The Troubles of Caer Sidi (23 May 2002) Tom learns of the plight of Caer Sidi from Oberia.

Caer Sidi
A wide square surrounding an old and very dry well, positioned before a gate that opens into a marketplace that is loud with the cries of hawkers and the brays and other noises of wild animals -- many of which would be hard to identify for even a skilled explorer like Thomas.

The walk through the Grand Bazaar is filled with wonders that Wisewoman Oberia is only too pleased to describe to Thomas and his friends as they walk, but from time to time, he feels watched, for it iss more than the cold winds, desert-arid, that stir the hair on the back of his neck. A look at Oberia's face tells him that she knows it as well. "Mind yourself, old friend," she whispers. "We are safe in public and in my home, but accidents have been known to happen to strangers in alleys."

"Accidents, indeed. I've noticed someone has been observing me since I arrived," Thomas comments. He scans the area, green eyes narrowed. "I think Jack's agents are about. I'll have to deal with that -- but later."

Rachel has been keeping her eyes more on the people and other living things around them, then on the sights or their guide. She brushes her dark hair behind one ear, scanning the crowds. "I will be happier when we reach your home, honored lady," she murmurs.

Sir Lefallon admires the gryphons on display, each as large as a man on horseback, apparently not having noticed the watchers, but pauses at the dire words being spoken nearby. "Agents of the Jack?" he whispers, looking about, trying to see if he can see some of these elusive people.

"A man in a cloak. I saw his eyes briefly. It may have been an agent -- or even Jack himself. Hard to say; he's worn many faces over the Years," Thomas tells Sir Lefallon. "Just be wary."

Oberia leads the way down a side street, still fairly populated at this hour, and stops before a two-story adobe house with banners of sun-bleached colors, that might have once depicted heraldic emblems. They are too faded now to see what they were. A solidly built dark-hued man dressed in a vest and floppy pants greets them at the door, beaming. "Hassan, these are my guests, Lord Explorer Thomas, Golden Hawk Rachel, and Sir Lefallon," Oberia says, and introduces him in turn with a wry smile. "This is Hassan, my majordomo. I would be simply lost without him keeping my house in order."

"Thrice honored am I to welcome such vaunted guests to my mistress's humble abode," Hassan says, bowing low and sweeping off his fez before his noble guests. "Alas, I fear that it will be a little while before dinner will be ready, Lady Oberia, and I abase myself before my mistress for shaming her with such poor hospitality. Allow me to command the servants to bring out such poor tidbits and wines we have, in order to blunt my guests' appetites until proper hospitality may be offered?"

Oberia rolls her eyes and smiles to Thomas. "Hassan is a man of the Annwyn, and they are all given to such precious manners."

Thomas simply laughs and shakes his head slightly. "This is a far cry from the woods and roads, Oberia. You've really settled down, it seems," Thomas observes. "I don't know if I ever will. The road would always call. But, I do appreciate your hospitality and it is good to see you again. Time has stolen many things, but at least some of my old friends remain. You were going to tell us what brought you to this far place?"

Oberia's Parlor
Adobe walls, fine silk hangings of colors that, protected from the sun, have not faded, oiled paper windows that turn the fading evening sunlight into vague panes of golden light, and plush upholstered couches covered with woven blankets -- these are a few of the things that meet the eye immediately. One comfortable chair is surrounded by scrolls and maps, and a scroll case shelf sits by it with row on row of holes filled with such correspondence; a brazier sits nearby to provide immediate heat and light in the bitterly dry cold of winter.

At the man's elaborate humility, Rachel smiles, shedding her cloak in the warmth of Oberia's home. "For my own part, my lady, your fire is ample enough evidence of your hospitality. I am glad simply to be out of the winter wind for a while."

The young knight grins. "Your courtesy does your mistress proud," he says to Hassan. "What, do you think you will never settle down someday then, Tom?"

"Oh, not likely, Sir Lefallon. My life is the road and if I end my travels, what do I have left? What has Jack left me with?" Thomas replies.

Rachel glances to Thomas, then to Simon and Oberia. Quietly, she offers, "Us, m'lord."

