CIARAN MAC RORY QUEEN MEDB'S GAME Part II 8 A.D. Cruachain .......... [GM] Rationed miserly, the water lasts for over three days. The food might last for several days more, though it's becoming gamey. Caitlyn doesn't return, even after you suck the last drops of water from the skin and then begin feeling the pangs of thirst again. You bury the skin deep in the cold, dark mud, and wait. Before your strength falls to its previous depleted levels (not that you were anywhere near full strength even after the nourishment that Caitlyn brought), you see light shining from down the tunnel. Your hopes fall as the torch-bearers come to the opening in the shaft above, but you don't sense the anticipated buzz that would tell you Caitlyn has returned. Instead, it's a group of knights again. You can't tell whether it's the same group as before, but once again they toss a rope down, while one man holds his torch out over you, peering down at the bottom of the pit. <><><><><> And Ciaran lays there in the mud and shivers. Their scrutiny is chilling. His hopes for more food and water are dashed. And his fears that Caitlyn had been discovered mounted. *A thinking warrior,* he reminded himself numbly. He dragged himself feebly around and tried to grasp the rope. Whether he could or not was not his aim. He did not want to betray anything that Cait had done for him. He would wait for them to understand that he couldn't make it up the rope without aid. He gasped out a few raspy syllables that made no sense, even to him. He looked upwards at the men and the blinding torchlight. he lay back in the mud for a moment and then tried to reach for the rope again. He let it slip from his grasp. <><><><><> [GM] The knights actually seem surprised that you are as mobile as you are. One of them comes sliding down the rope, which is held by his companions up top. He holds a torch cradled in the nook of one arm, watching you warily as his feet touch down on the bottom of the pit. "Phew!" he grunts, at the stench surrounding you. Without further words, he begins looping the end of the rope around your chest, under your arms. <><><><><> Ciaran knew that in his weakened condition he couldn't fight these guys if it came to that. He had to trust that his guise held for a while longer. He allowed the man to tie him off. He offered no resistance and remained as weak and frail as he could manage, or remember from the past few days. He offered nothing in the way of comment. He knew he stunk, but there was nothing to do about it. <><><><><> [GM] The knights haul you to the top, then retrieve their companion by throwing the rope back down to him, and pulling him up. One of the knights, whom you recognize from last time, looks at you and asks "Can you walk?" They clearly aren't keen on carrying you; most likely, you'll be dragged by your boots. <><><><><> Ciaran lay slumped at the top of his home. He might very well have been able to walk, but he wasn't going to. He might need the advantage that any bit of extra strength, that they were not aware of, might provide him. He shhok his head slowly and feeble and layed it back against the packed earthen floor of the tunnel. He didn't envy what was likely to occur next, but he certainly didn't think it to be the worst of what he had endured up to this point. "No," he rasped in a voice he had become accustomed to. He lay there waiting to be dragged by whatever part of him stunk the least..... <><><><><> [GM] With a sigh, the knight squats and ties the rope around your ankles. You are dragged, head bumping over dirt and then paved stones, all the way to Medb's throneroom. For the third time, Medb sits in her throne as if she never leaves it. Her voice rises as soon as you enter. "What are you doing, idiot?" The knight holding the rope stops, and stammers, "I, uh, I am bringing the prisoner to you, my Queen..." "Dragging him the entire distance? And leaving a trail of filth all through my hallways and across my lovely floors? I told you to *carry* him if need be!" You can almost pity the poor knight, as well as imagine the look on his face, though you can't see it, since you're still lying as inertly as possible on the ground. "My Queen-" he gulps, and Medb cuts him off. "Silence, fool! Bring him here!" You hear the knight taking a breath, audibly, and he grabs your feet, while another knight, also holding his breath, grabs your shoulders. The two of them lift you off the ground, carry you to the center of the room, and set you down, none too gently, at the foot of Medb's throne. Through slitted eyes, you see someone looming over you....even in your apparently helpless state, Medb has someone standing closely enough to interpose himself between you and the Queen. "Ciaran," Medb says. "Ciaran! Can you hear me?" Then, more softly, she mutters "Gods, he stinks!" <><><><><> Ciaran fluttered his eyes. He wanted to see her and the one close to her, but he didn't dare destroy everything he had done toget to this point. Just what had he done, and what did he hope it would do for him? He squinted and opened his dry mouth, remembering what it felt like to be so thirsty. His tongue remembered the feeling and even with a bit of strength in him, his mouth was pasty. His body was weak. It wasn't as bad as it had been, but he hardly imagined he could swing a sword but once, if he could even lift one. And she called his name. And he focused his eyes as he squinted. He opened and closed his mouth, feeling the pasty mucous coating the inside. He wanted her to see that. To think on that. To know that she was breaking the rules. For know he expected she would take his head. "If.... You...you are... going to... to do... it... then... do it... do it now." <><><><><> [GM] "I'd like nothing better," Medb says icily. "But it's against the Rules." The bitterness in her voice is plainly evident. Her next words are softer, her voice more cajoling. "Or are you *asking* me to put you out of your misery? This can go on forever, you know. Don't you think you've had enough, Ciaran? You can choose death....or stay in your pit for the rest of your eternal life....or you can forsake your stubborn, meaningless loyalty to Scathach and Morrigan, and tell me what I want to know. You don't *have* to be imprisoned in that wretched hole. I can put you in a stone room, with a proper bed, and meals, and clean clothes and water to bathe in...and if you're very good, and behave yourself, maybe even allow you to exercise outside, under guard." Her voice is deep, sensual, insinuating. She seems almost to be whispering in your ear. "You can't win, Ciaran. No man has ever been a match for me. You can suffer and suffer, trying to match wills with me, or you can surrender. There's no shame in admitting defeat when the battle is hopeless." <><><><><> Numbly, he nodded slowly. He didn't need to look at her to know she would enjoy either of the first two options. She would be pleased if he begged to have his head taken. And knowing that wouldn't happen... Not yet anyway, he moved on to the remaining choices. The second was to go back to the pit, where gifts from the young immortal woman might never come again. That horror had just about worn him to a complete break of sanity. perhaps it had already. The last of her options for him to consider was to give in, admit defeat and tell her what she wanted to know. Principles and honor forbid him from ever doing that. He would sooner give her his head than betray Scathach. *Never Trust a Woman* The words ran through his mind as if she had spoken them. And then he heard other words. *You've got to be a thinking warrior....