 50 (12th November) to 58. We also had days on which not a lot happened, of course, as you do, while days 26(October 19th) to 35 focus on a slightly rambling new tale of a devilish dagger.

In the original comic, the narration tended to alternate between issues between Charol and Memree; keeping with Charol here did have a few problems, and our narrator had to resort to blatant deception concerning the battle with Cuirass, I'm afraid. The first three issues are also, on the website, available in a more sexually explicit, or "naughty" to use a technical term, version. Charol generally underplays the sexual side in her writings here, except for the kinkiness of the first issue's set-up and one particular day about halfway through! For the sexier Barbarienne comics,set a little further down the timeline, take the link to Atomic Books and type "Barbarienne" into their search box...the first four issues are out of print, but Barbarienne #10 has just been published.

So, it's been fun - if there is any huge demand or outcry we might very well continue here, but at the moment this blog will have to stand as it is, and as a useful link from the website. Two months without missing a day was rather good, I think, so let us quit while we are ahead.

Day 60

2004-11-21T15:13:00.000-08:00

The nights are getting longer, the winds are getting sharper... winter is definitely not that far away. It took a while for us to get out of our nice warm bed, though we weren't as late as on the previous morning, so breakfast was not a problem. After that Memree and I dressed a bit more warmly than usual, and headed out into the city, determined to see more of it than we had so far, to experience the bustle of the docks, the hustle of the markets, see the ceremonial guards at their drill, and generally store away a few more memories of the place.

It does make Redwall seem like a sleepy backwater. The market we spent most time at must have been ten times the size of Redwall's, and it was only one of a number in various parts of the city. We bought fur-lined coats with fur-lined hoods, sturdy winter boots that come up almost to the knee, heavy winter trousers, and various other stuff, not all of it by any means as practical.

We had a noon meal at The Treasure Hunter - the same fish soup, and the same dumplings floating in it. It seemed strange not to have Cleve with us this time. Nothing had come of our notice on the wall there, and we asked the landlord to remove it... seeing that we were one person down, he didn't ask any questions, and that meant we had to appear more solemn than we were feeling, which was simpler than explaining what had actually happened.

The slave market here is big, too - as there aren't any big wars going on, it was mainly slavegirls in their flimsy, tiny costumes, all trying to look their best. The more you cost to buy, the better the conditions you can hope for, is the theory. Of course, the injections they get, the "All Virtue Preserv'd" treatment, ensures that they look pretty darn good, it adds a lot to their cuteness. It's a bit of a devil's bargain, of course - returned youth, an extra-long life, increased attractiveness, weighed against, well, the libido boost, the slavery bit, and the chance, low though it is, that the treatment won't work, but slam into reverse so hard that it kills. The older the subject, the higher the risk. That's probably why the ladies of society haven't gone in for it, though when you see the results, it must be a temptation. I'm approaching my prime, I suppose - it would be nice to stay this way!

But, as you can tell, we didn't really do much today. And we must very soon make our decision, whether to go straight back to Redwall, or find some adventure elsewhere before winter comes. Despite taking our names off that wall at The Treasure Hunter, our options are still very much open.

Day 59

2004-11-20T12:34:00.000-08:00

Actually, as far as the city of Broadwater and the general outside world is concered, this is more like Day 53, I think - time played strange tricks down there, which is hardly surprising. But I tell it as I experience it, even though some of the postings from Grishelm and the caves had to be reconstructed afterwards, as I didn't play as prominent a role in the events as I appeared to. But I'm up-to-date now, which was made easier by the fact that, cleverly, we did very little today. A lie-in so late that it took all of Memree's considerable persuasive powers to get the tavern to provide any sort of breakfast, then me getting this book properly in order... I'm not sure why I am so obsessed with writing it all down, but it does help me make sense of things.

Should we feel sorry for Cleve, injured at the end of our battle, and now trapped down in that tiny world? I don't think so, especially after seeing Sprite grown up! She wanted to have her voice - she has it now, and a better companionship than we could have offered, a more comfortable retirement than most sell-swords get.

Have we seen the last of Atzmon? I wouldn't bet anything valuable on it, she obviously has powerful demonic friends, or she wouldn't have come back this time after we lopped her head off, what, about five ten-days ago? I can hardly blame her for wanting revenge for that... I suppose some sort of obsession with both Memree and me is understandable. She called Mem "Emmie" once, I think. Presumably she knows more about Memree's past than anyone else, though she was hardly likely to share it with us...

As for the "trinkets" I mentioned, well, they are the type of item one has to be very, very careful about. We don't need to sell them at the moment, and they take up very little room, so, rather than visit shops and mages who we don't know and don't know us, I think we'll take them back to Redwall with us, and enlist Delinda, and Ashil, and maybe Man Coker, to try and find out if we have anything that is more than just decorative. Rings and amulets can have a lot of interesting, and useful, properties!

So, a lazy day. Tomorrow will be a bit busier, if only because we have promised ourselves a shopping expedition to the main markets here.

Day 58

2004-11-19T11:31:00.000-08:00

Outside in the courtyard, we saw a familiar block of stone - and Sprite, no longer with the bandages around his chest, jumped down from it when he saw us.

Memree grinned. "Sprite - it's good to see you, I thought you were tied to Grishelm."

Sprite smiled broadly. "The outflow of magic here has let me come through for a moment - I thought you would all appreciate a ride back to the castle." He paused. "But Cleve is injured...?"

I'd honestly not noticed. Cleve had been limping a little, but of course she'd not said anything... then I looked more closely, and saw how pale she was, and how she clutched her stomach.

Sprite made an engulfing gesture, and we were all on top of the stone...and the courtyard flicked out of existence around us, replaced, after an instant of darkness, by the ruins of the castle, in its cave, with the campfire still lit and Hengist standing patiently. And then we were on the ground again... though, while Sprite, Memree and I were standing, Cleve was hovering just above the ground, flat, with a glowing aura around her.

"It's some sort of magical residue, a spell of your foe's", Sprite said. "I think it would kill her, if she left..."

"You can save her, Sprite?"

He nodded. "Temporarily, at least - and I'm sure my father will augment it. He always says I should have some company."

Cleve smiled, and spoke. "That settles it, then - I think I would like to be your companion, Sprite."

Memree turned to Sprite, who was looking a lot happier now. "You said you could make her young and skinny, like you - well, how about making yourself a bit bigger, is that possible?"

Sprite stared at her for a moment - and then he was suddenly full-grown, muscular, and just about the most handsome man I'd ever seen. His voice, when he spoke, was deeper too. "Well thought, my lady!"

Sprite's magic, now that it was home, soon got Cleve on her feet again, and after a little packing of Hengist's bags, and plenty of hugging and farewells, Memree and I were soon on our way out of the caves, back into the sunshine, and heading back into the city, and the Speckled Leaf tavern. Maybe we'll check in with the adventurer's inn tomorrow, The Treasure Hunter... on the other hand, in all the confusion I did manage to grab a few odd little trinkets from Atzmon's rooms, I wonder if I picked up anything valuable...?

Day 57

2004-11-18T15:37:00.000-08:00

Cuirass had flown to the Grishelm cave on the back of a huge bird, and there had been some sort of transportation spell that had made it a very short journey. We were hoping that the spell was still operating, and that the bird was big enough to carry four women rather than just the one. It was waiting behind a bit of the old castle wall, and seemed happy enough for Cuirass to mount it, though its beak did look rather hard and sharp when it pointed it in our direction. Still, one after the other we piled on behind Cuirass, and it didn't object. Sitting on the feathers was quite pleasant, actually, though we had to hold on to each other tightly when it spread its wings and took to the air.

No normal bird could have managed the load, but Atzmon of course had used magic on some ordinary creature, and it flew - straight for one of the cave's walls! I was starting to wonder if jumping off would be a good idea, but Cuirass didn't seem worried - and instead of hitting the wall, we popped straight through it, and out onto a grassy, sunlit slope not far from, well, either a large, fortified house with a tower, or a small castle.

"That was fun", Memree said cheerfully. "I hope we can get back that way, as we left our stuff by Grishelm, and Hengist."

We headed for the castle-house, hoping that Atzmon wasn't watching us and devising some nasty welcome. Cleve climbed up the outer wall very quickly, using tiny gaps and cracks - she let down a rope for the rest of us, I was impressed with how fast Cuirass climbed, considering the weight of her armour.

"You next", I said to Memree, stepping aside as some guard or other landed head-first on the ground close by.

"I suppose it's too late to just write her a nasty letter...?" Memree grinned, and I gave her a boost up the rope, which she certainly needed, even though carrying her crossbow across her back meant both arms were free. I followed, and we were all on the top of the wall. Yes, definitely a castle, with battlements like that. We went quietly down some steps into the small courtyard, and Cleve risked a peek through a narrow window, and beckoned us to join her.

There was a good-looking woman in a close-fitting, armless dress, sitting staring at a mirror - and the 'mirror' showed Sprite's block of stone, occasionally fading to white and then refocussing. A black cat was sitting close by, and we could just make out what the woman, Atzmon, was saying.

"Whichever one I try to focus on, I just get that lump of stone - that damned Grishelm has too much magic in it!"

"They must all still be in the catacombs below", the cat purred... I didn't so much hear its voice, as feel it.

"I suppose so, Hugo, but I don't like it - our silly conjured warrior has freed herself from my control, and that makes me uneasy..."

"She did what you wanted", the cat commented. "She killed Charol, with Memree watching. That would have relaxed the spell... maybe the belt just fell off."

"Probably... the transfer won't last much longer, anyway - and then back she'll go, to her watery grave!" She laughed. "But I would so like to see my dear old friend Emmie again, if the little bitch hasn't killed herself!"

Sometimes you can get what you wish for. Cuirass looked grim, but marched over to the front door, while we three kept close to the wall alongside. She knocked, and a little window slid open.

"Open up in there! I have urgent news for your mistress!"

"I never even touched her", the reply came, from some sort of half-troll.

"No - your employer, simpleton! Open up and let me in!"

"I've always thought her rather bright, personally", he rumbled. "But we've instructions to be nice to you, so you'd better come in."

"Would 'being nice' extend to breathing in a different direction?" The door had opened now, and Cuirass was edging round it.

"Sorry, this is the only way I know - OOF!"

We were in, now, and a couple more guards didn't really give us much trouble. We'd tied up the comedian, and one of these two got similarly lucky. We moved off down the corridor, with Cuirass leading the way, heading for Atzmon's mirror room.

I can't say we actually managed to surprise her, but she'd not had any time to prepare for us. Cuirass went in first, and some sort of magic ray reflected back off her chestplate. Atzmon gestured at her cat and spoke a single arcane word, and it was suddenly some sort of furry monster, more like a minotaur or a two-legged wolf than any feline.

"So, you've come back to me, Verdandi? And you've brought me Memree to play with again, how nice!"

And then she saw me, and her face lost its colour. It was my turn to smile. "Hello, Atzmon - I do like your new head."

"You! But I had you killed."

"Are you getting worried yet, Atzie? Neck giving you any twinges...?"

Suddenly Atzmon was in tight trousers, boots and a jacket, and holding a glowing, slender-bladed sword - and she was leaping forward, straight for us! The Hugo-thing growled and advanced, but...well, I decided that Cuirass, or Verdandi, deserved the first crack at the mage, so I blocked Hugo, used the hilt end of my sword - and Cleve threw a spear, probably taken from the wall, and transfixed the brute. He fell, writhing, and turned back into a cat - a cat with a spear through him from end to end.

Atzmon's sword clashed with Verdandi's - and the glow extended from the mage-sword, began to cover the brave warrior as well. She groaned, but did not retreat. "Monster!"

"That's it, feel the pain, savour its embrace", Atzmon gloated. "It's the last thing you'll ever feel."

Memree fired her crossbow, it bounced off Atzmon's face. The glow around Cuirass was more like flame, now, and she was turning red, I think her breastplate, her cuirass, was actually starting to glow, as Atzmon broke away at last and turned towards me. And, with one desperate effort, the dying, baking hero was able to stab at Atzmon with her own sword, now hot itself from the magic... she sliced into Atzmon's side, and then she fell. "Something to remember me by", she gasped.

Memree ran to her, but Cuirass told her not to touch her, as the spell could bake her too. "Don't be sad", she said. "I died five centuries ago, these last few days... a bonus. But my spirit will live on, and we shall meet again, I hope..."

"Who's next for death, then?" Atzmon's wound had bled, but only briefly, and I'll swear even the jacket itself was healing.

"You are", I shouted, and brought my sword forward, hoping to hit her blade hard enough to knock it out of her grasp - it didn't work, but at least my weapon seemed proof against the burning spell.

"You're a fool", she shouted. "Maybe I'll take your body, now this one's been marked by that stupid cow - then Memree would really like me, wouldn't she?"

My reply was a punch straight to her jaw - it hurt my hand, but in a really good way! Some sort of wide-angle light flared from her hand, but I ducked under it, and had the very great satisfaction of burying my sword right in the middle of her stolen, well-developed chest. The only trouble was, it didn't seem to bother her at all, and it meant I'd lost my weapon...

"Ah, Charol darling, it's not that simple", she told me. "It will take more than what you've got to kill me!"

I looked around at Memree, holding the crossbow, tears streaming down her cheeks, standing close to the pile of ashes and empty, half-molten armour that had been Cuirass, and at Cleve, with a sword ready to either throw to me or at Atzmon. "Well gang, we've got her attention..."

Cleve threw the sword like a dagger, but it went into some sort of magical vortex and vanished before it could reach Atzmon. She looked around, and saw the spear that had killed the mage's monster-familiar, and tugged at it, pulling it out of the small but surprisingly massive little cat-corpse. Memree fired a bolt, but again it was harmlessly deflected, then turned to help Cleve, while I just stood confronting Atzmon with a small dagger I normally just use for cutting food.

"Whatever the body, I'm stronger than you, Charol, aren't I?" Atzmon gloated. "And I think you've run out of tricks now - haven't you!" Her hands moved with incredible speed, and suddenly she was strangling me. I tried to cut her arms with the dagger, I think I did draw blood, but she was winning, until wham, she was spun away, and I could breathe, and see that between them Cleve and Memree had transfixed her on their spear. And this time she wasn't laughing. Her whole body seemed to shrivel, until it was just old skin covering older bones, even her head seemed to deflate, and then the fire licked over her...

She was dead, or at least as dead as such mages of darkness ever get - and we, except for poor Cuirass, were alive.

But it's getting late - tomorrow will be one of those "ties up loose ends" reports, okay?

Day 56

2004-11-17T11:20:00.000-08:00

I had actually woken a little earlier, and put some water to heat over the fire before dozing off again, so I'd been vaguely aware of Memree and Cleve returning, and, in a sleepy way, surprised that Memree half-fainted and had to be supported by Cleve. And was that the armoured fighter Cuirass with them?

Luckily, a large block of rock was suddenly alongside us, and the child-creature Sprite was sitting on it, his bare chest wrapped round with bandages. "Well, I did try to warn you", he began. "'Whatever happens here', I said. I couldn't really let you in on my plan, or that Atzmon woman wouldn't have been convinced."

Cleve glared up at him. "Well that was a rotten trick to play on us, on poor Memree especially - she saw her friend killed in front of her eyes."

"It was", Sprite agreed. "But otherwise, if I hadn't taken Charol's place, then Cuirass here would have stayed under Atzmon's spell until she'd found the real one here, helpless, and killed her... and probably the pair of you, too."

"Hold on", I said. "Let me get this straight... while I was sleeping here, you pretended to be me, joined my friends in their search below, fought Cuirass as me, and got killed, as me...?"

"Not exactly killed", Sprite said patiently. "I do have a few talents of my own, but Cuirass ran me through with her sword most convincingly, and the psychic surge of that, combined with the magical aura around the castle area anyway, broke Atzmon's control over her... as you can tell from the way she isn't screaming and killing people at the moment."

I scratched my still-sleepy head. "I've got to get this all down in my book, maybe if I do, it will make some sort of sense."

Sprite laughed, a joyous, youthful sound. "Ah yes, your precious 'book' - you do that, I hope your faraway readers appreciate it all." He turned towards Cleve. "But, Cleve, you didn't get very far with Sunil, did you?"

"He said 'Why, stay here, then' - before Cuirass appeared."

"Ah, that means he reinforced my little spell... it will work forever, now, while you are in Grishelm."

"And when I leave...?"

Sprite was gently lowering himself off the block of stone, now, finding little foot-holds in its cracks and hanging on to the top. "No voice, Cleve - until you return." He let himself drop the last distance, landing lightly. "But you've seen some of this place's secrets...why not stay here?"

"It's very..." Cleve seemed lost for words.

"Be my friend!" Sprite seemed as young as he looked, now. "We could live by the sea - I could make you young and skinny like me." And he smiled, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"Well Cleve, you could do a lot worse", I remarked. "I don't think life here with this character would be dull." I resisted the urge to stroke the little god-child's curly hair. "But let's wait until we've settled our score with Atzmon, shall we?"

Cuirass nodded. "That sounds like the first order of business, Sera Charol."

"Yes", added Memree. "If she's grown a new head, let's go and lop this one off, shall we?"

And that's the plan for the morning. But getting these pages brought up to date has tired me out enough for one day. Again, my apologies for the necessary deception, but now we are back on track, and going after our old enemy, so tomorrow is going to be fun!

Day 55

2004-11-16T11:02:00.000-08:00

Cuirass just stood there for a moment, looking at the lifeless body in the water in front of her - and then she turned towards Memree and Cleve, and gave an awful smile. "The bitch is dead - and I could kill you, too, I can kill you any time I choose, just remember that!"

And then the sea and land blurred, and Cleve and Memree were back in the dungeons of Castle Grishelm once again... but Cuirass was there, too, her sword still dripping blood, and she seemed, well, different...

Memree was sobbing onto Cleve's shoulder, restraining Cleve from attacking Cuirass. "She's dead", she managed.

"Uh... we're back in the catacombs now", Cleve said. "It's all my fault, I'm so very sorry..."

"What happened?" Cuirass sounded puzzled. "I feel as if I've got the most awful hangover, but..." Her voice trailed off.

"Murderer!" It was Cleve's turn to restrain Memree now. "You killed Charol!"

Cuirass looked at her sword, and seemed shocked to see the blood there. "I... I did? I don't remember, it's all so blurry, I remember fighting her and wounding her in the shoulder, and then flying that bird back to Rosella Atzmon, the healer who...what did she say? Charol had been hired to kill her, and only I could protect her...?"

Memree stopped struggling, but she was still angry. "Atzmon's no healer, she's some sort of demon-powered mage, a warlock, an evil, amoral bitch - and she bent your mind, you idiot!"

"The magicks in this place must have broken her hold over you", Cleve put in. "Are you truly the lady Verdandi? I read about you in old books, when I was young..."

"So these ruins are of the Grishelm I knew, centuries ago?" Cuirass sheathed her sword, and groaned. "That warlock hooked me out of my time, played me for a fool, warped my mind, made me a murderer..."

There was silence for a while. "Well, Charol made me promise to go on, she knew what would happen - and she also said we should go back to where we were camped, where our supplies and our packhorse Hengist are. Let's do that, shall we?" Memree was trying hard to be brave, but her voice nearly cracked a couple of times.

And so it was that Cleve and Memree went back up the stairs, accompanied by Cuirass... and saw the flickering campfire still burning, a pot of water steaming over it, and Hengist nibbling at the weeds that had grown up between the stones... and also saw me, Charol, asleep, where they'd left me.

Well I had to be slightly misleading, and I apologise, to tell the story properly - but you knew I wasn't really dead, Ser Librarian, I hope, or else I couldn't have been writing this. The next day's worth should attempt a slight explanation, as we get back to proper honest narration!

Day 54

2004-11-15T11:22:00.000-08:00

Memree looked around, looking very happy. "Charol, you're healed!"

"Not exactly - but I'm fine for this job, lady", I replied.

"If we are lucky, we can win back Cleve her voice permanently, down here", Memree said.

"There may be treasure, too", Cleve said, not meeting the newcomer's eyes. "But this is why I came, and I'm really sorry I wasn't honest with both of you."

"Understandable."

"Even if we fail in this, you both have my undying gratitude."

I grinned. "You can't fail, now that I'm with you, warrior."

Another door, another flap covering a window - and another sudden transition, this time to a dark, thunder-wracked moorland leading down to a dark, stony shore. Where last time there's been a massive rock cube, this time there was an even more massive rough-hewn rock throne, empty for a moment until a blast of lightning hit it full on, and a bearded giant, robed and booted, was suddenly sitting there.

"Another petty pilferer to judge, is it?" His voice was slow and deep and rumbling, as he looked down at the three women. "Speak now, if you have anything to say."

Cleve cleared her throat. "Lord, I ask that -"

"Stop!" His voice boomed, and thunder echoed it across the moor. "I am Sunil, and it amuses me to bring Grishelm's would-be looters here for their eternal judgement, so speak carefully, creature!"

Cleve stepped forward, and dropped to one knee. "Oh Sunil, I came not to steal, but to ask a boon of you..."

"Speak, then. You have your small friend's acceptance, and that means much to me - but you have very little time."

"Outside Grishelm, I'm a mute, Sunil - I cannot speak..."

"Why, stay here, then, woman!" The words hung in the air, until, with another flash-crack of lightning, the throne was empty again - and the warrior Cuirass materialised on the beach behind the three, just as the first heaving drops of rain began to fall.

"This time I'll kill you", she yelled, charging forward with her sword raised. "Kill you all!"

"This can't be the true Cuirass, the Lady Verdandi", Cleve said. "She was a hero, vanished 500 years ago..."

"As a warrior, though, she's awfully convincing", Memree said - and just then the world shifted, and all four women were back in the Grishelm dungeons once more, with Cuirass and my swords clashing.

Memree looked around. "This place is too small - we must find another door. Charol was injured, she can't hold her off for long, we need more room..."

Cleve approached the third door, and kicked it in. "Come this way!"

And now everyone was again at a seashore, but in sunshine, and with a gently sloping beach, and the fight continued, though everyone was knee-deep in the water.

"Cleve, how are you at fighting homicidal madwomen?"

"It's you she wants, Sera Charol, but I'll try..." And Cleve closed in, sword raised - but without relaxing from her swordplay, Cuirass somehow kicked out, hard, and Cleve flew backwards into the sea, losing her sword. Atzmon must have been watching from somewhere safe, as her puppet beat back my defending blade... she'd allowed Cuirass too much free will the previous time, but now she was firmly in control.

"This Cuirass is too much for me, Memree", I said, panting.

"You'll stop her - I know you will, my love!"

"Look, girl - whatever happens here, promise me you'll go on. You must get back to where you left me, to Hengist - and then you'll understand - promise me!"

"Kill you!" Cuirass shouted. "You bitch, you thief, you stole her!"

"You can't win, you know." The sword was heavy in my hand, the whole body seemed ready to fail - too much had been asked of it.

Cuirass gave a cackling laugh, sounding chillingly like Atzmon herself. "Tell me that again when you're dead!"

"I'm scared", Memree told Cleve, who'd managed to find her sword again and was ready to advance into the fight. "Charol sounded so odd, as if... I'm scared."

"Me too", Cleve replied. "That anyone could last so long against that metal-sheathed killing machine--"

And then, it happened - the sword of Cuirass went straight through my defences, and straight through me, pushing me up and back, blood spurted everywhere, and it was a lifeless body that tumbled into the sea, watched in shock by the two horrified companions.

One thing's for sure, if I make a post tomorrow I'm going to have some explaining to do...

Day 53

2004-11-14T11:19:00.000-08:00

There's no way I can tell this adventure properly without cheating, so I apologise in advance. For a start, I'm not writing when I should, but later, and under different circumstances, and I'm writing about events that I personally didn't experience... that sleeping potion was pretty strong, and I was pretty weak!

So, Memree and Cleve descended some ancient stone stairs, into the bowels of Castle Grishelm.

"You think we can do this without Charol...?"

"We try", Cleve finger-signed back, looking around at the rubble-strewn corridors, and checking the map.

"But she's the fighter - I'm useless with the sword, and a crossbow's not much use at short range."

"You brave, Sera... that what counts", came Cleve's finger-reply.

"I'm scared witless, if you must know." Memree looked around wide-eyed, fingering the hilt of her sword.

Cleve gave an encouraging smile, and her fingers flashed again. "And me - but we go anyway. Both of us brave!" She walked along the corridor, heading for the door at its end. "When I hold my sword, I cannot sign-talk, so follow what I do closely!"

"All this had better be worth it - we should have just turned back, and tried again in a few days."

"No, must be now", Cleve signed, and pushed gently at the door - the wood came away from its hinges, and fell inward and down a spiral stone staircase, making an awful amount of noise. It was darker down below, and Cleve pulled an ancient torch off the wall, and handed it to Memree. Memree lit it, and followed Cleve cautiously down the stairs.

Below they found a square room, with various doors, closed... what looked like prison doors, with small barred openings in them, covered by wooden flaps.

"If other people have explored these tunnels, they were easier on the doors than we were", Memree commented, as Cleve carefully lowered one flap, and looked into the - dungeon? Apparently not, as bright sunlight flooded out, and engulfed both of them. Cleve and Memree found themselves in what was apparently a forest clearing, with the sounds of birds and insects, a gentle summer breeze, and a feeling of peace. Memree let the torch drop, and its flame immediately went out. Cleve had her sword in her hand, looking about for any foe, but the only item at all out of place in the scene was a large block of stone, old and mellow and half as tall again as Memree... with a young, curly-haired boy in shorts, tanned and cheerful, sitting casually on top, feet dangling over the edge.

"Now this is..strange", Memree was saying, in fact she'd began to say it before the shift, and her voice faded away as she saw this peaceful new place.

"Now that's a fine greeting, Vel Memree", the boy said, smiling.

""Who..."

"Am I? Just call me Sprite, will you please... but I'm more interested in you, and what brings you to Grishelm."

"Cleve wanted us to come - she was given a map, she told us there was a treasure here."

"Cleve?"

"Yes - we freed her from service to a slaver, and then discovered that she could use sign-language, and that I could understand her."

"Sign-language?" Sprite seemed puzzled for a moment. "Oh, finger-talk! I see... Cleve is a mute. That explains a number of things."

Sprite turned his attention to Cleve, who had sheathed her sword. Memree wasn't sure that Cleve had followed her conversation with Sprite, it might have been meant for her alone. "Don't be alarmed, Sera Cleve. My name is Sprite, here", he told her "... and in this place, and only here below and beyond Grishelm, you can talk."

"Uh..." Cleve was curiously tentative. Her mouth moved, but she didn't say any more.

"But that's what you came to Grishelm for, isn't it, Sera?"

"The...the man who made me the map said there was a possibility I could be made whole here, yes," Cleve said quietly, eyes cast down.

"But the danger, Sera - so few return, do they? Is that why you brought Memree and the barbarienne with you? What did they have to gain from risking their lives?"

"I thought there would be treasure... some treasure, M'ser", she mumbled, looking quickly at Memree and then away again..

"You did? You didn't trick them into coming here, for purely selfish reasons...?"

A tear rolled down Cleve's cheek. "Well...." She blinked fiercely, trying to discourage further tears. "Please don't hurt them, Ser Sprite, it's all my fault... and Charol's up in the castle, wounded..."

Sprite turned to Memree. "Cleve deceived you, I'm afraid. As far as she knew, the only treasure to hunt here below Castle Grishelm was a rather risky chance for her to regain her voice."

In a very small voice, Cleve said "Yes..." She was on her knees now, facing the stone block.

Memree gripped her shoulders. "Oh Cleve, you should have told us - we only wanted the treasure for you, Charol and I have got our own money." She hugged her. "Not being able to talk, to communicate - that's terrible, and if there is any way I can help, I will, I promise, and Charol will too, I know!"

"I'm only a minor, local spirit", Sprite told them. "Further down are the powers you need, Cleve, and you'll find them a lot rougher than I am. All I can do is give you this talk-spell for a while, and give you the boost your party needs..."

And with that, either Sprite and his forest faded away, or Memree and Cleve did, as they found themselves back outside the door, feeling fitter and stronger than before. Memree found that she was holding the lit torch again. Time continued to pass strangely, because as they turned away from the sunlight and closed the flap on the door, they heard a familiar voice behind them - my voice!

"So, you thought you'd explore all this without me, did you?"

Well that may not be precisely a day's worth of narrative, but it still makes a good stopping-point, with the three figures together, reunited for the next stage...

Day 52

2004-11-13T11:32:00.000-08:00

I feel quite a bit better this "morning" - Memree used some potions and other supplies on me while I was out, and was pretty happy with my progress, starting the day with changing bandages.