"Well, Thomas, you may be ready to talk all night, but I think that I need a little refreshment for my throat first," Oberia says with a smile, as she sits herself down in what is plainly her favorite chair, wrapping a knitted afghan about her knees. Hassan scurries off, and in short order, fruit sherbets have been brought to Thomas and his friends to refresh them as well. Oberia drinks some of the juice that her majordomo brings, and leans her cane against the wall. "Well, then. Where shall I begin?"

Sir Lefallon nods to this quietly and offers up a faint smile. "Whatever you pick to do, milord, I think that you would do very well with it, as well. But 'tis plain wanderlust is deep in your bones."

Thomas' eyebrow arches at Rachel's comment, then nods quietly. "Now, as for where to begin -- why, the beginning, of course," he comments with a rakish grin. "Or at least, start where I left all those years ago. What happened after that? You said you came out here because of Randall?"

The old woman nods and begins, "Annwn was not always a desert, Tom. Many, many Years ago, it was a beautiful, prosperous land filled with forests and farmlands, and water flowed freely from Galon Annwn, a place in the hills not far from here. I passed through here on my quest to find Randall's body, though I did not succeed in that quest -- I fear that his body must have been taken somehow."

"I can provide some closure to Randall, Oberia. But please, continue," Thomas prompts.

"Well, then. I thought of going back to Mirari, but somehow, Caer Sidi crept into my mind again as a place where I might live. Perhaps I was afraid to abandon entirely my journey into the West," Oberia muses. "They offered me a place here because they needed someone with my talents, someone who could help arbitrate between the travelers from the Far Lands and the Wild Lands. I knew all their languages, and from my time with the Golden Hawks, I had acquired a reputation of fairness. But then came the Great Drought, when water stopped flowing from Galon Annwn. That was when the black robed ones first appeared."

"Perhaps the same I saw earlier," Thomas observes. "Please, tell me about them and what you have learned about their relation to the drought? Did the flow of water stop suddenly?"

Rachel listens, her black eyes intent, as the old translator speaks. Her expression is mostly serious, but a hint of a bemused smile plays on her lips from time to time.

"At first we thought that it would pass, because it had been said to stop before, and then start again," Oberia says thoughtfully. "But it drew on, and we had to buy water from merchants who would bring great casks into town from across the length of the land. These black robes, they promised that with the use of the cauldron that the Sorcerer King Pelles left here long ago, they could bring water for us, as long as we needed it. We had no choice; we let them take the cauldron, and indeed, it was not long before they could give us the water we needed to live. Or rather, I should say, they sold us water, and not cheaply at that."

Tom leans forward and taps his chin thoughtfully. "Did anyone consider that they might have simply stopped the flow of water to get the cauldron for some purpose -- but, then realized they could then gain wealth by selling you the very water from the place they stopped?" Thomas asks, closing his eyes a moment to think. "Seems a bit too convenient to me that they would show up right when you needed help and have a way to help. Anyway, I'm interrupting too much. Please, continue."

Sir Lefallon draws in his breath at the mention of King Pelles. "Did you call upon King Pelles?" he asks.

Oberia shakes her head. "How could we? He is long gone from these lands, and the place where his tower stands has fallen into ruins." She nods to Thomas's observations. "There were many who objected, and said that without Pelles's cauldron, they could not have done it, and others suspicious about their methods and timing, but still others, and these were the ones who carried the vote, said that water was a commodity like any other; none can live without money to buy food, and so we let them have their monopoly.

"For a monopoly it soon became; there were those once who brought water in huge casks from outside the desert, but the water mages sold their water cheaply enough that they could not profit, and then when there were no more, they began to raise their prices." Oberia shakes her head sadly. "Now they could own all of Caer Sidi if they wanted. What do they do with the vast amounts of gold and silver that they have collected? They do not seem to enjoy wealth for its own sake."

"Pay for an army?" Thomas offers.

Oberia's countenance darkens. "Perhaps ... but we have not seen them hiring nor bringing many mercenaries into this town, at least."

"Easier to export gold than men or weapons," Rachel mutters, darkly, "if you were to fund another's army."

"Have they taken caravans out of the city?" Thomas asks, leaning back and nodding to Rachel.

