Returning from the dramatic pursuit, and apparent demise, of Arlun Parek, the Hand and their new friend Toran found the City in turmoil in the aftermath of the attempted assassination of the Imperial Ambassador, Grimbold. Confronted by hyper alert guards as they returned from the mine levels, it was Toran’s authority as a member, however junior, of the Shadow Guard that got the group into the presence of Captain Darkeye, and eventually the Prince himself.

They learned that news of Devrik’s discovery of how to free the mind-enslaved Shadow Warriors had arrived just in time to prevent a tragedy – thanks not least to the delay caused by several competing Healers arguing about how best to proceed. It was also discovered that a fourth Shadow Guard had been ensorcelled, but had suffered an allergic reaction to the plant – it was because he was unconscious in the the infirmary that Toran had been given his place at the ceremony, an honor unusual for a probationary member of the Guard.

Vorgev Greatcoffer had been apprehended trying to flee the City, his assets frozen, and his ships interred at the docks. Over the next several days he underwent extensive questioning, by both the Royal Inquisitors and, at Lekorm Darkeye’s urging, by Mariala and Vulk. In the end, all agreed that the man had been a dupe of the Vortex mage, and had no useful information on the organization itself. Indeed, he had believed the group was a resurgent branch of the long-suppressed Fhorgîn sect of the Cult of Gheas, who believed in Khundari superiority and was seeking to overthrow Prince Rhoghûn’s liberal policies of greater engagement with the outside world.

“His gullibility and ignorance in no way mitigates his treason, of course,” the Prince sighed heavily when the final report was presented to him and the Privy Council. “He must stand trial, and pay the price!”

Vulk, Mariala and Korwin were present at this high level meeting, as were Ambassador Grimbold and Magister Vetaris. The latter had arrived earlier that day, alerted of the recent events by Mariala, and had just come from his own questioning of their prisoners, which included the corrupted Kalosian priest from Na-henu, whom Korwin and Vulk had retrieved along with their servants and horses the day after the assassination attempt. Sadly, nothing new had been got from either.

“Indeed, Your Highness,” the Gray Mage nodded. “But I think it would be best if any mention of the Vortex could be left out of the public record. Why give this organization any hint of what we know… or, in truth, of how little we know!”

“I am not averse to this, Magister, and I appreciate your wise counsel, as always,” the Prince replied. “For myself, I would like even more to keep any mention of the thrice-damned Fhorgîn sect from the ears of my people – it took my great-grandfather years to finally suppress that heresy in the City, and I don’t need to give my enemies another rallying point should it rear its ugly head once again! But how can it be avoided? The man is too important, and too well known as being in opposition to my policies, for him to simply disappear…”

“Are we all here agreed that the man is guilty?” Vetaris asked, looking around the room and most especially at the members of the Prince’s Privy Council. A heartfelt murmur of agreement rose quickly from every voice, and heads nodded without hesitation. The evidence had been most complete, after all.

“Good! Then I believe I can offer a solution. It is within my power to set blocks in Vorgev’s mind, blocks which will prevent him from saying anything about those subjects we here wish to be kept secret. The facts need not be altered too much – just that he was the mastermind of the plot, and hired a renegade mage –”

“A Khundari mage!” one of the councilors interjected vehemently. “We don’t need anti-Umantari sentiments whipped up on top of everything else! Our commercial connections with the human kingdoms are fragile enough, and too important to our long range goals!” The others all muttered agreement, including the Prince.

“Yes,” Vetaris agreed. “That can be done – no one in the crowd in the audience chamber saw the man change when his illusion charm was torn away. So, Arlun Parek drops nicely out of the story. Vorgev conceived this plot alone, and carried it out with only the aid of his hired wizard and the guards they ensorcelled. My spells will ensure that he will be unable to say or do anything to contradict this story… and so, you may safely have a public trial.”

Fortunately, although Greatcoffer had revealed the names of several other like-minded, disaffected citizens, it was clear none had known anything of this particular plot – Arlun had apparently wanted no chance of leaks. So, while these other potential rebels would be watched more closely now, there would be no great purge, and no resultant civil turmoil. Vorgev Greatcoffer was not a particularly well-liked man, after all…

“There is one other favor I would ask of you Magister Vetaris, and of Dame Mariala,” Prince Rhogûn said, motioning them to stay after he had risen to dismiss the meeting. Their two companions also remained behind, as did Captain Darkeye after seeing the last of the councilors out.