* He opened his eyes again to try and focus on her. He made no attempt to move physically. He needed his strength and his wits... His time was coming. He nodded to her. Slowly and with a weak grimace to exaggerate the effort. Medb hadn't considered option four yet. "You... you win... I just.. want some... some water... I can't... go back there... I'll... I'll talk..." He closed his eyes again and lay his head off to the side to feel the coolness of the stones on his bearded cheek. Now he waited to see if she would take his bait. <><><><><> [GM] The Queen is silent for a moment, considering. Then she says "Get him some water." A minute later, one of the knights kneels next to you, and holds a skin to your lips. <><><><><> Ciaran allowed his head to be lifted and repeated the things he remembered happening the first time he took a drink of the water that Caitlyn had given him. He tried to gulp and then gagged it up and spit the water. He rested again and attempted it again, slower and with more success. He wet his mouth down and allowed the water to coat his throat. It was cool and fresh. At least it felt that way. It could have been puddle water to Ciaran, it was more than he had been getting in the pit, with the exception of the gift. Mud water or not, he was going to drink it. He kept sipping at the skin that was before him, until it was withdrawn, finished, or Medb interrupted him. The game was now at it's most dangerous and he needed to be very careful about how he dealt with the Dark Queen. She would do him grievous injury if she caught on that he was still resisting her. And those thoughts vanished as he focused on the water. <><><><><> [GM] "Enough," Medb says, and the water is taken away from you. She leans on the arm of her throne with her chin cupped in her palm again, dark eyes regarding you from within the folds of her veil. "You recover quite quickly," she observes. The fingers of her other hand tap idly against the arm of her throne for a few moments. "So, what have you to say now?" <><><><><> He looks longingly after the water, and then to her. Beautiful and haunting. Hidden behind the veil were more things than just her face and beauty. He held a deep anger and a hatred for this women, and he made no attempt to hide his contempt. And the moment dragged out. "I have many things to say to you... but most... most of them get me... sent back to that acursed hole... I don't do this for any other reason... This is... not by choice... You can ask questions... I will answer if I know such... Again... It is all fidchell... and I am a captured peg... in your game with her... What do you want?" <><><><><> [GM] "Oh yes, do spare me the insults," Medb says in a bored tone. "I've heard them all before." She leans forward, glancing to Gann as if to reassure herself of his presence between you before looking at you again. "Tell me all about Scathach.....how to get to her island, what defenses she has laid there. I know at one time she ran a school there, training other young warriors, mortals and immortals. Does she still? And what sorceries does she know? What are her motives? What does she know about me, and what does she say?" Her questions come more and more rapidly, and she leans forward with more eagerness, as if losing herself, the careful calm she musters when speaking to you fading and an almost hysterical edge tinging her words. She brings her arms up and claps her hands back down on the arms of her throne. "I KNOW she is conspiring with Morrigan against me, she has ever since she came to Eriu!" She glares at you accusingly. "You don't know what it's like, being hunted for centuries, having that ancient bitch and her pet Gaul conspiring against me! Do you think I LIKE playing this game? I never gave offense to a soul, man or woman, mortal or immortal, and suddenly I have assassins coming for my head, over and over and over again! WHY!? WHY WON'T THEY LEAVE ME IN PEACE!?" Her normally beautiful voice explodes shrilly with the last question. Gann's face remains impassive, but he shifts slightly, uneasily. Medb blinks, catching her breath, and then slowly sits back up and reclines back against her throne, seeming to withdraw into the depths of her robes and the immense throne that engulfs her when she is not casting her presence so forcefully. A chill settles over the room. <><><><><> Her tirade washes over him and the numerous questions become obscured by the emotions that she poured forth. It was nearly a thing of joy to know she had fear. And everything she said, still meant little more to him than self-serving lies. She was no innocent in this. She was no victim here... not in any way he had seen. When he spoke, it was low and gutteral. His voice was raspy and it hurt to speak and that furthered the inflection and added to the import. "Never gave offense... hardly Medb... I took the training because I had little choice... I secluded myself after that... and you came looking for me... I never hunted you... but you forced the issue... It was then that I was told what I would have to do... and you want Scathach... I can tell you many things... but you haven't a man here who would survive the climb up the cliffs... let alone best her with a weapon... Gann is not hardly more than a plaything to her.... You would never even get more than a few men to her island... and she will know it... They might never even find the right island... and the pict dogs would swarm them mercilessly... they have no fear of death.... Suppose that you could find a way to get a number of men there... to the right place... that might be sufficient to take her... she wouldn't be there... fast... like the wind... silent, like the night... she runs when she has to... and won't face them on any terms but her own... If Gann was bright enough to find the small boat she has hidden... he and, at most, two others would have to travel several days northward over rough waters... and land in one spot and one spot only... And she will know... Her traps were never the same... and they killed me more times than I can remember, but this accursed immortality kept bringing me around to continue her games... She is too good... too old... her fortress too secluded and protected... and she is too scared to take any risks... there is no more school... only when the Morrigan forces her... and neither her nor I know the Morrigan's plans... She conspires with no one... she does what she has to to stay in the Morrigan's good humor... She fears the Morrigan... and this affair is ever between you and her... but neither of you will face the other... and that is the mystery... constantly playing your pawns against one another... she has immortals trained... and you capture them with your pawns... Mortal suck-ups... without any remembrance of what it meant to have honor... And even if I knew to make a drawing in the dirt... it would never be enough to take her... Gann isn't good enough... I *might* be good enough... but you won't let that happen... perhaps wisely so... Gann will go.... and be gone for weeks on end... and he will die... perhaps without ever seeing Scathach... and you will find another one to replace him... and it begins again... use your sorcery to watch... you will learn little... For the Morrigan watches too..." <><><><><> [GM] Gann's face twists in fury at the repeated insults you cast at him. Medb listens intently, now the one to remain impassive. "You say that I am no match for this Scathach, and you might be, yet *I* beat YOU!" Gann growls. "Quiet, Gann," Medb says, and the knight grits his teeth and clenches his fists, and subsides. "So Scathach is as unbeatable as all that, is she?" Medb says. She drums her fingers on the arm of her chair again. "What you tell me is worthless. Little point in having had you dragged out of your pit, if that's all you have to say." <><><><><> And that very thought caused him to blanche. His fate would be decided in the very next words he offered. He had suceeded in riling Gann... but the Queen was very wise and controlled her dog, before he drew a weapon in a Royal Hall and dishonored himself before his Queen, and his own men. He furrowed his brow and cast his eyes around. They fell upon the water. There was almost a panic that enveloped him, and it took every ounce of rational thought to control his mind and speak the best words he could think. "Probably not... There is no way I can give you what you look for exactly... I can't tell you details... They don't exist... I stand here, and you sit there... and Scathach's island is so far away... How, would you want me to explain it to you... It has been eight years... and she changes it often... But I told you... I can get there... And Gann would like nothing more than to run me through for betraying you or he... Now... you can toss me in the pit... again... and there will still never be exact answers and the next one will come... And you will begin