"It is possible that they hire caravans to transport their gold," Oberia says judiciously. "But this is Caer Sidi. Many dealings happen in secrecy, that many others might object to were they to be made known."

The old woman sighs and shakes her head. "Oh aye, we have attempted to discover their secrets. It is said that every season, someone disappears without explanation-- an orphan who will not be missed, an old and sick man, a stranger whom no one knew. We do not know how they charge their rituals around Pelles's cauldron, and so many are given to speculating, and blaming the black robes for every such misfortune. Oh, they do take apprentices, or there would be no more black robes, but those whom they take soon grow strange and refuse to speak of what they call Guild business."

"Well, I think the first thing would be to discover why the water quit flowing. If we could get it to return, it might cause them to make a mistake and reveal what they are up to," Thomas replies. "What has been done to identify why the flow stopped so far?"

"Aye, we've been there to look, in the years that the Great Drought began, and found nothing, but now we no longer go there, for we cannot bear to see the beauty that it once held now desolate and dry," Oberia says sadly. "Some say that monsters have moved into the area as well. Should you wish to go see for yourself, Lord Explorer, let me show you where it is..." The old woman leans over the side of her chair to rummage among the maps. "Ah... Here it is. Yes. Galon Annwn. It is an hour's ride from here, nestled into the sides of the hills, and several rivers used to run from it, pouring out from the earth as if they could never be emptied, cutting channels through the rock. Time was that Caer Sidi's most important weddings and rites would be celebrated there, where the water sprang high as a man from the rocks, and a rainbow would form even in broad daylight."

Sir Lefallon says softly, "It must have been beautiful, Lady Oberia."

"We will go there before we continue on Westward," Thomas says, looking at his old friend. "And I have an odd request -- could you provide me with a feather?"

The old woman looks surprised. "But of course -- what sort would you like, Thomas? A gryphon's feather, a peacock's feather, or even the feather of a pigeon, I'm sure that Hassan could lay hands on any of those within the span of an hour."

"Whatever would be most reasonably long; gryphon or peacock feather would do nicely," Thomas replies, serious. "We can use it to torture anyone we encountered on the way to tell us what is going on, you see...." He holds the expression for a few seconds, then grins. "Actually, I want it for locating water. Old trick I learned -- if you place a feather into the ground and within a few hours beads of water appear on it, there is water near. It would at least tell us if there still seems to be water near that place, somewhere."

Oberia smiles. "Ah, woodwise as ever, old friend. Hassan!" She gives her instructions to the majordomo, who bows and intones, "Hearkening and obedience, mistress," before retreating into the house.

"Are there any old caves or perhaps mines nearby the Galon Annwn?" Thomas asks next. "Buildings? towers? Outposts?"

Oberia shakes her head. "I cannot think of any," she says. "But if you recall my story of poor Tarn, it is not beyond reason that the water mages used some great magic to bind up the water there. And now that I think of it, it's said the black robes are drawn more toward those who carry magic about them -- though it is not something that I have ever been able to test." She smiles wryly.

Rachel shivers. "My lady -- what are the water mages said to do with those of magical gifts?"

Sir Lefallon suggests, "Perhaps they fear someone powerful in magic might be able to undo their workings."

Thomas looks over at Lefallon and says, "Oh, I think we could test that." He then turns his attention back and listens.

"What do they do? Nothing that we can be certain of," Oberia says. "But they seem to find more than their fair share of accident and misfortune. The black robes are scrupulously careful to avoid outraging the town through direct actions. Save for poor Tarn-- and then it could be said by those who support the right of the rich to rob the poor, that he brought it upon himself."

"How many of these black robes are there?" Thomas asks.

The old woman considers. "Not very many, I should think. No more than twenty; quite possibly fewer."

Thomas nods, then asks, "Where do they often congregate?"

The dark-haired Hawk shakes her head at Oberia's words, looking contemplative.

"They live in an old monastery a little apart from the town itself," Oberia says. "It was abandoned before they came, so no one ever questioned it when they moved in. The townsfolk go there to buy water in the early hours of the morning, and they have been known to be visited by strangers...." Her voice falls off pensively.

