The Power of Ten

I felt like something was bubbling and hissing in revulsion on the surface of my skin, but naturally couldnt see anything.

Hmm. He took his hands back, frowning. <Close your eyes for a moment, please.>

I obliged, and he placed his fingers on them gently, but firmly. He took them back, and I opened them to look at him.

He grunted, and looked at Helix, who could only purse his lips in surprise. <Silver eyes, just like her license.> He handed it over to the Paladin, who studied the picture with interest.

<Elrii, is it?> he asked perfunctorily, and handed it back to me.

Traveler, now, I half-sighed, waving at Helix, who just grinned. Not that Elrii is my Truename.

Mmm, the Paladin nodded. <Youre clean as far as I can tell, although that Curse hanging on you doesnt want to disperse.>

Im aware. I pointed with my chin at the med tent. Is there someone in there who can help with my side? This is quite painful. I kind of shook my shoulder, and grimaced.

<Father Bower!> the Paladin called out, gesturing me after him. I kind of kicked the Disk along that way, and Helix let it drift after the holy warrior.

---

The inside of the med tent was as expected: low cots that were mostly empty except for a couple soldiers idling with minor injuries and getting fixed up, and a couple of stations with supplies, bandages, pills, and the like. I gathered the Wands and Potions were locked away somewhere so the opportunistic didnt make off with them.

<Sir Pellier?> answered a salt-and-peppered black man in his thirties, looking as stolid and grim as the god whose ivory scales and hammer were clearly shone on the black symbol on his chest. His dark eyes flicked past to focus on me. <Bringing a patient to me?> he asked with interest, looking me over.

Shadow-touched. Strength damage to my left side. If youve a Restorative, Id be obliged, I informed him, lifting the side of my shirt up this time, displaying a thickening and unhealthy blue sheen all up and down my side.

<Ah, those are never fun. Allow me.> Father Bower closed his eyes and chanted quietly, a firm white light glowing about his Symbol and his hands. His eyes flickered with a gleam of ivory as he opened them, and bent down to put his hands on my side.

The Lesser Restoration didnt so much heal the damage as drive the negative energies afflicting me out in a boiling mist, which was promptly eaten by the white light. It basically undid the effect, leaving me only a little put out, and banished the pain in my feet as a happy side effect.

His eyes didnt miss the scar on my belly as his eyes dropped. He definitely had the Heal Ranks to know what it meant, and his eyes flashed. <Who did that to you?> he asked softly, the spell letting him know I still had ability damage it hadnt gotten rid of, and able to guess where it had come from.

Sinbound. Took the baby. I killed four of them, the fifth could Shadowjump, and I had no way to chase him. I flicked my finger, and a very accurate Holo of his face and body as Id seen in the distance came up, complete with the swaddled child he was holding. Apologies, I have no memories of him other than this.

All three men stared at the Holo, obviously committing the sight to memory, possibly for replication. Father Bower asked in an iron voice.

He was vaguely amused when I held up a finger, put it in my ear, and asked him to repeat that. Hes down four friends. Here are the wallets of two of them. I flicked them out of my purse, and handed them over to him.

Harse, the Ivory King, was the Greater God of Justice, the Judge of the Living and the Dead. His Domains of interest were Law, Good, Justice, Death, and Protection. To be a Priest of Harse was to be a Good and Lawful man, a stern father figure who served and guided their community with an iron spine and harder will. They made superb bureaucrats, better judges, extremely daunting lawyers, and took their roles as protectors of the living and the dead very seriously, indeed.

Hunting down magical criminals like that asshole? Theyd be looking for him for years, until he was confirmed dead by one means or another.

I noted the Mithran symbol on the silver chain around the Paladins throat, and sighed inside. I guess I was not going to be a Mithran Battlemage, after all...