"I guess I... made a mess of that fight, didn't I...?" I moved the fingers of my left hand carefully... everything seemed to work, albeit stiffly.

Memree gently smoothed some ointment onto my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You're alive, and that's what matters."

I smiled. The ointment was warm and numbing. "Use plenty of that stuff, love - I don't want to start a new collection of scars."

"You keep quiet, and concentrate on getting better."

"Yes, boss... but with Cleve silent, somebody has to keep the conversation going."

Memree turned towards Cleve, who was tending a small fire in which porridge was being prepared. "Yes - you still haven't explained why you didn't help us, Cleve..."

I watched as her fingers signalled her answer. "What's she saying?"

"She assumed you wanted to fight one-on-one, and could handle that 'Cuirass' woman, so she held back...it all happened so quickly..."

I nodded, and felt a twinge, grimaced. "That's true, we both under-estimated her. Just because she's a few arrows short of a full quiver, it doesn't mean she can't fight."

Cleve spooned out a big bowl of porridge for me, and Memree added a generous dollop of runny honey, and stirred it in. I thought I was well enough to sit up and feed myself, but instead Memree rearranged some of our packs behind me, and then began to feed me. "I could get used to this life of luxury", I commented between mouthfuls.

Cleve did some more of her finger-talk, and the spoon nearly missed my mouth as Memree concentrated on it. "Sorry", she muttered, scraping some food off my lip. "You need to rest today, Cleve reckons it would be safe to leave you and Hengist here, while she and I explore the first couple of levels below the castle, make sure the map is right. You ought to take a sleeping potion - though I'm sure you want to write at least a few lines in that book of yours first."

So that's about all I have to write, for now - "Felt a bit better, had porridge for breakfast, watched my best friend vanish into a crypt without me." I'd better drink that potion now, I'm glad I insisted on the wine-based version!

Day 51

2004-11-12T11:17:00.000-08:00

I don't recommend being woken by a giant spider's palps brushing your face - though this particular specimen seemed more curious than malicious, and scurried away when I began to move. And boy did I move! With its long dark shaggy coat, it was probably about as bulky as Hengist, but rather more agile, and it was across the chamber and away into a small tunnel before I'd got my sword clear of its scabbard. The yell I'd emitted woke up Memree and Cleve, so we decided it must be morning, and had a quick, cold breakfast, before continuing forward.

Grishelm Castle was in the next cave along, which was the biggest we'd been in. The roof of the cave had a blue glow to it, probably an old magic like the fire-globes, and there was coarse grass on the ground, and the overgrown ruins of an old town...and skulls, half-covered in soil, with lichen on them.

"What happened here, d'you think?"

I sighed, and pushed at a half-embedded piece of stonework with my foot. "Whatever it was, it was a good few centuries ago - look how deeply imbedded these stones are. A castle, with its own small town around it - Hel, someone must have got annoyed."

"Look, if what we're doing comes down to grave-robbing..." Memree looked very serious.

"I don't think so, my love... it may even help to bring a sort of peace here."

We entered the castle through its main gate, stepping over the remains of a rotted portcullis. The light from above was so like daylight, it seemed strange not to hear birds singing, to feel a morning breeze. Time had mellowed the stonework; in places part of the wall had fallen down, or been pushed.

"What a beautiful place this must have been, once."

"Just a castle", I replied, looking round carefully, my hand on the hilt of my sword. "I've seen better."

And that was then a figure appeared on the stone steps down from the wall, a young woman with curly black hair in gleaming, old-fashioned armour, including a shiny breastplate, sword in hand...the final defender of the castle, a ghost? No, much too solid and real for that. "Today you die, Charol", she shouted. "You and your two accomplices!"

She knew my name? "And you're the guardian of the ancient tombs, I assume - not as green and scaly as I'd expected!"

"I'm here to end your killing days, assassin!" She lunged, and I backed cautiously, and parried.

Now this was strange. "Assassin? The local cobwebs have affected your brain, brass-bra..."

"Cuirass! Call me Cuirass, you cold-hearted killer - let it rattle in your dying throat!" She was good - I ducked away from a fast-sweeping blade.

"Well if you don't like me, come right out and say it", I replied. "Has someone hired you to kill me, is that it?"

"I'm protecting that gentle healer Rosella Atzmon from your hired blade, you murderer", she answered, and our swords clashed full-on, with sparks and general clatter.

Now this was a development. "Atzmon? What lies has that she-devil been telling you, Tin-Top?"

"She paused, sword at the ready. "No lies - but I'm her protector, and all who seek her harm must die", she shouted, "Starting with you!" And with her free hand she swung, catching me clean on the chin and knocking me back, nearly making me fall.

"But... why are you here in Grishelm, Sera?" Keeping her talking seemed like a good idea, while the buzzing in my ears gently subsided. The point of my sword wobbled a bit, I wasn't ready to defend quite yet.

"Grishelm?" She looked about, surprised. "But this is a ruin... I know Grishelm, it's a fine town, I have friends there..." She paused. "The shape is familiar, of the castle and the cave... but this place has been abandoned and rotting... for centuries..."

Her hesitation was brief, however - too brief, and with an angry shriek she lunged at me, I tried to dodge, but her blade sliced down into my shoulder. I went down on my knees, dropped my sword, and she raised hers - but Memree ran forward, and dropped beside me.

"No! Don't hurt her - please!"

"She must die", Cuirass said, her sword raised over her head. I might have been able to dodge her first blow, but I was in no condition to to dodge a second. I mumbled something, telling Memree to run...hopefully Cleve, though no great swordsman, would be able to cover their retreat...

"Why?" Memree asked, tearfully. "Has she done you any harm?"

"She can't hurt Lady Rosella now", Cuirass said to herself. "You must..." she stopped for a moment, and then continued. "You must...look after her, and tell her never to threaten the lady again..."

I think I lost consciousness for a little while; Memree has managed to stop the bleeding, and bandaged me, luckily it's not my sword or pen arm that's been damaged. Apparently Cuirass mounted some sort of huge bird and flew off, back to "Lady Rosella" Atzmon, who isn't going to be pleased that I am not dead yet, if I'm any judge of character.

But I really can't write any more today. Actually Memree has been doing most of the actual pen-to-paper stuff, that's alright isn't it? As long as I dictate it...

Day 50

2004-11-11T11:54:00.000-08:00

It's strange, but, now that we are underground, time just seems to be working differently. Following the map Cleve had acquired, we went through a pass inland from the main tunnel area where we'd been so recently, and it can't have been any later than mid-morning when we actually entered the first caves, but after crossing a cave or two inhabited by nothing more scary than a few rabbits, we were already beginning to feel tired.

We brought torches and oil lanterns, but the light level is actually quite good at least in the big caves, once one gets used to it. The walls glow, just a little, it seems to be some sort of lichen, and there are some large posts with what look like real flames on their tops, encased in glass globes. Memree tells me they must be magical artifacts, they've probably been "burning" for centuries. When they were started, I suppose there were people living here, not just ruins and monsters.

According to the map it's not much further to Castle Grishelm itself, but we've stopped, lit a fire for a bit of extra warmth and comfort, eaten what was going to be a noon meal, and seem just about ready to fall asleep...

Day 49

2004-11-10T11:49:00.000-08:00

Memree and I were still getting dressed this morning when Cleve knocked on our bedroom door. I unlocked it and she practically bounced in, smiling eagerly and carrying, you guessed it, a treasure map, which she triumphantly passed to me.

"A genuine fake treasure map?" I looked at it sceptically, and noticed that, at least, it didn't pretend to be old. The name at the top was 'Castle Grishelm'... the sketchy diagram would presumably make sense if one was actually there, wherever 'there' was. "This 'Castle Grishelm' is part of the local cave and tunnel system?"

Cleve's fingers were moving quickly, and Memree's eyes were following them carefully. "Cleve won the map at cards last night, so at least it didn't cost anything", she said. "The man sketched it out at the table, Castle Grishelm is an old ruin in one of the first big caves, a lot of adventurers pass that way - but it has dungeons, and those dungeons have...secrets? Secrets that only this map can reveal."

"So we need to team up with dwarves, elven archers, and a half-orc or two, on the chance that this map is genuine, and that the 'secrets' involve treasure rather than deathtraps?"

"Cleve says no - it's an easy cave to get to, the three of us can do it, the system's worst monsters never come up that high."

Fine - we were going to take the word of a losing gambler, and stake our lives on it. I was tempted to ask around a bit, see what I could discover about this underground castle...but the face you chatted to over a tavern table might next appear behind a battleaxe in the underground, convinced that you were after a treasure worth killing for. Cleve was overwhelmingly keen on this project, and, well, if it was a less dangerous area than most, and there was a chance of finding something other people had missed...well, call me a sucker, but the idea was starting to appeal to me.

So we made some preparations today, including getting plenty of bolts for Memree's crossbow, and a good supply of the best ointments and potions and poison antidotes from a reputable apothecary. Apparently the route we are taking is open enough for Hengist, so we'll be letting him carry all our stuff, including ample fresh water, biscuits, and smoked meats, enough provisions for a ten-day at least.

And tomorrow, as quietly as we can, we'll set out on this ridiculous quest!

Day 48

2004-11-09T11:57:00.000-08:00

Memree, Cleve and I ventured outside the city walls today, just to explore the area where some of the treasure run tunnels and crypts begin. Cleve and I had our swords, and Memree carried a light crossbow, but we weren't dressed or prepared to actually go any distance inside, and made a point of acting like casual visitors, carrying a picnic basket.

It seemed like a good idea to get a general impression of what goes on there, and I suppose it was, but in some ways it was a rather depressing place. We saw one group coming out of a tunnel, running and stumbling and half-carrying one of their number whose tunic was badly stained with blood - something had followed them, we heard the eerie screaming noise it made, but it wasn't going to come out into the open daylight. There is apparently always at least one healer on duty there, and we saw him administer some potions to the group, or its surviving members. There were two elven, or maybe half-elven, archers in the group, and I suppose a red-bearded dwarf with a large double-headed axe is a necessity, but the humans with swords looked like cannon fodder to me... a resource easily replaced in a city like this. The mage was young and female and rather pretty, and unable to stop crying, so the group must have lost at least one member precious to her. She'd presumably had a staff when she went in, and lost it, which would have just about halved her effectiveness as a spellcaster.

There was a stall selling potions, though the colours didn't look quite true to me, I'd always buy from a proper shop or someone I was sure about, and the man and woman behind the table, while cheerful, didn't strike me as the sort of people who would be particularly careful about getting their ingredients at the right time, and generally going to all the trouble you have to if the various combinations are going to work fully.

We watched a large group going into a rather elaborate entrance - three women and a man with crossbows, a massive man or half-orc perhaps with a sword almost as tall as me, a white-haired but clean-shaven mage with a metal staff with a line of light up its entire length, his female apprentice with her own staff and a pack of books and spell ingredients, a couple of female human swordfighters, and a rather young dwarf, his beard cropped short, carrying a warhammer. They had a donkey too, its packs only half-full - leaving room for treasure, but I'd have taken a full load in, and discarded any surplus supplies if the amount of loot took up all the room.

We sat on a stone bench to eat our lunch, and I offered a pie to one of the city guards, who was standing close to us, watching that group enter the tunnel. "Are they after any special treasure, M'ser...?"

He smiled, and took the pie. "Oh, I expect they have a wondrous map, crinkled and fragile with age - or from being held close to a forger's fire! There is treasure to be found down below, but I'd rather stay poor and live a few years longer, myself, the tales people who make it out of there again tell are not for the faint-hearted."

Memree took a spare beaker, and poured some beer from our flagon into it. "Are there actually monsters down there...?"

"Thank you, Sera - just the one small beaker, I do have to stay alert, it's not unknown for something to come out of a tunnel, chasing a crypt raider." He perched himself on the end of our bench. "Once you get past the first tunnels, there are larger caves, and, with the hot water springs, there's vegetation, and a small amount of light, so the place does actually attract what we think of as monsters... and if you get lower still, there are massive snakes and spiders, and ruins of some early city built down there when the world was a bit younger." He paused to take another bite of the pie. "The original folk died out, but their magic became part of the very stones, and warps any creatures who attempt to live down there, so that a fugitive thief can turn into some sort of flesh-eating ghoul, and not one that you can stop with a couple of arrows." He shook his head. "One day we ought to clean the place out, many people are sure that innocent city children and drunks get kidnapped in the night and end up as captives down there, until they change so much that they become monsters themselves... but you could send a whole army in there, and still not find half the rooms... and maybe lose half your men, if you weren't careful."

A little later another party of adventurers emerged - they'd got some treasure, it was obvious, but there was also business for the healer, and we could see him looking grim as a tall woman gently put down a slender half-elf she'd been carrying across her shoulders. Broken bones she could mend, cuts and bruises could be healed, but even the finest healers have their limits...

So it wasn't just Cleve who was a bit quiet when we walked back towards our tavern, this afternoon.

Day 47

2004-11-08T11:55:00.000-08:00

Actually, we behaved more like wide-eyed visitors from the country today than adventurers looking for work - but it makes sense to explore the city and try and understand how it works. As you might expect, the main market is large and excellent; we will probably need to buy some cold-weather clothing before too long, and the range and prices were very tempting, but that's something we can put off until we're ready to leave the city and head back to Redwall, and that is unlikely to be very soon. I bought some trousers and a frilly-fronted white shirt, somehow in a place this size I don't feel as comfortable as usual in leotards and things like that, so I am dressing more "respectably", and my wardrobe is a bit limited at that end of the spectrum.

The castle is really impressive, at least viewed from outside. There must have been a natural cliff overlooking the harbour, and the castle was built on top of it... and then the rest of the cliff, except for a gently curving ramp-road up to its main gates, was dug away, and the town itself built, or rebuilt, at a level not much higher than the docks, presumably making a fair amount of use of the rubble. No invading army has ever managed to take the castle by force, and I doubt if the castle will ever fall that way.

We found a tavern used by adventurers, The Treasure Hunter - we had lunch there, just some fish soup with dumplings floating in it. The landlord could tell at once that Cleve and I were "in the adventuring trade", and has added the three of us to a wall he has there. I don't know if anything will come of that, whether ambitious dukes and deposed kings make a habit of reading tavern walls, but the landlord only gets a few coins if we do get a job we like because of it.

Cleve seems to be a bit of a gambler when it comes to card games, and is tending to spend her evenings at a table in The Speckled Leaf, holding a fan of cards close in front of her. The players even stack up little piles of coins in front of them, honestly! She seems to be doing okay, and enjoying herself, I suppose it is a social thing she feels she can be a part of, even without a voice. I have warned her that, if she runs up a debt in my name, my easiest way to get the money will be to sell her to a slavemaster, so I don't think she is likely to do anything too rash.

So, Ser Mage-Librarian, that is all I have to report to you today. Spending one's time doing almost nothing is easier to actually do than to write about!

Day 46

2004-11-07T14:44:00.000-08:00

Broadwater is certainly big. I suppose most of the bustle will be in the docks area, but we've found a decent tavern well away from there, on the feeling that it would be less noisy, less likely to be completely full already, and probably cheaper too. I chatted to one of the gate-guards, as mid afternoon is a relatively quiet time for them, and he recommended the place, and gave us directions. The owner of The Speckled Leaf, Armon Birch, is his cousin apparently, and Armon and his wife Athriel seem to be running a clean and welcoming establishment. Cleve has her own small room on the attic floor, and Memree and I, naturally, are sharing a slightly larger room on the main upper level. Hengist is in the stables, and the other two horses have been passed over to the people Ashil asked us to leave them with, so they are no longer our responsibility.

We had an early dinner, with an excellent vegetable soup with fresh-baked bread, then some sort of baked fish, which was very tasty. Apparently Armon brews his own ale in the basement, and it was excellent, dark and smooth and not too sweet. We were offered some local cheese, but by that time all three of us were pleasantly full, so we just took further mugs of the ale to chairs by the fire.

"So, we're here, in Broadwater", Memree announced, putting her mug down on the table. "Now what, my barbarienne?"

"We look for a job worthy of our many talents", I told her, and grinned. "Maybe we join a party going into the underhills in search of treasure, or maybe somebody has a dangerous but rewarding mission that only we three can handle. A princess to rescue, a kingdom to save, an evil wizard to thwart - happens all the time, so why not to us?"

Memree sighed. "My own fault, I should have asked you before you drank that second pitcher-full..."

After our time on the open trail, I must say that I'm about ready to fall into bed. It's good to have some privacy, after having Cleve so close by, so that bed is starting to look very inviting. Oh, and I must remember to get some sleep later on, heheheheh...

Day 45

2004-11-06T11:15:00.000-08:00

Sharing a horse with one's girlfriend may be bad for the horse, though the one I'm riding is a pretty large, powerful animal, but it has its compensations, especially on a cool autumnal day. Memree did suggest that she could sit astride the horse backwards, so that we'd be face to face, but I do have to give at least some attention to where the horse is going!

So, a whole day on the trail. Considering that Wealdstone is a fair-sized town, and our destination, Broadwater, is a large and busy coastal city with its own harbour, I'm surprised we've not seen more people along the way - people on foot we're overtaking, people with faster horses and less time overtaking us, and all sorts of people, with and without carts, coming in the opposite direction. But, while there have been some travellers, including one merchant caravan coming from the coast, with everyone in sight obviously half-convinced we were bandits about to raid them, it does seem to me to be surprisingly quiet.

The only interesting conversation started during our mid-day stop, just by a pleasant little stream so clear one could see small fish darting around from one clump of weed to the next. Cleve leaned in and picked some of the weed, then passed a few leaves to me - she chewed on a leaf or two, and smiled... it was watercress, so we had some with our cold game pie. Tayne's wife Sharna was an excellent cook, and the mixture of rabbit, chicken, and I think partridge, was extremely tasty.

"Cleve's a mute", Memree said as we rested afterwards in the sunshine. "And I can't remember anything before you rescued me from Atzmon's awful dungeon, not so many ten-days ago - you're collecting some strange companions, warrior."

"You think so? I'm getting used to it, it certainly beats travelling alone, or with some scruffy male who's convinced he's in charge." I made a silly face. "He may not fight as well as me, but... oh, forget it!"

Memree chuckled. "Cleve says she's met too many men like that!"

"Is there any other kind?" I rolled my eyes. "Good for just one - what did you say...?"

Memree looked startled, not just from the change in my tone of voice. "She... she talked! With her hands.. sign language..."

"Since when can you--"

"I don't know!" Memree looked scared. "I didn't know I could, until just now, when I saw her fingers moving. It must have come from before... before Atzmon did what she did. Was it from me, or did it come from poor Marius Restormel, whose life-force that she-demon used to power her spell?" She shivered. "Someone hold me... I feel cold..."

So I held her, and then we mounted up again, and rode, which meant I could continue to hold her, and Cleve hasn't "said" anything else yet, which is sensible of her, as Memree has had a bit of a jolt, an unpleasant reminder of a time best forgotten. But it's good to know that we can hold a two-way discussion with Cleve, I'm sure that will be very useful in the days ahead.

Tonight's camp was, again, a place often used by wayfarers - the area for the fire had even been paved with large stone slabs, black from heavy usage over many centuries, I think. There was a pile of firewood ready-cut - we used some to start our fire, and then topped up the pile with a similar amount while we waited for the water to heat. So I can't really think of anything else to report today - though with any luck, tomorrow will see us arrive in the Big City!

Day 44

2004-11-05T15:30:00.000-08:00

We divided the saddle-packs between Ashil's two riding horses and Hengist; as Memree's the lightest of us, she gets to ride Hengist, while Cleve and I ride the bigger animals. As Hengist is really more used to carrying packs, tomorrow we'll probably change over and let Memree ride in front of me on my horse, which ought to be fun.

We left Tayne and Wealdstone after breakfast, with some excellent packed food for the journey, and fatter purses, so today has just been a matter of covering the distance. We passed farms, and then we were out on the moors again; the road took us through woods, and skirted the edge of a rather thick-looking forest, before taking us through either a small town or a large village.

It's strange having someone who can't talk in the party - I don't know whether to talk more, to make up for the silence, or to talk less. Still, Cleve seems to be relaxing a bit, and sometimes allows a smile to flit across her face, so the omens are good.

Camp tonight was a clearing by the road, obviously frequently used; there is a clear stream close by, and a big black fire-circle, in which the fire we've made looks rather underwhelming. The water has started to steam, so it's time I put down my pen and claimed my share of the food we brought with us.

Day 43

2004-11-04T15:01:00.000-08:00

Tayne did offer to get Cleve a job locally. It wasn't her fault she was imbonded to a slaver, so he'd be happy enough to employ her as a guard himself, or to recommend her for Wealdstone's own guard corps. But she seems to want to come with Memree and me, so we will take her on with us to Broadwater. It's a big city, with a lot of people passing through, thanks to its docks, so an extra sword can't hurt.

Anyway, this has been a really lazy day. Memree and I walked around town with Tid, and browsed the market, which seemed not to have quite as much interesting stuff as Redwall's, though it passed the time agreeably enough. I noticed a shop that looked rather along the same lines as Delinda's, but as we had Tid with us, I ignored it. We bought some skewers of charred-looking meat from one stall, on Tid's recommendation, and found it to be excellent...so we bought some more, and wandered on, still chewing.

Tayne seems to be doing well in his retirement, I'm glad to see, and is obviously accepted as a member of the town's merchant class. He invests in caravans, he has that farm run for him, and he collects rent on some properties as well. It's good to see him prospering, I hope Memree and I are in some sort of similar position, ten years or so from now.

But we set off for the big coastal city of Broadwater tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to seeing the place properly. I was only there once before, and as I was part of a lord's regiment, embarking from there for a port further down the coast, I really got to see very little of it. This time will be different!

Day 42

2004-11-03T12:25:00.000-08:00

Besides Anjela, the abductees we'd saved were Amber, who works in a local tavern, a blonde who calls herself Roxxi and does her best work outside the local taverns, I suspect, and Mella, the daughter of a rather rich local merchant - his only child, in fact. So while Roxxi could only offer us her grateful thanks, and Amber promised us generous amounts of free ale where she worked, we've actually ended up with the prospect of a useful little reward from Mella's parents. And Tayne was effusively grateful, of course, though I'm sure that, rather later, I saw him tracing his finger over a couple of scratches I'd put on his favourite crossbow. The slaver with the bolt through his thigh has been patched up and sold into slavery, along with the surviving lookout from outside the basement; we've not actually sold Griffin yet, Tayne had her acting as slavegirl-waitress at our celebration dinner yesterday evening, in chains, collar, and a skimpy little two-piece outfit. She obviously wasn't happy with her change in circumstances, though the memory of the sword at her throat was probably helping her to make the best of it. Amber was back at work, but Mella was there, as was Roxxi, looking rather elegant... and one of the highlights of the evening was when she made Griffin crouch down and, without using her hands, eat a few bits of meat from the floor. And Griffin collapsed flat when I gave her raised rump a good hard slap at the end of that impromptu "meal", though Memree gave me a private telling-off later for that.

So, our proper "nice rest" began today, with nothing more exciting than a ride out into the local countryside with Tayne and Tid to visit a small farm he owns, and speak to his manager - it looks as if Griffin's wagon will find a use there! Tayne and I did a little light sparring, with blunt swords, for old time's sake, and while he has slowed down a little, I was able to assure him that he'd still be welcome to stand alongside me in a fight. While we were still out in the countryside, Tid led Memree off to show her the local wildlife, and, as he had a small crossbow with him, they returned in triumph with a pair of rabbits, having shot one each.

It's amazing how pleasant the countryside is when you know you'll be back at a warm house later that day, with the prospect of a warm and comfortable bed. A prospect that is getting ever closer, so time I closed this book for the night, I think. We will certainly stay here one more full day; relaxation apart, we need to decide what part the mute Cleve will have in our future plans.

Day 41

2004-11-02T12:04:00.000-08:00

Well, "a nice rest" is what I'd hoped for, but when Memree and I came down for our breakfast, the place was in uproar. Well, there was the ostler, the cook, one maid, Tayne, his wife Sharna, and their young son Taddeon, but six people can get pretty upset, and these people were certainly all over the place. Taddeon, Tid, was bruised and having a cut to his hand treated; his jerkin was spattered with mud and a little blood, and his knee scraped. I assumed that this was the cause of the commotion, but no - he and Anjela, the lovely 18-year-old daughter of the house, had been out shopping early at the market, and on the way home they'd been attacked, and Anjela had been abducted.

"It has to be slavers", Tayne yelled at me, before managing to moderate his voice. I'll swear that he was actually trying to pull out lumps of his hair, he was so distressed and angry. "There were reports of a gang nearby, but not actually in the town itself - where were the guardsmen? I'll kill them, kill them all!" He probably meant the slavers rather than the guardsmen, but I wouldn't guarantee it.

"It has to be a quick snatch operation, a few hours and they'll be away", I said, loudly and firmly enough to be heard. "So we haven't got much time. We must get out there, and search!"

"They'll still be at their filthy work", Memree put in. "Where would they be most likely to go, in search of unaccompanied young women?"

"Anywhere on a route to or from the markets", Sharna said quickly. "But by the time people get organised, it will be too late, they'll have gone..."

I looked at Memree. "I'm getting changed into my fighting gear - and Memree is going to put on something cute and figure-hugging, yes?"

She nodded. "I'll be scout and, if necessary, bait - but you keep close behind, don't lose my track!"

Taddeon stood up, his knee bandaged now. "They'll have been checking the town for days, and know their way around - Sera Charol, you need me as your guide, I know all the back ways and shortcuts!"

Tayne and Sharna exchanged glances, a mixture of worry and pride. "Agreed", Tayne said gruffly.

So, a few minutes later Memree, in a very short, figure-hugging dress Sharna had provided from the daughter's wardrobe, was casually walking through the early morning sunshine, basket in hand, heading for the market - and Tid and I were following, well back, Tid with a long dagger in his belt, and me with my sword strapped on, and a big hunting crossbow of Tayne's, ready-cocked.

It could have taken hours, or not worked at all, but as Tid and I reached a corner and peered around, I could see Memree speaking to an old woman in a shadowy corner. And then the "old woman" threw aside her tattered cloak, to reveal a rather shapely young woman, with a heart-shaped cut-out in the front of her tunic, and curly black hair. Memree stepped back, dropping the empty basket she'd been carrying... and from an archway at least three men pounced.

"They've got your friend!" Tid was excited, anxious, and eager to charge to the rescue. "It's working!"

I held on to his arm. "So far it's working - but we need to get your sister, and anyone else they've caught, last night or this morning, so we must follow." Memree was being dragged away, back into the archway. "Where does that lead, Tid...?"

He thought for a moment. "An overgrown old alley - a back route to old grain-stores, warehouses, that sort of thing."

"Is there another way we can take?"

He shook his head. "Only to the front of the warehouses - there are too many places they could be using, we need to see where they go."

So we hurried forward, keeping to the edge of the road, and quietly went through the archway, just in time to see the group turn a corner ahead. We ran after them, favouring quietness over speed - I gestured for Tid to look round the next corner. He craned round, and gestured for me to stay back, then ducked back himself. "They went into an old basement, there's a wagon outside - and two guards."

They'd see us coming, and raise the alarm. Not good. "Hmm... with your father's crossbow, I can take down one of them, preferably from a little closer than this." I looked seriously at the youngster. He was brave, and sensible, and Sergeant Tayne's son. "If you go and talk to them, distract them, I'll shoot one of them, then you kick the other, bite him, anything to keep him too busy to yell until I can get there." It would be quicker to run in than reload and rewind the bow.

Tid took a deep breath. "That sounds the best idea", he agreed. "Wish me luck!"

And with that he was off, walking jauntily down the road, a little boy without a care in the world. I waited until I heard voices, and edged round the corner, crossbow ready. Tid had their attention, so I moved a little closer, aimed, and fired - the bolt ran true, it took one guard in the chest, piercing his heart, as I ran forward, dropping the bow and ready to draw my sword. Tid was hugging the other man, nearly over-balancing him, I don't think he knew why his friend had fallen backwards. He didn't manage to draw his sword before I reached him, so I just punched him clean on the jaw, he fell, dazed... and we began to tie him up, stuffed his own dirty kerchief in his mouth and put rope over it.

"Great work, Tid", I said, still panting slightly. "If he'd drawn his sword, I'd have killed him, so you saved a life."

He crouched down - almost entirely overgrown, there was a barred, soot-stained old window at ground level. He cautiously cleaned a small spot with his finger, and put an eye to it. "I see your friend Memree, and Anjela, yes! And three other girls they've captured. Two men, that woman we saw and another woman." He got up again. "Is that man you shot dead...?"