"What kind of strangers?" Thomas asks, looking grim.

Thomas looks between Lefallon and Rachel, considering things to do.

Oberia considers this carefully. "Sometimes, merchants passing through, replenishing their caravans' supplies. Sometimes, those more secretive, passing through in the cover of night. It is not that Caer Sidi is foreign to people of that kind, but there were some who were ... disturbing," she says, lacking a better word.

Thomas leans back and taps his chin, thinking. "It appears our trip West will have to be delayed indefinitely," he says. "The situation here cannot continue like this. I have some suggestions as to things we should do, then I want to hear your thoughts. First, I think we need to check out Galon Annwn and determine if water seems to still be there, just not flowing. Second, we make a night-time -- or perhaps early morning when they are distracted -- raid of the monastery and try to uncover what they are up to."

The old woman appeared to have had something on the tip of her tongue, but shakes her head as it seems to have vanished. "You should be careful of the second," she warns Thomas. "Those who have poked around their affairs have vanished, or faced curses like Tarn's, or come upon ill fortune in various ways. 'Tis true, I think, that we also fear that if we were to take them by force, they would refuse to spell water out of the cauldron again, and then we should thirst to death before water-caravans could come again."

"Ah, but I'm not one of you, am I? I'm just a nosy traveler. Anyway, what were you thinking, Oberia?" Thomas asks.

Rachel, pensive while Tom and Oberia laid out possible plans, leans forward to hear the woman's words now.

"Hmm. Was I thinking of something?" Oberia thinks back. "It must have been about visitors. Something about their visitors stuck in my mind...." She sips on her juice and thinks a moment.

Thomas nods, waiting to see if it comes to her.

Oberia says at last, "It happened earlier in the Year that there were strangers in cloaks coming out of the east, passing through Annwn to their home in the West, or so they said. That might have made them remarkable in itself, for few but wild men live in the mountains, and they were not dressed as Far Landers. They brought with them a prisoner, hooded, bound, and drugged or magicked into unconsciousness, whom they said was a murderer they were bringing back to stand trial..."

Thomas' eyes narrow. "Anyone get a better look at the prisoner? How big was the person?" Thomas asks. "Things grow worse by the moment," he then comments.

"I was there, Thomas, walking with a merchant friend of mine, a trader in fine carpets, as he was going there to buy water for his camels and drivers," Oberia continues. "I remember that the morning sun, though growing hot, had grown less so in the later months of the Fall. These strangers went in to speak with the water mages, all but one left behind to guard the prisoner, perhaps to buy water for their own trip. My friend and I passed the time waiting for his water by speaking with townsfolk in the stretch of land that sits in front of their courtyard."

Thomas nods. "Describe their prisoner if you can. Then describe the one guard," Thomas says quietly, then goes back to listening.

Oberia looks up a moment at Thomas's commanding tone with surprise, then chuckles. "Oh dear, old friend. Have I become such the storyteller then? Don't fret, I'll get there, but I must tell this as I remember it, or I shalln't recall it aright." She pauses, gathering her thoughts, and then continues, "While they were away, the prisoner stirred a bit, and my eyes were drawn toward him. Had it been a heat-mirage?" The lines of her face etch a bit deeper as she continues. "And then he struggled, and thrashed away from his guard, and the centaur, for that was what I thought the guard might have been, though he was bundled up and wearing a robe that stretched to the ground, tried to wrestle him back into place. But then the prisoner's hood fell from his face." She draws in a breath.

Thomas nods quietly this time, listening.

Oberia says, "I was startled by his appearance. He was a handsome blond man with fair skin and sapphire blue eyes, like a noble of House April. 'What murders has this man committed, that he has been cast into exile?' I demanded of the centaur, as he managed to overcome the prisoner and hood him again. But he would not answer me, and for a moment, I thought that he might strike me down instead. But it must have been that he feared to commit assault in broad daylight, for he stayed silent instead." The old woman shivers. "I wish sometimes that I had done something for the poor man, but I do not know what I could have done against armed men like these strangers were."

Thomas frowns, thinking. He then looks to Rachel, then Sir Lefallon. "Rachel, Sir Lefallon, when did the son of King Umbrecht supposedly die during a joust?" he inquires.

