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  Foreword

  This story is my first (and possibly only) sizeable work of fiction to be published. The background is to be found in chapter 418, book 19, Epic 3 of the Adventurers series by Tom Miller. When Tom announced in chapter 619 on 6-March-2000 that he would not be following up the fate of this minor supporting character, I thought I might have a go myself. The following tale is published with his permission.

  The Tale of Arlanni

  Hagor the innkeeper only picked at his beard when he was worried. He picked it now as he studied the delicate cursive script on the transparently thin parchment. His chin was decidedly less luxuriant, such was his consternation at the unexpected missive. It was not the message itself, which was brief to the point of rudeness. "Care for the girl", it read, "the seal, your fee". A few minutes ago, the wax seal had discharged a finely cut gemstone as Hagor had broken it. He was no jeweller, but he was used to adventuring types paying for their stay with gems. He guessed this one was worth at least as much as the inn. Another tuft of hair rolled between his fingertips as he looked across at the dishevelled wench who lay curled up by the dying hearth. If she was indeed the subject, then whoever wrote the letter must have a rare prescience - it must have been written some time before she arrived, or the ink would still be wet, and the seal still soft.

  A polite, tiny cough in front of Hagor snapped his concentration. The beard-tuft drifted to the counter top and rolled off to join its fellows on the worn boards. "A copper for Oliver?" said the urchin expectantly. The boy had delivered the letter over five minutes ago, and deserved at least a copper piece for the trouble. "Who gave it you?" growled the man. "I, er , just found it" he replied hesitantly, not expecting to be believed. Hagor scowled, but somehow, that was the answer he wanted. This was a strange business, smelling of wizards and magic. One does not pry into the affairs of wizards. Hagor's huge hand swept a copper from the counter and hurled it at the urchin's face with such force that it could have put out an eye. The boy caught it easily - as he always did - and grinned back widely. "Now hoppit, young Sarmy" roared Hagor, as the boy took flight through the kitchen and out into the night.

  The innkeeper turned again to observe the girl. She was wrapped in what might have been a sturdy travelling cloak once, though now it was little more than a large rag. A black leather sleeved jerkin showed underneath, and worn boots held together by knotted twine. An empty satchel wrapped round some kindling served as a pillow. With no money for a room the girl had begged for a few minutes by the fire to warm herself and promptly fallen asleep. With an unsteady hand he picked up the letter which had been enwrapped within the one addressed to "innkeeper". It was engraved with one word in the same tiny archaic hand as the other. It was an unusual girl's name. It read - "arlanni"

  Someone was calling. Insistent, distant, over and over again. She spun round, trying to locate the voice, and saw only the dark grey stone of the castle, and her companions, all around her, lying broken and still. Fearing the terrible elven sorcerer would appear at any moment to fix her with his single ghastly eye, and devour her screaming soul. Fearing the wild pale woman that tore poor Arkayn to pieces with bare hands, would seize and shred her too. But the voice was not their voice. It was human, compassionate, concerned, even a bit nervous. Then suddenly she was awake, and staring with frightened eyes at the kindly innkeeper who had allowed her respite from her race through the cold night. They stared at each other in silence for a long minute. The innkeeper swallowed several times during this, and she tugged the edges of the cloak in a futile attempt to hide within it.

  "How did you know my name?" whispered the thief eventually. "So it is true" said Hagor slowly. "What is true?" she asked. "You have a friend of great power" he replied, handing her the little fold of fine parchment. "He has paid me well for your keep." Hagor paused, as his mind adjusted to more familiar territory. "Would you like some ale while I prepare a room? Perhaps a bite to eat?" Arlanni nodded. She was utterly dumbstruck by this turn of events. She had no friends now. The corpses of the other eight members of the Company of Nine lay in the sorcerer's castle in Helgate. The same sorcerer who had restored her life, for no reason, as casually as he had struck down her companions. She had left his money with the church of Pelor, fearing he would control her through it. Or was there a reason after all? If so, how did he know where she would run to. It was more than she could comprehend.

