As we join our intrepid adventurers in mid conversation.......
Sir Richard:
Any sign of poison?
Schol:
Why ask me? I can't tell in this light. Look for yourself.
Hesketh: [through gritted teeth gets a word out clearly]
YES. IS.
Elisabeth: [simultaneously]
Yes.
Schol:
I don't think there's much I can do for Poison. Someone needs to ask the poisoner what kind it is then maybe someone else can do something. I could take a shot at it but likely nothing will happen. If something does happen it's as likely that I'd kill him as cure him.
Sorry Piotr.
Sir Richard: [Face ferocious]
DAMN!! I know the effect, but I have little skill for diagnosis.
[Turns swiftly to the crowd]
Any of you have any knowledge of poisons?
Sister Anne:
I have made a study of poisons. Though it will take some time to determine the type, time which Sir Hesketh may not have. Schol, may I see the arrow please?
[takes the arrow from Schol and examines it]
[Brief pause]
Narrator:
Anne shakes her head, unsure of herself knowing that the two leading candidates have opposing treatments.
Richard swears sulphurously, displaying an unexpectedly good grasp of the vernacular.
Sir Richard:
Anne, Schol, keep him alive and buy us some time.
[Rights the table, leaps onto it and bellows]
SERGEANT YASGAR! WE NEED THAT BOWMAN HERE IF WE ARE TO SAVE HESKETH!
Narrator:
Without hesitation, Yasgar sends two Royals ahead to open a path while he hoists the limp bowman and carries him into the table. Jhereg follows close at hand. Richard gestures at the man and looks suprised when he doesn't move. He looks at the man's head, then lays his hand on it, muttering. Then he gestures again, this time with a nearly instant result. As the man's eyes flutter open, Richard picks him up off the ground and holds him by his shoulders just out of tip-toe range.
Sir Richard: [snarling]
Miscreant, what poison did you use on this knight of the realm?
Bowman: [eyes are dilated to the point of being all black]
NotSoLoud...OhMyAchinHead...LightSoDamnBright...WhereThe-
[shuts his eyes and concentrates]
Uh, The question again, milord, uh What the...No, you said
[blinks]
Uh, Asked me Uh...
Narrator:
With amazing speed, Richard drops the man, slaps his face, and grabs him by the throat. He pushes his face within inches of the bowman, eyes growing larger...
{Psi on}
Sir Richard: [hissing]
Again, now... look in my eyes and tell me the truth! What poison was on that bolt?!
Bowman:
Damn that hurt.
[blinks]
[shuts his eyes]
Beggin milords' pardon, but what the hell just happened? I mean, before the lights got so bright and the horse kicked my head. Be real nice if I knew what my name was too...
Narrator:
Elisabeth puts her hand over her mouth, surprise evident on her face. Blackbird hisses quietly and turns away from Richard, squeezing Luther's forearm tightly.
Luther: [whispered to Blackbird]
What's wrong?
Blackbird: [pale, whispered]
It's nothing. If anyone deserves it that one does. Hesketh's life is worth it. It is only my own memories that make me flinch. What some nobles can do with their minds can be a peculiar form of rape. I always manage to forget it around Richard. That makes it all the worse when I am reminded.
Luther: [makes a connection, evil in his voice]
Bart "Badd Ass" Baerman, registered mercenary at the Merc's Market in Silver Strike, McKitrick. Occasional bounty hunter, rumored to be a member of that guild too.
[he pauses for breath, but Richard gives him a look that says, 'Go on, you're doing fine.']
So far we can't tell your ugly face from your ugly ass, 'cause both are spewin the same thing. You're stupid and your head hurts but that only the start of a long and excruciatin conversion to an even uglier piece of carrion unless you tell us just exactly what the #$% was on that bolt that you shot at us.
[Those who know Luther can tell how upset he is by how printable his language is]
Baerman: [who still has no short-term memory thanks to Yasgar]
'Smee aright, thanks.
[blinks and shuts eyes again]
Uh,
[said as rapidly as he can get it out]
I'm a registered mercenary in Silver Strike, McKitrick. When hostilities are over, I can be ransomed for five thousand silvers if I live. That sum is bounty on the heads of my killers if I'm killed.
What'd I do again? Did our side win?
[shuts his eyes]
Sir Richard: [hissing]
I say, ... look in my eyes and tell me the truth! What poison was on that bolt?!
Baerman: [squints at the bolt]
Bolt? Uh.... Did I miss the Drow? There's a thousand silver on his head.
[a fragment of short-term memory clicks]
- --OH SHIT, I hit Lord Hesketh's son!
Did they get the drow before he got away?
Schol: [conversationally, untroubled by the man's purple face]
Actually, it's up to two thousand now. You're out-of-date.
Sir Richard: [Intense whisper]
Focus, dead man, on the poison.
Baerman: [hoarsely]
I won't tell you unlessssssss...
{Contact is made}
[Eyes turning wild, he begins to struggle and yell]
NOOOOO!! Get out! Get out of my...
Narrator:
The man struggles wildly but his yell is cut short by a right cross that renders him silent and unconcious. Richard drops the limp body and turns to Hesketh in time to see his eyes turn glassy and his head slump onto his chest. The crowd, which was initially noisy, grows silent; some with the realization of what has happened, others because the prospect of bloodshed has ceased.