again... Each time you have been through this... and they will either not ally themselves to you wishes, as Setanta... or die a prisoner as Nuada... It will go on that way... don't you think that the Morrigan knows this... and your strategy and plans... they have become predictable... and until you change that, you can't get the edge you seek." <><><><><> [GM] "Predictable I may be," Medb says dryly. "But the Morrigan has been doing the exact same thing, the exact same way, since before *I* was born. That old hag has no new tricks either, she's just so damned good at all her old ones, it's impossible to outdo her." For the moment, Medb's tone has abrupty shifted from veiled malice to reasonable discussion. Suddenly she could be a peer discussing strategy with you, rather than an enemy tormenting her captive. The Morrigan's moods change even more unpredictably, and Morrigan is even more dangerous....but if Morrigan ever turns on you, at least you know the Game would probably be over for you then and there. With Medb, there's no telling.... You see an eyebrow arch, behind her veil. "So, Ciaran....what exactly are you suggesting then, that might give me an 'edge'?" Her tone becomes veiled malice again. "Or are you merely trying to buy time?" <><><><><> "Maybe I'm am buying time... but if giving you what... I can... gets me away from that pit... then I will... I can't make promises... there are none to give... Scathach had killed me... so many times teaching me... she had dismissed me... only when she felt I was... a threat to her head... But I know how she fights and I can look in her eyes and see what she plans... That isn't something that can be taught.... I can teach the skill with traps... and the forest skills to hide and move without a trail... But when the night falls... She is at her most dangerous... I hardly wish to go to her island again...a miserable place of foul weather... but it was better than your hole in the ground... I would lead Gann and his kind... but it will be a journey will men will be lost... They will need to train... and they will need to be prepared to die... It is all I have to offer... If any of that is still worth nothing to you... then I am done and destined for that pit again." He turned to face the man who held the water. He made no gesture to show he wanted it, but he didn't hide that from his eyes either. <><><><><> [GM] Medb sits quietly, and says nothing for long minutes. You feel sweat trickling down your brow. Gann clears his throat softly, uneasily. "An interesting notion," the Queen says at last. "Of course, with Scathach's training, it would be almost impossible to keep you from slipping away as soon as I let you out with my hunting party. You'd hardly be of any use bound in chains." Before you can answer that, something stirs the hairs on the back of your neck. You catch a movement off to the side, perhaps a shadow falling for an instant across one of the many exits from Medb's throneroom. Medb's gaze follows yours, and her dark eyes turn stormy. She waves her hand. "Take him.....to the stone cell." "But give him a bath first," she adds, as they drag you away. <><><><><> He struggled to see and hear and feel. Someone had entered the throne room, or was close to entering. He wanted to know who. But he was being dragged from the area... to a new confinement. A place where Medb had not intended for him to be this soon, but this person was a thing that Medb would not allow him to see. Was it Caitlyn? He turned to look back as best he could. Though it meant little in the grand scheme of things related to him. Anything he could learn about Medb would be a weapon later. He had seen her angry... he had seen what caused that... and now she had a secrets... <><><><><> [GM] All you see, when you turn around, is Medb reclining on her throne, fingertips pressed together, staring at the wall, thinking. Gann stands silently before her, glaring at you. Then one of your escorts yanks your chain, jerking you forward. First they take you to a stream...which actually runs *through* Medb's fort, or at least under one section of the wall. They hold onto your chain while you strip off your filthy clothes, and the water is freezing cold, but it's still a blessing to feel it against your skin, and feel the muck and filth wash off you. A serving girl of purely average appearance brings a wool cloak for you to wrap around yourself, and that's all you wear as you're brought back into the stone labyrinth...you shiver as you near the corridor that leads to the stairs down into the earth hallways, and the pit. But your escorts take a different direction. The stone cell, Medb said, and that's what it is. A new kind of pit, bordered on four sides with stone walls. You're pushed forward, and you bruise your knees and elbows painfully as you land....the fall is only ten feet, as opposed to thirty, but the floor is hard rock. They left the rock chained around your neck, but it splits in half as it impacts the floor next to you, sending stone splinters flying which sting your eye. Above you, the knights lift a heavy metal latticework and place it over the top of the cell, and you hear chains being wrapped around the edges and hammered shut. While this pit is smaller than the dark one where you just spent so many hellish days, light falls over it from the torch-lit tunnels that brought you here, so you aren't in total darkness. Occasionally you can hear men moving about, some distance away, and sometimes they talk, in muted conversation. There's a hole in the corner of the stone cell, for waste. You don't know where it leads, but the smell is old, mildewy and pungent. Overall, your new prison is not quite as maddening as your old one, but left here to starve again, you're sure it may become so. However, after you judge perhaps half a day has passed, someone (you can't make out who, man or woman, knight or slave) shuffles to the top of your cell, and drops a sack through the bars. Within it, you find dry bread, some vegetables, and a small bladder full of water. Apparently Medb has decided to change her game again. <><><><><> There is little room for Ciaran to consider his current situation. Medb's plan is as enigmatic as ever. As she was. The food was a more topical consideration. Certainly one of greater interest to him. After taking careful stock of his rations, he decided to portion it out to last him, but hunger wins out causing him to halve his rationing in short order. The water too, is measured and then reconsidered in favor of his immediate needs. His willpower had reached it's limits. Time would certainly be a commodity that he would have plenty of. And in that time he would lend thought to the danger he perceived, and how his last look didn't meet that sensation. There was indeed a new game, or a twist on the old one... and it was one he knew he wasn't going to like. It had been a long time since he had tried to outthink those who pawned him about in this grand game. It hadn't worked thus far, and he had no reason to assume he would have any greater success now, but the very thought that he thought to a more distant future meant a great deal to his morale. Time would play his part for him. Plans were made out there in that room. He had his own ideas, but he would have to wait and see. For now, he would eat his food and drink his water when it was brought to him. He would sleep, and entertain himself and watch the fading light to mark the days should it come to that. He would allow himself to heal and renew... and only then he would begin to occupy himself with the fight. He would also think on Caitlyn, and the kindness she had offered him... even if she was likely to be doing Medb's bidding in this twisted game of her's. <><><><><> [GM] The new routine becomes as predictable as it is dull. You sit in your cell, you wait for your daily ration of bread and water, with supplements varying in quality and freshness (porridge, or vegetables, occasionally some meat) but never very good. Medb keeps you fed just well enough for you to stay relatively hale, but you're always a bit hungry, and you know this diet is insufficient to keep your former strength up. The boredom is what really gets to you. Alone at the bottom of that dark pit, you were in