18 Turniki — 4 Vento 3020, Aventir and Zhan-Tor, Oceania

As it turned out, finding a way home from the ruined temple to which Thuron Yan’s vengeful machinations had brought them was relatively simple for the Hand of Fortune. The old sorcerer’s  Nitrarin Gate linking spell remained intact and functional, and after an hour of careful study Vulk and Devrik were confident that, together, they could safely trigger it to return them home again.

While the two friends studied the intricacies of the linked-portal spell, the other’s carefully packed up the many books, scrolls and tablets recovered from Thuron Yan’s well-hidden stash, loading them up onto Vulk’s earth elemental to carry. Any surviving B’okiri had either fled the ruined temple or remained in hiding in its remoter recesses – as long as they offered no further opposition to the Hand, the companions were content to let them be.

“They seem very dependent on a strong leader,” Mariala mused, as they packed the books and scrolls back into the chests the snake lord had obviously used to transport them thither. “I wonder how they’ll fare on their own, now that both their old dragon mistress and their new snake master are dead?”

“Thinking of offering yourself up as their new boss?” Toran asked absently, perusing a bound set of thin engraved bronze plates that seemed to contain several interesting Yalva spells.

“Certainly not!” she huffed indignantly. “Do I seem like the sort of person who’d want minions?” At his non-committal shrug she continued, “Anyway, I hate this humid climate… it makes my hair all frizzy. Besides, even if I could get them home, somehow, where could I keep them?“

Toran suddenly became very engrossed in the study of his bronze plates, wisely letting the matter drop. Mariala also shook off the ridiculous idea, and returned to loading the chests as efficiently as possible. Erol and Draik exchanged amused looks, but didn’t offer any opinions out loud.

By the time Vulk and Devrik were ready to open the portal chain home, four large chests were filled and strapped down across the broad back of the pliant earth elemental. The creature seemed almost child-like now that it wasn’t in combat, and while it didn’t speak, it often tried to smile (at least that’s what Erol thought it was trying to do with its “face”) when one of the humans caught its obsidian chip eyes. Toran wondered if it was a very young chaos-entity, or a very old one… he rather suspected the latter.

The trip back through the linked portals was as dizzying and nausea-inducing as the first one had been, but at least this time Vulk managed to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged on arrival. It was dark, obviously well passed sunset, and everyone took a few minutes to recover. After a moment Toran cast another Sphere of Sholakas to illuminate the front room of the abandoned house in Avantir’s Fourth Circle to which they had been returned. Once everyone was sure they weren’t going to puke, the group began to debate their next course of action.

“I’m not looking forward to explaining to the Emperor, or his Myrmytron, that we’ve offed one of their Imperial ambassadors,” Vulk sighed, swallowing an ominous belch. “And not a minor one, either.”

“Oh, I think we’ve earned enough goodwill to at least be listened to,” Mariala said. “Although the lack of a body does complicate things, I suppose. Still, I’m sure Lord Kavyn will be able to judge the veracity of our story. My more immediate concern is how we’re going to get all these chests back to Bekatia House… they’re too damn heavy and awkward for us to carry that far ourselves, but I’m not sure parading a golem-like giant through the city is a good idea…”

“I suppose we could hire porters,” Erol offered diffidently. “But given what we’ve seen in the months we’ve been in the City, I really don’t think most Avantirians would give the big guy a second look.” He reached up to pat the elemental on its rocky, moss-covered shoulder. It rumbled, and nodded its massive head.

In the event, Erol was proved right – the most attention the Hand and their elemental pack mule garnered on the way home that autumn night was from neighborhood members of the City Watch. Most of those seemed content to just keep a wary eye on the group until they’d passed out of their jurisdictions, however, and the Hand arrived at Bekatia House just before midnight. 

At that point Vulk thanked the golem and used the Staff of Summer to release it back to its elemental plane… but unlike others of its kind, once the elemental spirit had departed, its physical form remained. The Hand now had an almost three meter tall statue of stone, dirt and plants on the street outside their front door. They were all too tired to deal with it just then, however, and with a shrug they hauled the chests into the house and then stumbled to their beds.

