Rocalla's Saga: Arrival

25: The Sewers of Mandelbroggen —

1054 Kyabalaka 6

It starts with a soft glow, a gradual dissipation of the deepest darkness. Dierdra and I have been sitting against the wall for hours wondering whether our vision even works anymore. We sense only the cold of the stone floor, the gentle flowing of the sewer water, and the scampering of tiny feet. So when the darkness begins to lighten, I am unsure whether to expect torch light or madness.

Within minutes the glow has intensified to the point where I can discern the joints between the stone blocks, the edge separating the walkway from the ditch, and the candle stands in front of us. Then we hear footsteps. I glance at Dierdra to make sure she is aware of the approaching contact, then turn my attention back to the main passageway.

I have to squint and cover my eyes when the torch rounds the corner. Words are spoken in Franhkallan; Dierdra responds. I peek between my fingers until I can make out the faces of the twin sisters. They remain at the corner, where we stood a week before. Dierdra continues to converse with them until I am able to lower my hand. Finally, they approach us.

“This is Nassandra,” Dierdra says.

“Rocalla,” I say, slowly rising to my feet. “Tell her I’m sorry that I don’t speak much Franhkallan yet.”

“I already have,” says Dierdra.

The woman stands quietly in front of me, her wavy blonde hair falling down unto the shoulders of her coarsely woven brown dress and the lighter brown hooded cloak she wears over it. The numerous yellow, golden yellow, and brown gems hanging from her gold necklaces sparkle in the torch light.

When her sister has finished lighting the candles, she puts the torch in a holder on the wall and comes over to join us.

“This is Feneksia,” Dierdra says.

“Rocalla,” I say to introduce myself again. She looks exactly like her sister, having the same height, the same build, the same blue eyes, and the same clothes. Only the jewelry is different. Feneksia’s chains are silver, and the jewels are all shades of red.

“Tell them why we’re here,” I say.

“It can wait until we are all present,” a harsh voice says from behind the women. It is Borojs Zet, the short, almost bald wizard we met before.

“I suppose that it can,” I say.

“Dropping in on our meetings uninvited is becoming a regular habit with you two.”

“It won’t happen again. But given recent events, we thought it would be wise to talk to you one more time.”

“Ah yes, recent events,” he says.

We stand there in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the remaining members of the group to arrive. It is twenty minutes before Elanor appears. I feel conspicuous as Feneksia stares at me intently. There is no animosity evident in her expression, just an intense examination of my person, as she inspects every detail of my appearance, often with her head tilted to one side or another. I wonder what she is thinking, and I am filled with discomfort as I feel naked and exposed to the core of my being. I look toward her sister, who is content to wait quietly, stealing an occasional glance in my direction while primarily looking at the floor, the walls, or her own hands.

When Elanor rounds the corner, she pauses for a second. “It seems our numbers have grown,” she says. “I apologize for my lateness. There were delays getting through the East Gate tonight.” She then says something in Franhkallan.

Borojs responds in kind, then switches to Gallish, “Since we have a couple of visitors tonight, we will skip our usual business and get right to a discussion of current events. With my apologies to Feneksia and Nassandra, we will use Gallish. Elanor, please translate.”

“Yes,” she says. She then addresses the twins.

Borojs faces us. “Perhaps you can start by telling us what happened at the town square yesterday at noon.”

“Okay,” I say. “I can do that. I’ll give you the short version first. You can ask questions if you want to, and I’ll go into more detail as needed.

“Bishop Rul told everyone of the discovery of Bishop Narvaan Kel’s body. He told the people that Bishop Kel was murdered by practitioners of wizardry. Stopping there, he all but assured that you, the Circle Cultists, would be blamed.”

“No mention of what we discovered in the castle?” Elanor asks.

“None.”

“I would expect nothing less from our dear Bishop Rul,” Borojs says.

“But, Father Hafhmar Maan addressed the people as Bishop Rul was leaving. He told them that there was more to the story, and he presented the orb that we left with the church.”

“Did he tell them where it came from?” Elanor asks.

“No, someone shot him before he had the chance. When he was shot, he dropped the orb and it broke. The town square erupted in flames. That’s when things really got bad.”

“Did anyone get hurt?” Elanor asks.

“Several dozen were burned to death, including Hafhmar Maan. More were injured.”

“Oh, no,” Elanor says quietly.

“Dozens more were trampled in the ensuing panic,” I say.

“And we are being blamed for all of it,” Borojs says.

“The people have been told that wizards are to blame, and unfortunately you are the only wizards they know.”

“Who shot the priest?” Borojs asks.

“Someone shot him with a crossbow. He or she was standing on a balcony up on the third floor of the town hall. I didn’t recognize him, but then I didn’t get a really good look either.”