near-sensory deprivation, and insanity threatened to consume your thoughts before you could really appreciate the monotony of your situation. Here, you see and hear just enough activity not to feel totally isolated from the rest of the world, and that allows you to become lonely, and bored. This time, you can chart the passage of days with some accuracy, and almost two weeks pass without a single word being offered to you. You sit at the bottom of your cell, and eat, and think. Eventually, this imprisonment could drive you mad also, though it will take much longer. You aren't given anything besides the wool cloak, so you have to take good care of it, and the water you're given to drink doesn't leave much extra for cleaning your cloak or bathing. One night (you know when it's night because the light that permeates the gloom of the stone hallways surrounding your cell fades completely, to be replaced with the flickering of torches), the shadows at the very top of your pit become sharper, light throwing the grate up top into sharper relief against the side of the cell. Someone is approaching with a torch. And then you feel the Quickening....at last, another immortal is approaching again. Medb, or Caitlyn? <><><><><> >Caitlyn< Her voice was a whisper. "Ciaran ... are you awake?" <><><><><> In two weeks time Ciaran had collected numerous little bags and clothes that came with his food. Those, unless removed from his possession, became his bedding. It wasn't much, but it separated him from the cold stone floor. The smell of it, mattered little to him. The food and water was the most welcoming thing, and although the portions were not choice, and as full as he would like.... he was hardly in a position to be picky about it and complain. Two weeks, living on the fringe of the world around him. Straining to hear a word. A laugh. A sigh. The footfall of people passing near, but never near enough. Still a prisoner. But something had changed. He had offered something to her, and had not yet delivered, but she had changed the rules of her game, and upgraded his status somehow. Or was it that she exchanged one form of torture for another. To fight the boredom, he relived things he had done in his life, in exacting detail. It took him many times through some events to find such a detail. Even if he had to conjure those details up. The building of his little home upon the holy ground on Blackstairs. That proved to be the most rewarding. Ultimately, even those things would fall short of keeping his mind active. Then he felt the Quickening. He sidled himself over to his makeshift bedding and tried to cover it with himself and his cloak. If Medb was to discover that he was living in the lap of luxury these days, his status migh be downgraded a level. He closed his eyes and waited. The voice was Caitlyn's. "Awake... I suppose," he whispered up to her. "And as well as can be expected.... And you?" <><><><><> >Caitlyn< She didn't answer the question. "Are they feeding you? Did they hurt you?" Her voice was tight, intense. "She .. she told me that you would be better treated." The flickering torch became stationary, and there was a slight scraping sound like the torch being placed in a wall sconce. And then she was back, leaning over the grate so she could see down. "Oh! It's not so deep." Was that the sound of fear in her voice? <><><><><> Something was bothering her. That was obvious from her tone of voice. She was afraid of something, or perhaps something was about to happen. He continued in the same whisper that she started. "Caitlyn.... I get a bit of food and water every day... I get no one to talk to until now... but that isn't a necessity for a guest... and I suppose that I have been treated better... and certainly worse. Now, tell me... what is wrong?" <><><><><> >Caitlyn< "N-nothing is wrong. It just wouldn't be ... wise to be caught here." Her voice didn't rise above a whisper. "I'm sorry I haven't been here before but .. I couldn't ... " Yes, definitely her voice was tight, different from the laughing tones she had shown him earlier. "I can't stay but a moment. Is there something else I can bring you? Oh!" She handed a small package through the bars, leaning down. "Can you reach this?" <><><><><> "I can try... Caitlyn... thankyou... you are very kind." Ciaran pushed himself up the wall, only to discover that he was weak from the lack of physical exercise and the close confinement he was forced to endure. He slid back down the wall and and gritted his teeth as he moved himself around to his hands and knees and tried again. This time he only used the wall for support. He made a mental note that he would have to find a way to move about and keep physically active. He reached as far as he could manage. His fingertips barely touching the package she offered. It took a bit more than he knew she wanted to be there... but he couldn't help it. And he wanted, more than anything at that moment, to touch her fingers with his own. <><><><><> >Caitlyn< She struggled to reach his hand, almost sliding her arm and shoulder through the grating when she saw he couldn't reach her. She placed the small warm package against his hand, but she didn't let go, not until she was sure he had a hold on it. "My grandma told me nothing builds strength better than a raw egg everyday. That's what she fed my father ... and these are still warm." Her voice became softer and tighter yet. "I couldn't manage to get you anything from the kitchen. No one is supposed to give you anything extra, but I was afraid she might -- well, I wanted to be sure you had something." <><><><><> ... She might.... The words echoed in his head. The implication was serious. Perhaps she would strengthen him up just enough to give him a sword and then take his head. Thereby appeasing her sense of commitment to the Rules. But it was too late for that anyway. She had broken them already. She involved mortals in their affairs. She had used mortals to hunt an immortal. She dispatched mortals to kill an immortal. Whether that was her intent or not, Cuculhain had died at the hands of mortals. She had unnecessarily wasted the lives of mortals in the pursuit of her ends. She had broken the rules. And now she thought to play at them for convenience, or was she being pressured. These thoughts crossed his mind as he unwrapped the eggs. Carefully he set them down on his bedding. "Caitlyn... you should go," he whispered. "I would want you to stay, but if she made rules... then don't get caught... I want you to be alive when I get out of this. Thankyou... You are kind and decent... makes me think that there is something redeeming in female immortals. Go now lass. Don't lose your head." He then looked to his eggs. They were warm. And they might last him a couple of days... but he couldn't stretch them out very far, for they wouldn't keep. And how many more days would Medb give him? Not many. He gingerly picked up the first one and looked back up again. He smiled for the first time in a long while. Tilting his head back and opening his mouth, he cracked the egg with his fingers and let the insides pour. And then a second one followed the first. As soon as she had gone, he began stretching his weakened limbs. Slowly and carefully. A little bit at a time. He then stood and sat, and stood again. His joints were stiff and sore from the lack of use. He would keep at it until he needed rest and a mouthful of water. And he would keep this routine going, and increase it to include more physically demanding things, until she came for him. <><><><><> >Caitlyn< "I ... I guess you're right. I'll go." She seemed reluctant to leave now that she was finally here. "But I *will* be back!" The defiance was clear. And then her light was gone. <><><><><> "I know," he said as he crushed the shells into the smallest pieces he could manage, usng the stone floor to break them into little chips that he could stuff and sweep into the cracks. She was a good person. He had convinced himself of that. Despite the Morrigan's warning, he had come to believe that in his heart. He needed to believe in something good. He sat for a few moments in the darkness of his pit. Overhead, in the real world, he could see the distant flickering of torches. Time was wasting, and he had no idea