  Arlanni felt a firm hand grasp her arm and seat her unresistingly at a worn trestle. She did not notice a small mug of ale appear beside her, or the flicker of the flames from the kindling which was shaken out of her rolled pack into the embers. She clutched the parchment tightly in one fist, not daring to look at it, as she chewed mechanically at the doorstep of bread placed in the other. Her mind had simply shut down with the cumulative shock of the last few days, and would remain so until she woke the following morning. Hagor picked at his beard again as he watched the two kettle girls haul the limp form up to a hastily made bed. "No good will come of this", he muttered to himself.

  Arlanni slept soundly, completely exhausted from her travel as she was, and did not rise until late morning. Remembering with a start the sudden change in her fortunes she scrabbled for the note which she hoped would answer the host of questions in her mind. After several minutes of rising panic, a crumpled folded sheet eventually turned up amongst the bedsheets, where it had been dropped from a manic grip relaxed by sleep.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, Arlanni picked at the edges of the fold with unsteady fingers. It opened with a resisting scrape as the creased edges were flattened. The message was rather more verbose than the innkeeper's, although Arlanni did not know this. There were only two lines to it, in letters that wasted no space upon the parchment. It read "stay if you seek employment." Then on a new line "curiosity is not becoming. " Finally a small but unmistakable outline of a keyhole with a lockpick alongside it. A strange mixture of elation and fear flowed through her veins. There was no doubt that a powerful and probably wealthy man needed her professional skills, and for fairly obvious reasons wished to remain anonymous. Things were definitely looking up.

  Once this fact had been digested, Arlanni took a closer look at the room her new employer had provided. It might be the best room in the inn, she decided, more likely if the inn had a poor run of fortune. The mattress was well stuffed, the sheets were clean, the room was well lit from windows behind the curtain. As she pulled back the curtain, she gasped at the window itself, or rather the bolts securing the frames. Recently fitted, they were quite massive, and would resist a determined assault. Feeling quite apprehensive now, she decided to ask the innkeeper about both this feature, and the terms upon which he would keep her.

  Hagor was busy preparing his other guests for departure when she saw him. It turned out that he had little more idea about her benefactor than she did. He did not elaborate on the nature of the payment, but insisted she need not worry about it, though stroking the bare patches around his chin with his fingers as he spoke this. Earlier the gem had fetched 100 gold griffons at the moneychanger's, so it must have been worth at least double that. She must be a truly special lady, he thought.

  "What about the window bolts?" asked Arlanni suddenly. Hagor looked puzzled for a moment, but quickly caught the thread. "You're new to Hardby, lass. Some folks are believing the rumours about night creatures. You'll find most houses are well locked at night these-a-days. But don't you trouble yourself, they're a superstitious bunch round here. Anyways, there's plenty of good folks about who will gladly give chase if such things were real". "What sort of things?" she asked anxiously, knowing that most of her work would be at night. "I don't rightly know" he replied, lifting a tangled knot out from under his chin by the roots. Arlanni winced at his unsavoury habit, making Hagor embarra
ssingly aware of it and hastily flicking the evidence to the floor. "I never saw anything meself, like" he continued, holding both his hands firmly on the trestle, lest they wandered back to their former haunt. "But a few people have vanished over the past year and, like, rumours have grown in the telling". Arlanni decided that a few jugs of ale might loosen other tongues around the town, so decided not to press the innkeeper further. Besides, he was her only source of food, shelter, and anything else she needed for the foreseeable future, so she best not upset him.

  The next four weeks passed uneventfully for Arlanni, and Hagor seemed very relaxed about things too. He had clearly found some money from somewhere because the inn was soon crawling with carpenters, tilers, limners and other trades. All manner of things which had seemed a deliberate part of the olde-worlde atmosphere were repaired or replaced. The inn was the only one of any size in the town, and catered especially for merchants and adventurers travelling the high road to Helgate. Arlanni's room was indeed the best room in the house, and remained pretty much as she had first seen it. Hagor had decided that 'care' covered food and board only, not unlimited spending money. The food was well cooked and plentiful, and she soon found herself putting on weight. This meant that apart from a few utilitarian robes donated by the kettle girls, she had to make do and mend her original adventuring garb, while she still fitted it.

