Whence Miracles Spring
Twelfth Day of the Ninth Month 293 AC
"It seems to me, Holy One, that one who wishes to see the Seven-As-One struck from the world in vengeance for the Old Gods of this land would prepare for such things in his own realm. Yet I was forced by circumstance to pass through the Stepstones on my way to these shores, and there I saw work on raising of a Sept of the Seven in the very heart the Dragon King's realm," you speak the words with some hesitation, as though fearing you would be overheard. In truth nothing of what you have to say is likely to raise suspicions. He could hear the same from half the sailors and travelers in port, but you know they will carry more weight in Laer's cultured tones.
"Or else the Dragon simply seeks to chew before he swallows, to
break us first." the septon replies, thankfully more in the manner of one airing his fears than with any great conviction. Of course he also happens to not be wholly wrong in the assumption.
"A faint fear and far away," you sigh. "Would that my own home had only such to concern itself with. My kindred may not care too deeply of me, but it would still pain me to see the house of my forefathers burned in dragon-flame." You pause and take a drink. "I should not let fear rule me and, if you will forgive the advice from a stranger..."
who is Volantene and thus expected to be presumptuous... "I do not think you should either, Holy One. The return of magic has changed many things, and the nature of faith no less when some can now draw far more than comfort from the power of their prayers. Against that, I do not believe any set of traditions can truly endure."
"So they say," Most Devout Ollidor counters before falling silent, unsure of how much more to say in such a setting. A dozen verses later he decides to continue, his words carefully chosen: "In Lannisport I have seen men work the same 'miracles' with their mind set upon law in its concept entirely, or even stone. Magic it is and magic I will call it, and if a wizard says they speak for the Father that does not make it so."
A firm conviction, but alas a brittle one. If Lucan can prove to his satisfaction he speaks for the Father then Ollidor might be swayed and with him all his votes in the Conclave. Time to give him an alternative. "Magic is not among the things I have studied in my journeys, but being one of less martial bearing myself any change can be completed with a minimum of bloodshed. Surely that would be better for all our folk."
Ollidor grimaces, but he does not contradict you. He watches the rest of the recital in silence.
Later he does offer you a vague open invitation to his home 'when matters of the Conclave no longer fill his hours.' Not nearly as useful as the invitation that Dywen had received, but then again you had been looking for an invitation then and in a guise that would be more expected to be invested in matters of the Faith.
***
As you leave the
Golden Harp you are surprised to meet Malarys returned so swiftly from the City of Brass, though given the news he bears you can understand the need. Maelor had
encountered a slave in the Bazaar of a Thousand Sins who spoke in the tongue of Ghis, the name of R'hllor upon her lips. Though she is dead at the hand of her master her skull still speaks and its answers make a troubling hearing. The girl, Dirze, hailed from Meereen and was carried to the city on paths of the Shadow. Alas that she did not know her master by anything but that title for she had only been in his possession a score of days.
"The path taken and the nature of the girl's master would seem to indicate some manner of trade between the bastard sons of Ghis and the Shadow," Malarys gives a sigh of disgust. "I would not put even that folly beyond them, especially now that they are desperate for trade with the west closed to them."
"How did the girl escape and how did she know to speak to Maelor?" you ask, not entirely sure if this is better or worse than the harpies. Regardless, Slaver's Bay will have to wait a good while longer.
"She briefly escaped in the confusion of some sort of arcane beast, as to why she sought out the boy... the best her bones could tell was because 'he had kind eyes'." Guessing your next question he adds: "If some power was upon her than it was subtle in its workings."
What do you do next?
[] Speak with one of the other important godsworn
-[] Write in
[] Infiltrate the Citadel
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: Not entirely happy with this, the articulation between the two parts is less firm than I would like, but the information does need to get to you guys in a timely manner, otherwise the interlude feels unfinished.