Finally alone. Time to be a tad naughty.
I retreated to my cave, cursing the simple fact that most cave mouths do not come equipped with doors or pull curtains. No matter. I lit several torches to give plenty of light for which to see, and sat down, native-style, on the cave floor, pulling forth my Trump cards. I regarded each in turn, until I came to the one that I hoped I could trust the most. Korbin was technically my liege, though I'd never met him personally. I did think that if I showed him the proper amount of obsequium and reminded him who I was that he'd leave my mind in one piece.
Time passed -- I know not how much. My calves began to cramp sitting as I was, and although the cave was cool, I felt sweat beading on my brow. Finally, after an eternity of concentration -- a contact, a presence strong, confident, yet wary. I was struck with the feeling that this mind was infinitely crafty.
"Yes?" came a voice from the darkness.
I mentally "bowed" to him, and he recognized me, somewhat: "Aren't you Rowan's bard?" Well, technically yes, I suppose. I got to the point quickly -- that by her urging I found myself searching for my father, who I believed to be Korbin's brother Carrick. Korbin seemed to be sympathetic, somewhat -- he did reveal to me that his brother Carrick's true name was Caine.
As the contact ended, I swore to myself. I wished I'd had the full deck of the cards so that I could have Korbin point out which was Caine. As it stood, I had the name but nothing else -- Caine had wandered off again into the Shadows and Korbin knew not where.
I walked back out into the sunlight and considered my situation -- I'd been given a tantalizing piece of information in Caine's name, but to proceed further I'd have to tip my hand to my friends.
Gods, I wish Greyson was still here, if only for to shed light on things.
*****
A few days later and we were ready to roll. Shen helped me outfit Syrana with a weapon and armor; Cecily had healed enough to move, and we were joined by several of the Eryians. Fletcher had been given directions on how to get us to Llewella's domain, and we traveled for a good two days before reaching the shoreline of a vast sea. On the beach stood two runed pillars -- in between which stood a small figure with short dark hair.
"Salome," growled Fletcher, and they began to spar verbally. What it boiled down to was that Fletcher wanted nothing to do with her, though she'd hinted that she had information to share -- especially with Shen. Salome suggested that we go to a neutral site -- the underwater lair of Llewella -- to talk, but Fletcher wanted none of it. I, however, owed Shen my loyalty as his friend, and thus promised to stand by him. Eventually we agreed to settle this under the sea, and down we went.
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