"Dead as mutton, Tid", I told him. "You stay here with the live one, once we've finished trussing him up - and if he gives you any trouble, slit his greasy throat!"

"Are you going down?" He nodded towards the steps to the basement door.

"Four of them - I think I'd better reclaim your father's crossbow if I'm to make a suitably impressive entrance!"

So I did, and rewound it, clicked a fresh bolt into place, and, with a smile I meant to be reassuring but which might have seemed a bit predatory, left Tid, went down the steps, took a deep breath, and knocked urgently on the door. In my best imitation of mannish tones, I shouted hoarsely "Boss! We've a small problem!"

Bolts were drawn back after a short pause, and the other woman, wearing tights and a mail shirt plus a headband over pale brown hair, looked out, saw me - and got a kick in the stomach and a punch to the side of her chin. If she wasn't still out of it when the others were down, I'd have a problem, but I wanted some survivors from this bunch. I burst in, raised the crossbow, fired, and one of the men went down, the bolt in his thigh. I dropped the bow again. The other man ran forward, his sword raised high - easy to see he'd never been in an army, Sergeant Tayne would have had harsh words for anyone under his command who'd tried to fight like that. I ducked, stabbed, and gutted him, putting a permanent look of stupid surprise on his face.

"It's just you and me now, Slaver", I said, holding my sword at the ready.

The woman smiled, and raised her sword. She was rather pretty, and no older than me, not my idea of the leader of a slaver gang. "Oh, do call me Griffin, my dear - and what size slave-collar do you take...?"

I do the jokes. "Well actually, I was hoping to measure you for one - if you'd care to surrender, Griffy?"

She came forward, and our blades clashed. She was a pretty good swordswoman - I can't really inject much suspense here as I'm alive and writing this, but it was a good fight, quite even to begin with. I taunted her about the little velvet costume she'd be wearing soon as a pot-girl. "The material's expensive, but we won't be needing much, will we?" Griffin fought hard, but I think she soon knew that I was a better fighter, and she probably expected me to have some back-up people coming, as well. She tried a desperate kick to my groin, I dodged, she fell - and found my sword inches from her throat. "Now - death or slavery, it's your choice, Sera."

"Cleve - protect me!" she said, and I knew she meant the other woman, the one I'd left dazed at the door. I couldn't turn to look.

"You couldn't move fast enough, Cleve -- she'd be dead before you reached me." I tried to give the impression of someone who had eyes in the back of their head, and gazed into Griffin's eyes. "If I have to fight her, then I have to kill you first, Griffin!"

Griffin stared at me for a moment, and then lowered her gaze, defeated. "Cleve...no, I surrender, do nothing."

"Are you accepting a collar, Sera?"

"I... Hells, it's got to be better than a slit throat," Griffin said, rather bravely. "Yes, I submit to you, Sera."

So, that was the end of the adventure, really. All the girls had been tied or chained up and gagged, but Cleve silently handed me a bunch of keys, with one held high, pointing at Memree - I unlocked her, and she set about freeing the others. Cleve knelt down, and held her sword out to me, hilt first...

"Cleve is mute", Memree told me. "I think she was imbonded to Griffin, so if Griffin becomes a slave, Cleve is free - and in need of a new employer."

"Mine by right, in fact, as I defeated her mistress", I commented, and turned to Cleve. "I don't have a need for a fighter to obey me, Cleve - but you are welcome to travel with us for a while, if you wish."

Anyway, I'll tie up the loose ends in tomorrow's report. Let's leave it here with Tid and Anjela hurrying off home to fetch Tayne and a few others, while Memree and I are freeing the victims of the slaver gang, and getting the remaining slavers into the newly-available fetters.

Day 40

2004-11-01T14:46:00.000-08:00

We reached Wealdstone just before sunset, and the gate guard was able to give us directions to Tayne's house, quite an impressive stone-built, two storey affair on one of the town's best roads. Life had obviously been good for him lately, I told myself...but then, we had ended up on the winning side, and the dividing-up of the loot afterwards had been a truly memorable occasion. And as one of the few remaining sergeants, he'd done pretty well out of it!

Tayne answered his front door himself - a few grey hairs in his beard, slightly more of a paunch than I remembered, but still looking good. His face lit up when he saw me. "Charol! By all that's good, it's wonderful to see you, my friend, come in, you must stay here with us here, we insist." He turned and called to a boy of about eleven. "Tid, get our guests' horses, will you, lad, and take them round to the stable!"

"Right away, father!" He smiled at us, then edged past, and took the reins from Memree, before leading the three horses away confidently.

"That's your Tiddler?" I shook my head in wonder. "He was scarcely more than a toddler, the last time I saw him, and now he's up to my shoulder..."

"And Anjela is eighteen, and a beautiful young woman, as you will shortly see - but, talking of beautiful young women, I hope you will introduce me to your companion...?" Tayne looked at me questioningly.

"Ah... this is Memree, my good friend and companion", I managed to say. "I've told her all about the old days, and what a fine sergeant you were."

Tayne shook Memree's hand. "And a lucky one, too, in the friends I fought alongside. Any friend of Charol's is welcome here, Sera Memree. We've two fine beds in our guest chamber, we'll use the warming-pan to get them ready - after a long and leisurely evening meal, of course!"

Memree smiled sweetly. "Oh, one bed will be quite enough for us, Ser Tayne."

I blushed - well, I'm new to this! Tayne, to give him credit, paused only for the briefest moment, and then his face seemed even more cheerful. "Gods, that is excellent news - Charol was always a bit of a loner, and to tell the truth I did sometimes wonder if she would ever find herself a soulmate." Somehow he had his hands around our shoulders, now, and was leading us along the corridor. "So be good for her, won't you?"

Tiddler, or to be more formal Taddeon, brought up our saddlebags; there was ample time to tend the horses and to wash before dinner, at which the main topic of discussion was how I discovered Memree, and how we fought and defeated Atzmon together - I left out most of the kinkier aspects of the tale as both the children were there, plus Tayne's wife, though as Sharna had served with our company as an archer, I'd not have done so on her account alone.

"Charol is the first person I can ever remember seeing", Memree commented. "That's one reason I want to hold on to her, though there are plenty more!"

So, an enjoyable evening, and I think we will stay here for a few more days, as Tayne seems to have plenty of plans for our entertainment. A nice rest will do us both good, I am sure.

Day 39

2004-10-31T14:55:00.000-08:00

Adventuring is about moving on, facing new excitements... and it can also be about long hours in the saddle. Today was certainly all about the riding part. I nearly wore my voice out telling Memree of the battles, forays, and skirmishes that Tayne, Ashil and I had been involved in, four or five years back. It's surprising how much louder one does have to talk, over the clopping of hooves and the other noises horses make, and of course we were further apart than usual, as the best part of the track was often only wide enough for one horse at a time. If life ever gets quiet and boring enough, I might even write one or two incidents down in this book, but no promises!

It was another fine day, and we made good time. My best estimate is that we are just about halfway to Wealdstone now, with a tent pitched close to a stream way out in the middle of nowhere. We did pass through a few small villages, and they all had taverns of course where we could have stayed in a proper bed, but I've been bitten enough in such places to find the idea of a night under canvas rather more appealing - and anyway, we were able to ride on for a while after the last village, and increase the chance that tomorrow afternoon or evening will see us arrive in Wealdstone, rather than have to stop again or keep riding after it gets dark, which is generally not a good idea - if a horse puts a foot in a hole you and it haven't spotted, it can easily break its leg.

We saw plenty of wildlife. I pointed out a distant eagle to Memree, there were plenty of deer, and we saw signs of wolves. A big mother bear and a couple of playful cubs watched us ride past with no great display of interest, and there were even some wild boar around. We did discuss the possibility of having one of those for our evening meal, but the preparation time put us off, and we did have some cold meat pies with us.

So, the light is fading now, which means I'd better stop writing and check if the pot of water we suspended over a small but cheerful campfire has reached boiling yet. Time for food, after a long day in the fresh air I think we are both unusually hungry - maybe we should have roasted a boar!

Day 38

2004-10-30T15:56:00.000-07:00

What a gorgeous, sunny day! I feel as if my life is coming into focus, and no I'm not going to take you through the events of yesterday evening, a girl is entitled to some privacy. I feel ready for fresh challenges of an adventuring nature - the idea of getting out of the town where I've been making a fool and an exhibition of myself, at least for a while, certainly appeals. I know the way gossip spreads here, and while I have no idea how many people saw my early-evening stroll, there must be a few who would have noticed that the hooded figure was about my size, and of course everyone has seen the two of us shopping and generally hanging out together. If challenged, I intend to lie and say I lost a wager - but the fewer opportunities for a challenge the better...

Ashil is either becoming tactful as middle age approaches, or his contacts were busy elsewhere. While he didn't have anything definite on the jobs front, he did suggest that a trip down to the coast might be a good idea - plenty of caravans start out from the big port of Broadwater, and there's always the chance of joining a group of treasure hunters, as the area has a lot of old caves and tunnels where relics of an earlier age sometimes turn up. "If you stop off in Wealdstone, you could say hello to old Sergeant Tayne for me", he added.

Tayne had been our sergeant on a number of minor campaigns over a year or so, and had saved our lives a few times - and we'd saved his, as well, though I'd still been a skinny youngster at the time. He'd retired from fighting, and rejoined his wife and children in Wealdstone with enough money to become a prosperous merchant - it would be good to see him again, and I was sure he'd be happy to see an old comrade-in-arms.

Memree seems happy with the idea of a bit of travel, so the rest of today was spent in preparation. Our faithful Hengist is in good health, ready to carry our packs, and Ashil is lending us a pair of good riding horses which, he says, need to go to the coast to be sold anyway. We'll be leaving most of our money in Redwall under Ashil's care, we'll even keep our room on and leave some of our stuff in it, but tomorrow, if the weather stays good, we'll be riding out, and we probably won't be back here until the first snows fall.

Day 37

2004-10-29T15:10:00.000-07:00

Oh dear, that is a bit painful to read - but it just, well, hit me, that the person I thought I was and the person that everyone else thought I was were two different people, and it looked as if I was the one who'd got me wrong... And I should mention that my entry in this book today is probably not suitable for librarians, and others, who are more interested in swordfights than kinky stuff. Keep the children away, if you have any!

So, late in the afternoon Memree and I went to visit Delinda who, assuming that she and her two slavegirls don't spend the evenings and nights reading improving books and quietly embroidering wall-hangings, seemed to me to be the best person to confide in. And, over a cup of steaming-hot herbal cha, I told her, while trying not to look at Memree, what an idiot I was.

She looked puzzled, when I finished my ramblings - maybe a little startled, while I continued to avoid Memree's eyes, and dreaded hearing her say anything. "You stay here, girl", she said after a pause. "Drink your cha, have another of those little cakes - I'm taking Memree into the back room for a little chat, and don't you dare try to eavesdrop!"

So I drank, and I ate another cake, though I have no recollection what flavour it was, if indeed it had any flavour. And, after a rather long time, allowing it to start going dark outside, Delinda and Memree marched back in. "Well", Delinda began, "It seems to us that Memree has shown you a lot of trust over the past few ten-days, and we both agree that it's time you showed her just a little bit of trust, too."

"And this has something to do with you removing my clothes?" Because Delinda was generally unbuckling, unlacing, and pulling my clothes off me as she spoke, briskly and efficiently.

"Well, you've walked Memree about town in the nude - and now Memree is going to return the favour."

I looked at Memree in shock - she looked back, smiled broadly, and winked. "Unless big bad Charol the Barbarienne is frightened...?"

"Only petrified", I said, as I stepped out of the last of my underwear. "What do I say if I meet someone...?"

Delinda chuckled. "Oh, that won't be a problem", she said - and produced a ball-gag and, before I'd managed to react, it was in my mouth, and fastened firmly behind my head. And then my arms were behind my back and some sort of handcuffs were being snapped around my wrists, I looked towards Memree, my eyes wide - just what was I letting myself in for? She was slipping dainty little shoes onto my feet, they had locking ankles-straps, and were joined by a hobble-chain... had I used something rather similar on her once?

Delinda looked me up and down, with a very big grin on her face. "Oh yes, it suits you, I think. Memree is going to put a collar round your neck, with a leash attached, and you are going to be led out of here, into the early evening streeets, and you're going to trust that she's taking you home, rather than to the slaver, aren't you?" I nodded emphatically. "Yes, you're going to be ever so trusting, because you'll have this hood on!"

The hood was leather, and laced up the back, and let not a scrap of light in. I felt the collar being buckled into position over it, and then felt a fairly gentle pat on my bottom. "And before that outfit comes off, Memree is going to give you just a little spanking - I assure you she's rather good at it, it's a great way to work off any minor annoyances!"

Well it was very strange; once we were out of the shop's door and in the street, I had no idea where we were going, and had to make lots of small, quick steps to keep up with Memree, who occasionally tugged on the chain if I was lagging behind her. "Well that's one way to exercise a slavegirl like that, but I can think of better ways!" someone commented as we passed, and I was thankful for that blasted hood, as I'm sure I blushed crimson. I don't think Memree took the shortest route back here, but was I ever glad when we arrived - even with the hood on I knew the place, as Memree gently guided me across the room and pushed me across the bed, on my front, then held my cuffed wrists in one hand, pushing on my back to keep me down, and spanked me. I know idiot me deserved it, but it did sting, and it was so undignified, before long there were tears in my eyes...

The shoes and hobble came off, the hood was removed... Memree used a finger to wipe the dampness from my eyes. "My barbarienne, I think I love you", she said, and kissed the end of my nose... then she undid the wristcuffs, and, finally, removed the ball-gag. "You're very special to me, and always will be."

"I... you're very special to me, too, Memree", I replied, sitting on the bed. "I've been so stupid not to realise it, but it's crept up on me, and it probably is love, but it's, well, not something I've been used to. Just let's not go for walks like that too often, hey?"

"Hardly ever", Memree agreed. "Now, you'd better write up your strange little book now, while I go and get us some supper - I guarantee that you won't have time to do that later!"

Day 36

2004-10-28T14:53:00.000-07:00

The day I came down into the plains, as us barbarians and barbariennes do, some hill village lost its chance to have a prize-winning idiot of its own. I'm surprised I was ever taught to write - hells, I'm surprised my mother ever managed to teach me to squat on a pot! If a besieging army were ever short of a battering ram, they could borrow me, my head would certainly be thick enough, it must be almost entirely solid bone.

When I think that, for three ten-days, the whole town has been assuming stuff about me that had never made the very short trip from one side of my mind to the other. Wen I look back at what people, in a friendly way, have been saying that I just didn't notice... well, my brain seems entirely qualified to fly south for the winter.

Am I some sort of innocent, who shouldn't be let out alone? Well yes, obviously. And in the pages of this book I smugly went on about screwing Torner in a sleazy tavern bedroom. But still, even looking back through the pages here, I see things I reported, comments I made, that any rational adult would have understood... but I didn't! I'm an idiot, an absolutely hopeless case, thank goodness I don't wear shoes with laces, I'd keep tying them together and falling over...

Oh, look at this. "I idly stroked her blonde hair"! And there's Del, referring to my "little friend", and me writing "I'll admit to letting her give me a sponge-bath", for Sunil's sake! "This golden-haired, beautiful creature, so gentle, so reliant on me", I blithely warbled - I can't go on looking at the old entries, it's too stupidly painful. My room becomes our room, my bed becomes our bed - you'd never think that Charol, that drooling simpleton, wore an old leotard in bed, and when a sleepy Memree rested her head on my shoulder, did I do more than smile drowsily? Did I even notice that Memree didn't wear anything in bed? Oh, and look, back on page two, "Saster said something, 'A man is for an evening's pleasure, a woman for a lifetime's love' - and I remarked that there was an equivalent male saying too, which also involved melons!" Well excuse me while I go and bash my head against the wall a few times. Hah! "But I'm young, an occasional evening's pleasure is all I'm aiming for at the moment", I actually wrote that down in my own joined-up handwriting.

As you may have gathered, finally Man Coker's reference to Memree as my "lady" penetrated the thick fuzz surrounding my pea-brain. Delinda, Ashil, Coker, the women at the market, the blacksmith, they all know Memree and I are a couple, sleep together... so why didn't I know it? Because I am incredibly stupid, that's why! All that kinky stuff that the dear girl so happily went along with...she must think... well, what in all the nine hells can she think? She's grateful that I rescued her from that dungeon, so maybe she is just waiting for messages that reached my eyes three ten-days ago to finally reach my little brain, if it hasn't closed down and gone to sleep for the winter.

Yes, I have had a drink or two, I was so wrapped up in myself I didn't care what the people in the tavern were thinking, at least not at first, and when one or two familiar faces asked where Memree was this evening, I just muttered something, I don't remember what. Del thinks I am biased, Ashil thinks I'm biased, and Man Coker, and probably Torner just thinks I fancied a change that evening.

Screw it! No, that's not appropriate, Ser Librarian, is it? I can't even swear properly now. You must think Memree and I have been at it all the time and I just haven't mentioned it here. Ha!

Ooh, tomorrow I am going to have such a hangover, but I'm going to have to talk to her, tell her that I'm stupid, that I'm terribly terribly slow, but - what? Do I ask her to go out with me...?

Day 35

2004-10-27T14:50:00.000-07:00

Well, nobody was too badly hurt, though two of the guards have gone off to Mistress Indigo for treatment. We found some cultist cash, but no real treasure, and were able to free the family from their suspension - they didn't remember anything after about midsummer, which shows that the whole plot was relatively recent. The real Ruby seemed a nice enough child, but without the extra edge that the possessed version had had. Coker is planning to buy that added "basement level" from them, and tunnel through from his existing system, so they shouldn't do badly out of the affair, in the end. There may well be other cultists who weren't at the conjuring ceremony, but, with Jasper dead, we expect them to quietly leave town, and good riddance!

I can't say that I'm entirely clear about how events went, and how the dagger and its theft figured, but presumably Jasper brought the dagger to Redwall, and made the mistake of not taking it straight to their underground hideout - maybe the demon was exerting its subtle mental influence, just to make things more interesting. Once it was stolen, Jasper couldn't stop Chance, Coker, and me investigating, though as the cultists were attuned to its emanations, they found it quickly enough. I suppose they thought that, if we discovered the thief's body for ourselves, that would draw a line under the whole thing, but they hadn't reckoned on the body being so obviously magically tainted, and they'd not felt that they could leave the dagger for us to "find" and return to Jasper, as we might well have realised that it was tarred with evil. Oh well, human actions aren't always entirely logical... as for the demon itself ( and I call it "it" despite screamingly obvious evidence of its masculinity!), well, I expect it was enjoying messing about with its own evil followers, but just wasn't interested in us ordinary people and our ordinary world, luckily enough. There must be much more important planes of reality than ours. Of course, the pentagram presumably kept it from leaping out and devouring us all there and then, but personally I don't have unlimited faith in a few white lines on the floor...

It was Memree, rather than Chalker, whose crossbow bolt had killed one of the cultists for me - that was a pretty fine shot, perhaps before she lost her past, she was good at that sort of thing? Not as a soldier or anything, but at least hunting for small game, on a farm perhaps.

We got home just before dawn, and I think both of us slept almost to nightfall. A note from Man Coker had been pushed under our door, thanking us both and saying that he'd passed a rather generous sum of gold over to Ashil for us. He referred to Memree as my "lady", which seems rather strange, but my brain is still a bit fuzzy after all the excitement, it's probably his way of being polite, he is rather old-fashioned in some ways.

Well I've only been up and around for three hours, but I'm tired again already - chatting with demons does that for a girl, I find. I'm looking forward to a good few lazy days with nothing at all interesting to write about. Not that that stops me! Writing in this little book is strangely addictive, I'm finding.

Day 34

2004-10-26T15:02:00.000-07:00

I'd hardly closed the book after writing the last entry when Ashil and Torner knocked on the door. Memree had been drowsing on top of the bed, ready-dressed, so I strapped on my sword, gave Memree a crossbow, and we both slipped cloaks on, then headed off to the Red Sunset, to meet the others.

We were the last group to arrive. Chalker looked pale but determined, everyone else looked ready for a fight. I remember feeling glad that it wasn't my suggestion that we raid that particular house, Memree would have to keep a low profile if we found a respectable sleeping family there!

Leaving Man Coker at the tavern, we moved off. Apart from the light from behind us, the night was as black as pitch, and the house where we'd first seen young Ruby on its front porch, eating some bread, was as dark as you'd expect any house to be at such a late, or early, hour. I put my ear to the door, and was sure that I could almost hear something, perhaps a low, cadenced hum. I shivered, and moved back as Man Coker's top enforcer, Busby, moved forward. I expected him to kick the door in, or use the deadly-looking double-headed axe he was carrying, but instead he knelt down, and inserted a lock-pick into the keyhole. I heard the tumblers turn, one by one, and then he smiled at me and stood up as the door swung open soundlessly.

It is hard to describe the atmosphere there. It was quite an old house, with two stories, quite well-built but past its prime and in a part of town that had gone downhill in recent years. But it didn't feel like a living family home, it was like walking into a long-deserted cabin that had somehow retained its roof. I headed for the stairs up, followed by Torner and Chase. We checked all the bedrooms; it was easy to tell which one belonged to a ten-year-old girl, which to a nineteen-year-old young man, and which to their parents, but the beds were smooth, the rooms alarmingly tidy. There was a fourth room, but that was just being used for storage, with a couple of old saddles, bundles of linen, and a couple of large wooden chests. They were locked - I didn't want to make any noise, so decided to leave them for Chalker or Busby's expertise later.

The others had checked the downstairs rooms, which were as neat and empty as the bedrooms had been. The kitchen fireplace was cold, no cooking had been done there for days, obviously.

I walked along the short hallway, trying to hear that humming again; I put my ear to the wood panelling on one side, and was sure I could hear it, like very distant voices carried by a night wind. Chalker came up close to me, and ran a dagger down a crack between panels. It clicked on something. "A hidden door", she whispered, and, working the blade some more, managed to work its locking mechanism... it drifted open, and suddenly the humming was a low chant, and dry, warm air gusted out into our faces.

The stairs were wooden and steep and old, just what you'd expect for any old house's cellar, but there was that distant, deep chant, and a slight red illumination coming from nowhere. There were dusty barrels down there, and a heap of very old firewood next to a small pile of coal - but there was also a hole in the middle of the stone-paved floor, with a metal ladder firmly clamped in place.

I looked around our group, and decided that, for size and stealth, I was the right person to go down first, though if Chalker had been unwounded I would have gladly let her have that honour. I sheathed my sword, as I'd need both hands for the descent, and threw my cloak aside, as it was getting unpleasantly warm. "I'll tap the ladder when I'm on level ground again", I said softly. "Don't follow me until then, as I may need to climb up again rather rapidly..."

Down I went. It looked as if Man Coker had new neighbours, as this couldn't be too far away from his own more natural cave system. Luckily I didn't descend into the middle of any pentagram, but into a small circular room with a single door, which was half open. Gently flickering red light washed in from there, though the chanting had stopped now, and the silence was shocking. I used the hilt of my sword, drawn again now, to tap on the metal ladder, and almost at once I could here the gentle shuffling and breathing noises as the others began to come down. I moved over to the doorway, and looked out.

The next room was square, around twenty paces across, with two closed doors over at the far side... but in the middle, in a yellow glowing cube, four human figures were suspended, floating just off the ground, vertical, eyes open but empty. They were young Ruby, her big brother Perry, and, I assumed, their parents.

Me, Memree, Chalker, Torner, Ashil, Busby, Chase, Carter, and six more fighting men... suddenly I was none too sure that would be enough. This was something fairly big we'd stumbled across, something that had been going on for quite a while, and whatever was behind it would not be happy to have us dropping by.

Busby unlocked one of the two doors, and leapt back as a flash of green energy flared up - some sort of trap spell, but he was unscathed. The room was just storage, perhaps worth investigating later if the idea of loot overcame the possibility of more traps. I looked at the four suspended figures... used as puppets by someone or something, and then replaced here when the task was done? There were four glowing red gemstones embedded in the floor where the cube ended, probably magically generating the stasis cube. Should we smash those and free the family, and probably alert the entity in control here? Probably not, until later!

Chalker was working on the other door, which was larger, and covered in metal strips. "It doesn't want to move... there's some magical energy we need to displace..."

I motioned for her to stand clear, and gently pushed the tip of my sword into the keyhole which, I saw, was the mouth of an ornately-worked little demon. My sword had a small amount of magic of its own, so might be able to negate a simple ward-spell. There was a brief flash of yellow sparks, and my hand involuntarily jerked back, my arm briefly numb, the sword glowing red and then fading. "That should have done it", I muttered, massaging my elbow.

Chalker began picking the lock again, and we all heard the tumblers clicking back. The swordsmen were all ready now, Busby held his axe in front of him, and Memree loaded a bolt into her crossbow's groove, and wound back the mechanism. "It's cleared", Chalker whispered, wiping her forehead with her sleeve.

Ashil looked round at all of us, and smiled. "We're as ready as we'll ever be, Sera - open it!"

The room beyond was twice the size of the first room, square again, and with a pentagram full of insubstantial yellow-green flame. A hooded, dark-gowned acolyte stood by each of the five star-tips, another man with his hood down was reading from a book on a lectern - Jasper! And eight shadowy, not-quite-present figures, all carrying swords, turned from watching the ritual, and rushed towards us.

It looked to me as if it would be a good idea if the men didn't complete their ritual, so I cut at the first shadow-man, and dodged round him, got to the first hooded acolyte and sliced my blade into his neck. He screamed and fell, gushing blood, and I moved on to the next point of the pentagram, where the second acolyte was only just reacting to my advance. He brought his hands up, they were crackling with energy, but while the spell built, I lunged forward, and almost delicately thrust my sword into his belly. His hands automatically went there to try to hold his guts in, and he screamed - there was a smell of burning as the spell he'd been preparing went off in a way he'd not planned. A quick glance told me that the rest of our side were fighting the shadows, and winning, but I moved on to the next acolyte, who had his hands raised above his head while he chanted - I leapt to one side as a tower of flame scorched the floor where I'd just been, I was hot but not cooked, then swept my sword round, cutting into his ribcage. He went down - it looked like a wound he might survive, but he'd not be fighting any more tonight. The fourth of the hooded men had summoned some sort of mountain lion, but it leapt high and I crouched low, then quickly pushed my blade up into the underside of the man's chin - the big cat turned, its claws ready to rake me, but as its summoner died, it vanished in a flash of pure white light. One more of the acolytes, now - he was holding a man-high black, crooked staff now, holding it in front of him vertically, and red energy pulsed up it, forming a fiery globe at the top, out of which lightning was starting to flash... until a crossbow bolt took him in the eye, when it snuffed out like a candle. I must find out if that was Memree or Chalker, I owe them one!

The shadow-men were still fighting - a couple were missing, presumably just fading away, while two of our people were wounded, and behind the active fighters. But Jasper was my target, he was still chanting - if you summon a demon, it is, apparently, not good manners to stop halfway through! He was covered in a golden glow, now... a crossbow bolt hit him on the cheek and glanced off, its tip melted. His voice soared and boomed, seemed to fill the chamber, and suddenly his incantation was over, and a figure was visible inside the pentagram, still half-obscured by the spellflame. It was twice a man's height, and had horns. The shadow-men were all down, now; some of our men looked wounded, Carter was hastily bandaging one man's leg, trying to stop heavy bleeding. Memree had moved away from the group, heading for a pile of old books over in one corner - at least it got her further away from the conjuration, I thought, but it was also further from the exit...

Jasper had a sword of dark red flame, now, and snarled at me. "Bitch! I might have known you'd come meddling!"

"So, Jasper - got that dagger back safely, have you?"

"That blasted dagger - if that bloody thief hadn't stolen it!" He whirled with unnatural speed and swept his flame sword at me, and looked astonished when my sword parried it as if it was mere steel. "We got it back, but I wanted to play games with you, use some of its power, ha, you even paid us a reward, piddling though it was!"

The spellflame inside the pentagram was slowly clearing... the figure inside had horns, definitely, and, I could just see, a tail. This was not good. My sword and Jasper's clashed again, and we were lunging and parrying like a formal duel, trying to find each other's weaknesses. I caught a glimpse of Memree, she seemed to be searching the whole room... Chalker was checking the bodies of the acolytes.

"You kill me, and nobody can control the demon", he yelled, as if him controlling a demon was something we were going to allow.

