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* Zoya pauses at a door to listen. Niralan arrived in the Tower days earlier, but spent several days unconscious. When he woke, he was raving hysterically and unable to properly understand his circumstances. Zoya promptly moved him to a comfortable room, had the Staff "pad" the walls, and locked the door. <Zoya> ::She checks on him several times a day, and has finally figured out that his incoherent condition is a nasty reaction of one of several spells on him to the excess of wild magic in the area.:: <Niralan> ::no sound issues from behind the door except for slow, controlled breathing:: * Zoya carefully opens the door and slips into the room. * Niralan is sitting cross-legged on the floor, his palms upturned on his knees. His serene pose is made almost pitiful by the wild tangles of his hair and several sets of self-inflicted scratches across his face. * Zoya watches him for a moment, then sits on the floor opposite him. "Good afternoon. Feeling better, I see." <Niralan> ::without opening his eyes:: Under whose power do I now reside? <Zoya> Well, that's a matter open to interpretation. My name is Zoya Natovna, and this is my home. It is also the temple and mortal residence of the lesser deity Erdian, Whose domain is Wild Magic. ::cheerfully:: Of course, if you're asking why you're locked in here, the answer is that I didn't want you to do harm to my apprentice or her husband while you were ill. I have no intention of holding you against your will once you are freed of the various spells binding you. <Niralan> ::his voice changes slightly, growing deeper and acquiring a slight accent:: Menace enough when he was alive, that *he* of all should be granted godhood? Revolting! And unnatural woman, she's not as smart as she thinks she is! <Zoya> ::raises an eyebrow, but otherwise pretends not to notice:: I trust you *are* feeling better, Wizard Niralan? I can have some food brought, if you're hungry? And we should tend to your face before those scratches fester. <Niralan> ::still not opening his eyes:: I thirst. There is a shadow and a chain over me, still. I fear the feel of his eye on me. Is it safe? <Zoya> Not quite yet, Wizard, but I shall do my utmost to help you, I promise. Bide a moment, please. * Zoya leaves the room, and returns after a few minutes with a tray which holds a pitcher of ice water, two elegantly-carved wooden cups, and a roll of bandages. She pours water into both cups, and sets one on the floor. "There is a cup of water on the floor, about a hand-span from your left foot." * Niralan fumbles for the cup and takes it. He sniffs carefully at the water, opening and closing his free hand slowly. "Will I... " He takes a sip of water cautiously, then gulps the rest noisily. <Zoya> It is nothing but water, Wizard Niralan. My own cup is poured from the same pitcher. ::she sips her water, then sets it aside:: Will you give me leave to tend your... injuries? <Niralan> ::panting slightly:: You are a woman. Be quick, if you must. I cannot see. <Zoya> ::nods:: I understand. ::she pauses for a moment, then summons the Staff. While the Staff cleans the scratches on Niralan's face, Zoya examines the spells which bind him. She has done this several times before, while he lay resting, but never before has she been certain Niralan's tormentor was actively using him.:: <Niralan> ::the lines of magic flow through him, chains of black and red that bind across him, groin, brain and heart. The chains meet just over his heart. Other magic, subtle and green, creeps through his veins, but is fading slowly:: * Zoya grins and summons her Manacles. They cover her forearms like liquid metal, and their chains hang nearly to her knees. She gathers the chains in her hands and lets them drop, listening to the chink and chime of the metal. "Chains are funny things, Wizard Niralan. The ones that bind us the most tightly are the ones we least wish to be rid of." * Zoya builds a chain of her own magic, matching it carefully, link by link, to the menacing black and red that binds Niralan, but silvery-white. She is panting with effort, herself, by the time it is done. Starting with the link-point over his heart, she begins to overlay Niralan's chains with her own, the silver links absorbing the black and red ones like a glove. <Niralan> ::softly:: Ambition... deadly and sweet, it beckons like a houri from the window at midnight. <Zoya> ::nods, even though he can't see her, concentrating on placing her chain over his:: <Niralan> ::swallows thickly:: It was not my intent... blinded by the lure of power, now blinded in truth. I was weak. <Zoya> ::pauses a moment in her work to wipe sweat from her brow with her sleeve:: You will hardly be the first or the last to have been hurt by your own wish for power. I hope that we can help you to recover before too much of the damage is made permanent. ::she begins working her chain downward, painstakingly placing link by link, adjusting where necessary. The Staff, undismissed, hovers silently nearby:: * Niralan writhes and falls to the floor as Zoya replaces a link just over his navel, fishtailing wildly, his hands curling into hooks and reaching for