“So did he know this Zargvarst?” Gastropé asked.
“Given Aeriel’s very brief tightening of his brow, right between his eyebrows, the slight narrowing of the eyelids and the mildly flaring nostrils?” Trevin nodded. “I suspect so.” She chuckled.
“You actually seem to be enjoying this,” Jenn said to the enchantress.
“Prince Ariel is a friend and colleague of mine, yet he can be a bit hot-headed, impetuous and downright imperious, even for an alfar,” Trevin said. “He overstepped the boundaries that he himself negotiated through the Grove with the orcs.” She shrugged. “For once, the orcs have the upper hand. They do not get that very often.”
“You sound rather pro-orc,” Jenn said, puzzled.
“I am neutral; that’s the entire point of the Grove,” Trevin stated. “I try to stay above the fray, so to speak. Of course there are exceptions — those who do not wish to play by the rules the rest of us have agreed to. In those instances, I am less neutral. Neutrality does not mean passivity.”
“You mean like the Storm Lords?” Gastropé asked.
“And, at certain points in time, Oorstemoth, as well as others.” Trevin nodded.
“But the orcs play by the rules?” Jenn asked skeptically.
“By their interpretation of the rules. Yes, they are very honorable in their own way, even as are the alvar. However, misunderstandings arise, tempers flare and wars happen. The Grove seeks to prevent such things from happening — at least, between the various races, and the worlds upon which we operate. We stay out of a race’s internal affairs.”
“What about this demon lord? Orcus?” Jenn asked.
“Orcus?” Trevin sighed.
“Lord of the Underworld, the Damned Prince, as I recall you saying,” Maelen said with a smile.
“Hard as it is to believe, he died before I joined the Grove,” Trevin said.
“But with a name liked the Damned Prince, how trustworthy can he be?” Jenn asked.
“That is a matter of perspective. I used the term ‘Damned Prince’ because that is the title given to him by the alvar.” Trevin said. “However, in some stories, the title would be better phrased as ‘Prince of the Damned.’ ”
“Why is that better?” Gastropé asked, frowning.
“Are you familiar with the ancient phrase, ‘Thrice damned be he who breaketh his oath?’” Trevin asked.
Gastropé shrugged, glancing at the others. “Of course.”
“Well in certain circles, Orcus is the Punisher of Oath Breakers, and Lord of the Underworld to which they are cast down,” Trevin said.
“So he took oaths very seriously?” Jenn said.
“Yes. He is in charge of punishing those who break their word,” Trevin said.
“You mean like Talarius, who broke his oath and allowed the Rod to assist him in single combat?” Gastropé asked. “Who he then dragged down to the actual underworld, the Abyss?”
Trevin stared at him in shock, as did the others. No one said anything for a moment.
“How did I miss that?” Trevin shook her head slowly from side to side. “I have been so blind.”
“That certainly makes the most sense of anything we’ve heard,” Elrose said.
Gastropé turned to stare out the window, trying to piece all of this together. Tom swore up and down that everything was coincidental. As far as Gastropé could see, everything had been coincidental — very crazy coincidental. It could not have been planned. There were too many parts to be arranged.
“This would imply that Orcus planned all of this, but there are simply too many moving parts needed for all of this to just happen,” Gastropé said, sharing his thoughts out loud.
“Coincidence, providence, prophecy, fate?” Maelen said. “There is something happening on a much larger scale than we can see at this time. We’ve known that since this trip started, but only now is the game board being revealed to us.”
Gastropé glanced to his side to see Jenn staring at him. Clearly she was going to want to talk to him in private.
“So, what have you learned, Vicar General?” Hilda asked Grob Darkness Slayer as he sat down in his chair in the conference room the saints had taken over a few days before. Grob and Aeris had joined the three saints and two apostles to fill them in on the first results from interrogating the prisoners.
“Not as much as we might hope.” Grob shook his head.
“I personally oversaw the initial interviews with the former vampires,” Aeris told them.
Hilda nodded. That would make sense; you wanted a priest who was a skilled Truth Seer. Aeris, as a half-alvaran priestess, would most likely be very good.
“The two that you re-turned later were very low-level; one had only been a vampire for three months, the other two years,” Aeris said. “As a consequence, they had very little information to provide, other than personal observations. Such observations will take longer, more detailed interviews. At their low rank, it’s doubtful they understood much of what they might have observed.”
“The others?” Timbly asked.
“Vladimir is refusing to answer any questions, and in fact, seems to be in shock. He simply sits on the floor hugging his knees, staring at his feet with locked teeth and a tense stare,” Aeris said.
“That is not unheard of.” Hilda nodded. “Vampires that have spent more of their existence as Unlife than living, often have a terrible time adjusting back to mortality. I would expect the younger ones to be more resilient, depending on the nature of their turning.”
“The other two, Vladimir’s right and left hands, so to speak, are in less shock, but are being very recalcitrant. We are getting some information — we know their names, mission and a few other facts — but we will need several more interrogation sessions,” Aeris said.
“What about the dhampyr?” Teragdor asked.
“We have not talked to him yet,” Grob said.
“Why not?” Rasmeth inquired.
“I wanted to test out my Truth Sight on the others first; I am not sure how well it works on dhampyrs. I confess I’ve never interviewed one before,” Aeris replied.
“To be honest, we normally don’t interview Unlife that often, other than some ghouls and an occasional ghast. Vampires are tricky to capture, extremely hard to contain and generally resistant to Truth Sight,” Grob said.
Hilda nodded in understanding. “If the dhampyr is young, Truth Sight should work fine. He appeared to be quite young, but that can be misleading. Dhampyrs can live for a very long time, at least by their non-vampiric racial norms.”
“So something like half-alfar?” Aeris, the half-alfar, asked.
“Analogous, but in a much less pleasant manner,” Hilda agreed.
Teragdor looked at Hilda curiously.
“They have to feed,” Hilda said, seeing his look. “If they feed well, they can live a long time; if they feed not-so-well for long enough, they will not live any longer, and often have shorter lives than their non-Unlife counterparts.”
“Would you like to be in on the questioning of the dhampyr?” Aeris asked. “Technically, they are your prisoners. You can be involved with any of them that you want.”
Hilda shrugged. “I can take a look at the dhampyr, be there for the questioning. Give you my thoughts on how accurately the Truth Sight is working.”
Aeris nodded. “Very well; my thought is to resume after the midday meal. Shall I come for you here?”
“I will be here.” Hilda smiled. Aeris, Grob and the other locals had been so much more cooperative this morning, after she had actually gone into the field and accomplished something that would have been very difficult for their own people to do.
It confirmed one of Hilda’s long-standing beliefs: when you are willing to get down to work and get your hands dirty alongside others, they take your advice much more to heart. That was the problem that saints and avatars often faced. Familiarity without shared sacrifice could often generate resentment over time. It was one thing to be distant and use the shock value of an unexpected manifestation; the more mystery, the better. But it was another to be present and seeming to only give orders or make demands without contributing.