how much of it he had left. He then decided it was time to see what he could do about getting stronger, despite his food supply. Even if it only meant that he was more limber and prepared to face her, should she come calling for his head. <><><><><> [GM] There isn't much room for exercising, but you can at least stretch your limbs out, and push against the walls to work your muscles a little bit. Another tedious day passes. The next evening, as if in an exact reprise of the previous night, you see the flickering of a torch, and then sense the Quickening. Once again, you have to wait and strain to hear the first words of your visitor....Caitlyn again, so soon this time? Or is Medb finally coming to confirm your fears? <><><><><> He had the halves of the heavy stone that had once been chained arounds his neck to roll around and to try and lift. It didn't require much room to exert himself. Given a few more days, he might be inclined to use the grate overhead to pull himself up repeatedly. There were a few more options in his mind. He had finished the eggs that he had been given. They were no longer warm, but anything that added to the paltry offerings that Medb's people delivered was a boon. But the sensation of the Quickening came that next night. He hoped that it would be Caitlyn, but He wouldn't dare betray her in case he was wrong. He waited. They would have to speak to him first. If his time had come, then he would make the best of it. Again he gathered his bedding under him to keep the fact that he had been saving his food sacks for something to sleep on. And he waited, looking upwards... Listening. <><><><><> >Caitlyn< "Ciaran? It's me." She peered through the grate. "Are you glad to see me?" She asked with the mixture of certainty and total lack of confidence found in so many pretty teenagers. "I brought you some more eggs, and I even managed some milk." <><><><><> "Aye Caitlyn," he whispered after an audible sigh of relief. "I was beginnin' to think it was time to lose my head." He chuckled softly when she told him what she had brought him. "I am glad to see you... even if you were to bring me nothing..." He stood up from his bedding and waited for her to offer the package to him. He tried to look into her eyes, but the light shone from behind her mostly and it made it difficult. "If you have the time... I like to hear more about you... or some things that are going on around here... Anything at all really... I just want someone to talk to..." <><><><><> >Caitlyn< "Here are the eggs." She wriggled her arm down through a hole in the grating, pushing down as far as she can. "It was no problem getting the eggs ... I may not be so very good with my lessons with Queen Medb, but I can charm a hen." She waited again to be sure he had the eggs. "I'd like to talk, too. I get lonely sometimes. I'm not supposed to talk much to the other girls my age. I don't think the Queen trusts me to keep her secrets, but I just want to forget sometimes that I'm different." <><><><><> He did take the proffered food and set the package on is bedding. He looked back to her again. "I wish that I could tell you that you weren't different. I wish that I wasn't different either... I wish for a great many things..." He looked about himself and offered a wan smile at his humble home. "This was never one of them... But we are both prisoners of our reality... My time will be coming soon... and I think I will be freed of this curse... But...." He paused with a shake of his head. "I have heard my own voice too much of late and I would much rather listen to yours..." <><><><><> >Caitlyn< Her fingers had trembled in the attempt to touch him, but he had taken the eggs without the slightest clouch. "I ...maybe ... what would you like me to speak of?" She pulled herself back out of the grating for a moment. "I can tell you about *my* days. I study each day with the queen. She knows so much ... she's so wise!" Was there pride in Caitlyn's voice? Hero worship, perhaps? "I'm still not sure why I was chosen, and she probably wishes she had someone who was smarter. I'm just not as quick as she --" Her voice broke off for a second and when she spoke again, it was in a whisper. "But I won't speak ill of her ... she'd know if I did." Caitlyn half-crawled across the grate again, lowering the skin of milk. "This is still warm." She giggled. "I left the boy who tends the goats blushing and promising me that he'd never tell a soul that I need the milk to help keep my skin clear." <><><><><> "Chosen.... Chosen for what Caitlyn?" he said just after she lowered the milk. He took it gingerly and smiled at the closeness of her. He wished that they weren't separated by the grate. "I would never ask you to speak ill of your teacher... we all have one when we are new immortals... it is part of the rules that we are taught by someone. But what did she choose you for?" He lowered the skin to his chest and looked back up at her arm there. On an impulse he reached up quickly to touch her delicate fingers. He knew that he shouldn't have, but he wanted to. Soft and sweet smelling. But the scent of her escaped him, like he should know it. But he couldn't place. It smelled good though. His own nearness would likely offend her and he withdrew his dirty and rough hand as quickly as he had acted on the impulse to begin with. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have been so forward...." <><><><><> >Caitlyn< "Was that forward? To touch my hand like that?" Slowly she retreated. "I suppose it was, but ..." Her face was over the grate, and she must be flat on the floor above him to be able to look down the way she was. Soft strands of her black hair hung about her face. "Do you know I think about you all the time?" Again, there was that sound of naivete and youthfulness. "I've never known anyone like you. All the men here would do anything that the ... that she asked. But not you. You refuse her every wish." She sounded impressed at his ability to stand up to Medb. "I do what I'm told .. mostly. She wouldn't be very happy about this." Caitlyn giggled. "But, this is what she says that immortals do ... we can do whatever we want to!" The giggle died. "Except, you can't ... and neither can I." She sat up, her face disappearing from the grating. <><><><><> "She's not _my_ Queen, Caitlyn... and I am her prisoner... But my resolve was broken... I got a better place to sleep and some food and water... because I offered her something, and though it isn't useful... I suppose she has some honor... or maybe she is making sure that i am just healthy enough to appease the damn Rules, so she can take my head... Right now, every day is borrowed..." His words had trailed off. She wasn't there all of a sudden, but he felt her. He felt the Quickening. He strained to listen for her. Her movement, breathing, or even a retreating footfall. <><><><><> >Caitlyn< There was a sound, a soft sound, but her face didn't appear again. When she spoke, her voice was muffled. "Every day is borrowed for all of us. The next time I make a mis-- ... oh, it doesn't matter." Silence again. Then: "What's it like, Ciaran? Being free, being out from other people's control?" <><><><><> "Caitlyn, lass... I wish I had the answers you seek," he said with sigh. Her words troubled him but he didn't know how to make it right. How to tell her to escape Medb and the looming threat. He knew how to defend himself, and he could not avoid her. "Every one of us, mortal and immortal, is bound to someone or something... we are never truly free. I would take you far from here, if I could... but I can't... Sooner or later, she will grow tired of one of us or both... you will make that mistake... because you are human... and I... I am a threat to her." He laughed wanly as he looked upward through the grate hoping to get a glimpse of her. <><><><><> >Caitlyn< "Far from here?" Her voice was a whisper, barely heard even in the quiet of that place. "I've never been anywhere else." There was a soft rustling sound of skirts and then the torch moved. "I ... I seem to make you sad and bitter. I'll leave you." <><><><><> "Caitlyn....," he whispered. "Cait," it came again a bit louder. And then his voice returned to the conspiratorial whisper. "You don't have to go... I'm