“I would appreciate any effort you might make,” he continued, “in concert with my own people, both mundane, arcane and theological, to root out any other agents of this Vortex that might remain in my city. Is it possible to do this?”

“Well, it is impossible to prove a negative, Your Highness,” Vetaris answered with a slight smile. “But I know enough of this group now, and their arcane signature, to feel confident we can weed out any significant agents. More mundane spies, of course, I can’t speak to…”

“As long as I can be reasonably sure I don’t have magical rats roaming my halls,” the Prince laughed, “I will be content to leave the mundane rats to my trusted Captain and my Shadow Guard!”

Outside the council room the small group found Ambassador Grimbold waiting for them in the corridor.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, tucking away the small dagger he’d been balancing on a callused fingertip, “I have one more meeting for you to attend today…”

♦ ♦ ♦

The meeting took place in the Ambassador’s suite of rooms, in a small, comfortable parlor that was just able to hold everyone involved… the principle members of the Hand of Fortune, Magister Vetaris, Toran Quickhand with an older, unknown Khundari and, of course, Grimbold himself.

“You’re probably wondering why I’ve called you all here this evening,” he began with a smile. Magister Vetaris gave an amused snort at this, but said nothing.

“Aside from wishing to again express my deep gratitude for your efforts in protecting my life, I also thought it time that all of us who act in the name of the Star Council should be made known to one another!” As he said this, he flipped open the cover on one of the many rings on his fingers, revealing the symbol of the Council and eliciting a tingling in the ring fingers of (almost) everyone else in the room.

After a moment of surprised silence from the Hand, and a nod from Magister Vetaris, most of the others in the room also revealed their sigils, including Toran and the older man beside him.

“By Kasira’s left tit,” muttered Devrik under his breath. “Does everyone work for this Council?”

Grimbold laughed out loud at this, and Magister Vetaris smiled, saying “No, my dear Devrik, although it sometimes seems like it, I know, to those of us who really do. In fact, witting agents of the Council are fairly rare… in all of Dürkon, for instance, there is only one.” He gestured to the older man sitting next to Toran.

“Well, two now, Magister,” the man said with a slight smile, rising and bowing to the group. “I initiated young Toran into the fold just this morning. He bears his own sigil ring now.” He sat bak down with a fond look at his son, who just looked embarrassed.

“Let me introduce you, my young friends, to the Royal Skald of Dürkon, Ghorek Silverharp,” Vetaris said. “I believe you already know his son, Toran Quickhand.”

After expressions of surprise and congratulations went around the room, Grimbold came to the real purpose of the meeting.

“It has been decided by Prince Rhogûn that he should have his own eyes and ears involved in the search for this Vortex gang, and to that end he has ordered Captain Darkeye to assign young Toran here to detached duty… specifically, if you will have him, to your group… what do you call yourselves? Ah yes, the Hand of Fortune… I like it!” he added as an aside.

“And given the nature of your group,” Vetaris picked up the thread, “it was decided that Toran should be made an agent of the Council as well. This will make everything less complicated, assuming you agree to take him on, of course. Keeping secrets from one another is so–”

“What the Void are you all talking about,” Erol burst out suddenly, unable to contain himself any longer. “What is this ‘Star Council’ you keep mentioning? Who–”

“Yes, yes, Erol, I’m sorry,” soothed Vetaris, as the other members of the Hand looked embarrassed. “I’ve been meaning to put you in the know for awhile now, and that is, in fact, the other purpose of this meeting. Now you musn’t blame your friends, they were bound by strict oaths of secrecy… as will you be, if you accept my offer…”

Which he did, after several turns of the glass wherein all the secret events of the past year were fully explained to him at last. After taking his own oath, he received a ring, bearing the hidden sigil of the Star Council, from Grimbold himself.

“I asked this boon of my colleague,” he explained as he watched the young fighter examine the ring carefully. “I’ve felt a certain kinship to you, my friend, as I’ve gotten to know you these past few days. Though I can’t explain why – perhaps it’s that you remind me of myself at the same age…”

After the Hand agreed to take on Toran as a member, the meeting turned to matters of the Council and it’s mounting concern over the existence and actions of the mysterious Vortex organization. It was quite late when they finally broke up…

♦ ♦ ♦

It took only a day and a half to convince Magister Vetaris, the Arcane Masters, and the Khundari Ghean priesthood that the City was free of magically warded spies of the Vortex. A task made easier, the mage pointed out to Mariala over dinner the next evening, by the relatively small size and enclosed nature of the Khundari Inner City.

