“ ‘Around’ is about the best I can say, unfortunately.” Stevos said with a grimace.
“Around?”
“He’s itinerant and travels the area around Murgatroy and many of the deeper villages of Murgandy,” Stevos said. “He just happened to be in Murgatroy when the D’Orcs came to town.”
“He is still here?” Hilda asked.
Stevos shrugged. “I would think so; it was just last night that he contacted me. If he’s not still in the city, he is going to be close by.”
“Very well, then. Can you follow your illumination line to him?” Hilda asked.
“I should be able to. I have never really had to do it from the Planes of Men before. Normally I’m doing it from Tierhallon and so — ”
“I know.” Hilda beamed at him and gave him a small pat on the shoulder. “It is trickier here because everything is close and the lines tangle. From up there, the lines spread out over all of Astlan so they become easier to track. Down here, it is like being in a bowl full of noodles trying to follow a single noodle!”
“Exactly. Let me try.” Stevos stepped up against a nearby wall and closed his eyes.
Hilda waited patiently while he worked to trace the illumination line. She looked around at the Stone Age village they were in. The best buildings were crudely carved stone; many were of fieldstone and a fair number were timber of various sorts. As she was looking around, she noted a beggar surreptitiously heading their way. Hilda softly chanted a ritual to distract his attention elsewhere, quickly making the semantic gestures inside her sleeves.
The beggar suddenly looked to his right and started scuttling to his left. Hilda smiled; she was not up for starting any more beggar battles. Freehold had been enough for her; she would leave well enough alone down here. For one thing, she thought with a grimace, there appeared to be a lot more people, all of various races, missing limbs or with scars, so the beggar pool was potentially far larger here.
“Got him!” Stevos said, opening his eyes. “He’s that way, near the city wall.” He pointed around the corner to their right.
“Lead on, my dear. Lead on!” Hilda encouraged him.
Stevos followed the illumination line through the crowded streets, around several corners and between a couple of buildings. Finally, they came upon a smithy, where an individual in priestly robes with the symbol of Tiernon emblazoned on the back was bent over, healing someone.
As they came up, they could see he was tending a young girl in a smith’s apron who had apparently burned herself. The smith, presumably her father, was hovering over her. Stevos and Hilda waited quietly for the priest to finish his healing. After another minute, the priest stopped praying and stood up.
“How does that feel?” he asked the girl.
“Much better, Teragdor! Thank you.” She gave the hooded priest a hug. The smith nodded and reached out to shake the priest’s hand. Hilda noted a small silver coin donation in his hand. Very good, she thought, nodding in appreciation.
“Good day, Master Sorensen!” The priest nodded, turned to leave and saw the two of them standing there watching him. Hilda got a good look at him. Mmm. Ugly young man. He appeared to be in his twenties, with a large jaw and mouth. Oversize teeth, but no tusks. Large eyes with a vertical irises, like a cat. His skull was rather large and square, somewhat out of proportion to his large-boned, yet very thin frame and his large, bony hands.
He nodded at the two humans staring at him. “Good day. May the peace of Tiernon be upon you,” he said in the traditional greeting, preparing to move past them. As he did so, Stevos put out a hand.
“The peace of Tiernon be with you as well, Teragdor. Might we speak with you somewhere private?” Stevos asked gently as Hilda gave the man one of her bright smiles.
Teragdor looked at them suspiciously. “Have we met?”
An oddly suspicious reaction for a priest, but Hilda assumed that being a half-orc priest of Tiernon was not always easy. Nor would being a priest of Tiernon of any sort in this region.
“Not directly.” Stevos smiled.
“Not directly? How do you know my name?” Teragdor asked.
“Your patient spoke your name.” Hilda grinned at him, trying to relax the young priest.
“What is this about?” Teragdor asked.
“Events that occurred here yesterday that you reported last night,” Stevos said with a grin and a flash of his eyebrows.
The priest got a shocked look on his face. “The missives I sent to the Father Abbot could not possibly have reached anyone yet. It would take a solid day for my crow to get there.”
Stevos chuckled. “Not that missive; the other one that you sent to me.”
“We really should go somewhere a bit more private,” Hilda said, taking one of the priest’s elbows. “Do you by any chance have a room at a local inn?”
Teragdor was so busy being puzzled by Stevos’s comments that he was slow to answer Hilda. “Uhm, no. I usually camp a ways outside in the woods.”
“Can you name a good, safe, quiet inn?” Hilda asked. “We are paying.”
“Uhm, the Blind Orc’s Gut is about as reputable as any place in town, and they usually have a spare room or two. They are a bit pricier than some, which is why,” Teragdor stated, his attention now on Hilda.
“Excellent, dear. You may help guide us on the way.” She had him by the left arm and Stevos by the right. Clearly, the priest was nervous and confused.
“Are you with the Church? I am a reliable and honest priest. The Father Abbot can vouch for me!” Teragdor said nervously.
Stevos chuckled softly in a friendly manner. “Teragdor, you have nothing to worry about. We just need to work with you to understand and fully appreciate the report you sent me last night.”
“I only sent a report to the Father Abbot. I didn’t send a report to you.”
“Well, technically I guess it’s not exactly a report, but a Prayer of Dire Deliverance tends to work in a similar, if expedited manner,” Hilda chided him gently.
Teragdor inhaled suddenly and tried to halt in place. “What? You mean...”
Both Hilda and Stevos worked to keep him moving. “Yes. That’s why we think it best to discuss these matters in private,” Stevos said. “I am Stevos Delastros; last night you sent me a Prayer of Dire Deliverance, and now it’s being answered.”
Teragdor was staring at Stevos in shock. “Seriously? You are Saint Stevos Delastros? You are real?”
Hilda snorted. “An all-too-common reaction. Oh, ye of little faith. I swear, some of the priests are worse than the lay people. Tell me, why would you bother praying to a saint for intercession if you didn’t expect to get it?”
Teragdor turned to stare at Hilda. “Are you a saint also?”
Stevos grinned. “Teragdor, may I have the pleasure of introducing the Holy Saint Hilda of Rivenrock!”
Teragdor grimaced slightly. “Sorry, Your Holiness. I’m not familiar with you or your work.”
Hilda grinned. “I’d be highly surprised if you were! I’m from Eton and we are deep in the heart of Norelon, so it would be very unusual for anyone here to have heard of me.” She patted him on the back. “Don’t you worry, though. Who we are is nowhere near as important as what you saw!”
Lilith entered her bedchamber planning to disrobe the old-fashioned way and take a nice cooling whirlpool bath. With a flick of her hand, she lit the lamps in her room, bringing light to the darkly curtained boudoir.