"We'll take our chances, Jasper - so, any last requests?" He lunged, I ducked, the blade of flame roared past close to my face, and I managed to bring my blade up and catch him in the arm... the flame sword came loose from his hand, and the golden glow over his body faded, and I swept my sword round as hard as I could at neck height. His head soared away, trailing blood, and his body, after a long moment, started to collapse.

Which just left the demon. Memree came up to me. "Here, I found that dagger of theirs - d'you think it's important?"

I looked at Memree and the dagger, and took it, with a grin. "We can hope so - thanks!"

I walked over to the edge of the pentagram, and looked up at the demon. How a creature that size could keep its balance on hooves, I don't know.

"Hello, grandser", I began. "I suppose you're wondering why you were called here?"

It chuckled, a rumbling that seemed to shake the floor. "Oh, I've watched Jasper and his cult, ever since they found a book I'd hoped had been permanently lost. I found their preparations intriguing, though I slowed them down a bit at the last, with inspiring that thief to steal their precious sacrificial dagger." Its voice was effortless and as smooth as honey, and filled the room.

"Can we do anything for you, grandser?"

It chuckled again. "Well, you'll hardly wish to open the pentagram, I suppose, and I have no great interest in ravaging your petty dimension. If you'd very kindly plunge that dagger into the book on that dead fool's lectern, I think we can all go home, don't you...?"

So I walked over to the lectern, ornately carved in black wood to show all manner of human suffering, and plunged the dagger down into the book, carefully trying not to look at the pages, on which words squirmed and re-formed. The book exploded into tiny scraps of paper, going off sideways rather than in my face, mainly, and the dagger itself just...crumbled away to dust. The pentagram flared again, and, with a complete absence of noise - was gone. And my legs started to go rather weak, if Memree hadn't grabbed me I think I'd have sat down rather heavily.

And that's about it... I'll attempt to tie up some loose ends in tomorrow's entry, but I'm too tired to write anything more now. You're lucky, my librarian faithful reader, I was tempted to stop for today at the bit where we opened that last door!

Day 33

2004-10-25T13:12:00.000-07:00

Well, where to begin? Coker had sent one of his most trusted people to investigate Jasper and the dagger, with three helpers and bodyguards, and when he later sent a larger team out to meet them on the road back, all they got was one of the helpers, a young woman called Chalker, wounded in the shoulder, bruised, and riding as if hell itself was after her. Not far wrong, that, as she was being pursued by two men, though, when they saw Coker's eight fighters, they reined in and gave up the chase, though not before sending a few crossbow bolts ahead.

I found out about this at noon, when Coker called a meeting - and, to emphasize how serious he was, he actually came up into town. Besides Man Coker, Chase and Carter were there, and Coker's chief enforcer, Busby, who'd been leading that larger team. My guardsman friend Torner had been invited, and Ashil was there... I brought Memree with me of course. And there was Chalker...

"I'd separated from the others", she told us, still looking pale and with her shoulder heavily bandaged. "They'd gone on to talk to a crimelord called Mullen, and my task was to break into the man's house, to see if there were any secrets to be uncovered there." She paused, and took a surprisingly delicate sip from the cup of wine in front of her. "I got in easily enough, it is my trade after all, and the upper rooms were entirely normal. However, I found a concealed door, which led down into a basement level, and a large room with a big pentagram inlaid in the floor. Big five-armed candelabra, with black candles... and a very nasty kind of altar-table in the middle, with chains, dried blood, you can imagine the rest."

Ashil nodded. "And you got out of there without the alarm being raised?"

Chalker gave a little nod. "Yes, and was I ever glad to get out into the daylight! I hurried back towards our tavern, and was just in time to see my friends being set upon by a group of at least ten thugs. I had a crossbow with me, I was able to pick off a couple of them, but before I could get any closer, our people were all cut down. I managed to get back to the tavern and get my horse, but as you can see, it was all a bit of a close thing..."

I don't think I've ever seen Coker so angry - but it was a controlled anger, not anything for anyone in that room to fear. "Black candles, pentagrams, death altars, and murder", he began. "I don't know about you, but I don't want all that coming to my town!"

"Well, Jasper's nowhere to be found", I commented. "You don't know anything about where he might be, Chase...?"

Chase shook his head, looking sour. "Sorry - I shouldn't have said he was a friend, but we had a few drinks together a couple of times, and, well, he was friendly. I felt bad that he had that damned dagger stolen, though it looks as if it was lucky it was...except for the thief, of course."

"Yes, at least we know that something is going on", Man Coker said. "Perhaps Redwall was meant to be neutral territory, but somewhere was going to have its own new pentagram and blood-stained altar, and if you're feeding souls or hearts or whatever to a demon, he's going to want to do you a few favours in return, which is bad news for the rest of the locals."

"So it's possibly bad - but has anyone any idea where we should be looking?" Ashil looked up and down the table. "There's nothing suspicious close to where the body was found, where the thief lived, that area's been gone over very thoroughly."

Memree made a little throat-clearing noise. "Actually, I was wondering how our informant got to find out about that address in the first place - nobody else knew a thing, but a cute little ten-year-old girl got us the information we needed in a few hours?"

"She was a local kid", I said. "She could go anywhere without raising any suspicions."

"And she went straight to the corpse?" Memree shook her head. "There's something not quite right there - like the way we've never seen the mother, or the father, though he does have a job we know about - hells, we've never seen the girl and her handsome big brother at the same time, and we've never seen inside that house."

Coker punched one fist into his open palm, and grimaced. "The lady has a point - and it is the only possible lead we have, so I think we are going to have to act on it."

Ashil nodded. "I'll bring three of my best, most reliable men - we don't want the whole town to know about this, I suggest we wait until after nightfall."

Coker sighed. "Take four of my guards with you, along with Ser Busby - and, Sera Chalker, do you want to be in on this?"

Chalker nodded. "I can still use my crossbow, though I don't promise to reload very quickly."

"Memree and I will be there", I said. "If they are having some rituals in that house, to make sure we get everyone involved I suggest we wait for just after midnight...?"

So, I will have a fair bit to report tomorrow. Not that I'm going to get any sleep in the few hours before we set out, but I'm sure I'll be too tired to write up a report when we get back. Ashil will be in command, plus seven reliable fighters, along with me, Memree, Chalker, Busby, Chase, Carter and Torner, and I got the impression that Man Coker himself would be close by, probably in the Red Sunset, and certainly with some of his own security people. We may find nothing at all, or a deserted building - but somehow I don't think so!

Day 32

2004-10-24T14:56:00.000-07:00

No news from Man Coker's investigations, which isn't too surprising, I suppose whoever he sent would need more than a few hours in the town Jasper brought the presentation blade from, after a day's hard ride, though I had hoped that they'd be able to at least send some news back pretty much instantly. It's just not knowing what we are up against that worries me, and I think it worries Coker too.

I did drop by his place this afternoon, and he was arranging to send a few more of his men out, to, hopefully, meet his original investigator and his team on the trail and escort them back. The people he sent aren't overdue, there's nothing to worry about yet, except that the hair on the back of my neck does tend to try to stand on end when I think about it. All we have, I tell myself, is one dead thief, and one missing dagger. That's hardly worth losing sleep over. And then I think of the scene in the room where Torner and I found that dead thief...

Oh well, I've been out and around, listening and smiling and buying drinks with Coker's money, and there doesn't seem to be anything unusual happening in Redwall, at least. That missing husband hasn't turned up yet, but the warehouse loader has, and is rather lucky to have a job still, the way I heard it. A few petty robberies, a few fights, and no, I'm not talking about what I've been up to! A perfectly normal autumn day... may we have many more such, before the first snows come.

There is bound to be some news tomorrow - let's hope it is good news.

Day 31

2004-10-23T13:57:00.000-07:00

I was tempting fate with that last bit, wasn't I? Well, I'm glad to report a complete lack of corpses today, and very few flies. We are still waiting to hear some background on Jasper and the people he represents - it would be nice to know something more about the dagger, like what it can do, as well. The trouble with not knowing is that it is too easy to start making wild guesses. Does it turn into a demon at midnight, and rip people's chests open to feed on their hearts? Does it possess its "owner"? Or is this just some sort of out-of-town gang feud spilling into Redwall. I can't imagine that any out-of-towners could operate here for any length of time without Man Coker knowing about it - he may be crooked, but I trust him, and I trust his opinion of Ser Chase, I'm sure he wouldn't be involved in this. It would be nice to know why he called Jasper not just a guest of his at the Red Sunset, but a friend... they probably just had a few drinks together there the previous evening.

Anyway, the day passed without any excitements that I can report. Memree and I did stroll through the town and call in on the tavern, but we followed Delinda's advice and didn't disturb Ruby or Perry at their house - if they do find out anything new, they know where to find us, after all. The death of the thief seems to have closed the chapter down as far as Ser Cookson was concerned. Ser Jasper had, unsurprisingly, left, and not said where he was going - so he might have moved to a more secure tavern, or left town.

And that's how things stand. I didn't feel like another evening going round all the inns trying to keep an ear open for anything unusual, so it looks like an early night for us, for a change!

Day 30

2004-10-22T12:36:00.000-07:00

Perry came to us, in the morning, which saved me some trouble; he also told us which stables his father worked at, though he'd been sent out to a farm today to help sort out the purchase of some new stock. We handed over the money that Coker had given us, and he seemed happy enough.

What else today? Well, I tracked down Torner, who was on duty, to see if there had been any mage-examination of the corpse, but apparently nobody was too bothered about the death of a known petty thief, so there hadn't been any investigation at all. Ashil knew all about it, of course, but couldn't tell me anything I didn't know. I told him that I was worried that there was some sort of magic involved, and that the dagger could be the focus for something nasty; I think he took the idea seriously, he said he'd do some checking of his own, but that doesn't really get us anywhere at the moment.

Delinda knows a bit about magic, of course, so that gave Memree and me an excuse to go on over to her shop - I hope people realise that she's an old friend, otherwise the number of visits Memree and I make there would really get tongues wagging! I couldn't take her anything to run a detector-wand over, so there wasn't much that could actually be done at this stage, but if I do get hold of that dagger, or even just its blasted presentation case, I will be sure to take it to her.

"It sounds as if it could be something bad", Del said, when I'd told her just about everything. "I don't like the extra decomposition speed of the body, and I especially don't like the way some knife, very probably that dagger, had carved its way through the ribcage." She drummed her fingers on her worktable, where she'd been adding an extra hole to a rather complicated, ornate leather belt. "Don't get that kid Ruby too involved in it, she's not old enough to be able to defend herself the way you can, remember!"

So who gives a special "presentation dagger" like that, to whom?" I scratched my head, though that never ever gives me any sudden inspiration. "I didn't like Jasper, but I don't think he was an evil, other-dimensional demon in disguise."

Delinda smiled. "They're busy beasts, I imagine - so some jobs they like to delegate to mere mortals."

Now that was a cheery thought...or not!

Memree stayed with Del, and I headed off to go and drink in a number of taverns, and generally keep my ears alert for anything that could be involved with the dagger. Redwall isn't really that big a place, but there are traders and farmers coming and going all the time, the castle, the main market and a farm market, and always a few things going on. A mercenary band was recruiting, though from the glimpse I had of the people handling the sign-up, it looked only a step or two above a roaming bandit gang - I hope they keep on roaming! There'd been a sale of cattle in the morning, so there were some farmers around with a lot of money, and a few guards from the market keeping an eye on them, as having sellers mugged or murdered is bad for the repeat business side. A few wagons of trade goods, mainly medium-grade fabrics, had come in, not really a proper caravan, just an extended family really, and they were celebrating at the inn they always used. A pale and worried young woman was searching for her husband - ten times out of ten the missing man will turn up the following morning with a lot of explaining to do, but I got a description from her, and details of where she could be reached. Someone had completed his apprenticeship to a blacksmith, and was being got horribly drunk by his fellow workers, cheerfully oblivious to whatever humiliations were being planned for him later. The manager of one of the larger grain warehouses was furiously searching for one of his loaders, who he (colourfully) swore had stolen two bags of wheat from the loading bay. Prostitutes were picking up their customers, drinkers were peeing in the back yards - and after a dozen different types of beer, I knew how they felt, so a return home seemed the best idea.

So, no progress to report today, and probably none tomorrow either, but we will see what a new day brings. Hopefully no more flies buzzing round corpses, for a while.

Day 29

2004-10-21T14:55:00.000-07:00

My assumption was that Ruby would be an earlier riser than Man Coker, so Memree and I headed over to her house, and knocked on the door. She answered it herself, and came out into the street. "Perry's off helping my dad today", she told us. "Did you find anything at that address?"

"The thief - dead", I told her. "So now someone else has got the dagger he stole, and we're not really any further forward." I sat down on Ruby's doorstep. "I don't know if we'll get any reward just for finding the body, I've not seen the tavern's owner yet, I just sent him a message last night about what we'd found."

Ruby smiled. "It doesn't matter, I trust you, both of you. What we need to do is find out more about that dagger, if people are starting to get killed over it."

And that is what I told Man Coker, a little later in the morning. He made a tooth-sucking noise, and slowly nodded his agreement. "I know very little about it, and I don't think Chase knows much either..."

"Jasper must know something - but I got the impression he doesn't easily share his secrets. Just what sort of deal was it to be used to seal? Is there magic involved?"

Coker sighed. "I'm starting to suspect that there is, especially from what you've told me about the corpse. You'd better leave everything with me, I'll have to send one of my best people to the town Jasper brought the dagger from, and call in a few favours over there... so you can have a nice quiet couple of days, unless you think there's anything else to dig up around here."

"Not a lot", I told him. "Oh, have we earned anything from your friend Chase for our discoveries so far? It doesn't bother me, but the young girl and her family would probably find a good use for a few extra silvers, and they have been very helpful."

Coker brought out a purse, and counted out a gold piece and its equivalent in assorted silver coins. "This would be about a third of what you've earned, so pass it on to, what was it, Ruby and Perry?"

I scooped up the coins, and smiled. "That's them. I'll try to find out their surname, if you like."

And off we went, back up into the daylight. Without any leads, there wasn't much else we could do today. The plan will be to take the money round early tomorrow, maybe even before the father sets off for his work - I can hardly hand that much cash to a ten-year-old. Well, maybe I'll go round at a more reasonable time, and get directions to the stable he works at. A bit more lie-in, a bit more exercise... oh well, if I stop writing this and go to bed now, I'll have a better chance of waking up early!

Day 28

2004-10-20T14:55:00.000-07:00

I really didn't take to Jasper, the man whose presentation dagger, plus wooden box, had been stolen from the Red Sunset tavern. He was polite enough, and looked at my face more than most men do, he just gave the impression, to me, that only he mattered. I don't mind thieves or robbers, but he just wasn't involved with other people in the way that most of us are. It was creepy, and it got me to wondering what, if anything, was special about this particular dagger.

Memree went off to visit Joli - I got the impression that there had been some sort of deal that Memree would have some part in her slavegirl training. So I wandered back over to the Red Sunset after lunch - and was approached by a tall, red-headed man of probably about 18 to 20, before I actually got there.

"Hi there, I'm Perry - you met my little sister, Ruby...?" He grinned. "You really impressed her, I think she's decided to be an adventurer when she grows up!"

"I hope you didn't mind us talking to her - but she was the only local person who looked as if they might have seen something, when the tavern's store was raided."

"She's the best one of us to talk to - the brains of our family", he replied. "And to prove it, she's come up with a possible address you ought to check out."

He handed over a scrap of paper, with a sketched map on it - it was of a section of town that didn't have road names or house numbers, where even the muggers went about in pairs for safety. It wasn't easy to make out, but luckily there were a couple of tavern signs I recognised.

Well I thanked Perry, and went off to see if Torner was on duty or off. He was on duty, which made him easy to find - he got another guard to stand in for him for the rest of his watch, and went with me as I tracked down the address Ruby had sketched. Hey, there was no good reason for me to go there alone, and the sight of a large castle guard in full uniform ought to keep any but the drunkest robbers quiet.

We found the place, and immediately the hairs on the back of my neck began to rise. Somehow, flies never make the same sort of buzzing noise when there isn't a corpse involved. The smell hardly stood out in that part of town, but - it was bad. I looked at Torner, and, without trying the handle, he kicked the door in. Suddenly the smell was a lot worse.

The man couldn't have been dead more than two days, though from the state of him, you'd have guessed a week or more, at least. He was lying on his back, and it looked to me as if a knife had gone into his stomach, then ripped up through his chest almost to his neck, slicing through his ribs like butter. There was a lot of blood about, all dry and flaking. What there wasn't any sign of was his heart.

There was one clean rectangle on the floor, which could well have been where the dagger's box had been put down; there were two bottles of brandy on a chair, one half-empty, almost certainly what had been taken from the tavern along with the dagger. There was no sign of the dagger itself, of course - unless it had been responsible for that ripped-open torso, of course!

We headed for a better area of town, found a decent, quiet inn, and I wrote out a report on what I'd found, twice, then paid a potboy a few coppers to have one delivered to the one-thumbed barman at Coker's entrance-tavern, for passing on to Man Coker himself, and the other delivered to Chance, who would no doubt be pleased to hear that the thief had come to regret his transgression, at least briefly. I gave Torner a medium-strength kiss, I don't think either of us were really in the mood for anything more after our discovery, and headed back here.

So the thief is dead, but the dagger is still on the loose. I think tomorrow I'll check in with Man Coker, and also with young Ruby, because, beyond that, I have no idea what to do next...

Day 27

2004-10-19T13:49:00.000-07:00

The manager of the Red Sunset, Cookson, was not a huge amount of help. His guest, Jasper, had had the dagger, in its presentation box, stored in the small, and sturdy, safe-room behind the bar, where the expensive wines and spirits were kept. Only he, the manager, had the key, but the thief had been able to gain access to the next store-room along, and had used an axe, or a sword, or something like that, to make a hole in the wall between. The thumping, shortly after lunch, had been so obvious that everyone had assumed that some work was being done - until Cookson needed a fresh bottle of brandy, an hour or so later.

Well, I talked to the cook, and his two helpers, and one of Chase's security types whose job it was to stop any trouble before it started... he might have investigated the noise, but he wasn't on the premises then, his job being more of an evening and night thing. The barman was no help at all, and his assistants hadn't come on until later...

Memree and I looked at the hole more carefully - it looked like axe-work to me, the wood was splintered in that sort of way, after the layer of plaster had been knocked away. The hole had been big enough for a man to lean in with one hand, and grab, well, the box, as the most expensive thing there, and two bottles of spirits. Not the best ones, the light probably hadn't been good enough for label-reading, just a little bonus that would fit easily in a workman's bag.

I'd also have liked to speak to the box's rightful owner, but Jasper wasn't around. Maybe it would be better if I could at least tell him I'd been making enquiries, when I did see him! During the day the tavern is actually in a fairly quiet part of town, so Memree and I just strolled around, looking for anyone to talk to.

Our best prospect was a girl of about ten, sitting on her front doorstep eating a rather large piece of bread. Nice clean blonde hair and a pleasant enough face, a clean dress too, though rather faded and a little small for her... no shoes, and rather dusty feet. Memree approached her, smiling. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Go right ahead", the girl said with her mouth still half-full. "You looking for my dad?"

"Only if he works at the Red Sunset, across the road." Memree sat down next to the girl.

"That'd be good, he could come home for lunch - but he works at the stables, the other side of town."

Memree leaned forward. "Did you hear that thumping noise at the tavern, a couple of days back, after mid-day?"

The girl stopped eating, and grinned. "Someone robbed the place! Fancy making all that noise, and nobody doing a thing about it. Old Cookson's not the brightest of campfires, my dad says!"

I crouched down to join in the conversation. "Well there's a reward for getting the stolen stuff back - we want to claim it, and if you can help us at all, we can cut you in...sorry, I don't know your name...?"

She looked at me dubiously for a long moment, before reaching a decision and holding out a slightly greasy hand. "My name's Ruby, and that sounds good to me. I'm guessing that you're Charol, which makes blondie here Memree, right?"

As I've said before, news travels fast around town, and it travels wide, too. I took the hand, and shook it. "That's us, Ruby. You get us any useful information, and we'll treat you fairly, I promise." I took a couple few copper coins, and one small silver, from my purse, and passed it to her. "This is for expenses - but you be careful, don't do anything risky, there are some nasty people around."

She smiled reassuringly. "My elder brother will do any risky stuff - no, not risky, really, we'll take good care of ourselves, don't worry."

We promised to return tomorrow, and she told us she knew where we lived and would send a message if anything urgent got turned up. I was rapidly getting the suspicion that she was taking charge of the investigation now, and we'd just be doing some of the legwork for her. But if it got results, that wasn't a problem.

Anyway, we decided to leave the immediate area of the tavern to Ruby, and went off to talk to my contacts around town, see if anyone was offering any special daggers for sale, with or without presentation cases. Nobody knew anything, of course, but promised to let me know if any news did come in.

And that about wrapped it up for today. We did enough to show we were taking it seriously, but without any leads to follow, that was really all we could do. It wasn't something to knock ourselves out over, anyway, just a nice gently change of pace and an excuse for some exercise.

Day 26

2004-10-18T13:48:00.000-07:00

Another slow-starting day, though maybe for the last time for a while. One thing that I hadn't done, since we came back from our Churmuk adventure, was check in with Man Coker, the town's self-styled "underlord" - and it was time I put that right. No point going to his place in the morning, of course - he keeps late hours, not early ones.

So, that was the plan, taking Memree to see him or, more to the point, taking Memree so that he could see her, as requested. Early afternoon seemed like a good time, so we put on nice plain cloaks, and headed off to that terrible tavern that provides one of the ways to enter his own private underland. I'm just glad I don't have to drink there! Old "one-thumb" let us through into the back, the card-players totally ignored us, and we went down into the cellar, through the half-height door, down the ladder, got the lantern from the guard, and walked on to the large cave he calls home. He must spend a lot on lamp oil, the place was bright and cheerful - and, luckily, so was he.

"Charol my love", he shouted. "I see you've brought your lovely mystery woman with you, as I asked - though I was starting to think you'd forgotten about us!" He got up from his seat at the head of a table, off to one side - a couple of minor gang leaders I knew were sitting there too, and raised their glasses in our direction amiably enough. Chance was about fifty, well-preserved, with plenty of muscle, and ran a gang of no more than a dozen people, mainly on protection and gambling, though he owned a couple of quite reasonable taverns too. Carter, around thirty and with the misleading look of a minor nobleman, was mainly a slave trader, and also owned a couple of brothels.

"Sorry, Man - there wasn't any loot except the horses and saddles, and Ashil took charge of those", I told him. "And then Memree here got me entirely side-tracked."

"I can see that is something this very gorgeous young lady would be very good at", he said gallantly, and walked over to shake her hand. Luckily I had warned Memree about Man Coker's aversion to washing, so she smiled, and shook his hand, and then surprised me, and Man, by giving him one of her top-quality, lingering hugs.

"Any friend of Charol's is a friend of mine", she told him once she released him. "Charol's told me how good you've been to her, so I'm delighted to meet you, Ser Coker."

"I've not been as good to her as you've been, I'm sure, Sera Memree", he replied. "And I gather that getting Charol's scarred back cured was your idea?"

Like I've said, word spreads fast - and Coker makes it his business to know what is going on. "Which took a large amount of money, though it was well worth it", I told him. "And that means that we're looking for work... got anything in my line, Man?"

"Well, my good friend Ser Chance has got something that you might be right for", Coker said after a moment, looking at the gang leader.

"It's no big thing", Chance said, "But as I was telling Coker, someone broke into my Red Sunset tavern yesterday, and robbed a guest of mine, a friend of mine who'd come to Redwall to broker a deal. I'd really appreciate it if somebody could get back what was stolen, because it makes me look bad." He shook his head wearily. "I'll pay its full value, and a bonus if the thief gets to regret what he did."

"So what was stolen, Chance?"

"A brown wood box, with three golden stars inlaid in its lid - and inside is a dagger, a really fancy one, not much good for throat-cutting but with more stars engraved on the blade, and a black hilt with a ruby at the end." He sighed. "It's supposed to be part of the deal, a gift from one party to the other."

I smiled. "Well, I can't promise anything, the thief may have run out of town as fast as his legs would carry him and not stopped since, which would certainly be a sensible strategy after robbing a man with your sort of connections - but I'll see if I can pick up any trail. Who should I talk to at the Red Sunset?"

"The manager, Cookson - but leave it until the morning, I'd better make arrangements first."

So I am leaving it until tomorrow. We said our goodbyes, and headed home, and tomorrow I'll talk to Ser Cookson, though I don't quite see how I can track down a mysterious burglar two days after the event. But then, I have friends, or at least informants, in all sorts of places, and a dagger like that is not going to be too easy to sell in town.

Day 25

2004-10-17T14:33:00.000-07:00

No, I hadn't been drinking, yesterday... at least, I drank a little, but I can drink ten times as much as that and still make better sense than yesterday's entry. Oh well, onwards...and if it makes you feel any better, I did have a sort of ghost of a hangover.

So, was there anything worth writing about today? We checked with Ashil, but he didn't have any work for us at the moment, though in a few days a group of merchants may be glad to hire on an extra guard or two for a journey south. Do we want to journey south, and probably hang about spending our money for a while before anyone wants to have guards for a journey heading back this way? And can I make Memree look like the sort of tough, experienced fighter that they'd want to hire?

Oh well, she can cook a fine dish of porridge!

Our curiosity got the better of us, and we dropped in on Delinda, in theory because I was still buying new clothes and wanting to show of my gorgeous new back - in practice to see if Fran was now a good little slavegirl, under her new name of Joli. But we'll have to come up with another excuse to visit, our favourite ex-Churmuk warrior was nowhere to be seen. Engaged in some "quiet contemplation", Delinda said, which, we decided as we walked home, meant some tight ropes, a gag, probably a hood, and no chance to do much more than wriggle, and that only in moderation.

So we ate, and we drank, and we did a little more shopping, or at least browsing - and that's about it. It's rather relaxing not to be involved in any life-and-death adventure, for a day or two... but I'm sure it won't last. Something will come up, or I'll just get restless!

Day 24

2004-10-16T14:26:00.000-07:00

I actually slept until after lunchtime today, though I don't remember any dreams, luckily. I'd not truly realised what a weight on me those scars had been, but my back is as clear as a baby's now. The money we paid Mistress Indigo, with a little help from Ashil, works out at almost half our total purse, but I really don't care. Who wants to own a tavern, anyway? Adventuring is what I do, I kill dragons, slay lurking monsters, rescue the innocent, and that's what I want to continue to do, with Memree beside me!

Yes, the afternoon did involve shopping - after spending all that gold, a little more couldn't hurt, and I had a yearning to buy some new clothes, including one or two items to show off an elegant, shapely back.

It's weird, I feel so light and happy I could easily burst into tears, and I'm certainly not spending long on this clever little book today, so, Ser Mage-Librarian, see you tomorrow!

Day 23

2004-10-15T13:11:00.000-07:00

I didn't want to get onto that padded table again, but eventually I was naked on it, lying on my front again, with Mistress Indigo massaging some oil into my back, and Memree watching silently, standing close by. I gripped her hand in mine... but my grip loosened as I fell into the damned dream again.

My last sight of Flavion saw him bruised and blooded, his shirt torn off and his hands tied, gripped tightly by two of Lord Gillaird's men. Not so handsome now, nor so cocksure of himself. I think he saw me, but I'm not sure that I really registered - he was terrified, shaking and pale, you could almost see the shadow of the gallows across his face

"So, two amateur thieves were out to make a fool of me, eh? I expect I'd have been drugged, robbed, and you'd have laughed all your way to Spektros!" Gillaird's voice was harsh and angry.

"N-no, m'lord, it was--"

"Well I'm nobody's fool - and I'm not soft, either!" He turned to one of his men, the big bodyguard I think it was. "Have his... left hand chopped off, and dump him in a ditch well outside town."

"At once, Lord" It sounded to me as if it wasn't the first time Gillaird had given such an order, and his man sounded eager to carry it out.

"If he's seen in this town again, remove his other hand, too."

"And his woman, Ser...?"

Flavion didn't shout, or plead, I don't think he had any voice for it... they led him away. Well, they more carried him, really, his legs didn't seem to want to work, and I'm sure he peed himself. To this day I don't know if he bled to death, died of exposure, or is still alive somewhere, maimed and probably blaming me for the whole thing.

"Get me a horsewhip, a heavy one", Lord Gillaird said. "I'm not going to maim her, but I'll give the whore something to remember us by - for the rest of her miserable life!"

I moaned in my sleep - I knew it was a dream, a true dream, but I couldn't wake up. Mistress Indigo's hands soothed me, I was clutching Memree's hand so hard it hurt, but the dream went on, and I cringed, I wept... Mistress Indigo was murmuring something to Memree, and her hand left mine, I tried to keep hold of it, my lifeline to wakefulness...