sorry... you're not making me bitter... I just start remembering things that aren't real anymore. Please stay...." <><><><><> >Caitlyn< "I'll stay ... if you're sure that you want me to." The torch light stabilized again and her face appeared again. "Why aren't things real? You're not going to be here forever. When she sees that you're not a threat to her, she'll let you go." There was doubt in her voice. <><><><><> "Cait... You know and I know... That I will always be a threat to her... No matter what I say or do... I was a Red Branch Warrior for King Conor Of Ulster... Medb knows this... I was trained to be a warrior by the Knights... Cuculhain was my friend... I became immortal the day he lost his head... to the armies that Medb threw at him... She didn't even dare face him... by the Rules... but there are ways around anything... including the Rules... It was a battle... over a damn bull... or that is where it began anyway... She will never trust me... because she knows that I will never respect her... I or any other true warrior of Eiru has a code to live by... and we follow our kings and queens because we respect them... I will never espect anyone who does this," he said as he turned around looking at his stone cell. "Who does this to an enemy... or anyone for that matter. There is no honor in this." <><><><><> >Caitlyn< She was silent. She hadn't moved. He could still see her, but she was silent. What was going through her head? She had come to him, sneaked away from all the others, taking risks to be there, but she said not a word. What could she say? He had just told her he had not chance, that he expected to die here, that there would be no freedom for him. And so what of her? She didn't say goodbye this time, just staring at him quietly ... then she rose and left. <><><><><> He sat sullenly atop his bedding and drank the milk. She wouldn't be coming back. He knew this, or at least felt it. And that was probably the biggest blow to his psyche yet. He swallowed an egg after cracking the shell. Without her, he had no one to talk with, and nothing to look forward to... except the day when Medb grew tired of this game. He sat in the dark and stared at the wall. <><><><><> [GM] Just as Caitlyn's presence is fading, you hear her startled, and frightened, squeal echoing from up the stone corridor. And then Medb's deeper voice, all the usual subtle undertones in her speech muted by the distance, but still unmistakably malevolent. "Why hello, Caitlyn.....visiting a friend, I see?" Caitlyn's wail lingers in the space surrounding your sealed pit, as the sound recedes up the corridor. <><><><><> Without hesitiation, Ciaran stood. A caged animal. he looked upward at the exit to his confinement. She needed his help. And without it, she would lose her head to that whore witch. But what could he do from where he was at now? And then it flashed in his mind... Medb now knew that the two of them spent time together and that had many implications he didn't dare consider. But what if it was all a trap... carefully staged by them both. To see what he would do... How he would react... *Never trust a woman.* And he circled around in his cell, judging his strength and stamina and the distance he would have to jump to get his hands around the bars that formed the grate on the cell door. *Never....* But he had finally had enough of feeling sorry for himself. It was time to do and think and plan and fight. The strength he had left would likely fade, and he would get no stronger without Caitlyn feeding him extra rations. He looked around his cell. There had to be things of use to him now... Weeks of captivity. The chain about his neck. The halves of the stone that had broken apart. The sacks that his food had been delivered in. Yes..... He bent over to pick up the heavy rock and lifted it and hurled against the wall to chip and shatter it until he had enough small pieces to act as a weight. He then took several of the sacks and began to tie them together. The various survival techniques had taught him a few things. Scathach had taught him to design traps as well. Desperation would serve as the motivation. He tied the sacks together, in layers to add strength to the fabric. He then filled one sack with his weight stones and tied that to an end of his makeshift rope. Next came to task of tossing the sack upwards so that it passed through one of the openings, and fell back through another one. With one success, he would even the two lengths and the throw the weighted end again to wrap it around the bars. The final measure would be to tie the to ends together. He wouldn't be able to find out how his pit was sealed unless he could feel the closure or see it. And he certainly couldn't remedy his captivity unless he could get up there. He finished the last of his eggs and milk. He tested the strength of the knots he had tied and then began the task of climbing up to the cell door. <><><><><> [GM] True, the taciturn men whose faces you've barely glimpsed through the bars of your dark cell, who drop your daily ration of hard bread and water to you, have never bothered to try retrieving the sacks they came in. But these sacks are little more than rough-sewn cloth wrapped around your meal. You can eventually fashion a rock-filled weight with the bladders that held the water, but you don't have nearly enough material to make a rope with which to pull yourself up to the bars, which are just high enough that even your best leap, were you at full strength, would probably not allow you to grasp them. <><><><><> Ciaran did not wish to admit that he was defeated so quickly. He made those attempts to jump for the bars. And he failed. But he attempted again. And again. His idea for the use of the sacks had failed, but that didn't prevent him from trying. At least he know had a makeshift sap on a short tether. Not that he figured he would get much of an opportunity to use it. He wrapped it around his waist, under the dirty tunic he wore. The weighted end was secured to hang just above his crotch. He hoped that it wouldn't be so obvious beneath his clothes there. And he thought some more. He studied and made up plans for an escape. Scenarios and ideas based around the next time that Medb had her guards come for him, if that time ever came again. <><><><><> [GM] Three more days pass. You continue to receive your meager daily food rations (and sacks....if this continues for another couple of months, you *could* eventually have enough material to make that rope), but receive no more visits from Caitlyn. Your heart leaps when you sense the Quickening again....yet the figure who appears over the grate early one morning is robed and veiled, and before she speaks, you know it's Medb. "Well, I hope you are pleased with yourself, Ciaran," the Dark Queen says, in an irritated, venomous tone. "She's run away, the little fool." <><><><><> Ciaran looked up at the woman with impassive eyes. Her anger and bitterness meant little to him. A small smile crept across his face, but it wasn't much of one and he had no way of knowing whether she could see him clearly enough in his unlit cell. "I didn't make her run away... I didn't make her come here... and I wasn't the one lying to her about who she was... I guess the blame is really yours Medb... but I am a good whipping boy and you can blame me... I offered you everything I had... and you knew all along that wouldn't be enough... and yet you wanted me to say those things... to break my will. You succeeded. Now Caitlyn has left you... to see something more... to become what she should be... and you will hunt her... I can accept the blame if it makes you feel better... if it will help you sleep at night until your hounds track down this immortal for you... or the Morrigan catches up with her first and sends her to Scathach... I'd wager that worries you a bit... doesn't it?" <><><><><> [GM] Medb laughs bitterly. "You are a fool, Ulsterman. Scathach has never trained a woman. Morrigan's assassins are always men. Morrigan doesn't trust other women...nor does she trust men either, I'll wager, but with the exception of her protege, she either ignores female immortals, or, if they become a potential threat...." the Queen leans forward, hands clenching the bars over your