“The Outer City seems clear as well,” he continued. “But it is not absolutely certain, and it would be impossible to make even that much of an assurance for an Umantari city of similar size. It is the insular nature of Dürkon, and the arcane wards and engines built into it’s very bones, that make what we just did possible. I suspect it is also what will keep the Vortex from planting new agents easily in the furure, now that we know what to look for.”

“Perhaps,” Mariala frowned, sipping her wine thoughtfully. “Assuming they don’t change their methods and “signature,” as you put it. I’m afraid they know that we know about them now, and I can’t believe they’ll just continue on as before… the whole reason they’ve succeeded so far is that no one knew to look for them…”

“Oh, you’re right of course, my dear. It’s inevitable that the Vortex should take new precautions, and I don’t claim it will be easy to root them out… we still know so little of them, their size, the scope of their operations, their ultimate goal… but the most vital thing is, we do know they exist now, and that counts for much!

“But tell me, what did his Highness want with you after our latest meeting this evening? I confess I was surprised when he asked you to stay…”

“Oh, that,” Mariala blushed and set her goblet down. “It seems Prince Rhogûn is seeking outside tutors for his three children… and since we’ve now declared the City safe from the Vortex, he has asked the Hand to stay for the winter, and more specifically, for me to be one of the children’s tutors. I think he is especially anxious to have a female teacher, for his young daughter’s sake.”

“Hmmm,” Vetaris stroked his chin absently as he considered this. “I think using Dürkon as a base for awhile is a good idea… the Vortex is certainly hot to eliminate you all, at this point, so staying where they can’t get at you is excellent strategy. But do be aware that there are segments of this society that fear the changes the Prince is making, and the education of the Royal Children by non-Khundari is a flashpoint for many of those fears.”

“I’m aware of it, of course… the Prince made no secret of the fact that I might face some hostility from some of the more, um, ossified nobility.” Mariala smiled. “But I’ve always been fascinated by Khundari culture, and I think the chance to experience it so very first hand, not to mention influencing its future through the children, is an opportunity I can’t refuse.

“And besides, it will help me improve my rather stilted Khundaic!”

“Well, as always, you seem to be proceeding with your eyes open, and your mind as well – so good luck!” He rose from his chair and bowed over her hand. “But now it is time for me to retire. I will be leaving first thing in the morning… there is much to be done yet this winter in pursuit of the Vortex, and I have several things to set in motion.

“I will contact you as soon as I’ve learned anything, and I assume you’ll do the same, should any of you decide to stir outside these walls before spring…”

Mariala stood and gave her mentor a hug, surprising a laugh from the older man. “I’m sorry you have to leave so soon… take care yourself, out there, for I have a feeling the Vortex isn’t looking for us only… And though we may stay here through the winter, I know Devrik, at least, won’t be bound inside; not with Raven expecting his child!”

♦ ♦ ♦

Indeed, it was the very next day, only a few hours after Magister Vetaris had departed the City himself, that Devrik set out for Dor Dür and his pregnant wife. He was accompanied by Vulk, who was anxious to see his Shield Brother Draik and fill him in on the latest news, and by Cris and Rob. Erol continued the daily training regimen he and Devrik had begun with the Shadow Warriors, while Mariala began preparing for her role as tutor the the Royal Children.

Korwin, meanwhile, sought out a Khundari craftsman recommended to him by Toran’s father in an effort to bring to reality his designs for a new lantern, utilizing the ancient Khundari glowstones he had taken from the Tomb of the Lost Prince beneath Dor Dür. Fehandor Bronzebender was a man of middle years for a dwarf, which meant he was probably approaching his 150th birthday, and gray was begining to pepper his dark beard. Originally a bit cool to his Umantari visitor, despite his rarified introduction from Ghorek Silverharp, he quickly warmed to him once he was shown the plans Korwin had drawn up.

“Extremely interesting, my lord,” he said after listening to the water mage’s ideas for a multi-chambered lantern that would encase the glowstones in a clear oil, to stop their fire, then drain it away again, exposing them to air, when light was wanted.