Sir Richard: [Looking pale but determined, speaking to Schol and Anne]
It's called "High Shock." Has anyone heard of it?
Sister Anne: [waves Richard to silence]
[mutter, murmur - unless she's good enough to just think it at Hesketh]
[Hesketh opens his eyes and makes as if to get up. Elisabeth starts breathing normally again, unaware that she had been holding her breath]
[quietly]
Shh. Sit still and let the miracle complete. It will take some time for all of the poison to burn off. You can thank Duke McKitrick for your life
[when Sir Hesketh arches an eyebrow, she continues]
by having a paranoid son.
Narrator:
Elisabeth lays her hand on Anne's arm.
Hesketh: [softly]
Elisabeth: [normal voice]
Thank you.
Jhereg: [A few minutes later, to James.]
Assign a guard to Schol's tent. When the healers are finished with Hesketh assign a guard to his tent as well until he has recovered his strength. I doubt that this scum
[kicking the unconscious Bart]
has any friends who might wish to avenge his death but we will take no chances.
Luther: [matter of factly, sounding helpful]
Bart's not worth worrying about, Lord. It's an occupational hazard, any friends of his would know that and be after the bounty on his killers more so than true vengeance. Guild rules say that only applies if he was killed in the line of work he was actually hired for, and are very clear that bounty hunting does not count.
No bounty, no vengence. Hell, if you tried to take vengence on everybody who's ever killed a merc, there wouldn't be any business left. It's just the nature of the job.
Narrator:
Richard extends his hand and speaks to Sgt. Yasgar. Yasgar stares at it for a moment, then takes it.
Sir Richard: [Looking fatigued]
Thank you, Sergeant, for not pausing to ask questions. That was too close.
Yasgar: [firm handshake]
Aye, milord. I 'ope I didn't 'it 'im too hard, weren't time ta hafta do it twice.
James: [Picking up on the "death" comment, ignoring Luther]
How do you plan to do it, my Lord?
Jhereg: [Verbally talking to himself for Jame's benefit.]
He is guilty of assaulting a nobleman and openly bearing arms despite the decree prohibiting such. Obviously, the man is a spy instead of an "honest" mercenary. None of the mercenaries sworn to our service have the right to wear a guardsman's livery. A thief to boot by the clothes he wears.
Assemble the troops in four hours time and hang him for all to see. Read his crimes aloud so that all may hear. I will draft a pronouncement shortly.
Luther: [realizing he's being ignored, unspoken]
Fine. Just trying to help.
Narrator:
Under James' directions, several guardsman gather up the unconscious Bart and leave.
Jhereg:
Sergeant Yasagar, I would like to see you in my tent immediately.
Yasgar:
Aye, Lord Jhereg.
[to one of the soldiers]
Lance, keep 'em in line 'till I'm back or Cap'n Snodgrass shows.
Jhereg: [to Richard]
Would you join me for lunch later, Sir Richard? I would like to discuss this mornings events with you.
Sir Richard:
Certainly, Lord Jhereg.
Luther: [to Blackbird, much calmer now that Hesketh looks OK]
Hell of an interrogation technique the Baron has there. How do you think he did it?
Blackbird: [looks reluctant, but decides to talk. Draws him away from the crowd]
I don't know how to explain exactly. Everyone I have known who is in the immediate family of a Duke has very strange abilities. Sir Rabban, Sir Richard, Glorianna, and the Waltham family, who are almost like my own family. And others I have only heard about -- like Lady Diana. I have a suspicion that it is a power bestowed on all rightful Dukes and their families.
They are frightening people to live around, realizing that nothing you think may be private. [shudders] Or that what you think or feel may not be your own thoughts.
Sir Richard: [Color returning slowly]
Sister, is it safe to move him now? I'd like to get him off the ground.
Sister Anne:
Yes, that should be fine.
Sir Richard: [To the crowd in general]
Could someone lend a hand here? I'd hate to have to carry this moose by myself.
Schol: [sincerely]
I'd be more than happy to help.
Hesketh: [some strength returning to his voice]
Sir Luther, I would be honored if you would assist me. I was pleased to see that a mere table, no matter how strongly kicked, was sufficient to catch you unaware.
Narrator:
[GM, helping a busy Ed with Luther, rolls a 6 for eloquence on Luther's part]
Luther seizes the moment and pat Hesketh on the back, something he will be unable to do when Hesketh rises. He braces himself and helps Richard bring Hesketh to his feet, making full use of his shortness and Hesketh's chain.
Luther: [working hard to get the words out right]
Think nothing of it, good Sir. Merely a knight doing his duty.
[unspoken]
Holy shit! No wonder they compare your wide-ass sister to a cow. If she's as heavy as you are, the floorboards aint safe. I pity your horse, man.
Narrator:
Once vertical, and with Schol's added assistance, Hesketh starts moving. Elisabeth gives Bart one last look and then follows Richard and Hesketh.
Hesketh:
Sir Richard, while you renounce claims to the throne, you are still, I believe, the head of your extended family now. I doubt that I will be very active this day, so I would be most grateful if you and I could talk of familial matters...