"Stop, you brute!" The words echoed in the basement dungeon, and Gillaird let the whipping cease, let the whip's bloody strands fall to the floor. I turned my head, and a glowing, armoured angelic figure, a warrior angel fierce and sure, was standing there. The two remaining servants - well, one fell to his knees, the other ran away. The blonde-haired angel looked furious; she had a sword on her hip, but she hadn't yet drawn it.

"What sorcery is this?" Gillaird was not easily cowed. "Guards!"

This had never happened. The whipping had continued until I fainted, and in the morning I'd been thrown out...luckily Flavion and I had paid for a few days more at our inn, and we had some belongings there, including rather more money than Flavion had said we'd got, so I'd staggered back there, and lived to fight another day...

The angel was Memree, I realised, bigger than life, in glowing armour. She picked up the cowering servant, threw it at the guards who came running, bowling them all over, and turned to Lord Gillaird, drawing her sword. "I think you've done enough, don't you?"

"Stop! I didn't mean... I didn't know..."

The angel unlocked my shackles. My back was on fire; I bent, picked up a short sword someone must have dropped, and turned to Lord Gillaird. "Your hospitality is... rather overwhelming, Lord..."

"Please... don't kill me." His voice wasn't so harsh now.

Memree turned to me with a smile. "This is your dream, Charol - you decide what we must do."

"I'd cheerfully slit the fool's throat", I told her, "But I don't think that would prove anything. We could just leave him...um... hanging around...?"

"Poetic, Sister", was the comment, but it was rather indistinct, as at last I was emerging from the dream. The angel Memree grasped my hand, just as the real Memree grasped my hand again as I opened my eyes and started to sit up. My back was raw and blee-- oh no it wasn't, Mistress Indigo held a mirror up to show me a pale, pure, unmarked back, her face alight with triumph.

"It was hard for you, I know, but there was no other way, Charolia", she said, putting the mirror back on the wall. "The scars were deep, but we dug them out. If you have any ointment left, use it tonight, and then, you two can get on with your lives, free of the past."

Look, I'm just reporting what happened today, I don't claim to understand it. I wonder if, somewhere, Lord Gillaird is having some strange dreams too, maybe of hanging in chains in that torture room? I'm still a bit fuzzy from it all, so I hope you'll excuse me if this makes no more sense to you than it does to me, but my back is healed, and that is certainly a dream come true!

Day 22

2004-10-14T14:36:00.000-07:00

I was too tired in the morning to do much. I managed to do some warrior-type exercises in the early afternoon, but the main part of the day was always going to be our second visit to Mistress Indigo - and it proceeded very much the same way as our previous appointment.

And as soon as I was lying face-down on that leather-upholstered table, I could feel myself drifting off, as Mistress Indigo's hands massaged my back, and she hummed something, very quietly...

My dream continued from before, and I entered one of the caves, spear at the ready, expecting some hungry wildcat, some brown bear, a gladiator with a trap-net... but what I found was Flavion, sitting not far from a campfire, gently tapping on a pair of drums... a rhythm like a heartbeat. He was a year or two older than me, and I'd always thought he looked rather good - today, with his muscular chest and tight trousers, he looked exceptionally good to this tired would-be warrior.

"Flavion? But I thought these caves were - well, traps...?

"Charolia! Well chosen, my lovely! Some caves are traps, but I hope you will consider this one a treat!" He smiled, "Put down your javelin, for it is I who surrender to your beauty!" He gestured to some animal furs beside him. "Face it, sweet woman, today we've both got lucky!"

In my dream, I was agreeing with him, but the modern me wanted to scream, as the two figures kissed, embraced, and were soon lying on those furs, oblivious to everything except each other. For it was a trap, a trap of honey. I was so young, then, and innocent, and I didn't know that traps came in all sorts of guises.

Time blurred, and the dream leapt forward. I'd failed the test, and I left the tribe - Flavion left too, he'd decided there was a world to be seen outside our hills, and, with me at his side, he was confident he'd make his fortune. And it soon became clear how I could help him get rich - oh Flavion! It seemed so simple then. We needed money to live, and as outsiders in that town we couldn't earn it honestly, or so he told me... he was older than me, more wise to the world, and I believed him. After all, we were in love - weren't we?

So there I am, in a skirt so short it shows my panties, slit up the side too, and a top that enhanced rather than covered, plus sexy little shoes - where did Flavion get the money for all that, I wonder? And it's evening, and I'm just hanging around outside a tavern, waiting for Flavion to come out with his "new friend". Not that I'm an honest prostitute, oh no that wasn't Flavion's idea though, gods know, he could probably have talked me into it... The target tonight is Lord Gillaird, who's soon to be married, apparently, but still has a roving eye. He takes me back to his townhouse, I contrive to leave a door unlocked (I'd been shown, from across the street earlier, which one), and Flavion gets in, steals everything of value, and by the time the theft is discovered, when Gillaird awakens in the morning, we've both vanished, very possibly riding Gillaird's own horses. A few successes, little more than backstreet muggings when I led some randy local somewhere quiet for some "privacy", had made us over-confident...

Would Flavion have waited for me? To this day I don't know. The plan was moronic, Gillaird had servants who discovered the unlocked door almost as soon as I'd done it. A big bodyguard of a man burst in on Lord Gillaird as he was offering me wine, told him what I'd done... and I was dragged down into the cellar, and chained to the wall, while guards waited to see what rat would be taking the bait. Still in my stupid little skirt and humiliating little blouse...

"Charol...?" I was so glad to hear Memree's voice, to be woken from the nightmare before it could reach its worst part. The second day of Mistress Indigo's treatment was over; I was shaky on my legs, I felt cold - but this was my past, I was going to deal with it!

Day 21

2004-10-13T12:43:00.000-07:00

One thing I'm not looking for at the moment is a new adventure, assignment, job, call it what you will, so I was a little wary when Ashil called around. Luckily he'd only come to discuss the money we'd earned, and what we wanted to do with it. We started talking about bankers, we even talked about buying one of the local taverns, having it cleaned up a bit, putting a landlord in, and having our very own rooms upstairs - but, even with one of the smallest and worst-placed hostelries in town, we would be stretching ourselves a bit.

Suddenly, Memree surprised us by asking Ashil what he knew about "Mistress Indigo" - a name I'd heard mentioned, I knew she was some kind of mage-healer who lived not too far outside town in a miniature castle with a domed roof.

Ashil looked puzzled, and then smiled. "Well she's good - if I have people badly hurt, she cures them. Not cheap, though... but it's not a matter of her giving you a bottle of some smelly potion, it's more involved than that, it's a very hands-on approach, she kind of brings the cure out of you yourself..."

"I thought we could get Charol's scars healed - she's so beautiful, I just hate the way her back is marred by those ugly weals, it just doesn't seem right!"

"Now hold on", I began, and I'm sure I was blushing. "She is expensive - I admit the idea is tempting, but--"

"We can use my share, or go half-and-half, but if any of the money is mine, that's how I want to spend it!" She grabbed my shoulders, and looked me in the eye. "Please...?"

And that's how we came, in late afternoon, to be knocking on the miniature castle's door., cloaked against the wind - Memree even had her hood up. The sound of the knocking was surprisingly quiet, but within a few heartbeats Mistress Indigo was opening the door, and beckoning us in.

"Ah, Charol, and Memree - Ashil's message said you'd be coming, welcome to my house!" She wore a long, tight black dress, and had a teardrop-shaped dark blue gem suspended on her forehead. Her black hair had a bluish tinge, I think; perhaps it was dyed, but she looked no older than a well-preserved, handsome 35.

We were shown into a large room with a blazing fire in the grate. There were normal comfortable chairs, but there was also something more like an upholstered table - and that's what I found myself lying on, on my front, in my underwear, while Mistress Indigo gently ran her cool hands along the old scars.

"It is no simple thing", she told us. "No ointment, no lotion can do more than calm the redness. I have to understand the scars - and you have to understand them, too."

"I was young, I was stupid, I thought I was in love", I said glumly. "So I got sweet-talked into hanging around the streets in a town well away from here, wearing a tiny skirt and a thin blouse." I closed my eyes. "I wasn't... I didn't sell myself, what I did was worse than that, though I didn't think so then..."

I must have fallen asleep; the table was comfortable, the fire warm, the flickering light made it easy to close my eyes, and Mistress Indigo's hands were warm now, and very soothing. Sometimes, when it rains a lot, or in the worst of winter, I do feel some memories of pain in my back, but now, I was just drifting... and I dreamed.

Old Cerryl always said that our hill-tribe made the initiation test harder for the girl-children, as they needed plenty of tribe-wives to stay in our village and breed and look after the children. She was right about this costume, certainly, I'd made it out of a rather small amount of leather, and the first defender I'd had to pass hadn't known whether to fight, faint, or, well... I used my knee to give him a love-tap in an appropriate place, and was past and out of his circle before he remembered what he had been supposed to be doing.

I hurried across the hillside. Arrow-signs made from pebbles showed the path I must take, and I clutched my spear, and ran on, into a narrow pass, half-choked with bushes and a few hardy trees. This must be the next trial-point, I thought - and a monster, green and slimy and half again my height, leapt at me, a claw swiping across my naked stomach! The pain was - was not agonizing, this had to be some sort of illusion. I swung the butt of my spear round, it hit something that wasn't there, and the monster wavered, rippled, and was gone.

Our shaman looked annoyed, rubbing his forehead where I'd clipped him. "Yes, yes, very good, Highfield - the test continues, on you run!"

So far, I'd been lucky... but the further I went, the more dangerous it would become. People could get killed out here, it was understood, which made it a fine time to remember old grudges. I moved quietly, now... this wasn't the next testing-point, but the birds were quiet, the flies were too active, and then I caught a whiff of stale sweat and old leather, and stopped, began to circle around, as quietly as a butterfly with a hangover. Ah yes - Finbur! A couple of years older than me, a bully, a loudmouth, he'd got a grudge against me, just because I'd turned him down - oh and I'd beaten him in a fishing contest too, in front of all his friends. So here he was trying to ambush little Charol and make her fail her test, maybe rape her, maybe maim her, maybe kill her. Oh yes, he held grudges, did Finbur.

Unfortunately for him, so did I; I crept up behind him,held the spear two-handed and whipped it over his head like a garrotte, he tried to grab the spear as it began to crush his windpipe, but, too much fishing and too little weapons practice, his arms weren't quite strong enough. He fell to the ground, wheezing and coughing blood. Truth to tell, I didn't know if I'd killed him or not.

I ran through the firepits, hardly noticing - I leapt clear of the spear-throwers, and jumped off the waterfall into the pool far below, easily avoiding the rocks. Hey, I'd been there often enough on hot days with a few friends, cooling off and showing off! And now the final hillside was ahead, with its warren of caves. Choose one cave, and see what the final snare for you will be...

"Charol?" It was Memree's voice, she sounded concerned. "You drifted off, then - how are you feeling...?"

"Hmmm?" My eyes were a little slow to focus. There was Memree, with my clothes, ready to help me dress; and there was Mistress Indigo, smiling encouragingly. "Sorry... I was dreaming..."

"That is good", Mistress Indigo said quietly. "It is the beginning of the cure, but only the beginning. You will return tomorrow at the same time, and we will continue." She grinned. "And yes there is some ointment for you to use tonight, have your friend rub it in all across your back last thing before you sleep, it will help, just a little."

We left, walking back into Redwall. And now it is last thing, and Memree is holding the little pot of ointment reasonably patiently while I finish this. Was my dream part of the treatment, or did I just sleep through whatever Mistress Indigo was doing? Hopefully we'll all find out tomorrow!

Day Twenty

2004-10-12T12:57:00.000-07:00

"Well I think she's a natural slavegirl", Memree was saying. She was wearing shorts, boots and her white sweater, looking down at Fran on the floor of our room. Fran was wearing a small pair of leather panties which had somehow got in among our stuff when Memree had packed the saddlebags a couple of days before in the Churmuk camp. Fran's wrists were handcuffed behind her back, her ankles were tied together, and the ballgag had recently been replaced after she'd been fed some breakfast. "She was fascinated by the whole deal of you apparently owning me, and when you were away, she went on about how the warrior-pairings in their clan were so boring, and the clan-meets where they did get the opportunity to get laid weren't much better. Despite what Natella made her do, she did want to get away, and that wasn't just to become a member of the town guard here!"

Ashil had been around earlier, to report that Kreston, before he headed out of town for some big family reunion, had indeed bought Natella, and for an excellent price. He'd also sold all the horses we'd thieved - I suggested that the money from them, and the saddles, should be divided five ways, two for Memree and me, and one each for the three men who'd escaped with Kreston and us. Ashil agreed, and said he'd also put them on the accounts as part of the cavalry group, so they'd get a few silvers for that too. Kreston's people were paying the bills, after all!

I went out to do some minor shopping, and chat to a few people... and when I came back, well, maybe I'm being a little suspicious, but both Memree and Fran did seem a little, well, flushed, and while I didn't get a good look, my impression was that Fran's bottom was a bit pinker than I'd remembered it. I think Fran had been getting a little introductory lesson in slavegirl life...

Anyway, after lunch the three of us headed for Delinda's store. We timed it right, as a rather respectable couple were just leaving as we arrived, with a large bag of purchases. Delinda and Loji welcomed us - they'd heard all about our latest adventure of course, these things get around town faster than a horse can gallop.

"And this must be the new slavegirl, Fran", Delinda said happily. "You'll want to get her measured up and kitted out with some personal restraints, I'm sure."

"Not exactly", Memree told her. "Charol and I don't really have room in our life for a slavegirl, even as natural and eager a one as Fran here... so we thought we'd do her a favour, and you a favour, I hope, by giving her to you - just as an extra thankyou for all you've done for us."

Delinda hugged Memree, and then hugged me; she seemed delighted. "If you can handle more than Loji, that is", I added. "We thought that Fran would need a firm hand - and that's what you've got with slavegirls, right?"

Delinda was sizing up Fran, who wisely kept her eyes downcast, and her posture straight. "Hmm, I'll shave her hair, just leaving eyebrows and eyelashes, like Loji - I think she will train up well, she'd better if she knows what's good for her." She turned to us. "Did you have any ideas for a slavegirl-name for her?"

"To go with Loji, I thought Joli", Memree said. "But that's entirely up to you, she's your slave."

We left not long after. "I hope we did the right thing", I commented, as we walked home. I idly kicked a pebble across the street, it bounced off the wall opposite.

"I think so - Loji could probably do with the company, Del's a natural slave-trainer and slave-owner - and I think it won't take Fran long, sorry, I don't think it will take Joli long, to surrender herself and admit that this is what she was made for."

And that's about all there was of any conceivable interest today, my Mage-Librarian friend, so I'm signing off until tomorrow!

Day Nineteen

2004-10-11T13:57:00.000-07:00

Memree and I are back in our room, at last, after a long day's ride. Kreston and his fellow ex-slavemen had had their collars removed the previous evening, and Ashil had provided more suitable garments for them; Fran and Natella had had their Churmuk armour removed, and they now wore slave collars of a more delicate and decorative nature.

Really, Memree and I were doing very well out of this. We'd not lost any of our gear, that was all on Hengist - and for some reason of Churmuk honour, the "weight of gold" I'd...we'd won in the "rope and tie" had been delivered that morning, so there was a rather heavy purse in the bags too. The Churmuk horses we'd liberated were, Ashil assured us, exceedingly valuable... and the gravy on the joint was that Kreston was insisting on buying Natella as his slavegirl!

Which left Fran, of course. Memree and I have discussed her, and come to the conclusion that she had genuinely wanted to leave the Churmuk way of life, and had been attracted to Memree-as-slavegirl. While she did betray us, she really didn't have much option in that, as Natella knew what she was doing all along, as she had ordered it in the first place... and, well, how hard did she fight to beat Memree, did she want to lose, to be the one in cuffs?

Oh well, this evening my room has got a genuine chained slavegirl on its floor, not Memree's impersonation of one - quite a pretty one, too. Not something we can make a habit of, but we'll have to do a bit more talking in the morning. All that horse-riding and fresh air is making me very sleepy, so I think this brief report is all I can manage for tonight.

Day Eighteen

2004-10-10T12:02:00.000-07:00

Sorry to leave that on such a cliff-hanger, but as I was grabbed by as many Churmuk as could fit in the wagon, accused of murdering their First Speaker, and carried off a to a cold, sturdy hut, there wasn't really any way I could even finish that sentence. The hut contained a wooden trestle, the sort of contraption that would hold up one end of a long table; I was stripped, and bent over along it, my ankles tied tightly to one end, my arms stretched down towards the other; my mouth was stuffed with a wad of cloth, a thin rope tied round my head to keep it in position, and then a leather hood was put over the top. It was all hellishly uncomfortable and humiliating, and cold, and, while I did eventually drop off to sleep, various aches and pains returned with a vengeance when I woke.

I've not really had a chance yet to go through Memree's morning with her, but I can imagine how lonely and helpless she must have felt, left behind in the guest wagon. Fran came to her in the morning, and they were able to visit me briefly; there was no choice, we took Fran into our confidence about why we'd come. On the general feeling that Churmuk judicial processes were probably rather speedy and informal, and that Natella might well soon be in charge, today was the day we had to get out, preferably with Kreston in tow - so Memree and Fran would have to find him, get him ready for the break, and, as someone would presumably be checking up on my lack of comfort fairly regularly, only then set me free. I didn't like telling them to put the gag and hood back on me, and leave me there, but I didn't see that there was much choice...though Memree did take away some of the gag-wadding with her. Ashil's cavalry wouldn't be in place to support our escape until the afternoon...

Memree had got dressed up in Churmuk armour, and they managed to contact Kreston - the death of the First Speaker meant that the usual guards had other things on their minds, of course. And Natella would want to concentrate on trying to become the new First Speaker before doing anything with me, so she was presumably too busy to come and have a little heart-to-heart... though it was weird to occasionally feel a breeze on my oh-so-vulnerable rear when the hut opened and someone looked in, either to check or to gloat.

At noon, Memree opened the glass vial that Ashil had provided - even hooded I could tell, the whole atmosphere of the place changed, it was cooler, I could hear shouting, distant screams, and an unearthly hooting. My hut's door opened - it was a guard. And then I heard a familiar voice - Memree's. "Is the prisoner still secure?"

"What's going on? The sky, the ghosts..." There was a definite tinge of panic in the guard's voice.

There was a thud, and then my ropes were being cut, and my hood removed. I spat out the gag when I could, and smiled at Fran and Memree, who were now removing the guard's costume... she was just about my size, luckily.

"Ashil's magic is doing its job out there - there's a huge figure of Atzmon, and you're fighting her - and there's clouds of smoke, and weird floating skulls and ghosts. It spooks me, and I know what it is!"

I laughed as I buckled the Churmuk metal plate kilt into position. "Sounds like it's doing its job, then - but it's just illusion magic, it won't last forever, so let's go and get Kreston, shall we?"

The sky was a dark green, but somehow it didn't make us, or the landscape, seem sickly. A skeletal head fizzed past, pale amber with glowing red eyes, leaving a trail of mauve butterflies in its wake.

"Kreston is in that large shed over there", Fran pointed. "I'll go and get your horse, and enough extra mounts, we already loaded up your saddlebags."

"Good luck, friend!" Memree and I headed in the direction she'd indicated, two Churmuk warriors among many running around. One of them ran towards us, in fact - and then a ghost of her split from her body, looked her in the face, and made as if to punch her, and she screamed and headed off in another direction. I looked up and saw Atzmon looking down on the camp as if we were all just ants.

"So what have you been promising Fran, then? She's certainly going out on a limb for us."

"It's a long story", Memree said. "But she's had enough of being a butch warrior woman, she wants to come with us."

We reached the shed, which was secured by a bar across the door - we pulled that off, and hurried in, to find four men, including Kreston, and two guards. "Kreston's behind all this", I told them. "We must take him to Natella, and quickly!"

A ghost Churmuk ran in through the walls, as the guards began to unlock the chains - we knocked both guards cold, and each lost a ghost figure, which screamed silently and fell to the floor alongside their unconscious bodies.

"Charol? You old hound, I've never been happier to see your homely old features", Kreston said, as he finished unlocking himself. "Your friends didn't mention you were the mastermind behind this rescue plan."

"A plan? Who said anything about a plan, we're just making this up as we go along", I told him. "Your friends are coming too?"

"Too right, girl!" They were all free, now, in shabby, worn trousers and with metal collars welded in place; Kreston and one other held the swords they'd picked up.

"Fine with me - our friend Fran should have the horses ready, so let's split, yes?"

Of course, things weren't quite that simple. The horses were there - but so was Natella, and five of her warriors - including Fran. I can't say that was a huge surprise, it was Natella who'd assigned Fran to us in the first place, but I do wish sometimes that adventures didn't have so many twists. Still, the odds weren't too bad - she'd not expected Kreston's fellow escapers, perhaps, or only wanted her closest followers to hear anything I might say. And of course Natella held a very high opinion of her own swordsmanship.

"Fran - how could you...?" Memree at least seemed shocked.

Fran sheathed her sword, apparently confident she could fight Memree on equal terms. "It was Natella's plan all along, sweetness", she said. "Giving Charol a clan trial for murder might have been risky, so she gets killed trying to escape."

Fran rushed for Memree, Kreston and his men rushed for the other Churmuk, and I grabbed my sword, the blade my guard had had, and turned to Natella with a smile. "Your fighting so far hasn't impressed me", I told her. "Maybe your talents lie in other directions?"

Memree and Fran were wrestling, with Fran holding handcuffs like a different version of "rope and tie" - I saw one of the men, weaponless, punch one Churmuk on the chin before she could bring her sword around, she folded noiselessly and he grabbed her weapon. There were still some ghosts and flaring, flying skulls around, but they were less substantial now, and Atzmon, fighting what looked like a giant Memree in her Churmuk armour, was no longer solid, I could see light through her. Natella and I started cautiously, swords alert, more parries than thrusts... I found that I was too annoyed to come up with my usual taunts. She'd used dirty fighting to try and enslave me, she'd used nasty tricks to try and win Memree off me, she'd killed a fine woman in the First Speaker and tried to blame me for it, she'd had me naked and trussed, stuff-gagged and hooded, all night and half the day, and then decided she would set me up to be killed in an attempt to escape...

It sounds stupid, but I hadn't been paying attention - yet Natella was now on the ground, weaponless, curled up and holding her stomach, and with what might well be the start of a black eye. The others were on horseback now, and I saw that Fran, tied up, was thrown across Memree's horse in front of her. There was some more rope on the ground, so I tied Natella too, and got her across the front of my horse's saddle. Kreston had Hengist on a leading rein.

"Come on, Charol, or we'll be here for the rest of our lives!"

I got on to the horse, a big, valuable-looking animal, black and glossy... the saddle looked high quality, too, and I smiled. "Okay, let's ride, we've got what we came for!" I shook the reins. "Let's get out of here!"

We rode, heading back the way we'd come - and we never saw any pursuit. The abduction of Natella would have caused some disruption... perhaps one of the warriors we'd left behind had decided to tell the truth, or maybe the leaders of the other factions had just been too busy to worry about us, and happy not to have Natella to contend with. Ashil and his cavalry met us a little while ago, before sunset, and now, just outside the Churmuk lands, we've set up camp for the night - with plenty of guards on the alert, rather disappointed not to have had a battle.

But now, if you'll excuse me, it's been a long and eventful day, so I'm turning in. There are plenty of loose ends I ought to mention, Ser Librarian - but I have to leave something for tomorrow's entry!

Day Seventeen

2004-10-09T12:46:00.000-07:00

Fran brought us some breakfast - cold roasted ox, mainly, with some bread and freshly-churned butter, plus some rather week beer. The day was rather slow to start, generally; Fran took me to their practice field, and Memree came along, wearing her sweater over her slavegirl gear, and watched as we did some sparring using blunt swords. After lunch, we actually managed to get some sleep, back in the wagon...

I don't usually sleep in the afternoon, and when I do I never dream, as far as I can remember, but this time was the exception. I was hunting, with a long tribal spear, and it was night, but there were lights, and noise, and suddenly I knew that I was also being hunted. A flash of lightning showed me a figure in full armour, with a spear twice as long as mine. It was a woman, and as she turned away from the sudden glare it seemed for a moment that it was--

"--to get ready, sister", Fran's voice said loudly and cheerfully. It was almost dark now, and she put a lantern on one wall, and lit another which was already hanging in the wagon. I was lying back on the cushions, the place still as untidy as ever, with Memree's head in my lap, my hand in her hair, only gradually coming awake. This was not the way I usually behaved -- how had she even unlatched the door without me coming instantly alert and ready for trouble?

Fran was already dressed for the evening's entertainment, in her shiny metal breastplate, a pair of knee-high boots that also looked like metal, but were presumably specially-treated leather, and a matching belt, wide and tight with an ornate buckle at the front. There was no plate-mail kilt, now, instead a rather small pair of shiny black panties were on full display. She smiled slightly nervously as Memree and I took in the ensemble.

"Well, you look stunning", I told her appreciatively. "But what have you got for me?"

The clothing the Churmuk keep for guests, and I suppose for themselves too, must be one of their more valuable treasure hoards; I stripped off, and let Fran wrap me in a "T" shape of black leather, which made a wrap around my waist, laced at the back. The down-piece dangled at the front, until Fran pulled it back and through, up under the back of the wrap, and let the free end dangle a few inches down over it. As it moulded and settled, the final result was slightly more sexy than Fran's arrangement. Next came a pair of matching boots, of black leather so thin they were more like long stockings with soles on the feet, and so tight a fit that they stayed up perfectly. And of course there were matching gloves.

Thankfully, a tunic came next -- I don't mind flaunting my breasts, but I do like to keep my back covered from my neck to just above my waist, due to my old scars. This tunic was made of crisp white linen, and was just long enough to show an inch or so of skin above the leather wrap. As an aid to ventilation, the front was held together, or apart, by five fine six-inch chains, making it usefully tight at breast level, and nicely loose below.

"I take it that the feast area is well-heated", I commented, adjusting the tunic's arms, which ended at the elbows, covering a few inches of glove.

"How does it feel?"

"Almost indecently sexy, and I love it", I assured her, then turned to Memree, who had been watching carefully. "If we both look this good, let's not bother with my cute little accessory -- let's just hood her for the night, and head on out!"

Memree gave little snort. "As you wish", Fran said. "But it is too early to go yet -- so let's dress her up in the gear I've brought along, anyway..."

I stripped Memree to her collar, then took her and a bucket outside for a pee, while Fran unpacked and smoothed out what she had brought. This was white leather, and probably even more expensive than my outfit.

I sat back and watched, as Fran began work. She started with a delicate-looking chain around Memree's waist; it had no separate lock, one of the chain-links itself opened and closed if properly manipulated. Next came stocking-boots like mine, only white, and each of these was clipped to three suspender-chains to link it tautly to the belt-chain. Long white gloves, next, and fine chain bracelets at wrist and elbow, which Fran linked with tiny padlocks to the waist-chain (level with her elbows) and the outside suspender-chains (level with her wrists), so that Memree's arms were kept straight at her sides.

"Well", Fran said, "I could use a lot more chain on her, capture her breasts and so on, but I don't think I can top this for effect." She stood aside. "This one would look stunning, even in clothes."

I nodded my agreement, gazing at my helpless companion and feeling rather warm myself in sympathy. "We'd better take a gag, to use later", I said, getting to my feet.

Fran was getting a final item out of the pack she'd brought. "I agree", she said. "Some girls look silly in them, but somehow it only enhances your girl's desirability."

She held up the last piece of white leather; it was a hood, lacing up the back, with large, stylized eye-holes. "We'll just put this on her for our entrance", she said, putting it around Memree's head and beginning to tighten the laces. The effect was rather erotic, and very fascinating. The fine leather moulded itself to every contour; lines of thick stitching simulated arched eyebrows, and the lively, alert eyes revealed through the twin holes dominated the otherwise empty face. I suppose there were small nostril holes to breathe through, but they weren't visible.

I clipped a chain leash to Memree's collar, and we were ready. "She looks really splendid, doesn't she?" Fran adjusted the hood very slightly, and stroked its leather gently, lingeringly.

"Makes me wish I were a man", I replied. "Then there'd be no risk of me being dressed up like that."

"I'm not sure 'dressed' is quite the word, Mistress", came the comment from behind the white leather, rather muffled.

"True -- but nobody asked for your opinion, did they?" I patted her flank for emphasis. "Come on, then, my love - best foot forward!"