his own throat. "I burn! I! Let go!" * Zoya gestures sharply, and the Staff wraps its wispy hands around Niralan's wrists, pulling them away from his throat. "I'm sorry it hurts, Wizard, but this cannot be done while you sleep. Be patient only a little longer." <Niralan> ::his eyes snap open, revealing only solid whites with no pupil or iris at all:: Close it, close it, I beg you. Don't make me look. ::his voice is pleading, on the verge of tears:: <Zoya> ::frowns, but does not stop her work:: What is it that you don't want to see, Wizard? * Niralan suddenly stops moving, his strange eyes appear to look at someone who is not there. "I don't think you understand. You must release it. The experiment is a failure." <Zoya> ::very softly:: And then what did he say, Niralan? <Niralan> ::crafty, his voice taking on the accent of Candlekeep:: Even a failure provides data. I will try again. With another. Go about your work. <Zoya> ::hisses softly:: What other? <Niralan> ::desperately, in his own voice:: The woman... silver-eyed and black hair. Swan. Others I do not know. Works on them. For me, there is only despair. He does not *know* how to cure it. <Zoya> ::soothingly:: I'll help you. What does it do for them? <Niralan> ::takes a deep breath:: Only way to destroy it. Build the resentment like a bonfire. They whisper, and people believe. <Zoya> ::starts working her chain back up toward the ones at Niralan's brain:: Destroy what? The Meade Hall? <Niralan> ::nods, turning his chilling white eyes on Zoya:: <Zoya> ::shivers despite the sweat streaming from her face, then nearly smiles:: I've seen that spell, Niralan. It's surprisingly brittle, in a way that *this* one is... ::she pauses to match a particularly stubborn link:: ...the way this one is *not*. <Niralan> ::nods feverishly:: It has to be. I *know*. They must not. It must not be obvious. Stealthy, gradual... <Zoya> ::calmly:: I know. ::she covers the link at the base of his neck:: Who is he, Niralan? Can you say the name? <Niralan> ::shivers all over:: He will hear me. He will come for me. <Zoya> ::sniffs contemptuously, but doesn't say anything. She resumes covering links, watching Niralan's reaction carefully as she gets close to finishing:: * Niralan shrieks and writhes, tossing his head back and forth. Sweat pours from his skin, drenching his clothing. Blood trickles from one corner of his mouth. As Zoya sets the last link in place, he arches up once, then collapses, his eyes closing. * Zoya pauses to gasp for breath, then gestures for the Staff to release its hold on Niralan. She kneels beside him and puts one hand on his chest. "Wizard Niralan?" <Niralan> ::weakly:: What... wha? ::he tries to sit up, but is weakened from his trial:: * Zoya helps Niralan sit and hands him the cup of water. "Do you know me, Wizard?" <Niralan> ::nods slowly:: Priestess. I... ::he opens his eyes, which are still white and blinded:: Where am I? <Zoya> You are in Erdian's Tower, my home. Do you remember how you got here? <Niralan> ::blinks a few times:: A man came... I... dreamed my way here? I can't see. He... did he stay? ::clutches for her hand:: He is in danger! <Zoya> Shh, be calm. He is a man used to going into danger. Whatever you can tell us will be helpful, of course, but you should rest a little, first. I don't know why your vision is gone, but we will try to bring it back. It may return when we destroy the spells which bound you. Can you speak the name of the one who bound you, now? <Niralan> ::nods:: Barise. He stole some of Wizardess Penyl's notes. He... cast spells on me. I volunteered, at first. To test the theories. <Zoya> ::nods:: That's what I thought. How long ago was that? <Niralan> Fall... the leaves were yellow and... I don't know what went wrong. <Zoya> It's all right. How much can you remember, since then? <Niralan> ::shakes his head slowly:: It is... like a dream remembered. <Zoya> I know. Barise refined his spell and placed it on others. Do you remember that? <Niralan> ::thinks:: A... a singer... Swan? <Zoya> Yes. She's been spreading it, it seems. Barise wants to destroy the Meade Hall. Did he ever talk to you about that? <Niralan> ::quietly:: Sometimes... <Zoya> ::nods, and sits back, leaning against the wall:: Wizard, I haven't broken the spell that Barise put on you. I've only isolated you from it. It's a little more subtle, and will take him longer to notice, I hope. Also, it will hurt you less when it is finally broken. Will you help us? Or shall I complete the break, and send you on your way? <Niralan> I don't... what help can I be? <Zoya> For one thing, hazy as it is, you have more complete knowledge than anyone else likely to help us. And certainly, a more complete picture of this spell. <Zoya> ::softly:: And you are a War Wizard, rather than a mere adventurer, or the priestess of a half-mad god. Your word, as testimony, carries weight that mine does not. * Niralan reaches out blindly, looking for Zoya's hand. "If... there is aid my words can bring, even now. I... meant harm to none." * Zoya places her hand in Niralan's. "Thank you. I swear, we shall do all we can to aid you." * Niralan nods slowly. |
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