  During this time Arlanni frequently mused on the nature of her new, mysterious benefactor. She was being well cared for, so she had something valuable to offer in return. Her lockpicking was improving from regular practice with the various devices around the room. Apart from this though she still had no idea of what was expected of her. Perhaps he was indeed the one-eyed sorcerer. But what would such a powerful man want with a low-level thief at all? Or maybe a merchant in Hardby, desperate for revenge on a rival. And the note. Why was it written on such a small parchment, so tersely? Surely words themselves are not so precious that they must be conserved? Or ink and parchment that it must be used so sparingly. In contrast, the strange obsession with security turned out to be just a local peculiarity. Nothing had happened in Hardby for months, and the night here seemed no different to any other when she dared to practice her nocturnal talents. On the whole, Arlanni was content to keep herself to herself, wait for instructions, and enjoy her new position as a kept woman.

  It had been a tiring journey that night, taking over two hours to reach Hardby. The tiny burdens, insignificant to a man, together weighed almost a fifth of the creature's weight. Exhausted by the flight, it had waited gratefully on the rooftop of the inn, watching with mouse-like eyes and ears for the boy. It had swooped down, releasing the tube in front of its target, who caught it before it drew level with his waist. But there was still more, much more to do. The boy might have glimpsed a diamond glitter against the black night as he glanced upwards, then it was gone, seeking rest, preparing itself for the fulfilment of its mission.

  A knock on her room late that evening brought Arlanni face to face with the inn's adopted urchin, Oliver. "Message for you, miss" he announced, and stepped back smartly when she opened the door. Eye roughly in line with the keyhole, she thought. Arlanni looked down at the hand which was held in a cup shape, ready to receive a coin or two. A minute tube of parchment protruded up from between his fingers. "Just found it, miss" he volunteered. A smile crossed her lips. "Honest miss, it just fell down in front of me" he blurted, looking quite hurt. "You're a lying rat, Sarmy. But here's your due" she said, deftly taking the tube and tossing a brass bit into the air. The cupped hand flew up, closing round the disc even as is slowed in its upward arc, and sped off down the passage. But Arlanni was not watching. She had already turned back into the room, eager to discover how she might secure even greater favours from her new boss.

  The letter was not surprisingly in the same style as the other. But this time it contained very clear instructions. "take jewel from neck of corpse in mortuary. be armed, unseen, tonight". Arlanni's heart jumped with anticipation. Action at last!. This jewel may be a powerful artefact, or an extremely rare and precious stone. Now I will show I am worthy of your trust, she thought.

  Then she began to prepare for the assignment. She knew the mortuary was part of a small temple, situated around the back, where bodies are kept for burial the following morning. She knew it could be approached unseen if she waited until after midnight. It was almost certainly locked, so her lockpicking would be tested. Why armed? Simple precaution, she supposed. She slipped the small dagger into its sheath and buckled the straps which would hold it there. Lockpicks, in a roll on her belt. Dark leather jerkin, hood, pants and boots would make her just about invisible to the occasional watchmen who might brave the imaginary night-creatures. Finally she opened the heavy window bolts and slipped silently down the shaded wall and into the night.

  Arlanni had no trouble in gaining the mortuary doors. It was a bright moonlit night, but with plenty of shadows to hide in, there was little risk of being spotted. The lock was a tough one, and it took several attempts to open it. Then she slipped inside. The room was about 20 feet long, with trestles round the side and end. The moonlight filtered in through slots in the walls which served as windows - too small to admit anything larger than a mouse, but plentiful enough to ventilate the room of the noisome odour of decay. As she became accustomed to the light, she could make out a shroud on one of the trestles which might conceal a corpse.