Sir Lefallon shudders at Oberia's story. "Perhaps they were slavers, or kidnappers," he speculates.

"In May, my lord. Near the end of the month," Rachel says. "But he was not a fair-haired child -- he was dark, like his father."

"All right. That runs out one possibility. So, who is this person, then? A murderer -- right," Thomas mutters. "More mysteries. I suspect that he is one of the House nobles. Have any been rumored to have good missing earlier this Year?"

Oberia listens with interest. "News of Mirari reaches here very infrequently," she says. "I do miss its towers and markets, and the gardens and statues. But Caer Sidi is my home now."

"Do you have a way to contact Mirari if we need to?" Thomas asks, considering something.

Sir Lefallon adds, "I was there at the tourney where he fell, though I was so far back in the crowd I could scarcely see. What I heard was that he was on his third match, against a black knight..." He says the term without prejudice, as if such a person was not necessarily evil. "I heard a loud crack, and then the hush fall over the crowd. The unknown knight's lance had pierced his armor inexplicably, for such lances are supposed to break upon striking their target. There was an investigation, but the word was that it was found that the black knight was innocent, having used lances brought to her by a squire, and that Prince Richard's armor might have been flawed at that very spot."

The old woman shakes her head ruefully to Tom. "Alas, old friend, only the same means that anyone else in Caer Sidi has, and that is to pay someone to carry a message to Mirari at their best speed."

"That rules out contacting Nymuae, then. I'd prefer to have an expert deal with magic, but ... looks like we're it," Thomas says and sighs. He then nods to Sir Lefallon and says, "Or the squire was paid to switch lances. In any event, I don't think it was accidental."

Sir Lefallon blinks. "But... Who then, would have authored the death, milord? It would be a monstrous act!"

Thomas looks directly at Sir Lefallon and arches his eyebrow. "Think about it," he replies. "Who would gain to 'thin' out the royal family? If there was a direct heir, would the Houses be feuding now?"

Rachel says, "There was a thorough investigation, m'lord. Of course, at a royal death, there are always rumors ... yet even the Lord Protector could find no proof of foul play. As for your latter question ... I think they would be."

"Perhaps," Thomas comments and interlaces his fingers. "In any event, such issues need not be discussed here. There are more pressing concerns. We need to investigate the Black Robe group here and see if we can free the town from their grip. And that reminds me ..." He turns back to Oberia. "Did you find any evidence of Randall before you settled here?"

Sir Lefallon considers Thomas's question as to who might stand to gain, and the answer is plain in his eyes as he nods to his friend. "Perhaps indeed, it would be him."

"I followed the rumors of raiders 'til they took me within sight of the Dragonspine mountains, harsh and rough against the far sky, but there my courage failed me, Thomas," Oberia says regretfully. "One brave woman against all the monsters that might dwell within the Keep... I did not think it wise to go on, and so I turned back for Caer Sidi. I did look for Lord Bram's journal, as far as I dared, but it was not there."

"I intend to look for that as well. But, it has been, what, nigh twenty Years since it was lost. The reason I ask about Randall is difficult to say," Thomas says, trying to choose the right words. "Our old friend is ... he's.... The Destroyer has taken hold of his soul, Oberia. Not that many nights ago, I faced our old friend in combat. He is now a wraith in service of the Destroyer. I had hoped that you had some of his personal affects -- that they might help free him temporarily from his bond, but ... I am very sorry to have returned and to have to bring you such news."

Horror lines Oberia's face, and then sadness. "Is that what happened? The Destroyer's minions must have taken him away then, when they overran the tower and found only one man there. I feared that some ill fate might await his spirit if his body was not recovered to be buried properly, but I did not suspect it would be anything so ... dire."

"Yes. That is what happened. He is still our friend but -- trapped. In the end, he begged me to kill him. I couldn't do it. Sir Lefallon had to strike the blow," Thomas says, looking away. "And I know I will have to face him again. Somehow, I have to free him."

Sir Lefallon bows his head. "I pray that we may be able to do so, milord. Perhaps if we could find his bones, wherever they might lie...."