"Well", Fran said quietly, "at this moment I almost envy her."

The feast was held in the central pavilion, of course, with the ground smothered in carpets, rugs, and cushions of every possible colour. The only Churmuk in full uniform and with weapons flanked the entrance; the rest lounged about in breastplate and trousers, breastplate and panties, leotards with or without breastplates...there were even a couple of mannish shirts to be seen. There were no chairs, except a throne intricately carved from a white wood. The tribe's First Speaker sat there, grey-haired yet still handsome, wearing her breastplate over a long black dress. She was flanked by two strikingly beautiful almost naked slavegirls, each with her leash tied to an arm of the throne. They knelt, backs straight; the First Speaker was idly stroking the brunette's hair. In front of the throne was an open area, with only a large plain carpet on the ground. To its right was Natella, sitting on some cushions, in her breastplate and a rather small pair of leather panties, with a naked girl lying at her feet -- naked except for a studded leather collar, and matching leather cuffs joined by a short chain, that is.

We stood just inside the entrance, taking in the scene -- and letting the scene take us in, too. Slavegirls were hurrying about with pitchers of wine, platters of meat, and baskets of bread; they were generally naked, except for occasional straps of leather and lengths of chain. I noticed Natella, and nudged Fran.

"That 'slavegirl' with Natella... wasn't she from her squad this morning?" I kept my voice low, and left a confident smile on my face, breathing in the various perfumes. Whoever was selling bottled fragrances to this tribe was doing a roaring trade, unless it all came from a recently sacked caravan.

"Perhaps it's her night off", came from behind the thin layer of white leather, and I swear Memree's eyes sparkled mischievously in the lamplight.

Fran ignored us, waiting for every warrior to notice our arrival. Swiftly, talk faltered, and she took a deep breath, and announced "The Lady Charol, warrior and adventurer, and captor to her lovely and loving trophy-slave Memree!" She pulled the bow securing the lacing loose, tugged the hood's two sides apart, and pulled it away, to reveal my blonde's hair and face. We walked forward in the brief silence, which was soon broken by clapping, usually of one hand on the thigh. A number of warriors stood, as we passed, and shook my hand as they stated their names, none of which I can remember now. Fran got hugged in a sisterly way a few times, while Memree tended to get lightly stroked on her flank or behind. As an entrance, I've seldom experienced better.

We stopped in front of the throne. Fran knelt, and I followed her example, while helping Memree to retain her balance doing likewise.

"First Speaker", Fran said, "I present Charol, and her trophy-slave."

The woman gazed at us calmly, before allowing her face to soften into a slight smile. "We welcome thee, Charol, to the Churmuk", she said in a strong, clear voice. "Our wagons are thine."

"Thank you, m'sera", I replied. "Your people do us great honour."

We got to our feet, as the noises of conversation and catering returned to their previous levels. A harpist began to play. Fran led us to a well-cushioned space at the edge of the central open area, and we all three sat down. We'd hardly settled before a flurry of slavegirls surrounded us, with food and drink. Fran helped herself to a goblet, and drank deeply.

I let Memree sip some of my wine, holding the goblet to her lips, and spoke quietly. "Are any of the other slave-types just warriors dressed up, like Natella's little friend?"

"That's Jerri", she replied. "And no, I don't think so... though she looks so different like that."

"It could be the result of a private wager -- then again it could mean that Natella is planning mischief", I said. "She may not have liked me beating her in combat."

"That is possible, certainly", Fran replied, picking up her goblet again. "I must concede that she isn't the most forgiving, easy-going person I know."

I fed myself and Memree with chunks of spicy meat in rich gravy, and scraps of bread dipped in the juices, and just settled back to enjoy the evening; there was nothing else to be done.

Since we were at the edge of the open central space, we had a fine view of the entertainments, which grew wilder as the evening progressed. There was singing, juggling, knife-throwing, absolutely frenzied acrobatics and dancing, and by the time of full darkness outside, some prettty serious-seeming wrestling.

Once we'd finished eating, I gave Memree a final sip of wine, and then got out her ball-gag; on her best slavegirl behaviour, she eagerly took it into her mouth, and leaned forward to let me fasten it in place. The lights were lower, now, and after we'd watched a particularly uninhibited set of dancers, I found that Memree was not only lying across my lap and having her hair stroked by me -- she was lying across Fran as well, getting her rump stroked. Who was supposed to be in charge of whom? If one of us stopped, head or bottom would rise up to nudge the idle hand back into action.

The wrestling bouts each involved two naked Churmuk warriors, flesh gleaming with oil, with the First Speaker herself calling out the scoring from the throne. It was obviously skilful, and sexy in its way; I was impressed by the lack of emnity involved, except in the final bout, which was obviously a grudge match, with some serious hair-pulling, a knee-to-breast blow that made me cringe in sympathy, and a double strangle-hold that was only broken in the end by Natella's intervention.

"Those two meant it, didn't they, Fran?"

"The old romantic triangle", she told me. "Slenna's playing them both for suckers...aah, now what's Natella up to?"

Natella stood in the circle, waiting for conversation to die down. "My sisters, tonight our entertainment has been top-class, in honour of our First Speaker and our guest, m'sera Charol. Do you think it fair if we ask Charol to take part in tonight's climax?"

I looked at Fran, questioningly. She shrugged. It looked as if this was the pay-off to Natella's plotting, but what could we do about it?

"Charol is a mighty warrior", she went on, "and her slavegirl is beautiful, loyal, and I'm sure skilful. How better to celebrate than in a friendly bout of rope-and-tie, against myself and my own shameless nymph...?"

This suggestion was met with applause, cheers, and cries of support -- after all the wine I'd consumed, I nearly joined in too, but turned to Fran for some explanation. "What the Hel is 'rope-and-tie', neighbour?"

Fran looked less than enthusiastic. "Warriors compete, to see who can capture and immobilise a slave more quickly." She made a face. "They use each other's slaves, of course."

"That doesn't seem too bad... but let me guess, Natella's your champion at it."

"Well, actually, no..."

I stood up, moved into the ring. A few extra lamps were being lit around it, and it looked almost welcoming to my slightly wine-befuddled brain. "This seems a fine way to make my own small contribution to an excellent evening", I announced loudly, to much applause.

Natella moved over to me, and we shook hands. "Since you are our guest, I think you should go first -- it will give your slavegirl an example to follow."

Of course, I could have done with such an example as well, but I smiled and nodded in agreement, before returning to Fran, who still looked less than happy.

Fran removed my tunic, on the grounds that it might be a hindrance, and folded it neatly. "Your target, Jerri, should stay inside the ring, but you can move outside it if you need to." She smiled tensely. "You are given a rope, and you must tie her wrists together behind her, and her ankles. First Speaker will time you by her pulse... oh, and the tie must remain secure for a further twenty beats. You aren't supposed to knock your target out -- this is wrestling, not boxing."

"Sounds fine to me", I said, as somebody handed me the rope in question. "But if Natella isn't your local champion, Fran, who is?"

Fran crouched down by Memree, and began removing her chains. "Why, Jerri is."

I felt sick, as I moved forward. Jerri, now without her wrist-cuffs, came forward too, with a confident smile, escorted by Natella.

"Thy challenge is bravely accepted, Natella", First Speaker announced. "You must now state the prize for this contest, for the loser to forfeit."

Natella glared at me briefly, and then smiled. "A weight of gold, m'sera, or the tied lovely -- loser's choice, of course."

Oh dear. Whatever the Churmuk called a 'weight' of gold would be more than I'd got in my purse, for certain. A tiny, booze-fortified voice suggested that I had become infatuated with Memree, and to have her taken away might, in the long run, be a good thing... but, much more than that, I did fancy my chances.

"If that is all you can afford, dear warrior -- I accept your terms!"

First Speaker nodded calmly. "The slave must remain inside the circle, but the warrior need not -- though retreating delays the victory. On my word, brave Charol... begin!"

I lunged for Jerri, who sidestepped. I'd been drinking, and she hadn't... it showed. But perhaps she thought I was more inebriated than I was... I caught her, and we grappled, me holding tightly to the rope. I wondered for an instant how the rules would cover her roping me instead...

The whole tent was in uproar, as Jerri wriggled and writhed, trying to get free, but at last I looped the rope around her wrists, and, as if underwater, slowly tied a knot, with her wrists crossed, and took the rope around the other way for good measure, then tripped her onto the carpet, hard enough to bounce, pulled her feet back roughly, and roped them too, so that they almost touched her hands. I yanked the knot unmercifully tight, then stood back, panting.

The further twenty beats seemed to take an hour, but at last, despite Jerri's full strength, First Speaker stood. "The ties are secure", she said firmly. Elapsed time, 97 beats."

I staggered back to my cushion, where Fran was giving Memree her final preparations. All her chains were off, but she still wore her boots, gloves, and collar. I put my tunic back on.

Fran removed Memree's gag, and looked across at me, with a reasonably encouraging smile. "A fair time, in the circumstances", she said.

"Mistress, can you hood me, please? It will give my face some protection."

Fran and I looked at each other, and we both nodded. Natella was in this to win, and pulling hair or an ear, or scratching, would not be beneath her. We slipped the white leather hood on, and Fran began to lace it up.

Natella came over. "You're hooding her?" Her voice carried to the whole tent. "What trickery is this, sera?"

"No trickery, neighbour." My voice was equally loud, and if anything a little more patronising. "I'm afraid she bites, and I'd hate you to come to any harm."

By the time the laughter had died down, Memree was ready -- and looking just a little bit sinister in the big-eyed, mouthless hood. She walked to the middle of the ring, beside Natella, and gave a slight bow towards First Speaker.

"Art thou ready, slave Memree?"

"I am, m'sera."

"On my word, noble Natella... Begin!"

Natella moved like a striking scorpion, and managed to grab Memree's wrist and pull her forward. Memree didn't resist, but went with the pull, diving under Natella's hand and managing to break the hold. She nearly left the circle, but managed to stop and make a crouching turn. Natella tried to put the rope over Memree's head, but Memree grabbed it and pulled... they both nearly fell. Natella yanked the rope free one-handed, and threw a punch at Memree's jaw, which missed... but a sweeping kick to Memree's shin connected, and Memree fell, with Natella diving on top of her, looping the rope around one wrist. Memree used the heel of her free hand to push Natella's chin up and away, which delayed Natella, but Natella's strength and ruthlessness, her warrior training, meant that the fight was far from equal.

The wrist was secured, now, the knot tied while Natella used her weight to pin Memree. She then lifted her -- and kneed her in the stomach before pushing her down flat, and capturing the second wrist. Memree was panting hoarsely, and trying to get free, but she was on her front, with Natella's knee in her back now -- she had her legs wide apart, kicking wildly, but Natella didn't have too much trouble in looping the rope round one, and then the other, and pulling them together. It wasn't long before she had both Memree's legs bent back, the rope around them.

It had been a struggle, I'm sure a much harder one than Natella had expected, but Memree was trussed now, arms and legs helpless behind her, as Natella moved free, and turned to First Speaker. "I have her", she said triumphantly, and glanced over at me. I rose to my feet, very angry with the way that Natella had fought... but Fran put a restraining hand on my arm.

"Thy time is 79 beats, though the slave fought thee well, and with courage", First Speaker said, still looking at Memree, who was jerking and struggling like a mad thing. The tie had to remain effective for at least twenty heartbeats after its victim had been caught... and that time wasn't over yet!

Natella and I both watched as Memree strained and tugged. "Seven beats to go... five..."

Were the leather gloves a help or a hindrance? They saved Memree from rubbing her wrists raw, but mightn't the ropes slip across sweaty skin more easily than across even well-polished, supple white leather?

"Three..."

Natella's smile was wider now, as she watched. But did the knot slip an inch? Certainly Memree was straining, sweat gleaming on her back.

"One..."

Free! An arm was out of its captivity, the glove scraped and torn across the back of Memree's hand. First Speaker stood, with a faint smile. "The slave has freed herself, Natella, and just inside the time allowed."

"But it was less than..."

I moved to help Memree, who'd already extricated her other arm. I crouched, and untied her ankles. Natella's protest had faded to nothing under First Speaker's gaze. She'd been bested, but -- well, what was a little gold to the leader of many a Churmuk raiding-party?

I helped Memree to her feet, and turned to Natella. "A close contest", I told her graciously. "it's your choice, but I do hope you present me with your slave -- she might help me keep this one under control, which as you've seen is not always easy."

Natella glared at me, and then transferred her gaze to Jerri, obviously seeing if she could shift the blame for losing onto her partner. Jerri turned pale at the prospect of a career change from warrior to slave.

"I..." Natella gave a little cough, and tried again, with a rather unconvincing forced smile. "I do see your problem, Memree is obviously a handful... but no, it's my choice, and I choose to offer you gold, sera Charol."

"As you wish."

I unlaced the hood; Memree's face was damp, and a glowing deep pink from her exertions. I kissed her on the mouth, and she pressed herself against me in a very enthusiastic, thankful way...

The entertainment was over, now, and the warriors of the Churmuk were getting carefully to their feet, while slavegirls removed dishes and goblets, collected cushions, and generally began to clean up the pavilion. The door-flaps were tied back, and the colder night air was encouraging everybody to move. Some of the lamps were being dowsed; Natella and Jerri left without any further words, for me or for each other, and First Speaker and her two body-slaves walked off to their own door. I've never known such an elaborate evening to finish so suddenly.

Fran joined us, putting a blanket around Memree's sweaty nakedness. I put one arm around Memree, and the other around Fran, and we set out for the guest wagon.

We all three went in, and Fran lit the lamp for us while I peeled Memree out of her boots and gloves, and folded up the blanket she'd been draped with. "Well, if Natella didn't dislike us before tonight", I began...

"Now there's money on it", Fran continued. "But I don't see there's anything she can do now -- you both impressed First Speaker, and she is the woman who has the final word around here."

"As well as the first one", I said absently. "I'm sorry about the glove." I held out the one that had got torn in Memree's struggle for freedom. "Maybe Natella should buy a new one."

Fran smiled. "Maybe. But I'd better be off, it's getting late."

Memree got to her feet, and approached Fran, eyes lowered. "Thank you for your support, Mistress", she said, and then hugged her tight and kissed her full on the lips for what seemed an excessively long time, while Fran almost automatically embraced her too.

"I... I'll see you both in the morning", she said, and left.

And that's about it for today. It must be almost midnight, now, though I can hear some shouting around the other side of the camp. I'm too tired to want to investigate, though. It sounds as if some of the people are coming this way, I just hope that they don't want to disturb us.

My hope was in vain - a rather loud knock on our door, I'd better open it, befo--

Day Sixteen

2004-10-08T12:47:00.000-07:00

The morning seemed less windy and warmer, so Memree managed without the sweater as soon as we'd finished breakfast, and didn't object when I added a red rubber ball-gag to the ensemble. At least, to be strictly accurate, she didn't object for long! It would save her from having to be sure to say the right things when we met our hosts-to-be, and I reminded her about the perils of looking free warriors in the eye.

We walked on across the grasslands, casually - I knew we were being watched, and from close by, but I didn't actually see any of the warriors until, without any fuss, they appeared. One moment we were alone, walking through a shallow, scrubby valley and thinking about a lunch stop, and the next moment we were surrounded. My fieldcraft isn't bad, for a town-based girl, but I'd heard nothing - now suddenly two Churmuk warriors stood in front of us, and another two behind.

"You stand on Churmuk land, intruder. I am Natella, chief warrior of the blue faction", the taller woman in front of us said. She had blonde hair, and wore a metal headband with a blue star embedded in it at the front; otherwise, all four women were dressed the same, with short plate-mail kilts, sturdy calf-length boots, and shiny metal breastplates, which appeared to have been individually made to follow every contour of what was underneath - the effect was of naked breasts transformed into brass, which was a little offputting at first. "Your name, woman?"

"I am Charol", I told her, consciously keeping my hand off the hilt of my sword, and ignoring the crossbow bolt one of the women had aimed at my navel. "I was hoping to claim Churmuk hospitality for myself and my slavegirl."

Natella stepped forward, looking less than friendly, and drew her sword from its sheath in a way that she must have practiced, with a flourish. "Our wagons are for warriors", she informed me, clearly confident that that wasn't a role a non-Churmuk woman could aspire to. "To be guest rather than captive, you must prove yourself!"

I gave her what I hoped looked like my friendliest smile. "With pleasure, Sera - if you will give me a moment to prepare."

I led Memree to one side, and knelt her on the grass. "Keep your back straight, and watch," I told her. "It's just as well you're gagged, I don't want any distractions." I winked at her.

One of the Churmuk warriors moved to stand next to Memree, and stroked her hair, which I took to be a good sign. I gave her a nod of thanks, and drew my sword slowly, turning to face my adversary. "Now I'm at your service, Natella."
Our swords crossed lightly, a mere formality. I held my shiny new weapon a little low, not using its balance properly, and Natella smiled. "We have few guests, Charol - but many captives."

"Sounds like a fun place to visit." She lunged, and I parried, letting her blade scrape along mine hard enough to strike sparks. We clashed again, and I twisted my blade, tapping her lightly on the breastplate before retreating. "How far do we need to take this, warrior?"

"Not far" - and she lunged again. I stepped aside, but she stopped short, and our blades clashed again.

"Nicely done, sera", I said, in a suitably friendly manner, moving back as she regained her balance.

"You are a worthy opponent, I think," she began - and without warning high-kicked me in the stomach. I began to fold, and lost my hold on my sword. She gave a little yell of victory, and I had to roll aside as the sword came down where my neck had been - I kept rolling, to get clear. It looked as if Natella had something to prove.

"It looks like captivity for you and your pet, then!" Her voice was shrill, gloating.

I sat back, leaning on one arm, and watched as she picked up my sword, and walked forward confidently. I put my weight onto that arm, tensed - and, when the range was right, kicked both my legs out at her, catching her just below the breast-plate and generally giving her what she'd given me, only with added interest. Both swords went flying - she hit the ground butt first, and very nearly bounced. Before she'd managed a new breath, I'd got my sword to her throat, my face close to hers.

"My compliments on an excellent match, sera," I said, with a warmth that was not entirely genuine. "Are we finished now?"

Our eyes met. This was one unhappy lady, but to show her feelings would make matters worse, before her sisters-in-arms. "Put your weapons aside, warriors", she said at last. "The woman Charol and her chain-girl are guests of our clan, and under the protection of the Churmuk."

It was mid-afternoon when we topped a rise and could see the Churmuk camp spread out before us. They'd obviously been there a while, and intended to stay some time longer. Wide pathways radiated from a large and ornately decorated central tent - or perhaps pavilion would be a more appropriate word for such an impressive creation. Between the paths, each in its own grassy patch, were the covered wooden wagons the Churmuk used as homes, while outside a circular roadway there were corrals for horses, oxen, and a few sheep, plus a few fairly large huts or cabins.

The warrior who'd stood beside Memree during the fight had stayed with her during our walk, helping her when the ground was uneven; in fact she seemed to have adopted her. That one was called Fran; the other two, who stayed closer to Natella, were Jerri and Talia. Natella in turn stayed close to me, and I led Hengist.

Closer to, the muddiness of the paths became apparent, and the muddiness of the small, naked girl-children at play. The wagons were brightly and intricately painted, generally... though the one we were approaching was painted a solid blue.

"This is your guest wagon, sister," Natella told us, breaking a silence that had lasted some minutes. "I'll leave Fran to show you and your girl the ropes."

The other women left, and Fran helped us unload Hengist, and stow everything inside. The wagon itself was surprisingly roomy, with a heap of cushions in one corner, some neatly folded blankets, a wooden chest fastened against one wall, a broom of bound twigs on the floor, and a slave-whip lodged on two hooks behind the door.

"The chest holds guesting-clothes, and things suitable for your girl, too", Fran told me, watching Memree inspect our new quarters. "If we leave her to sort things out, I'll take you round the camp, and we can get your horse stabled, too."

I looked at Memree, in her slavegirl costume. "You get this place spotless, or I dust your bottom for you, understand?"

Memree nodded, then moved to stand by the broom, head bowed.

"She's a pretty little thing, sera -- is she a war-prize? A morsel like her would bring a high price, I'm sure."

"Oh, she's just a regular slave...a wilful, disobedient little baggage -- more trouble than she's worth, sometimes." I patted her rump lightly, then turned away, following Fran down the four wooden steps to the ground, and closed the door behind me.

My tour of the encampment didn't take long. We left Hengist at the stables, and walked round the outer ring. The oxen were smelly, the sheep looked bored, and we saw a group of male slaves who looked thin, muddy, and too tired to appreciate the shapeliness of their escort. They had heavy fetters on their ankles, and equally sturdy chains hobbling them.

"If these are the only men in camp, surrounded by beautiful women, I'd have expected them to look a bit happier", I commented.

"They're off-limits to all free warriors", Fran told me. "And it's weeks until the next trade-fair, where we get a chance to associate with suitable men."

"No chance of borrowing one for the night - not that they look very exciting to me, that is." It seemed unlikely, but it would be an ideal way to talk to Kreston... though he didn't appear to be in this particular bunch.

"It's not worth the risk -- get caught and any of us would be sold to a male to be used as a baby machine", Fran said. "And you could hardly expect one of them to keep quiet about it, could you?"

The only slaves in the main encampment were female ones, usually dressed in rags or less, carrying water, laundry, food, or whatever was needed. Some weren't even chained; as long as the horses were well-guarded, there was nowhere they could go.

A group of Churmuk warriors was in one paddock, practicing swordwork. "Do you want to join in?" Fran gestured to the gateway.

"One good swordfight a day is enough for me, I think," I told her. "Besides, I think we should go back and check on Memree."

"Let's get something to eat first, then we can take it back with us."

Fran led the way to where about half an ox was being roasted on a spit over an open fire. An older warrior was in charge, and cut us thick, juicy slices onto simple metal plates. The meat smelled gorgeous, which reminded me how long it had been since my breakfast. Risking scorched fingers, I picked up my top slice and took a healthy bite, then nodded my appreciation enthusiastically.

The warrior smiled, and added another piece to my plate. "A healthy appetite -- that's what I like to see, sister", she commented.

We walked off, chewing. Fresh air and woodsmoke had worked their magic on meat that, if served in a tavern, I'd have eaten without comment. As it was, this counted as the highlight of the day so far.

Back at our wagon, Memree had unpacked the appropriate items from the saddlebags, and made some sort of effort with the broom and cushions to make the place look more inviting. The daylight was starting to fade, now, and Fran lit an oil-lamp and hung it on a hoot on the wall. "Tomorrow evening there is to be an assembly, a feast", she said. "As a guest of the Churmuk, you are invited... and your girl could look quite stunning, if she's displayed as your trophy?"

"That would make a good impression, you think?" I sat down on the cushions carefully, still holding my plate, and pulled Memree down beside me. I unbuckled the ball-gag.

"A memorable one", Fran assured me. "Especially with you as her captor." I let the compliment hang in the air. I'd known that Memree might be an object of sexual desire here, among all these warrior women, but I'd not thought that I myself might be in that category. For some reason, this made me feel a little uneasy. "If you've no suitable clothes, I can lend you some", Fran added. "And I could be your escort, if you like...?"

Well, I'd already annoyed Natella, by not letting her vanquish and either kill or enslave me; it seemed a good idea to encourage an ally here as well. It wasn't as if Ashil had managed to produce much information about how the Churmuk conducted their affairs, in any sense of the word. "Well", I told her, doing my best to sound enthusiastic about the idea, "Memree has told me how much she likes dressing up..."

I patted the cushions encouragingly, and Fran sat down beside us. I fed Memree some meat with my fingers, and ate some myself. Fran was eating too - I noticed Memree staring at her plate, and sure enough, Fran passed a prime piece of the roasted ox straight to Memree's mouth.

"No begging-eyes, Memree, or you'll have earned a spanking", I warned her.

"Sorry, Mistress - but the meat is very tasty, and it has been a long day..."

I laughed, and fed her some more - and Fran gave her some more, too. After a while, Fran left, taking the empty plates, and promising to return in the morning... and while Memree lies back half-buried in warm, soft cushions, I've been writing all this up. All this work I do for you, my Librarian-Mage - I do hope you exist!

Day Fifteen

2004-10-07T14:31:00.000-07:00

It was extremely unlikely we'd be seen by Churmuk scouts, even at the full extent of their range, until late in the day, but I didn't want to take any risks, so when the day had warmed up a bit, by mid-morning, I decided it was time for my brave young companion to change out of woolens, and into her slavegirl finery. So she stripped off her shorts, sweater and underwear, and, with my assistance, started to put on Delinda's decorative bits and pieces.

I clicked the collar into place, while she was busily trying to warm up the bra-cups, which involved holding them against her face like a pair of ogre-ears. "They'll soon warm up in their proper place", I told her rather unsympathetically, and she reluctantly moved them into their rightful positions, giving a little yelp as contact was made. I linked up the various chains involved while she tucked in her "loincloth" piece of gauzy fabric at the front, and then I pulled it under and up, and tucked it in at the back. "Slavegirls do get to wear some tasty outfits", I commented.

"Some cold outfits", Memree grumbled. "Can I at least put the sweater back on over this?"

"Seems reasonable to me", I agreed, standing back to check that everything looked as neat as it had in Delinda's little shop, and generally admiring the effect, before throwing her the garment in question. "There's no reason for you to freeze, and you're not on display to the Churmuk yet."

We walked on until lunchtime, then afterwards I let Memree ride for a while, though she complained that she missed the little bit of protection that the shorts had given her. I offered to tie her up and sling her over Hengist sideways, but she didn't seem too keen on the idea. By mid-afternoon, when we were both walking again, I was pretty sure that we were being observed, though I can't say that I had actually seen Churmuk scouts. They'd send a runner back to their main encampment, and we'd probably be officially challenged in the morning.

So, nothing much to report today, my mysterious Mage-Librarian, so, as the sun is dipping low now, I think I'll join my jingling slavegirl in our nice warm sleeping bag!

Day Fourteen

2004-10-06T12:52:00.000-07:00

We would be unlikely to meet the Churmuk until the third day of our trip, though it was quite probable that they would spot us on day two, and maybe keep us under observation; today, though, was all about travel. Memree and I, along with the faithful Hengist, our packhorse, set out fairly early, though not at the crack of dawn or anything extreme like that. We were dressed for warmth and comfort in shorts, walking boots, and chunky sweaters; I didn't even wear my sword, just kept it easily accessible on Hengist.

Ashil saw us off, as promised, and walked a short way with us. I don't think he knew as much as I did about the Churmuk, but he talked about their warrior culture, their prowess in battle, and their mistrust of the male of our species. After half an hour, he ran out of things to say, and decided the time had come to bid us farewell. He hugged Memree like an uncle, gave Hengist a friendly pat, and then hugged me. I decided not to act like a niece, so pressed myself against him, and gave him a rather comprehensive kiss, with just a little tongue included - the message, unspoken, being that, after a few days of the company of sword-sisters and Kreston, I would very probably be rather happy to see him again, and it might be a good idea if he made sure his bed had nice fresh sheets that night.

Anyway, Memree and Hengist and I walked until lunchtime, ate a packed meal, then walked some more, then I let Mem' ride Hengist for a bit, until sunset approached. So here we are, out on the windy moors, another packed meal disposed of - and the light is starting to fade, so it's time I put this book away, and got out that sleeping bag. Not a lot is liable to happen tomorrow, but at least Memree will have to wear her slavegirl costume!

Day Thirteen

2004-10-05T12:56:00.000-07:00

Not that I'm suspicious, but... darn, I got called away, and now I have no idea what I was going to write about. Maybe it will come back to me! After a lazy morning, I decided to visit the city's self-styled "underlord". If Redwall was a big enough and old enough place to have proper sewers, he'd hold court in a chamber just off the main crap-float - but as it is, you go to one of the worst taverns in town, glare nicely at the one-thumbed barman, who then lets you go into the place's back area, where, past a permanent card game featuring anything from three to nine bored-looking players, you head for the cellar. There's a half-height door at the back of the place, just past a rack of surprisingly high-quality wines (if the labels can be believed); you go in there, then descend a sturdy wooden ladder into what is probably the start of the old cave system, with a small stream trickling through it, where a single guard gives you an oil lamp, points off to the dark, and goes back to his meditations.

And so it was that I arrived at the "court" of Man Coker, a large, natural cave beneath the south of town. He himself is short, fat, bald, as pale as an albino slug, and a stranger to the art of washing, for himself or his clothes - but he gives great prices for stolen goods, knows everything about Redwall that the guardsmen don't, and is fiercely loyal to his friends, confederates, and customers.