  Arlanni was not comfortable with death in any form, and felt very apprehensive as she approached the shroud. A hand protruded from beneath it, silver white in the moon beam. Suddenly she felt afraid. What if it was a trap? Perhaps the sorcerer lay beneath the shroud, black sword in hand, waiting to pounce and exact his revenge to violating his castle? She hesitated for several seconds, considering these and other absurd possibilities. Then she reached out and touched the hand, and recoiled from the shock. It was stone cold. It was dead, she realised. Really dead, of course it would be cold. She felt foolish at her own timidity. Swiftly, boldly, she swept the shroud off the body.

  She gasped in surprise, for instead of the old man she expected, ribs wasted with disease or limbs smashed by a violent death, was a beautiful young woman, unmarked and unblemished. Long black hair was wrapped into neat coils either side of the head. She followed the line of the naked body up from the navel, past the breasts, to the slender neck and finely featured face. Around the neck, fastened closely by a delicate chain and locket, was a small, brilliant diamond. Arlanni swallowed dryly, but the lump in her throat was quite persistent. If she were dead herself, would she look like this? What misfortune had befallen this poor woman, to cut her down thus? There was nothing else on the body, no weapon or charm, and nowhere to hide one. Arlanni slowly stroked a cold leg with a finger tip, as if it might be restored to life by her touch. The finger travelled up to the jewel, curled round it, and went to tug it free.

  The jewel was firmly attached by the chain through the little locket. Her mind focused now as a professional with a clear objective. The locket would need to be picked, or the chain broken. She was only asked for the jewel, but confidence in her own lockpicking skills made the locket the obvious target. Ignoring the body now, Arlanni leant down closely over the locket to begin the delicate job of picking it. So intent was she that she did not notice the silvery hands moving slowly up towards her throat until they locked around it.

  Arlanni tried to draw breath to scream, but the hands were already constricting her windpipe too closely. The only sound was the clatter as lockpicks fell on the wood and stone around them. She scrabbled wildly at the cold hands to prise them away, as the corpse sat up and drew its face close to that the terrified thief. "Arlanni, meet your employer" it said slowly and quietly. Arlanni was frozen with fear, and ceased trying to pull the hands away, or even unfasten the dagger from the straps around its sheath. "Be silent or I will terminate our contract" it added. The hands unfastened themselves from her neck, and she collapsed on the floor by the trestle, trying to get
her breath back, but otherwise not moving.

  The corpse swung its slim legs over the side and slipped down onto the floor. It knelt down by the gasping thief, lifted her easily under her armpits and sat her on the trestle. Arlanni was still very shocked, but the fact that she was still alive did much to reassure her that this creature was probably not what it appeared to be. She kept her eyes down, staring at the part of the trestle between her legs, not daring to look up. "Let me introduce myself", said the creature. A hand was placed under her chin and slowly but powerfully raised, forcing her bowed head upright. She half-closed her eyes as her unwilling gaze moved up the creatures body, trying to avoid looking at the thighs, hips, navel and chest in turn . "My name is Victoria" it said, as her eyes locked onto its own. Arlanni realised with a shock that the hand was now warm, living, soft. "It is I you must thank for your comfortable stay here".

  "What do you want with me?", whispered the thief. "All in time", said Victoria. "First, clothe me." Arlanni blinked uncomprehendingly for several seconds. "I did not bring any" she said eventually. Victoria stepped back and glanced quickly down and up Arlanni's seated body, finally staring back at her eyes. "You don't mean .. Oh" said the thief, getting the drift. Nervously, Arlanni started to unfasten the jerkin.

  This was entirely to Victoria's plan. She needed human form for the next part of the mission, and humans usually wore clothes. Unfortunately, she had not yet mastered the skill of morphing her possessions to bat form. The thief garb would be ideal from a number of angles. She looked hungrily at the plump arms and round belly as they emerged from the jerkin. The thief looked up as she handed the jerkin to Victoria and caught her eyes. "You have a pretty body", said Victoria, slipping an arm into the sleeve. Arlanni looked down, embarrassed that she was being appraised. "Boots next", Victoria commanded, fastening the jerkin.