“A most well-thought out concept… the only suggestion I would make is to replace the oil with water. Yes, yes, I know the stones burn as bright in water as in air – both elements contain the same ether by which the stones are activated. Indeed, I have heard it said that the Khundari lords of old had much trade of these stones with the Tritani, and other peoples of the sea… although we, at least, no longer seek such commerce…

“But you see, if you fill the lantern with the uhrkwan-toh, what the miners call the Bad Air, the stones will not burn; then release the water from the upper chamber, and the stones give off their light. When you wish to extinguish the light,  drain the water to the lower chamber… if we make the lantern symmetrical, top to bottom, you simply turn it over so the water chamber is again at the top…”

Korwin was taken with this idea immediately, and the two fell to discussing details of materials and cost. Once the technical matters were fixed, Fehandor said he could make the device the mage wanted for 25 gold crowns, at which Korwin called loudly on Tyvos of the Deep to keep him from the sharks that swam on the land and claimed 5 gold crowns would be robbery, yet he might consider paying it. The Khundari master craftsman then threw up his arms in disgust and called on Gheas to give him back the time he had wasted on this “browser,” although it was possible he might condescend to consider 20 gold crowns, out of pity for the fellow’s obviously waterlogged brain…

In the end, they agreed on a price of 15 gold crowns, and that it should be ready eight days hence, on 29 Turniki. The two men shook hands and parted company quite satisfied that they had each got the better end of the deal…

♦ ♦ ♦

The next day messengers were sent out by Prince Rhogûn to other Khundari realms, with warnings of the threat posed by this mysterious new organization; to the High King of Karac in the south, to the Prince of Yarchür in the Greatstone Mountains in the west, and to the scattered Clan Holdings of Themuria and Varisea in the far north. Ambassador Grimbold dispatched his own messengers to bring the news to Lord Kavyn and Emperor Gil-Garon in Avantir.

With that task taken care of, life in Dürkon began to return to normal, and the members of the Hand of Fortune began to fall into their new routine. This consisted of weapons training with those of the Shadow Guard with whom they had forged friendships, and who were willing to teach what was permitted by their Order; learning basic Khundaic for those who didn’t already know the language, with advanced training for Mariala; study and research by those with arcane or mystical powers; and occasional forays outside the City for hunting or hawking, with the Prince and his courtiers, or reconnaissance on their own, seeking signs of Vortex activity.

During this time Mariala took up her tutoring of the Royal Children, spending four hours every other day teaching them Yashparic, history and natural science. Vulk was soon convinced to take on an hour himself, teaching comparative religion. Their charges were generally good students, eager for news of the world outside their narrow home, and Mariala grew especially fond of Lady Nharsia, the 12-year-old daughter of Prince Rhoghûn. Vulk seemed to forge a bond of humor with the boys, especially the eldest, 18-year-old Lord Vorgânt, who particularly loved practical jokes.

The boy’s Khundari tutor treated them both courteously enough, if not with any great enthusiasm, but it was Nharisa’s nanny, a frightful old battleaxe of the most conservative stripe, who gave them, especially Mariala, the most trouble. Although there was little that Dhama Jhertin could openly do, in the face of the Prince’s clear support, the harridan missed no chance to nip at her heels – cutting comments in public, “helpful” corrections of her Khundaic in front of the children, and subtle sabotage of her teaching plans. All of which only served to make Nharisa even more attached to her wonderful Umantari tutor…

Devrik and Vulk’s tenday-long excursion to Dor Dür had been a somewhat mixed bag, as they had explained to their friends  over dinner the night they returned to Dürkon on the last day of the month. It seemed that Devrik was determined that Raven should return to the Khundari city with him, to finish out the last few months of her pregnancy under the aegis of its greater security.

“She threw crockery at my head,” he grumbled morosely into his wine cup. “Again! She said it was bad enough being locked away within the stone walls of Dor Dür, but at least there she could see the sky and even take the air when she wished. She claimed she would wither and die underground for so long! I tried to explain that it wasn’t like that, that she could still walk outside, but it was useless, she was adamant. And her brother was no help… if anything, he was worse, for he had been able to spend much more time outside the walls, and balked even more strongly at the idea…”