"Hey Charolia, nice of you to drop by!" He grinned, showing his perfect white teeth, and I grinned back. "I hear you avoided a few crossbow bolts someone had tried to write your name on?"

"You hear everything, Coker - but not even you could possibly know who sent them." I sat down on a crate which, from its markings, ought to have been in a bonded warehouse three days travel away. "Ashil thinks it could be something to do with the Kreston business..."

Coker nodded. "He's sending you and your girl to rescue that gamecock from the Churmuk, and somebody might prefer him to die out there", he agreed. "I don't think it was a serious attempt, just someone taking an outside chance to shift the odds in their favour." He smiled broadly. "Do you know what it is Ashil's gone to that mage for?"

"A cure for a rather embarrassing personal ailment?"

Coker roared with laughter, which soon turned into a rather happy cough. He wiped away a tear from one eye with an unusually clean kerchief. "You are the funniest adventurer I know, Meadows, and I'm truly happy that you're a pal. But it's something for your mission, and I won't spoil Ashil's surprise for him." He stared at me for a moment, thoughtfully. "But after the mission, you come to me, will you? I give legitimate prices for legitimate items, and I always give my friends the best deals."

"I'll come and visit, certainly, but I don't expect to get any loot out of this one - and I doubt if you'd want to buy Kreston."

He chuckled. "One playboy heir, slightly used - not my sort of goods, Sera! But you bring your girl Memree with you, will you? I hear that she's a real good-looker, so I'd like a good look."

I left him still chuckling; I think someone else was waiting to see him, I'm sure there are at least three other routes to visit Coker by but I've never tracked any of them down from the outside. I'd kept him friendly, I'd confirmed that my attackers had been outsiders or he'd have known more, and it had passed some time - but it was still too early to visit the swordsmith!

Still, time passed. I told Memree about my underground visit, and we set off in search of Ashil. He was back from his trip, and confirmed that we could set out tomorrow, and that he'd ride out with us for the first few miles. I told him of what Coker had said about not spoiling his surprise, and he in turn smiled. "It's not a weapon, just a magical gimmick, a quick way to start a beacon-fire, so to speak, to let us know that you, Memree and Kreston are riding hell-for-leather towards us, with a few dozen angry Churmuk on your tails." He brought a small glass bottle out of a pocket, it looked as if it was filled with thin black ink. "Open it, don't break it, and there'll be a whole lot of magical smoke, enough to confuse the Churmuk on the ground, and rising high enough into the sky for us to spot from our rather distant camp." He passed it across. "It wasn't cheap, but I think it's worth it."

Memree took it from me, and looked at it closely, sniffing the stopper. "I don't know what's in there, but it certainly has a feeling of...potential", she remarked, and handed it back to me.

Ashil walked with us to the smithy, where our friend the swordsmith was polishing some kind of ceremonial sword, the sort that looks as if it's made out of a mirror rather than honest steel. Only he turned, and, face impassive, handed it to me! It was long, and slender as a rapier, and looked too fragile for combat. In my hand it moved well, and seemed like an extension to my arm, to my will, but I was not convinced that it was designed for serious fighting.

An apprentice tossed a more normal blade to the swordsmith, and he held it up before him. "You think it is too pretty to be honest, don't you, Sera? We'd better have a small demonstration!"

It seemed a shame to bring this shiny, unmarked blade up as defence, but I did it anyway, and the swordsmith's weapon clanged into it - hard! If there weren't a few sparks, they should have been. He advanced, whirling his sword around in a way that would have had him killed in a serious fight, and I skidded my blade down the edge of his. There was a ghastly screeching of metal on metal. He held his sword firm, then, while I batttered it - and after a few heavy blows, I could see that his weapon was starting to look battered. I stopped, and examined my new sword. Still in one piece, still ludicrously shiny, still sharp, and with no dents or dinks at all.

"You do realise that nobody will take me seriously with a blade this pretty?" The hilt was carefully wrapped in black leather, the guard, also black, curving back slightly to protect my hand.

"And that will be the last mistake many a man will make, eh?" He smiled conspiratorially, and I grinned back. I passed the old sword he'd loaned me across to an apprentice, and took the scabbard he offered me. "The scabbard should keep it polished, just try to wipe off the blood first, Sera - a brisk wipe across your late opponent's shirt should do the trick." He paused, serious for a moment. "The blade is sharp, and as near unbreakable as you're likely to find, and there is certainly some magic at its core. Nothing huge, I think, but it may enhance your natural talents a little."

I thanked him, and Ashil thanked him; Memree stayed pretty quiet, as I finally sheathed the sword in its dark leather scabbard, and attached that to my belt. I get the idea that she isn't too happy with the idea of a "magic blade", even a low-key one like this. She seems to have a slight aversion to magic in general, which, given the way she was treated by Atzmon, is hardly surprising.

But tomorrow, early tomorrow, we set off on our quest to rescue dear Kreston, the creep, from his well-deserved captivity among the Churmuk. It's not going to be an easy mission, but I expect it will have its fun bits. So an early night is called for... and I never did remember what I was not being suspicious about!

Day Twelve

2004-10-04T12:03:00.000-07:00

The swordsmith was broad, well-muscled, and came up to my shoulder. He was in late middle age, I'd say, with a frosting of silver to his hair, and seemed completely at home in the fiery heat of the forge. The local smith was beating a red-glowing sword on the anvil, with a couple of his apprentices standing ready to help him, but the swordsmith himself wiped his palms on his apron, and gave us his full attention.

I brought out the flaking old sword that I'd used against Atzmon, and three other items we'd found there - a pale hilt-less blade, with just the metal core at the holding end, a shortsword of almost black metal, and a thin-bladed dagger which had a blade that looked slightly green. He examined them all carefully, hefting them, balancing the blades, and running one thumb up and down the metal. He grinned broadly. "That's a terrible old sword you've brought me, all notched and pitted and bent, and it looks as if it's only the rust that's holding it together, but I think it has possibilities, Sera."

"What about the others?"

"Well the dagger is evil, and I'll make sure it is destroyed, but the other two items are of interest - Ser Ashil is paying me a day's wage for my work on your sword, but if you'll let me have them, I promise you an extra-keen, extra-swift blade, enhanced to the full extent of my abilities. Now does that seem fair to you?"

It did, and we shook on it. Then he gave me the old sword, picked up another convenient one, and fenced with me for a few minutes, just to see how I used a sword, and understand my style. He was surprisingly skilled, and when I pressed an attack, calmly parried or deflected everything, before pushing forward in turn. I found myself extremely busy for a while, though neither of us was trying anything at all dangerous, and Memree watched fascinated, appreciating the skill of what she was seeing.

"Come back tomorrow evening - the sword will be inches longer, the hilt will be freshly made, and you won't recognise it as this shabby old thing", he assured me, as he took it back from me. He handed the blade he'd been using over. "I think you may wish to borrow this one meanwhile, if there are assassins on your tail!"

I'd almost forgotten about that particular side of things, and, borrowed sword on my hip, made the rounds this afternoon of all those nice kind helpful people who were always glad to see me, if only because I wasn't a guardsman. Nobody had been hiring assassins locally, it seemed, which was a comfort, and the surviving would-be assassin, who'd been hired in a town two days away, had no idea who he'd been working for, except that it was "a man in a tavern".

Ashil had left town to visit a mage who lived not too far away, so there wasn't anything else much to do - which means that this is all I'm going to have to write for you today, I think!

Day Eleven

2004-10-03T13:41:00.000-07:00

Well today started off in a restful manner, anyway. I overslept until almost mid-morning, when Memree finally got tired of waiting and sat down rather heavily on the edge of the bed, so that I bounced into full wakefulness rather suddenly, grabbing for the knife that, in theory, I'd have had under my pillow. I saw the angle of the sunlight filtering in, and grinned. "Make the most of the soft bed and warm room while we can, Memree, we'll be out on the trail soon enough."

"The ground will be cold and hard, and we'll have to make our own porridge, which will also be rather like that", she said, passing over a steaming bowl of the stuff, with a swirl of honey all across the top. The spoon was already in it, and I grabbed its handle eagerly. My normal idea of breakfast was some cold meat and beer, but today this seemed just the right sort of way to start.

When I'd arrived in Redwall, I'd had a packhorse with me; I called him Hengist, which had seemed to suit him, a placid, uncomplaining animal. I'd sold him to a local trader, and seen him about on general errands - but if I was going off on my travels again, even briefly, it would be good to have him back. So before lunch, Memree and I headed off to the local stables where he'd been kept.

It was late morning, sunny, in one of the town's broader, better-kept streets, so I was relaxed. I didn't even have a sword with me, just a medium-length knife. So when I turned to say something to Memree, and a crossbow bolt passed a finger's breadth in front of my eyes - well, I was surprised. I pushed at Memree and dived for the ground, and another bolt went just where we'd been. It actually hit someone further down the street, though by then it had lost most of its force. I kept rolling, and managed to look to where the bolts had come from - two men, dressed in rough brown farm-clothes, frantically rewinding their crossbows. I was up and running, not directly towards them but at an angle, ready to tack as soon as their bolts were loosed. You can hear a bolt being fired, but you only have a fraction of a second, so a bit of guesswork is involved. I timed it right, a bolt whizzed past as I turned and ran straight at them, grabbing the knife from its sheath - the other crossbowman wasn't quite ready, then his hand went down, and I hit the ground, rolled - and hit him with both feet right where it hurts. He doubled up, and I slashed the knife across his throat, avoiding the gush of hot blood as I pushed off towards his companion, who'd had the time, unfortunately, to get a sword out. Not a very good weapon as swords go, cheap and blunt and mottled, but better than my knife, certainly.

His first blow was a big sweeping affair, and I managed to catch it between my blade and its hilt, and force it aside - I moved back, and smiled at him. "Okay, you've got my attention - was there a message?"

This seemed to puzzle him for a moment. "Nothing personal, Meadows - but I've been paid to kill you and your blonde sweetheart!"

"Well I take it personally", I replied, holding my knife out in front of me and waiting for his next attack. " Oh, I hope the corpse to your left wasn't a close personal friend."

I don't think he'd realised just how deeply I'd cut, as he'd been keeping his eyes on me recently. He risked a glance across at his fellow crossbowman, saw the pool of blood - and I lunged forward, and thrust my knife into his shoulder. he dropped the sword, and looked at me rather reproachfully. "My cousin, actually", he said, putting his other hand up to cover the wound. "Damn, I knew we should have taken the whole payment in advance..."

A pair of guardsmen arrived then - just in time, as he fainted into their arms. They just don't make assassins like they used to. A shame he hadn't said any more, it would have been useful to know who I'd ticked off sufficiently to lead to a murder attempt... but that type never gets hired by the person themselves, there's always at least a couple of links in the chain, people that take care not to be easy to talk to.

So we went on to the stables, with neither of us having a lot to say; Memree seemed shaken by the incident, of course, which had taken no more than a minute or two. I suppose I was shaken too - shaken out of complacency. I have done a few things in my life that have annoyed some people - generally not very nice people, who are, unfortunately, often ones to hold and nurse grudges. This could be an attempted payback from someone like that - or it could be connected to the new mission that Ashil was arranging. It didn't seem like the late Atzmon's style, anyway!

We reclaimed Hengist; I made the usual protests about the high price compared with what I'd been paid when selling him, and as expected Old Man Cornwell pointed out that it was as if the animal had had half-price stabling for the last few months, so we were both reasonably content. Hengist seemed happy to accept a carrot from me, and of course then Memree had to feed him one as well, and he ate that with just as much enjoyment. We left him there, having arranged a few more days cheap stabling, and then went in search of Ashil.

Ashil had heard of the attack, of course, and assured me he would investigate, and that maybe I wasn't the only one who'd really prefer Kreston to stay right where he was. If Kreston was to die, of course, there would be a new heir to the Sommersley estates, and no doubt various people would benefit from that, though we could certainly rule out the local tavern and brothel keepers.

The best thing, however, is that Ashil is getting me an appointment tomorrow with a swordsmith - not a man who often comes to this town, though he has an arrangement with a local smithy. I need a new sword, and from the oddments of old weaponry we scavenged from the castle tower, he ought to be able to make me the best sword I've ever had.

That may not mean much to a mage and librarian, but trust me on this, it's enough to make me rather excited, and I'm really looking forward to tomorrow!

Day Ten

2004-10-02T12:07:00.000-07:00

It was mid-morning when Memree and I arrived at Delinda's shop - rather early in the day for Del's richer clients, so she declared we would have the place to ourselves, and, while Loji rolled down the blinds, locked the front door. I'd brought back the ludicrously outrageous outfit I'd worn to fight Atzmon, so we started by choosing something a bit more rugged-looking for me to wear on the Churmuk trip. Frankly, a ribbon around each nipple and a big grin would have been at least slightly more "rugged-looking" than that costume, but that would probably not give quite the right impression. I ended up with a short leather jacket to match my favourite black high-boots, but also a leather leotard, cut a bit higher at the sides than most, with three leather straps across a generously wide cleavage area, quite enough to distract most opponents. It came with a cute little matching choker, and also a matching sword-belt with a good solid buckle. Del also advised me to take some plain silk leos with a similarly wide cleavage, to wear underneath, which seemed a good idea.

Now it was Memree's turn. No leather for her, not even this soft-cured, body-moulded imported stuff; Delinda suggested that, as a warrior's trophy, an effect more metal-based, jewelery based, was the way to go, and it sounded good to me, though Memree did express reservations about putting it on cold in the morning! I assured her that some pieces would remain on overnight, at least once we were in the Churmuk lands, but this didn't seem to overcome her misgivings entirely.

I have heard of metal bra-cups before, usually worn by legendary female warriors; Del carefully chose a suitably-shaped pair for Memree, and (easily) persuaded me to hold them in place while she made measurements for the lengths of a special flat chain needed. We'd decided to opt for the subtle look, and not have red gemstones in nipple position! While Loji fitted the appropriate lengths of chain for that, we went on to slightly lower regions, deciding on a fine triple chain around her waist, with a slightly gauzy scrap of fabric fluttering down from the lowest front strand halfway to the knee. After tucking under the chain, the fabric zoomed off down and under, to reappear and tuck round the lowest chain at the back, before fluttering down to a similar level as at the front. There were shiny, intricately engraved wrist and ankle cuffs, with anchorage points on them for chains when needed; these came in two sizes, for use with and without gloves and boots. The slave-collar was the main work of art, though - wide, and beaten so that it was flat and thin, engraved with exotic birds and flowers and, I think, a couple of rabbits. Loops of chain acted like necklaces, and at the front a medallion hung - and it had a remarkably good likeness of my head in profile on it. Now, that's got to be a lot classier than just carving "Property of Charol Meadows" on the collar, though Del did flip it over to prove that those words, as needed in law, were present.

Well we all admired Memree once she was in the full outfit, and she did a small dance that mainly involved wagggling her hips rather attractively - and then she changed back into regular clothes, and Delinda packed up the "adventure outfit" as Memree called it. I caught Del's eye as she added one or two bonus items to the bag, and winked.

By then it was lunchtime, a rather late lunchtime in fact, so Memree and I left Delinda and Loji and wandered back towards our lodgings. I was feeling in need of an afternoon nap, I think the events of recent days were still needing to be compensated for... and I don't just mean my after-the-funeral happenings with Torner! Memree had found an old book she was happy to read, so. really, there's nothing else to report under today's date. And I hope tomorrow is just as restful for us both!

Day Nine

2004-10-01T14:06:00.000-07:00

Memree and I did some more clothes-shopping this morning. I did suggest that Del would both give us a discount and put the bill against sales of our loot, but her response was that she didn't live by the sword, so it wasn't necessary for her to distract opponents by dressing in skin-tight, skin-thick leos with leather accessories all the time. I had the perfect response to that - I sulked, or at least I tried to sulk, the dear brat wouldn't let me stay annoyed for long, and I was soon giving my opinion on various cuts and colours of shorts, jackets, thick winter jumpers, trousers, and boots. I got her to opt for white leather boots and gloves, but generally she listened carefully to my opinions, and chose what she'd already decided upon. I'd have bargained harder at the stalls, but I am fairly sure that Memree's smile and friendly interest got her better prices than I would have managed.

We met Ashil for lunch, at quite the most expensive tavern Redwall can boast. He'd been out of town for the last couple of days, so this was actually the first time Memree and Ashil had met. I've known him for years, fought alongside him, and I'd say that he is my closest male friend; he was the fourth gambler on the night that Loji had wagered her very freedom on a hand of cards, and lost to Delinda, becoming her closely-restrained personal slave. He has been trying to move away from adventuring as such, to become a middle-man, someone who people with a problem can go to, after which he'll find someone else to do the actual work. Like me, for instance. I knew that he had been working on arranging something; while I was pretty sure, even after our shopping spree, that Mem' and I had enough cash to keep us happy in Redwall until after the spring thaw, half a year away, I was definitely interested in knowing what he was up to.

Ashil was waiting outside when we arrived, along with Delinda, and found his handshake for Memree over-ruled by an affectionate and lengthy hug, as if he was her very favourite uncle - so of course he immediately became her honorary favourite uncle! Between us we gave him the whole story of the castle tower, much of which I'm sure he'd made it his business to know already. While the job for Lady Restormel hadn't been officially arranged by him, he had pointed me in the right direction. Maybe I owed him a favour for that, though the amount of peril involved kept it at "maybe"!

During our talk, we'd eaten thick slices of beef, roast potatoes, and some greenery I wasn't too familiar with, washed down with local red wine, and it wasn't until we were all pleasantly full that I was able to ask him about the possible job he had been working on.

"Well nothing's settled yet, because it's pretty big - but the point of the spear is liable to be you, Charol. In fact, I don't see how this whole operation can work without you."

"I feel almost rich", I commented, contentedly. "But why does it have to be me?"

"Well you know how the Churmuk feel about men - they make great corpses, or tolerable slaves if you work them hard enough." He grimaced. "But a female warrior, provided she proved herself their equal, would be an honoured guest."

"Ah, the Churmuk, the female tribe of desert warriors", Delinda put in. "They trade their male babies as future slave-soldiers, and very well regarded and expensive they are, too."

"Let me guess, Ashil - it's about Kreston, that pompous, spoilt creep."

Ashil grinned. "The heir to the Sommersley estates, yes - a large ransom has been offered, but the Churmuk seem to prefer to keep him shovelling ox-shite. Which seems a good deal to me, I'd pay them to keep hold of him... but that large ransom budget is now available to us."

"Me versus the whole tribe? No wonder you wined and dined us first!"

Ashil patted the side of his nose with one finger, confidentially. "Ah, but I'm working on a plan! And it would only be one encampment's worth of Churmuk, probably no more than thirty actual armoured warriors. You steal a couple of horses, head straight back towards us - and I'll have Redwall's entire cavalry coming in to escort you."

"Make that three horses we steal", Memree put in. "I'm coming too!"

I stared at her, and tried to get my brain to swerve round onto this new track. "But - it's dangerous, my dear friend. They'd know in an instant you weren't a fighter."

"So I'd pose as your companion, your slavegirl even - they have female slaves too, I suppose?"

"They do, yes." I tried not to sound convinced, but I did enjoy Memree's company, and she did look so darn cute in slavegirl outfits. In the Churmuk camp, in a collar, she'd be able to move around much more easily than their honoured guest. "But, while adventures sound good afterwards, or even before, they can be perilous and painful in the bit in-between, you know?"

"And you think I'd rather stay here in town, not knowing what was happening?" Memree was suddenly very serious, almost sounding angry. "You're an adventurer, that's what you do, it's your life, and that means it's my life too!"

"You could stay with me", Delinda put in with a sly smile. "As a slavegirl, that would keep your mind of Charol's dangers, I promise you - or as a friend. Though still with a little bit of chains and gags and stuff, I do have to keep in practice you know..."

Ashil grinned. "Same old Delinda!" He drank the last of his wine. "But I think Memree would be happiest with Charol, I think she would be useful to Charol and the mission, from what you've told me about your encounter with that she-demon Memree is as brave and resourceful as any warrior, and how much more do I have to say before I get another hug...?"

So Memree hugged him again, and I hugged the pair of them, and to cheer Delinda up we promised that Memree and I would drop by tomorrow morning so that Del could fit Memree out in a really outrageous slavegirl outfit, to make her look like the kind of companion a mighty warrior might enjoy taking on her travels with her. "Well", Memree said, "As long as the main outfit matches my new white boots and gloves..."

And, my faithful reader, that's really all I have to report, as walks and talks and shopping and other routine things do get a bit samey after a while. Ashil still has some more arranging to do, so we can all afford to have a quiet, lazy time of it until he sets us off on the trail. Oh well, tomorrow's visit to Del's shop should be fun, you can be sure that I'll give you as much sexy detail as my stock of words allows!

Day Eight

2004-09-30T14:26:00.000-07:00

Memree has settled into my life quite casually, somehow there has never, since we first left that dungeon, been any question of her not being with me. It's a shame that Saster and Wren seem to have used the money from our deer-hunt a few days back...I nearly said a few weeks back, so much has happened since then...to move on out of Redwall, I think she'd have got on well with them, as she does with Delinda and Loji. I must take her with me when I next visit Ashil. But anyway, my room here has become our room here, and it's all the better for it.

We attended Lord Restormel's funeral together, since I decided that his widow was unlikely to recognise a respectably dressed free woman as the near-naked slave who'd been caught up in the hunt for her husband. I wore my best sober trousers, as I had on that last visit to the townhouse, and we bought Memree a fine grey pleated skirt, reaching to mid-calf, and a knitted jacket, which she wore over one of my shirts.

In some ways funerals are a bit like weddings, I think - which may be some excuse for my actions later in the day. That and the drink! I just happened to be in the street when Torner, the castle guard who I'd bribed with Restormel money, ended his shift and headed into town, and I just happened to give him my most inviting smile and ask if he had his pikestaff with him. After which the two of us just happened to decide to share an upstairs room at one of the cleaner local taverns. After which, well, things happened, all right? He's a big man, is Torner, I've heard it said that his grandma was one-quarter orc, and while his teeth are perfectly human, well - he is large, excellently muscled, and terrifically male! He did have to have a little encouragement for the fourth, er, happening, but generally, he certainly knew how to treat this adventurer, and, two hours later, my body is still sending little purring messages to my brain. I left him asleep on the big, rumpled bed, made sure that he'd be woken in time for tomorrow's shift, and stolled back here.

Memree grinned when she saw me, and I grinned back, before almost falling over when I caught my foot on the edge of one of the rugs here. "Sorry - I think I may be just a little bit drunk", I said, as she sat me down on the bed.

"That's not just beer I can smell, Boss..." She pulled my boots off with more of a tug than is usually necessary. "My guess would be - Torner, the guard with the pikestaff?"

"A weapon he is very skilled with, for a frontal attack", I agreed, letting my whole body remember the events in question. "Good old Torner, the man deserved a bonus."

"Well you're not getting in our bed until you've had a good wash, so start getting undressed while I fetch some icy-cold water, Sera Meadows!"

The water she brought was actually pleasantly hot, and with some fragrant herb I didn't recognise in it. So now I'm clean and fresh, and just writing all this while my hair dries. And I think, Ser Magician-Librarian, that it is just about dry now, so another page of this book is completed.

Day Seven

2004-09-29T12:14:00.000-07:00

I like to think that this "enabled" book that I'm using as my diary is magically linked to a stately, marble-floored library somewhere in the distant mountains, and that what I'm writing appears in a book there. The Chief Mage-Librarian is tall and stately, but still black-haired, with a straight back and a flowing silver-edged gown, and I could easily fall in love with him, because he understands me so well. As well as the hundreds upon hundreds of books on the shelves, written and being written, there is a special oversize volume propped up on a desk below the main window, and a bell there gently chimes when a new entry is received. The Librarian can tell by the tone whose book has just been updated, and when it is mine, he glides over, at a measured pace, with a slight smile, and sits down to read. The junior librarians exchange quiet smiles, and continue their work, though one especially daring young fellow with good eyesight is reading the entry over his superior's shoulder.

There are rats in the Library, but they are quiet, and clean, and have been affected by the magics of the place so much that they too read the books, though sometimes they replace the volumes in the wrong places and are quietly told off by the librarians. Their job is to eat the insects and spiders, and keep the place clean, and they do this, and sometimes they dream that one day they will be left in charge...

The funeral for Lord Restormel is to be held tomorrow. I spent most of the morning going around the people I'd given his widow's money to, giving a very brief account of what had happened and strongly hinting that, as they hadn't done anything to actually earn that money, they owed me a favour which, at some time in the future, I might wish to collect. A couple of shopkeepers even offered to return the money, but I was rich enough to be able to urge them to keep it, and at least drink to Marius Restormel's memory.

In the afternoon, Memree and I walked out of town, and strolled onto the moorland. It may already be the end of summer, but despite a brisk wind the sun was warm. For somebody with no memories of the past beyond, what, three days before, she is good company - which meant she let me do most of the talking. I didn't give her my life history, just told her of some of the adventures I'd landed myself in over recent years...

And that's about it. After a climactic battle there is always a sense of relaxation, a lethargy, as one appreciates one's good fortune in still being alive, and if necessary mourns the death of those who haven't been quite as lucky. One sleeps in late, one visits the taverns and drinks a bit more than usual, one tries to adjust to whatever changes that have been made - end of story!

Day Six

2004-09-28T12:39:00.000-07:00

What else should I add to my account of yesterday's events? Well, Between us we carried two bag's worth of the least evil items away from that terrible room, mainly the sort of restraints that Delinda is happy to sell, but a few weapons which, like the flaking old sword I'd used, might have some magic in them. I did offer to cut away Memree's chains, but she'd wanted to leave as she'd come, except for that gag, which we also took. She said very little, but I think we both felt as if we'd known each other for years; my fears that she might have a voice like a corncrake were banished, anyway. In a pouch we found a ball-gag, probably something Delinda had imported, and she insisted on wearing it home.

Sometimes I wonder where such items come from, things so minutely crafted that no smith on Fortune's World could produce them, fabrics that don't seem to be made of fibres - this book, even, which would take a craftsman a week to put together so accurately, but which I got for coppers. Oh, I know that some wizards trade with "demons", but how and why would strange other-dimensional creatures craft such things, and in Sunil's name, what use do they have for plain Fortunia honey, or farm-churned butter, or some rocks containing metals that even the dwarves are unable to smelt? Delinda did business with a wizard who lived out by the mountains, she'd load up a cart occasionally and go out to him, stay a few days, and come back with shiny, gleaming new wares, things so exact that no human craftsman could have had a hand in their making... but what spooked me was the way the items were packed, the bags of soft not-glass, the colour paintings all exactly the same, even the thick paper boxes used instead of honest wooden crates. People liked the other-worldliness of the items, but Del always took care to burn the packing materials, just as she and Loji would unpick the ridiculously exact, complex labels inside the clothing. It's all magic, I suppose, demon magic from a plane far different from ours, and I'm as addicted to these wares as most girls, but - spooky!

This morning I left Memree in our room, making out a careful list of all the items we'd appropriated, and, dressed in trousers, shirt, and my favourite waistcoat, plus boots to tuck the trousers into, made the necessary visit to the Restormel townhouse. I spoke to the chamberlain, and he and four of their men accompanied me to the castle, and up to the room, which now was just a room, or at least just a torture chamber. The coffin and the body were still there; I'd not wanted to give Lady Restormel my news before the body had been secured, it could have magically vanished and left me looking very stupid. The chamberlain looked at the mess we'd made of the place, the signs of the battle, the head iron-maiden, and sighed. "Lady Restormel will have to be told everything, you know, but please underplay the 'intelligence transfer' angle, leave your little slavegirl out of it as much as possible, I think she'd find that unbearable."

So we took the body, in the coffin, down the ladder, and the four men carried it out of the castle on their shoulders, with the two of us walking behind. Guards came to attention as we passed, men took off their hats and bowed their heads. The coffin was plain, but everyone knew Lord Restormel had been missing, and recognised the chamberlain and the livery he and his men wore. Women went into a curtsey as we approached, and held the pose as we passed. There would be an official funeral in a few days, but I found this all surprisingly touching.

Lady Restormel was brave, in the way that nobles so often are. I assume she thinks I exaggerated Atzmon's size and strength, but she gave no sign of it. I mentioned that the girl-slave had been with me, I mentioned that Atzmon had boasted of some mind-experiment on her husband, I assured her that his end must have been quick, and painless, but generally I told the truth. At the end she hugged me, and thanked me for all my efforts, and I returned the hug before leaving with the chamberlain, who was already sorting through the keys he carried to find the one that opened the safe. He gave me all the money I'd been promised, and a little more, and said that I should consider myself to be a friend of the house. So if I need a favour some time, that looks like a good place to go!