The next day an urgent message to the Myrmytron gained the entire Hand a private audience with Emperor Gil-Garon and his First Minister, although not until mid-afternoon. Somewhat to their surprise, his Imperial Majesty didn’t seem particularly phased by the outré tale they told. He merely glanced to Lord Kavyn who, with the silent communication of people who have been together for many years, confirmed the veracity of the story.

“But why would this Thuron Yan go to such lengths to attack you?” the Emperor asked. “This seems such a labyrinthine plot…”

“Well, as I alluded to earlier,” Vulk sighed, “we’d met him previously, about a year ago. And, um… well, we ended up killing him, his servants, and burning down his home.” Which, of course, led to the story of their first meeting with the snake-man, Thuron Yan’s own tale of his youthful indiscretion and subsequent cursing by the shape-shifting red dragon woman, and his centuries-long search for a cure… or for a new body. This in turn led to the tale of Erol’s own death and resurrection in his current form, and how it came at the expense of Thuron Yan’s ambitions to that same end.

The sun was setting in the west by the time they brought the saga to an end, and the fascinated Emperor had servants bring in a light supper for them all. Over the meal he and Lord Kavyn began a discussion of the possible repercussions of the death of an ambassador in the Imperial capital, and the possible reaction from the Ty Kyen Imperial Court.

“It’s not likely to start war, of course… our spheres of interest out too divergent,” the Emperor said finally. “But trade with the East has been increasing each year over the past two decades, and I would hate to see that progress stalled or worse, reversed. We need to learn more, especially if, as you suspect, this Thuron Yan replaced the real ambassador. Proving that, and where the switch occurred could be vital in managing my brother emperor’s reactions.”

“And I know just who to put on the investigation,” Lord Kavyn said, smiling. The Emperor shot him a glance and then began smiling too.

“Yes, an excellent idea, withal,” he said. “I can’t wait to hear his complaints about the impossibility of the task!”

• • • • • •

Five days later, the Hand were summoned to the Imperial Palace and another meeting, this time with just the Lord Myrmytron and one other of the Emperor’s principal advisors. Toran was the first to recognize the stocky, grizzle-haired Khundari, and his face broke into a rare smile.

“Ambassador Grimbold, it’s very good to see you again, sir,” he said, tugging on his beard and bowing low. The others also exchanged pleasant if surprised greetings with the Imperial diplomat whom they had saved from assassination at the hands of an agent of the Vortex in Dürkon almost two years ago.

“Yes, well, good to see you all too, I suppose,” the older Khundari grumbled. “Even though it’s you lot I apparently have to thank for the last half-a-tenday of tedious work I’ve had to endure.”

“Oh, you loved it and you know it, you old goat,” Lord Kavyn laughed. “It’s been too long since you had a chance to really exercise your old spy network… and I notice you got your results in half the time we’d estimated it would take.”

“I’m not that rusty, you poncey magic-boy,” Grimbold growled. But his smile and the gleam in his dark eyes belied his words and tone. He turned back to Toran. “And it’s just Lord Grimbold at the moment, being at home and not currently on one of Gil’s diplomatic junkets.”

After a few minutes of catching up, Lord Kavyn called on Grimbold to present his findings. “The Emperor has already seen the report, of course, but we thought the Hand of Fortune deserved to know what was learned, since it was your reputations on the line if this turned politically hot.”

It took Grimbold half the turning of the glass to lay out how he and his agents tracked down the information, but the gist of it was that it was a certainty now that Thuron Yan had replaced the real Mai Shin in Ty Kyen itself, before the diplomatic mission even set out. This had the benefit of removing any onus from the Ocean Empire, and even gave them a slight edge with the Ty Kyen Imperial Court – after all, they allowed their own embassy to be infiltrated and an imposter to be presented to the Oceanian Emperor as their representative.

“We thought it very likely that the true ambassador, and several of his key personal staff, were dead and their bodies unlikely to ever be found,” Lord Grimbold concluded. “But this morning one of my agents in the Hidden City informed that the Mai Shin and his entourage have been found alive, but in Stasis. They have been revived and confirmed the few elements of the story they knew. It seems your reptilian nemesis had yet retain some part of his humanity, at least up to that point.”