cell, "...she kills them." "And what makes you think Morrigan and Scathach are the only other immortals left in Eiru? Or that immortals are all that Caitlyn has to worry about? She's still a child, an ignorant child with nothing more than a smattering of sorcery with which to protect herself." There's something else in Medb's tone now, something unfamiliar. "I know well, Ulsterman, how dangerous it is for a young girl with no clan or family to be by herself out in the wide world...." her voice trails off. She lets go of the metal bars, and straightens. "I have come to offer you a bargain." <><><><><> "A deal? Now you need me to help you... I am willing to listen... I will probably accept, as it is likely to be the only deal you will offer." He watched her. And a pitying feeling came over him, not for the hint that she led a difficult life, but rather that she was so bitter aperson. So dark and tainted in spirit. It was true that Scathach would not teach Caitlyn, but the Morrigan was a different matter... her ends and aims were deeply convoluted and the fact that caitlyn was a student of medb's might just puique curiosity and Morrigan might see some advantage in that. Ciaran certainly did. Medb knew that Caitlyn wouldn't be trained, so it would be the perfect thing... to catch the bitch off guard. And Ciaran knew that if he thought of it, then the Morrigan would as well. And lovely Caitlyn would be trapped in the middle of their game as he was. <><><><><> [GM] Medb pauses. Then says "The bargain is simple. You will go out and fetch Caitlyn for me. Bring her back, and you may go free." She leans over the grate again, without touching it this time, so you can just barely make out her eyes, glittering in the darkness above you. "Before you refuse, consider." "First, I have no intention of taking the child's head. If I meant to do that, I would have done so when she first came to me. The damned Rules would not prevent me from putting a sword in her hands and then cutting off her head while she stands there trying to figure out what to do with it." "Secondly, whether you like it or not, Caitlyn is better off with me. There is no one else who will or can train her. Except perhaps you, and you will be too busy keeping ahead of the Morrigan and I....you don't want Caitlyn drawn into our conflict, but there's nowhere safe you can take her. Except back to me." <><><><><> His expression became dark. She would use him to hurt the only one who had been friendly to him. There would be no way he would do this. He would rather rot than destroy that child any further. And then suddenly he laughed. She said much without telling him anything. Caitlyn had gone somewhere that she couldn't get to. She had already tried to get her back, and had failed. With any luck, Gann was dead. "I can accept your offer... but I have no guarantees you will honor it. I would bring her back, and as distasteful as I think that would be, she has little other hope of survival, but what will keep you from breaking your word... Making me a prisoner again... No ned to answer... Nothing. There are no guarantees. And I suppose that is a chance I have to take. I have some questions about your failed search attempts. And I am hardly in any condition to conduct your business at this immediate moment. But I am more than willing to get out of here." <><><><><> [GM] "I'm sure you are," Medb intones with a hint of irony. She leans over the grate, resting her hands on the bars again, as her eyes blaze down at you. "Your guarantee that I will honor our agreement is the same one I will have from you....my sworn word!" "I swear by Eiru and by the gods of Eiru that if you bring Caitlyn back to me, I will allow you to leave Cruachain unhindered, and not send pursuers or otherwise harass you for a fortnight thereafter, provided you proceed directly away from Connacht." "Before I let you out of there, I will have a Threefold Oath from you, that you will seek Caitlyn out and bring her back to me, and do no harm to me until that same fortnight has passed after you have completed your mission." <><><><><> "You know that I would not make any oaths unless I understood what it is that I am needed for. I know, as well as anyone, that you have hunters Medb... Good ones. I am in a pit now, no threat anymore... but here you are... offering me a freedom, and a chance to escape your _hospitality_ in exchange for finding, returning, and observing a fortnight's truce... What aren't you telling me about this... I would want to know this before I blindly accept a deal that I might find more difficult to keep than I imagined." He looked up, trying to see into her eyes, deep into her soul. Trying to understand this part of the game. <><><><><> [GM] Medb's eyes tell you nothing. She's far more experienced than you at seeing into others' souls, while keeping her own thoughts hidden. "I do not fancy having answers pried from me to satisfy all your suspicions, Ulsterman," Medb says, sounding irritated. She paces again, this time moving out of your view for a few seconds, before returning. "One of the first tricks I taught Caitlyn, and the only one she has become very adept at, is diverting mortal eyes away from her person. As you know well-" Medb's voice becomes icy and flat- "she is rather good at sneaking past guards. Now she knows she will be hunted....she will be very difficult to find." "Except for another immortal. She can hide herself from mortal eyes, but not from our sense." "I know what direction she left in. I have some ideas where she may have fled to. It should not be very difficult for you to find her and bring her back." She pauses. "Your only difficulty will probably be in ignoring her tears and pleas. I suspect you are a man with a soft heart for maidens in distress." Her voice is full of sarcasm now. "She'll tell you I am a horrible, wicked witch, that I beat her and mistreat her and torment her day and night, and never let her relax and make her suffer for every little mistake." Medb leans over the grate, clutching the bars again. "And it's all true, Ciaran. I am not a kind teacher, when imparting the skills a fledgling immortal needs to survive. Surely you can relate to that?" <><><><><> Ciaran understood the necessary harshness of the training to survive as an immortal. But there were likely to be teachers who derived a perverse pleasure from tormenting the weak. Medb certainly enjoyed the feeling of power, and the ability to dominate others, especially men. Something told him that this situation was a product of her early life. And it was the fact that she might be a harsh teacher that made him sick when considering the fact that young Caitlyn was a student of hers. It was the other possible things that she made the child endure to toughen her up. He would find her, and help her... but she wasn't going to like his method much better. "I can relate Medb... And I can accept your oath. Then I offer my Oath. By the skies and the seas and the earth contained between them... by the heavens and the hidden places and all that my honor and sworn word represent... I will set out alone to track her. I will find the woman... I will return the woman... and I will observe a fortnight without seeking to do your person harm... and lastly, by all the gods... this oath is fully conditional that you do not kill her... break that, and I will challenge you on the spot... and bind you to the Rules and that challenge... there and then." <><><><><> [GM] Medb laughs. "Now, if I WAS going to kill her, do you think I'd do it right in front of you?" She waves a hand dismissively. "I will have my men haul you up and bring you to my throneroom....AFTER having another bath. It took three days to wash the stench off the stones last time. Oh, and please divest yourself of that crude sap around your waist first, unless you want to be bound again." She walks away, and as her presence fades, there is movement back at the mouth of the pit, and you see and hear men banging on the chains that hold the grate in place, taking the lid off your prison. <><><><><> Ciaran removes the sap. It wasn't like he really knew how to effectively use it against anyone who might have been armed. But it was some sense of security none-the-less. He waited for the guards to get