I returned to Memree carrying two rather large beef and kidney pies, still hot, and a jug of ale. After Lady Restormel, I was still in a hugging mood, so I hugged her, too. Perhaps I should mention that she was wearing a perfectly respectable shirt and shorts of mine, plus slippers and absolutely no chains, cuffs, plugs or gags at all, and she still looked rather special.

We took our bags of loot to Del that afternoon, along with Memree's list, and she was suitably impressed with what we'd got. Naturally, she already knew almost everything about our adventure, but we were able to fill in a few of the gaps. Many of the items could well have been imported by her and her mage in the first place, though she was more interested in things she'd not stocked, and truly, some of the equipment was of jewel quality. We made a deal - Delinda would sell the things slowly as she wished, keeping a third of the money, and pass the rest of the silver on to us as it came in. This time, Memree was able to join us in having a glass of wine, and Del ungagged Loji so that she could have some too. Delinda had some fresh bread, and butter, and slices of some cooked bird or other, and we were easily persuaded to stay and eat and toast our good fortune - our good fortune in being alive, for a start.

So a quiet day, but a rewarding one, leaving me ample time to write this for you, my imagined Librarian-Mage. I look back at my last couple of entries and wonder that I could have written so much and still had time to sleep - this is more than enough of a diary entry for any more normal day.

Day Five

2004-09-27T14:48:00.000-07:00

Re-reading yesterday's entry, I seem to have left a lot out - but there was so much I wanted to write. I did all the talking of course, but we did manage to communicate, and it became clear that "Memree" was the only name to use, as she didn't remember what her real name was, in fact she doesn't remember anything before I turned the key and opened the dungeon door. But I can't go back over all that, though I'll admit to letting her give me a sponge-bath after I bathed her, as today has been a lot more eventful than yesterday ever was - Sunil's teats, yesterday was nothing compared to today, except that it was the day I first met Memree. At least I am starting this entry rather earlier than the last one, but, Ser Imaginary Librarian, I warn you, this is going to be the longest and most complex daily entry I ever write - gods willing!

Memree had thin porridge for breakfast, which was even noisier than milk, and then I dressed her up in a white leather sex-slave kind of costume that Del had provided, which had the advantage of camouflaging the gag a bit - and girl did she look cute in it! The first thing to do was take her to the Restormel townhouse, and I'd have had some explaining to do if she'd turned out to be the family's long-lost daughter or something. But I hoped that the chamberlain or Lady Restormel would recognise her, or that she would recognise them, or the portrait of Marius that was given pride of place in their reception room.

And when my girl saw that portrait, there was some connection, certainly - she just stared at it, which in a purported-slavegirl was such extreme rudeness that I had to promise Lady Restormel to punish her for it later, or she'd probably have sent for a man with a whip then and there! I know it wasn't Memree's fault, but I was annoyed at her, and at myself - I'd have to follow through on my promise, as again that was something that might be checked on, so I hurried my prize back to the lodgings, and with her hobble-chain she could hardly keep up. I couldn't paddle her, I just couldn't - so I tied her in a kneeling position, popped a hood over her head, and left her there, with a friendly pat on her shoulder, and went off to spread that Restormel silver around a bit more.

I'd half an idea to get the pair of us smuggled into the castle as part of a troupe of entertainers, but maybe "half an idea" is flattering it. I may be pretty nimble in a swordfight, but as a dancer, well, I die every time. So the plan was just to be dressed like dancers to get past the outer door, along with another hefty contribution to Torner's retirement plans, and then head off on our own. I was convinced that the answers I was looking for would be in the castle. Magic had abducted Lord Restormel, and Memree had been at the focus of some strong magic, somewhere there. I'd gone over the ground levels and the lower levels, this time a bit of staircase-climbing seemed like a plan.

I told Delinda most of this, and she nodded, and pulled out a box of her stock, and produced the most scandalous item of clothing I'd ever seen... then, when she saw the colour draining from my face, produced the second most scandalous item of clothing I'd ever seen, which at least rather matched my best gloves and boots, though a small amount of rather intimate shaving had to be performed, we discovered after I'd tried it on. It was black, and it was shiny, and it was thinner than a gnat's wing, but at least it covered my back, and Delinda assured me that all but the sharpest blades would be unable to cut it, though naturally there'd be extensive bruising if the attempt was made.

Memree was still kneeling, hooded, when I got home carrying a jug of fresh milk, her back straight, and seeing her like that I was filled with remorse. This golden-haired, beautiful creature, so gentle, so reliant on me, and I was so cruel to her! I crouched down and unlaced the hood, and she blinked at the afternoon sunshine flooding in. I untied her ankles, untied all the rope, and helped her gently to her feet. I fed her carefully, and generally saw to her comfort, then sat her down on the bed, and started to change into the costume Del had provided. Strange - I had no thoughts of modesty, changing like that, it shows how I'm thinking of this girl as a continuing part of my life. And of course she was naked too, except for the leather trimmings which enhanced rather than covered her bits...

She'd seen my back before, last night, but, when I'd removed my ordinary leo, she made little murmuring noises, cocked her head on one side, and looked at me wide-eyed. How? Why? She asked, but I couldn't answer, not then, not yet. My back bears its scars, from a brutal, deserved whipping six years ago, when I was sixteen. How could I have been so stupid, then? I shuddered, and she stroked my arm gently, rested her silky-soft hair against my shoulder. I fought back my tears. I was a warrior now, and suddenly I was responsible for more than myself.

"Now, close your eyes, my friend." I stood up, and wriggled into Del's costume, finding myself anxious for the girl Memree's approval. "What do you think? It's what the well-dressed warrior trying to get into a castle disguised as a dancer is wearing these days, or so Delinda tells me."

Memree's eyes widened in surprise, mainly at the mention of the castle I think, and then I could see her cheeks move up, telling me she was smiling for me, behind that gag. Then she carefully knelt on the floor again, and bowed towards me. "Chump", I muttered. "Yes, I'm going back to Castle Redwall, that's the only damned place we'll ever find out what's happened to Marius Restormel, and the only twice-damned place we are ever likely to find out what's been done to you, too - and there's the small matter of finding a key, the key, for that monstrous gag, too!"

I smiled at her. "Want to come along...?"

You can guess the answer, I think, my Mage-Librarian, so let's move on to the sight of two cloaked women entering the castle past a broadly smiling Torner. 'Strange, he usually only holds one pikestaff", I muttered to Memree, after my cloak had blown rather further open than I'd have liked. She gave an amused little snort, or at least I like to think she did.

The castle is old, and much bigger than it now needs to be. We headed away from the inhabited part, and again the place seemed to change its atmosphere, to become cold and unwelcoming. Memree shuddered, and let her cloak fall open for a moment, before pulling it tight around her again. The hobble-chain between her ankle bracelets was at its full length, and the chains to her wrist cuffs were also as loose as I could make them. I wanted her to have as much freedom as possible, but if there was trouble ahead, I wanted to make it perfectly clear that she was not a fighter.

I certainly didn't want to go up the first flight of stairs we reached, just looking at the stone steps made the hairs on the back of my neck try to stand up. That seemed a good reason to go up, so that's the path we took. The first floor we came to was...dusty, and dry, and smelt of - apples? All the doors we passed were wide open, if you didn't count the cobwebs; sometimes furniture had yellowing sheets draped over it, sometimes not. There was no sound at all, except our footsteps and our breathing, no rats scuffling, no distant voices from outside, nothing. We reached another flight of stairs, this time a curving one, leading into an old off-central tower which had never had any practical use. Obviously, a dead end, not to be explored, to even put a foot on the first step would be moronic...

I can be stubborn sometimes, and we started to climb, though every step reinforced what a fool I was being, to leave the safety of the mortal world for a place of desolation and endless, timeless death. It was actually difficult to get one foot to go up to each next step; Memree's hand found mine, and grasped it, and we gave each other extra strength to carry on. That tower rises no more than four storeys above the surrounding building, but I'd swear we climbed up at least twelve. We stopped three times to recover our breath, and each time, leaving that particular landing was hard. Very hard.

A final landing just had the usual couple of small empty storerooms off it - it was curiously clean, though, no dust, no spider webs, nothing at all except bare wood and stone walls... oh, and a ladder going up to a circular hole in the ceiling. I discarded my cloak, and began to climb, and this time there was no resistance, so I was up in the final, top chamber almost before I realised it.

It was not a nice room to be in. Almost every inch of the walls was hung with chains, cuffs, hoods, restraints of every kind, along with more sinister devices. There were whips, some of them barbed. Cuffs hung from the ceiling on chains that ran over pulleys. A corset was on a side-table, and I could see that it was lined with cruel spikes. There was a large solid wooden table scattered with tools, there was even a rack for stretching victims on, and an unlit brazier with a few branding-irons nearby. There was more, and I shuddered, chilled to the soul.

Memree had followed me up, of course, and moved towards an unvarnished wooden coffin. She tried to move the lid sideways, but it was awkward for her, and I helped... and together we gazed on the cold, waxy face, unmistakably, of Marius Restormel. He looked calm, but sad, and very dead.

"He's dead, you meddling cow, and you'll join him -- in a day or two!" I don't know where she came from, but a blue light appeared and grew, and took the form of a woman a foot taller than me, covered in a blue leathery glow. The eyes were glowing white ovals, but otherwise the surface was unflawed. The voice was inside me, I don't think she was actually speaking as such. "The castle's people have forgotten this tower exists -- so you, you silly bitch, must be from outside, I think?"

"Am I a bitch or a cow, lanky? I've always thought of myself as more of the lioness type." Well I never thought I'd be able to talk my way out of this, so at least I'd have the satisfaction of insulting this she-demon.

"My name is ATZMON, cow-dugs -- Atzmon, flame of magic!"

"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure - er, 'cow-dugs' is your middle name, right?" And with that I drew my sword, just in time, as she had obviously decided that the introductions had been concluded. She had a sword too, though she'd not had it an instant before - it was on fire with a blue flame, but the first clash of blades told me that it was all too solid. She drove forward, and I stepped sideways, not easy as the room had an awful lot of furniture and not much spare space. I ducked and her sword sliced the air apart over my head, then lunged forwards and pricked Atzmon's side... there was a brief eruption of more pale blue light, then the hole seemed to seal itself as I quickly drew my sword back. And the tip of my sword had melted!

I backed away, drawing Atzmon clear of Memree, who was at the main table now. I don't think Atzmon was in any hurry to finish me, she might even still have wanted to take us both alive for a time, our swords clashed again and again, and she effortlessly kicked Restormel's coffin to one side, it hit the wall, bounced back, and landed heavily, the body sprawled half out. Memree had found an old, half-rusted sword on the table, and was trying to get round behind the demon; I parried a massive blow from Atzmon, and my blade shattered into a dozen pieces, which was probably just as well since my arm felt as if it had nearly been jerked out of its shoulder-socket. I backed away, ducked again, and caught the rusty sword that Memree threw to me.

"So, scar-back, you've returned my little experiment to me -- the dear sweet 'memree', so eager to please!"

Oh, we were talking again, were we? I could do that. "What did you do to her, demon?"

"Merely improved the little prentice-animal," Atzmon said. The room seemed full of some arcane magic. "A lack-wit she'd become, but with a little sorcerous boost from me, courtesy of the late Lord Restormel, she's actually quite clever now, in her own way!"

"You killed Marius Restormel, for your experiment?" Okay, I was stating the obvious, but I was also getting my strength back; we traded blows, but she wasn't trying to kill me, for the moment.

"I'd expected to send his lady back a drooling simpleton, which would have been amusing--" She lunged, batting aside my sword with frightening ease, and I rolled desperately to my left, feeling the rush of air and the crash as the sword struck the floor a fraction of an inch from my precious hide. "--but instead I got a corpse."

"You're not saying that she is Lord Restormel in some way now?" A silly question, but the best I could come up with at that moment. "His mind, his thoughts and memories, transferred?"

Atzmon laughed, and believe me, it was infectious - or at least, it made me feel ill. "Oh no, his mind and thoughts are dead and gone -- I just ladled her a little of his intelligence, the dark gods know she always needed it!"

Swordplay continued. Memree was still at the main table, the other side of it from us, and tried throwing a torture-boot at Atzmon's head, but her sword moved at astonishing speed and cut it clean in two in mid-air, I had to duck as one half, with its internal spikes, came straight at me. I wanted to move round, to allow Memree to have a chance to bolt for the ladder down, but Atzmon seemed to read my mind, and stayed close to it. I caught a brief glimpse of Memree awkwardly climbing up onto the table, using a stool - the hobble-chain didn't make that a simple task, really, what had I been thinking of, taking her on this "adventure" in chains? Not that it would matter for much longer...

My replacement sword was flaking rust and possibly other things, it was dented and not exactly straight, but at least it hadn't fallen apart, and on one rare opportunity to counter-attack, when it scratched a line down her thigh, the wound didn't immediately heal, but continued to leak little bubbles of light. "You think you can hurt me, do you? Ha, swords are for cissies, let's you and me wrestle, lady-girl!"

Sounded like a bad idea to me. I held onto my sword, and circled warily, as Atzmon's weapon faded into her hand and vanished. She tried to grab the blade of my sword between her palms, she was close to the table now, Memree had grabbed some cylindrical box, it hinged open, it had spikes inside, Memree leapt onto Atzmom's back, I stabbed Atzmon in the shoulder, the box was some sort of "iron maiden" for the head, I could see, as time seemed to shudder almost to a halt, its interior spikes were two inches long, sharp, glowing, Atzmon screamed, tried to reach up for the courageous girl on her back, Memree rammed the open box onto Atzmon's head, and slammed it shut with a bang, just the thought of those spikes made me feel queasy, but Atzmon remained on her feet, staggering, tugging at the box, and making a shrill, shrieking howl. I held my sword, and swept it horizontally, it went straight though Atzmon's neck and both her wrists, the body crumpled and fell in upon itself and vanished, the head-box fell to the floor with a loud crash, and...

...sudden silence, except for my panting, Memree making a whistling noise as she attempted to gulp in air through that gag's hole, and the distant, welcome sounds of the castle and the town. I hoped fervently that Atzmon had been killed but, with some sort of demon, or whatever she'd been, who could tell? Memree had been thrown off, and landed against Lord Restormel's coffin, inches from his lolling head.

I looked at the "iron maiden" head-box, though I didn't dare open it. Empty", I pronounced, after looking up the neck-hole. "I do hope she's dead, or we'll both be very annoyed." I walked over to the coffin, and gently moved Marius Restormel's corpse back into place. "I'm definitely not charging Lady Restormel enough for this, you know."

Memree had found a little key among the collection on the table; she brought it over to me, and held it out tentatively, like a child offering a freshly-picked wild flower. "Memree, that was very, very brave of you... I owe you my life, I'm sure." Slowly, I reached out my hand. "That's it, you reckon -- the key? And you want me to do the honours?"

She nodded, her eyes wide. I'd taken the key now, and I gently inserted it into the tiny keyhole - the gag sprang apart, and I eased it away. It was heavy, with a substantial, mouth-filling plug. I put it down on the table.

And that is definitely all I am writing tonight. I'm amazed I could write so much without falling asleep at this desk, but the tale is told now - and tomorrow is another day. There will be plenty of loose ends to tie up then, but hopefully not as endless a writing session at the end of it!

Day Four

2004-09-26T15:00:00.000-07:00

This has been the...something-est day of my life so far, I'm just not sure what-est yet. I should be asleep now, I was asleep, but I'm writing this some time well after midnight, quietly, so as not to disturb my guest, the lantern carefully shaded. I need my sleep - but I need to set this down on paper, make some sense out of it all, while it is all still fresh in my mind. And if today has rearranged my life, I shudder to think what tomorrow will do...

Am I making sense? probably not, Ser Wizard Librarian - and now I'm talking to somebody I've made up as the custodian of this "magic" book I'm writing in. Oh, I look at her sleeping, so calm, peaceful - helpless...
Bah. The day began much as I'd planned. List, chamberlain, more cash, then an endless walk round and round town talking to people. Not a sign, not a word about poor Marius. The only direction to go was inside the castle - and while I could have probably got in by helping deliver food, or something like that, that would only have got me access to the kitchens, and I'd have had a friendly, hard-to-shake escort. So I invested some Restormel money in Torner, who was guarding one of those small side-exits that any good castle has - not to go in that way, just for an easy and quick exit afterwards.

I waited for dusk before throwing a borrowed grappling-hook up onto the castle wall, and quickly scrabbling up and over. Nobody saw me, though the guard that should have seen me will be nursing a lump on the back of his head for a while. In fact, the place was a lot quieter than I expected. It was strange, there were guards about, and a number of times I had to stay back in the shadows as servants moved along the corridors, I even caught a glimpse of the lord's second son hurrying to his room with a giggling servant-girl... but the place just didn't feel lived in, it was like walking in a castle that had been abandoned a century before, alone and unloved.

Lady Restormel had visited the castle, of course, as soon as her husband had disappeared - with all the servants and slaves and soldiers, there couldn't be any secrets in the more public areas, I'd decided, so after a general scout around I headed down for the dungeons. Empty cells, completely deserted except for the distant scuttlings of rats - and then I came to a locked cell door, with, on its little board, the word "Memree" written. Not a person's name, really, but an old term for a child's imaginary companion. The key was close by, and I used it, the door opened noiselessly, and there she was, lying helpless on the floor on some dry old straw. Metal ankle cuffs were joined by chain, and another chain led to a ring-bolt in the floor. I used the big old key to force one of the floor-chain's links open.

But the hobble-chain weren't the main thing, or the rope that tied her arms behind her back; the gag was the main thing, it was solid metal all around her head, with a flange going down under the chin to stop her mouth from opening at all. It was an intricate device, solid and well-made; I could see a small keyhole below one ear, but there was nowhere here that a suitably small key would be found, and the hole was too small for any lockpick I possessed. There was a hole at the front to allow easier breathing, or perhaps some water through a straw, which was lucky, as it was obvious that the gag wouldn't be going anywhere without the girl's head for a while yet.

I stood the girl up, and she trembled against me, naked except for her bonds. "Now, your choice, sera. I can cut the ropes and let you go your own way, or, if you desire it, I can put you under my protection, and take you with me." I idly stroked her blonde hair, and looked her firmly in the eye. She was a couple of inches shorter than me, maybe a couple of years younger, too. "You'll notice the second option doesn't include setting you free -- at least, not yet."

This will take all night if I go into too much detail, though it's strange how fast I'm writing it all down. Did she know anything about Lord Restormel? Maybe, maybe not, but she was the only physical evidence of something very strange in the castle, so I wasn't about to give her the chance to run off in a panic, once she'd indicated that she did want to come with me rather than take her own chances. In fact, I wonder why I did give her that option? If she'd chosen to go off alone, perhaps I'd have followed her, tried to discover some dark secret that way.

We were only just in time for Torner at his castle side exit, and he smiled appreciatively at my companion. "I like her fashion sense", he said, as he let us through. I winked at him, put my arm round the shoulders of my little "Memree", and steered her out into the street.

The first priority was to try to remove the gag, so that I could find out just who my new friend was, and how she'd got sent to the dungeons, which had otherwise not been used for years. So, as an expert on gags, locks, and restraints, Delinda's was an obvious first port of call. Nobody looked more than twice as I guided a rather grubby naked, bound slavegirl through the town, naked slaves are after all a fairly common sight. The metal gag was a bit unusual, if seen up close, but it took attention away from the actual lack of a legal slave-collar. And mid-evening, before the taverns start to empty, is a pretty quiet time anyway, with the last of the street market stalls closing down.

Delinda's shop was closed, but lit, and she soon appeared from the back room when I rapped on the glass, her face split in a huge smile when she saw us. "Charol, my friend, is this a present for me...?"

"I've a little problem, Del", I told her.

"When don't you have a problem, Charol? But she's absolutely gorgeous, my friend -- are you selling?"

"Only the clasp-gag, if you can get it off her."

She approached, and studied it carefully. "Picking the lock? Something of this quality, I must first test..." She took a dull glass rod from a box, and brought it towards the girl's face. "Such a devil in iron, it could be ensorcelled, and I don't want a magical bomb going off in here."

The rod began to glow red, then yellow, then almost white - it emitted sparks like a winter's day firework, which flared, then vanished when they hit the floor. It was most impressive, I closed my eyes but could still feel the light on my face. "Big spell, right?"

Delinda ran the rod down my captive's body - it faded a little, but continued to glow and pulse, and I made some weak joke about a "magic pussy".

"Not exactly," she said. "The main magic is in the gag, I'm sure, but I'm getting traces even down here." She crouched, and tapped a knee gently. "Your little friend has been very close to a major magic spell, at the very least." She paused. "You want that gag off, you need the key, wherever that is."

To prove her expertise, Del got the ankle-cuffs unlocked in seconds, and cut away the ropes from her arms too; the girl massaged her wrists, rolled her shoulders, and I'm sure that behind her gag she was smiling. "If we can't ditch the gag, this young 'Memree' had better have some other gear to go with it, if you've some suitable bits and pieces to lend us," I said, as running down the street after a spooked naked blonde would do my reputation no good at all. "She's under my protection, I don't want her running loose."

"In the old dialect, a 'memree' is a child's imaginary playmate - a make-believe companion. Ah, these should fit snugly..." Del commented, confirming what I'd thought, and held up a hinged metal collar. "Here, you'd better snap this on her - if it turns out that she's an unmarked slave, this should be locked in place by you if you're going to claim her."
"It was the name chalked on the dungeon door, and she's not objected to me using it." I watched as Del produced ankle-locking boots with a hobble-chain, and a belt with wrist-cuffs attached by short lengths of chain.

Once my prize was suitably secured, Del produced some milk and a straw, and, with a surprising amount of noise, the girl drank it swiftly, followed by a refill. Del demonstrated how the wrist-chains could be pulled in for "snugness" - we left them like that while we shared a little wine, and then the girl and I - Memree and I - headed back here.

But it will soon be dawn, so I'm about done with writing. After letting out those wrist-chains again I gave Memree a sponge-down bath, standing in a basin, and before too long we were both asleep, even though I was too awake to stay asleep for long. Damn! What kind of sense does that make? Enough, I'm going back to bed!

Day Three

2004-09-25T13:02:00.000-07:00

Now this is promising, it could be the big payday I've been hoping for. That social visit to Delinda and Loji will have to wait! It's not a job for Ashil, though a message he sent pointed me in the right direction, so, mid-morning, after I'd carefully polished my best leather jerkin and boots, and the gloves too, and climbed into a nice clean white leo, the sort of outfit that slows male opponents down by at least five seconds, I headed for one of the biggest houses in town, not far from the castle itself - the Restormel townhouse. The family have a castle and a town of their own, way off in the west I think, but they've handed that over to the eldest son, and set up here. And now Lord Restormel, Marius Restormel, has gone missing! His wife, Lady Restormel, is frantic, and she's hiring people to look for him, various teams are out searching the countryside in all directions - and now she's hired me, to see what I can find out here in town.

I have "connections", apparently... that's true, I've been here around Redwall for six months now and I know a good number of people - shopkeepers, tavern owners, other adventurers and mercs, bouncers, soldiers - ha, I've arm-wrestled one of the castle's watch-captains often enough, and wrestled more horizontally with the other one a time or three! I keep out of trouble inside the town walls, I help out, I smile... and if I have scaled the occasional house wall and liberated a few jewels from confinement in bedroom boxes, well, that just gives me some more connections, right?

Lady Restormel's chamberlain gave me a purse with plenty of silver in it, and I spent the afternoon and evening spreading that money among the undeserving poor, all in the hopes of a bigger return to come. I've made a completely honest list for the chamberlain, as that's the sort of thing he might even get someone to check, and tomorrow I'll go back to the townhouse, see if he wants me to keep handing the Restormel money out, hopefully get a refilled purse, and then start seeing what my dozens of new friends have got to tell me.

Admittedly, nobody so far has had a clue, but it will be a major topic of conversation in the cheaper drinking spots right about now. A lord doesn't just vanish like that! Maybe there's magic involved... almost certainly there's magic involved! This town has a couple of remarkably dull, respectable magic-users, a mage and a white witch, but there are hedge wizards, there are expensive charms and charmed weapons that any fool could use, and most non-mages that attempt to use magic are fools, believe me. I've been all round town, seen the castle from every angle...

Yes, the castle. I may well end up having to climb that wall, I suspect... if so, I think I'll spread a little more Restormel money around first. The more Restormel cash I spend, the harder I'm working, obviously. I may have something a good deal more exciting to report tomorrow night, if I don't break my neck before then...

Day Two

2004-09-24T13:38:00.000-07:00

Ashil didn't have anything at the moment, though he gave me the impression he was negotiating for a job that might be my sort of thing, so I joined Saster and Wren, who have a room upstairs, in a hunting expedition into the hills to the north of town. We managed to kill a deer, my arrow brought it down, and we carried it back into town and sold it to a local butcher. It was good to get out into the fresh air of the countryside, though on the way back I was starting to wish we'd bagged a smaller animal, I swear the beast got heavier as we went along, to get its revenge.

An interesting pair, those ladies. Apparently they were mercs in some town-lord's army, with Saster as a sergeant. He lost the battle, they ran for it, and after a while got recruited into a rather large gang of bandits. The two of them got caught, and sold as slaves, before an agent of the gang bought them back... the gang itself didn't last too much longer, the leader was revealed to be some sort of magical creature and defeated by quite a well-known adventurer, Ilys Darksword, and a couple of apprentice mages, so Saster and Wren were soon on the run again. The point is, they were and are free, but they have had the "all virtue preserv'd" slavegirl injections, the ones that keep them young and beautiful, and submissive and low on inhibitions, high on sex-drive. It must be rather difficult to function properly as free women in that state, but together they seem to do okay together. I suppose a "sexier, softer" army sergeant is still pretty hard. Saster said something, "A man is for an evening's pleasure, a woman for a lifetime's love" - and I remarked that there was an equivalent male saying too, which also involved melons! But I'm young, an occasional evening's pleasure is all I'm aiming for at the moment.

I've put aside my share of the butcher's money, after an evening meal in one of the better taverns this town has, and a bottle of wine - it's not enough for a full month's rent, but there's plenty of time yet. Talking of slavegirls, tomorrow I ought to visit my friends Delinda and Loji, though that's a weird situation. The three of us used to play cards together, along with a few others, and one night we played on rather late, got a bit drunk, the stakes got rather high... and to cut a boring story short, Delinda won Loji! So they're both my friends, but one's a Mistress now, and the other her slave. And given that Del's shop sells slave restraint gear and jewelry, that collar is more than just a gesture, it's the real, stringent deal. Loji looks good on it, but that would be the injections, of course.

But it's late, and I'm tired. I'll write again tomorrow, Ser Wizard, if you're reading this!

Day One

2004-09-23T15:11:00.000-07:00

Hmm... I'd been meaning to start some sort of diary again for a while, but getting this cute little book yesterday has decided things for me. I was in a tavern just inside the town's north gate, drinking a little and listening a lot, when this strange old man came in. I thought he was at least quarter-elf to begin with, he was very old and very thin, with fine-quality but rather old clothes, and he had a bag of stuff to sell. I never buy "magic health potions", or amulets, or "enchanted daggers", but the book caught my eye - for one thing it was a lot cleaner than anything else, it looked new, and the pages were so white they were almost pale blue.

"You like it?" His teeth were surprisingly good, though his breath wasn't. "You don't need a quill and ink, you just use this pointy-ended little glass rod, no mess, no smudges." He went on to say it was "enabled", whatever that meant. He was a bit vague, but I think he was claiming there was a vast wizards' library somewhere, and my words would magically appear in a book there. Hi, Ser Mage! Heheh, as if...

Anyway, I smiled, showed a little cleavage, bought him a drink and a bowl of rabbit soup, and got the book for only a few coppers, which isn't bad, unless the writing fades away after an hour or two. Otherwise the tavern was quiet - no town-lords in this area of Fortune's World are recruiting mercenaries, no villages being attacked by bandits, no goblin hordes sweeping down from the hills. So I am still in need of some relatively honest work.

My rent on this room will be due soon... I think I'll go and have a word with Ashil tomorrow, he may have some sort of local job he can put my way. It would be nice to earn enough to be able to stay here over the winter. But that's enough for a first entry, since I have no swordplay to report, no throats or purse-strings cut, no seductions...sigh... 22 years old, fit and female, an adventurer who has killed bandits, enemy soldiers, scaly monsters, and even, with some help, a rather young dragon, and I come back to an empty room, still remarkably sober, and sit down and write? Things can only get better!