“But how in the Great Void did he know where to find us?” Devrik growled. “Our route here was one we certainly hadn’t planned ourselves!”

“I can’t say with absolute certainty,” Grimbold shrugged. “But given the his age and the tremendous extent of his arcane skills, I would think he used some form of scrying on you. Once he had located you, and knew you were planning to be here awhile, he set his plan in motion – the first step of which was arranging the death of the old ambassador.”

“So his humanity wasn’t all that strong after all,” Mariala said dryly. The Khundaru shrugged.

“A necessary death, to open the vacancy he needed. But when he had a choice, he chose not to kill. Still, I don’t insist on the interpretation, and I’m certainly not defending the… man.”

“In any case, the upshot is, no formal protest over the death will be made by the Lotus Throne,” Kavyn concluded. “Indeed, the event is well on its way to being disappeared from the official records, as far as we can tell.”

The meeting went on for a little longer, as the Hand had several questions for Grimbold, who had more than a few of his own for them. As things were finally wrapping up, however, the Khundari diplomat (and apparently spy master) rapped on the table for everyone’s attention.

“I still consider myself in your debt for the events in Dürkon, and I would consider it an honor if you all would join me next month at my home in the golden city of Zhan-Tor to help me celebrate my 100th birthday.”

•••••

A tenday later, the Hand travelled by Imperial Gate to the Khundari castle town of Torum-Tüm, in the Imperial Princedom of Lakzhan on the island of Greater Oceania. Their ultimate destination, the Princedom’s capital city, golden-roofed Zhan-Tor on the rugged shores of Lake Cirin beneath the snow-clad peaks of Mt. Rastyn, had no Nitrian Gates closer than Torum-Tüm. They were therefore met by Grimbold’s youngest son, Garafal, and took ship to make the 16 kilometer trip up the lake.

It was a cloudy, windy day, with fitful spurts of cold rain, and the lake’s waters were gray and choppy, dotted with whitecaps. As they approached the Khundari city Toran couldn’t help but be impressed. Zhan-Tor lay on the shore of the lake, where the knees of the towering Mt. Rastyn dropped in a series of sheer cliffs and rugged shelves down to the water. Like all Khundari settlements, the bulk of the city lay underground, of course – but unlike most others, Zhan-Tor possessed an extensive Outer City.

Beautiful buildings of carved white stone, roofed in golden tiles, ran down to the water from the base of the lowest cliff, forming the Low Town, while smaller clusters of buildings grouped on two separate terraces higher up the cliff face made the Upper Town, north and south. To the south Toran could see a massive structure rising up the lower cliff face – the famed Great Lift they had heard about even in the Ukali Basin. Elegant gates of stone and steel and bronze were set in the upper cliff faces, granting access to the Inner City

Even in the gray autumn light the Outer City, both Lower and Upper, were beautiful. But as they neared the Long Wharf and the clustered warehouses of the Alienage, a brief break in the clouds allowed the sun to burst through — and the golden roofs of the city burned like molten gold then, while the white stone of the walls gleamed with the sheen of pearls. The many waterfalls cascading down the cliffs and feeding the cities canals shone like white fire. It was breathtaking.

Garafal let his father’s guests gape for a moment, pleased at the reaction his home had evoked in the foreigners. When he judged the moment right he spoke quietly, but proudly. “The Outer City is indeed a wonder, honored guests. But it is as nothing compared to the marvels of the Inner City… as my father looks forward to showing you.”

“I didn’t realize your people built so extensively on the surface, at least not for themselves,” Mariala said, her gaze still fixed on the glowing, almost ethereal beauty of the city.

“Oh, very few of the Folk live in the Outer City,” the young Khundari said, apparently amused at the idea. “And those few live mainly in the Upper Town. No, most of the population of Outer City is Umantari… in fact, over a third of the population of the Princedom is Umantari. Most of them live on the coasts, of course, and the flatter lands more suitable to surface farming.”

Grimbold himself was waiting for the Hand on the dock, along with a number of porters, both Khundari and Umantari. The latter took charge of the baggage, which Grimbold promised would be delivered to his own home and their suite of rooms. He and his son then spent the next two hours showing their guests the sights of their beloved city…