In the end, they had agreed to disagree – she understood that he needed to stay close to the group as long as the Vortex threatened them all, and he accepted that she really couldn’t thrive in the underground city. He promised to visit as regularly as possible, it was a short enough journey, two days if one rode diligently and didn’t linger on the road. And she had the magic paper with which to contact him in an emergency… he checked every hour, it seemed… but she should be safe enough under the guard and vigilance of his old captain…

Vulk’s visit had been predicated on a certain agenda as well, an agenda that met with no more success than Devrik’s had. He had been a little more subtle about it, spending the first day or two of his visit with Draik regaling his Shield Brother with tales of the adventures the Hand had been having, with a certain stress on how little danger they’d faced. Eventually he segued into how much easier they might have been to resolve if only they had had Draik’s expertise. At which point his friend had made it very clear, albeit without flying crockery, that he simply wasn’t interested.

“He’s having the time of his life, it seems,” Vulk sighed in resignation, draining his own cup and thumping it down on the table with a shake of his head. “His researches are apparently going very well, and he’s made real progress on practical uses for Baylorium… in fact, he sent me back with several vials of his latest batch, which he claims does wonders for cuts and abrasions as well as blood loss.

“The business side of things is also going well, and I can’t deny that he seems very happy being able to spend so much time with his brother… but I really thought he’d be bored stiff by this time, and ready to come back to the group.”

But despite the failure of their primary purposes, both men admitted that the visit had been a good one, once they got past the arguments. After appropriately sympathetic nosies, the rest of the group filled the travelers in on what they had missed, especially the packed public trial of Vorgev Greatcoffer, now four days past.

The Hand had been given seats in a hidden gallery, having been asked not to attend the public trial, the Prince’s desire to keep this a strictly Khundari affair extending even to the witnesses. The sole exception had been Mariala, who attended in her capacity of Royal Tutor; but her presence had actually been required to ensure that Vorgev would remain unable to speak of those things the Prince and the Privy Council wanted kept secret. Should Magister Vetaris’ blocks begin to fail for some reason, she would be there to shore them up, or in the last resort, bring the prisoner down in flaming agony.

In the event, she had been unneeded, the blocking spells held, and the trial had gone on as scripted. The evidence was overwhelming, and as most of the nobility and merchant classes had been present at the actual event, there was no murmuring when the jury of eight good men and true found Greatcoffer guilty, and only an excited hum when they recommended to the Prince that the sentence be execution.

That had been the one uncertain point of the whole affair, from the point of view of the Crown – it was possible the jury could have recommended exile, given that the treason hadn’t actually been directed at the person of the Prince. And while Rhogûn was under no legal obligation to take the jury’s advice, if he had ignored a plea for banishment and sentenced the convict to death in despite, it might have lead to unrest and deeper discontent. So His Highness had been prepared to follow the jury’s lead, whatever it might be, and if necessary send out a squad of the Shadow Guard to make sure the traitor met an anonymous death in the mountains within a tenday.

But such exertions had not been needed, and Vorgev Greatcoffer’s head had been separated from his shoulders two nights later, under the dark of the Greater Moon, and his body tossed from the heights of Traitor’s Drop. At that time the Prince announced that the man’s property would not suffer attainder, despite his treason, and his heirs would be allowed to inherit. This relieved the last grumblings of all but the most diehard opponents of the Prince, and those individuals were smart enough to keep their thoughts to themselves.

Stories told and bellies full, the friends bid one another goodnight and retired to  their rooms, to get a good night’s sleep before tomorrows festivities.

The next day was 1 Vento, and the celebration of the Bounty of the Deeps, the holy day of Tyvos, God of the Seas. Korwin had spent the days after the trial pulling together a feast for the day with the fruits of the lake fishermen’s nets. He had then surprised his friends and acquaintances with an invitation to a beach party on the shore of the lake south of the Outer City. All had excepted, save only Prince Rhogûn… oh well, it had been a long shot anyway…

Despite a chill wind from the north the party was a great success. Devrik’s subtle enhancing of the fires in the warming braziers scattered around the great pavilion had kept them all comfortable, the food was excellent, and the wine and beer had flowed freely. Besides the Hand and their entourage, most of Toran’s family had attended, as had Lekorm Darkeye and several of the Shadow Warriors of the Prince’s Guard. A great time was had by all, and the hangovers the next day were spectacular!

It was several days later that the first great storm of autumn swept over the North, bringing heavy rains and high winds to the lowlands, snow to the high mountains, and gratitude to all those safe and snug within the great halls and chambers of the City…