Letters - Ilya's Highcourt Letter

To the Prelate of Aspendale, Expedition Leader, Father of the Quarry.

I am somewhat at a loss for words as to how to begin this letter, and were I of an uncharitable demeanor, lacking respect for my elders and superiors, I might comment in an inappropriate tone about certain respectable members of society who do not adequately *warn* their charges of the nature of certain unbalanced members of the dwarven priesthood. You are aware that my health has always been regrettably fragile, and that I am severely allergic to crossbow bolts.

However, I have my head still, both literally and figuratively, and so I should keep my tongue civil as well.

We arrived in the Capital by the virtue of the magics of mage Kobort and a Lordly mage of his acquaintance. These two, incidentally, have been nothing but helpful and we could do worse than to maintain a friendship with them.

Once in the temple of Bahlahn - we feared that our rather startling news might cause some anxiety in the temple of Clan'ghddn and that staying there might be impolitic - we rested briefly and I arranged for my letters of introduction to be delivered.

Shortly, an honour guard of extremely heavily armed and armoured people arrived, who proceded to behave in such a formal and serious manner as to cause us all intense worry.

This was borne out when the guard escorted us directly into the main part of the Clan'ghddn church and into a room full of several hundred serious looking worthies, including the High Priest of Clan'ghddn. They then fanned out and surrounded us in a ring of gleaming metal, making me rather glad I had chosen to respectfully wear my full battle gear.

I had hoped for something informal.

The festivities were opened up by a dour and foreboding looking gentleman (plainly a Defender of the Faithful, what with the fascination with black) with a solemn declaration along the lines of 'Here is the Heretic, come to destroy our religion. Let us shoot her and her undwarven friends too, huzzah'. It was at this point I noticed the crossbow men, high in the church eaves.

I was mildly perturbed by this unfortunate misinterpretation of intent, but before I could state the errors, I found myself sarcastically clapping instead. I have been around the Bahlahn cleric too long.

This startled the accuser, who was from that point on referred to by Ethne the Human as 'The Bastard' out of due consideration for my sensitivities and our communal lack of interest in being horribly killed. It turned out that our letters of introduction had never arrived, being intercepted along the way. I glowered at the Defender, who pretended to know nothing of this. As such, I was a young Dwarf with no backing, and I was forced to plead my case with the Defender objecting to my very presence.

The High Priest silenced our black-clad trigger-happy friend with a few curt words and bid me tell my tale.

I did so, with shaking hands and an unhappy realisation that we were shortly all to die, possibly with a view towards a little light torture if The Bastard was feeling creative. Incidentally, while I must show all respect for Defenders of the Faithful in general, their leader has a disturbing tendency to pronounce my doom in a loving way which makes me nervous.

The High Priest was moved to veritable yawns by my story, rising out of his boredom only when I noted that the body on the bier I found in our tunnels was that of Clan'ghddn Himself.

Indeed, the whole room was briefly silent before becoming very loud.

It was then that Sicarius and Ethne stepped up around either side of me to shield me from crossbow bolts. I was deeply moved by this action, and would recommend that their respective superiors (if, indeed, Ethne has one) be advised as to their courage and support.

I should note at this point that Phaedra had not 'borrowed' a single article since entering the church, showing great forbearance. Mara herself seemed merely bewildered, but given her all too recent introduction to civilisation, I could emphasize.

I was somewhat oblivious, reliving my experience as the God spoke to me and told me to go forth and spread the word that He had been dwarven as were we all and thus -

I was interrupted, by the Defender, who took this opportunity to announce that I was lying, that his magic said I was lying, that I was a misguided, weak evil fool and would be killed.

I was impotent with rage, as of course I was speaking the truth, but I had no way to prove this if the one testing me was lying himself.

Then someone in the audience shouted out that I spoke the truth. There was more than one cleric out there with the ability to test my words. Things became...difficult, and the strangeness of it all was only compounded when a Seeker of the Truth of Caves arrived, walked blindly towards us, and spread a scrying pool on the ground before the now bewildered High Priest. As you know, these people do not leave the underground, and this one seemed driven.

The Priest, nervous, looked into the pool and was captivated by it as the Seeker panicked, and ran, the hold on him gone. We waited, glancing at each other - for Seekers do *not* leave the caves - until the Defender sneered, spat, and drew his foot through the pool.

Evidently, it broke the High Priest's trance, for he looked up, stunned, and said 'She may very possibly be speaking the truth.'

Then he gradually slumped to one side and lay dead, the shock of the scrying's interruption having killed him.

At this point the riot started. Several crossbows were fired, both at myself and the Defender, on the assumption that any dead heretic was a good heretic, and that it could be either one of us. My honour guard, much to my surprise, formed a shield wall to protect our group, which was absolutely necessary, as suddenly everyone wanted to get to the High Priest, the Defender, or myself, with either murder or aid on their minds.

Realising that the panic was injuring people - indeed, that someone might die in the crush - I cast a calmative spell, which did indeed stop the rioting. Now I had absolutely cold sober Dwarves gradually pushing forward on the guard, forcing us back towards the wall. Looking back towards the Defender, and his grim smile, I realised with a feeling of despair who would ascend the position of High Priest once the mourning was over.

Fortunately, our Guard, being devoted to Truth as an ideal rather than politics, succeeded in getting us out of the city. I may not explain the means here, as they are secret, but it appears that blindness has not completely taken the high church.

We are now heading to find Mara's people, it being unhealthy for me to remain in the capital what with the rioting, the assassination attempts, and the increasingly uncomfortable adulation I seem to be attracting. We will be looking over our shoulders all the way.

I remain Clan'ghddn's faithful, if somewhat stressed, servant,

Ilya.