him out, and to get his bath. Now that would be welcome, but more importantly was the hope of some decent food for a change. The eggs were nice and fresh as was the milk, but raw eggs and warm milk couldn't replace the taste of some beef or mutton and a good ale to wash it away with. <><><><><> [GM] The knights lift you out, and you note they are far more cautious than they were last time. You haven't been *well* fed, but you're strong enough to act, and possibly fight, so half of them have swords already drawn, ready to strike you down if you make a move they don't like. They don't say this out loud; their expressions are enough. You get your bath, and some clean (though poorly-fitting) clothes. All you need now is a weapon to feel almost like a man again, but oath or not, you deem it highly unlikely that Medb will allow you to be armed in her presence. You're fed before being brought into Meb's throneroom; some barley and bread and just a little bit of mutton, and your first taste of ale since you came to Cruachain. A modest enough meal, certainly not the sort of generous hospitality one expects from a great King or Queen, but after your ordeal of the last few weeks, it's a grand feast, and no food or drink has ever tasted better. Finally, you are brought before Medb one more time. She's still sitting in her throne, veiled and robed, and still protected by Gann. (So much for your hope that he might be dead.) The difference this time is that you walk in under your own power, with your arms free. It makes a great difference, and it's not lost on Medb. Three other armed men besides Gann stand between you and her elevated throne. No one could ever accuse Medb of being uncautious. You even fancy that she looks a little nervous, though that could be just wishful thinking, since you can't really see her face, and her eyes are as unrevealing as usual. A long silence passes. Queen Medb looks you up and down, while Gann inspects you somewhat less impassively. He seems fairly itching to come at you, probably hoping you'll make an aggressive move, even though he's armed and you're not. Then Medb says, "Caitlyn went east. I believe she will probably follow the Sionnain River to the great lake at the center of Eiru. There are a number of still-intact crannogs there along the shore, where the royalty lived in ancient times, and while much of the lakeshore is inhabited, the woods at the southernmost tip tend to be avoided by mortals; they have a reputation for being inhabited by sidhe." "She might hide out there....or she may continue down the river, towards the sea. I once told her that there are a number of ancient cairns and passage tombs along the way, and other holy sites dating back before the coming of the Milesians." Medb folds her hands in her lap. "Caitlyn is bright, but rash....impulsive. She's smart enough to avoid commonfolk and probably to elude pursuers, except other immortals, but she lacked the foresight to prepare adequately, and she's certainly no hunter. She'll probably be reduced to stealing eggs from peasants. Her plan of escape was undoubtedly not well thought-out. She didn't even think to steal a horse. Actually, she'd probably realize how foolish she's being, and come back to me on her own, eventually...." Medb pauses. "But I fear for her safety." <><><><><> Ciaran smiled at both Gann and Medb. Gann wanted to prove he was better. But he had done that already. He got lucky, but luck was a part of it so he had proven himself. But, in reality, he probably wanted to prove it Medb. That told him that Medb had warned him to be careful of Ciaran. And that warning stuck in the craw of the mortal guard of the Darke Queen. She protected herself well while he was there, and he had no weapons and there were numerous guards who had plenty. As impassive as she was in person, her actions told him a different story. Lough Ree and the Sinann River divide Connaught from the rest of the island... The Sinann flows south to Lough Derg and then to the eastern sea. Ciaran felt that the girl had learned more than Medb was willing to acknowledge. She had a gift for getting what she wanted from the mortals. She spoke of that when she told him how the young boy gave her the milk for her skin. She was quite pleased by that. Caitlyn might not have difficulty getting people to give her food. Another thing of note to Ciaran was the possibility that Medb could not watch her over a distance through her sorcery. Perhaps the young woman had learned to prevent that. Or maybe Ciaran was assuming she could do it in the first place. She always seemed to know where to send her own hunters to pursue him. She seemed to know things that he couldn't explain, but he certainly couldn't prevent. That was the nature of sorcery, and it made his skin crawl. He nods at the possibility of Caitlyn being in trouble. Though the sanctuary of Holy Ground would protect her against the immortals, the mortal predators would not be so observing of those places. "Then East it will be... but there are many crannogs as you have said... and that will take time... The tombs are another matter. A body could spend days searching them, only to find that she exited elsewhere and the hunt begins again. Finding her trail should not be difficult, but searching each place she has been and then picking up new trails... to rely on the Quickening... I would have to be relatively close to her... And that supposes that I am not headed for _another_ Immortal... any of those you care to tell me about?" <><><><><> [GM] Medb's eyes crinkle a bit...you think she may be smiling, behind her veil. "Time, that is something we all have plenty of, is it not? Though I'd obviously prefer to have Caitlyn found and returned as soon as possible." "I don't know of any other immortals in the south...but that's not to say there aren't any. Even if Morrigan has killed them all off, as I suspect, new ones may be born at any time, and occasionally, foreign immortals have found their way to Eiru. Like Scathach." Gann looks uneasy at all this talk of immortals, and some of the other knights also seem perturbed. Perhaps Medb is so used to her men being arrayed around her like pieces of furniture, she forgets they have ears...but then, Medb's minions must be used to her sorceries by now. <><><><><> "Once I am outfitted for this trip... I am ready to begin... and the sooner the better." He said nothing further. His eyes watching the Queen. He ignored Gann, other than to know that he was still around and where he was at. Gann's attitude or discomfort mattered nothing to him. Granted the talk of them both being immortal was something that wasn't supposed to be discussed in the presence of mortals, but this was her place and she made the rules. He wasn't about to quibble over this point when there was freedom looming ever near now. <><><><><> [GM] Mebd doesn't seem to have anything else to tell you either. No doubt she's keeping something from you....probably keeping quite a bit from you, but that's only to be expected. You're shown out of Medb's throneroom....and outside, at long last. The sun, rising to the highest point in the sky, is a welcome sight. Wordlessly, Medb's men lead a horse from her vast stables and present it to you. A fair enough beast, certainly not the finest she could have provided, but it's healthy and will carry you and your minimal equipment. A servant brings you the latter. Medb has provided you with one spare wool tunic and cloak, leather shoes, a week's worth of dry rations, and a sword and a single spear. Both of the latter are of poor quality...Bas Cuartu, no doubt, will remain locked in Medb's armory, perhaps to be presented as a gift someday to a favored dog, like Gann. <><><><><> Ciaran collected his new belongings and made no comments about what he would like to have. He would make certain that he availed himself of better equipment and weapons when he could, perhaps picking off a couple of Medb's men on distant patrol. He mounted the horse once everything was packed and wheeled the animal towards the east. he followed the eastern road that would take him towards Lough Ree. It was too early to hope for some signs of a trail. The area was much too busy, and he wanted to be well away from this place as soon as possible.