Thomas nods at that, bringing himself back to face the others. "But, first things first. We need to investigate what is going on here. Do either of you have thoughts or possible plans to determine just what is going on? Rachel, did you bring what we found in the Dark Witch's lair along?"

Oberia leans forward and squeezes Thomas's hand. "Old friend," she says, looking at him affectionately. "He always spoke well of you, after your disappearance, and said often that he hoped he could live up to the legend that you left behind." Her eyes turn toward his. "What happened to you, Thomas? Where did you go?"

"Of course, Lord Thomas," the young Hawk answers. "Though the witch's arts were mostly with illusions and curses. Though -- if it was a curse that stopped the spring at Galon Annwn, there might be something of use in the book I took from the witch's lair."

Thomas smiles sadly and looks at his old friend. "I do not know what happened to me. My memories are here," he says, tapping on the side of his head, "but in fragments -- shattered. I remember doing things, but it seems like a lifetime ago." He then tries to explain, "I only began to remember recently, thanks to Rachel here who came to the mortal world to figure out why we seemed to have an effect on this world. Until then, I had been living another life -- in the mortal world. I think I must've fallen into some sort of trap. My past was stripped from me. The perfect trap is one you don't realize you're in, I suppose."

Sir Lefallon says, "Even then, milord, you could not help but know your true self. Perhaps whatever magic was cast to make you forget had begun to wear off?"

Thomas nods. "That's entirely possible. I mean, I used names of places and events from this world, even when I didn't remember or believe such existed," Thomas admits. "I even had the occasional dream of things from this world."

Oberia blinks. "My! Your adventures were strange indeed, Thomas." Her gaze turns mischievous. "You don't remember the affair we used to have then?"

Thomas blinks. "Excuse me? No ... I don't remember anything like that," he says.

Rachel stares at Oberia for an instant, and then grins.

Thomas crosses his arms. "That's not funny," he says, trying to look annoyed. Trying being the operative word.

Oberia laughs and kisses Thomas's forehead. "You must forgive an old woman her vanities, dear, but sometimes I do wonder what might have happened, had things gone a different way, and you had returned from the Wild Lands." She shakes her head, and then sniffs at the air where the savory smell of spiced lamb is wafting into the room. "I do believe that Hassan has dinner nearly ready, my friends."

"Yes, it is," Rachel counters to Tom, still grinning. "And you know it!"

Sir Lefallon eyes Thomas. "Actually, I was beginning to wonder, milord, what with us encountering so many women from your past." He grins to show he doesn't mean it.

Thomas looks away, trying not to look embarrassed. "Yes, well. Hard to say what would have happened. Life is always full of 'what-ifs' like that ... ack! Not the both of you. Come on, we just met the Bandit Queen and now Oberia. That's two. I wouldn't call that many," Thomas quickly replies. "Not that I'm implying there were more! Not that I'm implying there was any ... argh!"

"I hate you all," Thomas mutters, and slumps in defeat. Moments later, he grins.

Abashed, Rachel gets out of her chair and moves to kneel before Thomas, bowing her head apologetically. "Are we so abominable, my lord? I am sorry," she says, sounding contrite.

Oberia giggles, holding a hand to her lips. "Oh, dear. Yes, the same Thomas that I remember from so long ago. Does he make life difficult for you as well then, Lady Rachel?" she says, reaching for her cane to get up.

The black-haired faerie flushes at Oberia's words, ducking her head further. "No more than I deserve, I'm sure," she half-mumbles.

Thomas just holds his head in his hands and sighs. "I don't make life difficu-- ... okay, maybe a little difficult. You all enjoy it and you know it!" Thomas defends.

Sir Lefallon laughs and stands to help Oberia to her feet. "Of course, milord," he says in a tone that admits nothing.

"Well, if we're through tormenting me for the day, I think we should get dinner. Keep it up, and you'll all be as bad as Lady Redmane. She's said things I've never expected a knight to utter," Thomas replies with a grin, standing. He holds out a hand to Rachel and says, smiling, "Let's get something to eat, then look over the route to Galon Annwn and plan a trip there first light. Perhaps it is just a curse and the book can help us remove it. If not, perhaps we'll learn enough to find someone who can."

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.