The Fool capered around Igma’s newly arrived guests, distracting them with random movements and overly large flourishes, dancing around them like a drunkard. The five who had arrived were agitated, as much bedazzled by her hall and her court as they were flustered by the antics of The Fool. She knew they were not here to kill her, those that carried such malice could rarely enter her realm, even fewer could reach her citadel and none could bypass The Fool.

When her guests stood in the centre of the hall, Igma looked to the balcony where her minstrels played, they ended the song slowly as most of her guests looked around in wonder. When the last note slowly faded to silence The Fool rolled away from them, briefly rising plank-straight on hands, then gracefully stood, bestowing an overly large bow to her, “Great Lady of Mystery, I present five who have come. Two of the ancient bloodlines, one of the tainted drake spawn, a horse-lord who is a lady and another, who seems rather upset.”

The one who had not been gawking, the Kereshi, did look angry. She was scowling. The older of the halfmen glanced to his companions then cleared his throat and gave a deep bow, the other three followed his example. The Kereshi held Igma’s gaze and did not bow. Igma liked her already.

She stood, raised her hands and smiled at her guests, “Welcome to Quiet Valley. You obviously know who I am, please introduce yourselves.”

“This place is really nifty. My name is Berri BogWalker, from Swampdon. I’ve never seen eyes like that before, is that your real skin colour? I think your jester said I was of the ancient blood. Is that true?” The young halfman, full of curiosity.

“I am Osran, you are thanked for the hospitality.” The half orc, surprisingly well spoken, prone to violence.

“Roddarra of Herilington’s Hold.” The pretty one, full of hurt and regret.

“Walker.” The gifted halfman, guarded, warded.

“Ijah Gahm. I have come at the behest of the Swampdon Council to deliver a message.” The reason for their presence in her house, this one lead the others. She was certainly angry towards Igma, but also lonely and distracted by desire.

“Welcome to my home. Here you are safe, under my protection. There will be time for questions and quests, yet, I think you are all weary from the road. I would see you rested and fed before we proceed with your various issues. My majordomo, Hood, The Body, will show you to the guest quarters and provide you with servitors who will see to your needs while you are here. Take the rest of the afternoon to recover yourselves and we shall dine together this evening.”

Hood, The Body slammed the haft of his glaive into the floor and stepped forward from his alcove. She watched their reaction to the very large, well muscled man, clad in a black hood, black boots and small black leather shorts. They were all somewhat taken aback, more so when the silent giant marched past them without saying a word. Berri said, “I think we are supposed to follow him.”

Igma smiled and gave a gracious nod, gesturing for them to proceed. They followed along after her majordomo, exchanging confused looks.

When they had left her hall, Igma sat and waved her Kereshi over from the alcove where she had been reclining with the other beautiful women of her court, “Yehmeera, do you know that woman?”

“No. I do know that the Gahm family was assigned to Swampdon. She carried a messenger’s satchel and I’m confident in saying she is a sword-sister, a warrior of my people.”

“Very well. Including yourself, I’d like five of the court to attend the feast this evening, a match for each of our guests.”

“Any suggestion for the girl and the orc?”

“I trust your judgment. Will you dance this evening?”

“If that is what you want, yes.”

“Good. I will retire to my chambers for the rest of the day.” She stood and spoke to the others, “Return to whatever it was you were doing. Court dismissed.”

Igma walked to the ornate door behind the dais, entered her tower and climbed to the upper levels. The tower was her private place, none of her court, not even her lovers were welcomed here, it was her refuge from all the rest. Four guardians stood in eternal vigilance on the lowest floor, as well, four more on the uppermost floor, waiting for some foe to violate her sanctum. They were tucked away out of sight, a contingency for her security. Tandario was also here, what was left of him at any rate, now a servitor, she kept him to remind herself of her earlier life and to attend to the small things that needed upkeep. He, it, stayed out of sight unless she called him.

Little-Leaf was her only companion within the tower, she was her familiar, presently basking in the sunlight laying along the southwest window sill. The cat raised her head and looked at her, stretched out her forelegs then groomed herself for a while, pretending to ignore her. Igma spent most of her days in the three upper rooms of the tower, a bedroom, a study containing a modest library and her arcanium or laboratory.

One of her greatest joys, her plants, festooned all three rooms while others, more able to endure the local climate, were planted around the roof or on planters hanging from the outer window sills. Most were rare flora, exotic plants, often with mystical qualities. They were vibrant, healthy, many of them produced fragrant blooms. Through her arcane abilities she could choose which plants were in flower, to suit her mood on any given day.

She changed into more comfortable clothing, a loose shirt, pants of the finest cotton and a pair of harem slippers. She took a few moments to do some stretching in the warm light coming through the window, she cleared her mind, breathing slow, deep breaths. Once she had exercised her body she sat cross-legged on the floor to meditate, letting her mind float freely. Eventually Little-Leaf hopped down from the sill and butted her head against Igma’s hand until she was drawn out of her trance.

She smiled, took the cat onto her lap and sat with her for a while, rubbing her ears then gently scratching her familiar’s chin. She picked up the cat, stood and headed up to the rooftop, “Let us take a look to see what has happened to my guests. I’m curious as to how they came here.”

Little-Leaf made no response, other than to rub her head against her breast. When they came up to the roof the cat jumped down, then found a perch along the edge of the scrying artifact. It was of elvish design, crafted many millennia ago, a large shallow dish of polished silver, framed within a stand of a living branch from a heart-tree. Igma had retrieved it from the ancient home of the high-elves, deep within the Els’Vain Hoff Forest a couple centuries earlier. She knew of two other such artifacts, one within the royal palace in the Elquinian capital and another within the Arcanium of GreensBridge.

Igma took a moment to purify the water within the bowl, then concentrated on her Forgetful Talismans. She had a few hundred of them crafted, usually adding two or three every year. Either she or someone from her court would go out to neighbouring regions and place them in areas likely be visited by travellers. She eventually found what she was looking for, she and Little-Leaf gazed deeply into the scene within the scrying bowl.

They watched Ijah and her companions confront the hunters who had been trying to reach her. She admired Ijah’s form and skill with the sword as the carnage played out. She was very interested in the way the last of the hunters had used her talisman to sow confusion and flee the roadhouse. She searched for him further, finding that he had bypassed a number of her talismans, managed to recruit another posse of hunters and they were presently in the mountains a hundred yat south of Quiet Valley, on the verge of storming the old fortress that she used to distract the more persistent hunters. Well, she hoped the goblins would get rid of that problem, she would have to check back in a day or so to see if the man survived.

She scryed further, looking to see if Ijah had gone past any of the other Forgetful Talismans, finding her again at the crossroads south of Freeton. Another scene of violence and death, this time with two dozen women rescued from captivity. It was there that they had found Roddarra. She searched further, wondering how they has met the older of the halfmen, Walker. She picked up no trace of them until they appeared at a small tavern in one of the villages within Quiet Valley, just a couple days past. Walker must have access to the ways, or, if they had teleported into the valley, he was hiding his true power. Maybe they had used a gate, though that seemed unlikely.

Having satisfied herself regarding the intent of her visitors, she gathered Little-Leaf and went down to her study. She was pleased about not knowing how they had arrived here, it was a mystery for her to solve. Until the evening meal she intended to work on her studies, there were always new things to learn, deeper understanding to be gained.