We spend the next half hour answering questions about the orb, the magic it released, and the crowd’s reaction to everything. The twins ask questions as well, with either Elanor or Dierdra serving as translator. After a while, the talk shifts to Franhkallan as the Circle Cultists start to discuss things amongst themselves. I stand back in the corner, shivering a bit from the cold.

“Enough,” Borojs says. The group quiets down and Borojs walks over to me. Looking up into my face, he asks, “So why are you here tonight? Certainly not to give us a report on yesterday’s tragedy.”

I gather my cloak more tightly around my body and stand straight and tall. “We’re leaving Mandelbroggen,” I say. “It’s not safe for us to stay here any longer. From what I can tell, it’s not safe for your either. We’re here to invite you to join us.”

“Leave Mandelbroggen? Now? Are you nuts? We’re on the verge of winter,” Borojs says.

“That’s unfortunate, but we still need to leave.”

“Where will you go?” he asks.

I look at Dierdra, and she nods. “The Duradh Plateau, south of here,” I say.

“Over the mountains?” Elanor says. “Why not hide in one of the small North Plessian villages?”

“Elanor,” Borojs says, “most of us came from those small villages to escape persecution. If anything, it will be worse for us in the small towns.”

“In any case,” Dierdra says, “I am not going back to rural North Plessia.”

“So who is making the journey?” Borojs asks. “Just the two of you?”

“The two of us, a swordsman, and as many of you as would like to come,” I say. “And possibly a naturalist.”

“A band of wizards led by a priestess, how ironic,” Borojs says. “When do you plan to leave on this journey?”

“Tomorrow at dawn,” Dierdra says.

“So soon? You don’t give us much time to decide or prepare.”

“I don’t suspect that the Pyrusians are going to give us much time,” I say.

The twins walk over and speak to Dierdra for several minutes. Then all three of them turn to face me.

“Rocalla,” say Feneksia and Nassandra.

“Feneksia and Nassandra have asked to join us,” Dierdra says. “They don’t have much to pack, and can get ready tonight.” She continues translating as the twins speak. “They apologize for not having food for the journey, but say that otherwise they are prepared for a winter trip. They hope that we can accommodate them.”

“We would be honored to have you join us,” I say.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dierdra translates as Elanor speaks to the twins. I do not understand their spoken answer, but I can see from the nodding of their heads that they wish to accompany us.

“You will allow us time to discuss this,” Borojs says.

Dierdra and I stand and wait in silence as the wizards speak to each other. The talk grows heated, and soon there is a lot of gesturing and nodding and shaking of heads. Through it all, I maintain my composure and wait. Dierdra looks at me and appears to want to speak, but she follows my example.

Finally, the wizards stop talking to each other and turn to face us. “Feneksia and Nassandra will be accompanying you, as they have said,” Borojs says.

“I am also coming,” Elanor says. “I am reluctant to leave Mandelbroggen. I was born here, and I have never ventured more than a few kilometers outside the city walls. But Borojs has convinced me that you are right, it is not safe for any of us to stay in Mandelbroggen. I trusted you before, Rocalla, and you brought us to safety. I will trust you again.”

“Thank you for joining us,” I say. After a moment passes during which no one speaks, I say, “That leaves you, Borojs. What do you intend to do?”

“I strongly dislike the idea of traveling in the wilderness,” he says. “I especially don’t relish putting myself in the land of the Rhozzhan. Traveling during the winter is sheer insanity, but I don’t like the thought having to face a church tribunal, either. Your little excursion into the castle has made matters difficult, and my choices are limited. I will travel with the group.”

“Then it is settled,” I say. “We will leave at dawn tomorrow.”

“Yes,” says Borojs. “Wait here while we wrap up our meeting. Then we will make arrangements to meet tomorrow morning and depart here together.”

“Agreed,” I say. Dierdra and I stand by while they gather in a close circle to talk. Speaking in soft voices, I doubt that Dierdra can hear them well enough to understand what they are saying. I do not ask.

Instead I stand there contemplating the burning candles and concentrating on the smell of the molten wax. I am happy that the four of them have agreed to join us, but uneasy as well. I think about how unprepared we are, about how little food we have, about our ability to live off the land in winter.

When I arrived in Mandelbroggen, alone, I was uneasy but excited. Now that I face heading out into the unknown again, those feelings return, but intensified. This time I will not be alone, and justified or not, I cannot escape the feeling that the fate of these people is in my hands.

The Circle Cultists finish and we prepare to depart. “Are you still staying at The Happy Pilgrim?” Elanor asks us.

“Our packs are still there, and we need to pick them up,” I say. “But I don’t think that it is safe for us to sleep there overnight.”

“Feneksia and Nassandra rent a couple of rooms in a building not far from here. We’re going to go by there and pack their stuff, and then we’re all going to my home. We can pass by The Happy Pilgrim on the way.”

“Okay,” I say.

“You two can stay in my home tonight. It’s not very big, but it’s close to our meeting place tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” say Dierdra and I.

Then the six of us depart the sewers of Mandelbroggen.