[CHAPTER 1] [CHAPTER 2] [CHAPTER 6]
[ZONE 3: Darkmoor] [MALAC'S CROSS]

The woman nodded, then made her way across the wooden floor until she was standing before them.

PETRUMH: By my soul our petitions are heard! Finally, one of the Prince's men has come! Have you come about...aigh! You've an elf!

LOCKLEAR: Though Thorgath looks frightful enough, I assure you that he is of no danger to you. What is this petition you speak of good woman?

PETRUMH: As I live and breathe, not one word more will pass my lips as long as he is here, and that's the truth of it. Not one word more!

GORATH: I will leave you to your duties, Locklear. Should you need me I will be close at hand.

LOCKLEAR: Thank you. He has gone, now... What cause do you have to call on Prince Arutha's aid?

PETRUMH: I sent to the Prince, for something must be done in Sethanon! If he would bend his ear to us, he would hear the tales of what passes in the Dimwood. There are lights there, terrible, awful faerie lights that have been seen in the woods and always they prefigure some calamity...

LOCKLEAR: Surely they are only tales.

PETRUMH: If they are tales, they are tales as sensible folk tell! I have seen these very lights with my own two eyes, watched their demon jig in the night even as my husband fell senseless and breathed his last. There is some terrible evil there.

LOCKLEAR: I shall make no promises, but we will do what we can...

The woman nodded, then made her way across the wooden floor until she was standing before them.

PETRUMH: Tell me you've come with a hundred Krondorian Lancers and I shall toast your good health!

LOCKLEAR: I haven't had the chance to return to Krondor as yet, good woman. If you would give me...

PETRUMH: Goodbye, Seigneur.

LOCKLEAR: Wait...we haven't... Ah, foolish old woman...

The woman nodded, then made her way across the wooden floor until she was standing before them.

PETRUMH: Wherever did you get those clothes, Lysle? Must have snitched them off a marquis somewhere! You're getting a mild bit bolder aren't you?

JAMES: I am afraid you have me mistaken for someone else. My name is James.

PETRUMH: James is it? Ha-ho, of course it is! And I'm not your gran Petrumh either, I take it. You're masquerading again! This isn't like that time you ran about Malac's Cross for a month begging and chewed up soap is it? Oh, but you made some fine sovereigns with that act! With all that foam coming out of your mouth, a body would think you had the creeping mongus and they'd pay a pretty coin just to have you away from them! You've always been a wily one, Lysle. Did you pinch any bread for me?

JAMES: Why can't you buy your own bread?

PETRUMH: Who pissed in your pot, eh? You know perfectly well that I haven't had nothing since Jack died...unless... What are you doing with an elf, boy! Don't you know they bring bad luck?! They're the ones what killed Jack and are stirring up all that trouble in Sethanon! What's got into your head? Have you run mad?

JAMES: What trouble in Sethanon are you referring to, madam?

PETRUMH: You're...you really aren't Lysle, are you then? But you're his mirror image, you are. How could this be unless...some kind of faerie evil isn't it? That's what it is! Some kind of faerie magic and you finally come for me! Took Lysle's form!

JAMES: We aren't brothers of the dark path, miss. Please, trust us. Perhaps I may bear some resemblance to this Lysle character you're talking about, but we're just ordinary folk. I would like to talk to Lysle, however. He sounds like...like he might be a relative...

PETRUMH: Hmm. I guess you don't look like evil faeries... Leastways, none I've ever heard of. So, Lysle might be your brother?

JAMES: I don't know. I never knew my father and my mother never mentioned a twin, but when I was taken captive in Krondor a few of the men who were guarding me kept asking about places I'd never been to and about people I'd never met. At first I wanted to dismiss what they were saying, but then I got to thinking about some of the events that happened before the battle of Sethanon. Someone tried to slip in a double for Prince Arutha. Maybe the moredhel are repeating their old strategies...

PETRUMH: This is all very interesting, but I haven't had a bite to eat in days. Do you think you could spare something for me?

The woman nodded, then made her way across the wooden floor until she was standing before them.

PETRUMH: So the lord's heart isn't made of stone is it? Come back to help old gran Petrumh? How about giving me some of your rations so I won't have to beg today?.

SEE OPTIONS BELOW

PETRUMH: Last I saw of him, he was heading towards Lyton. Said something about wanting to meet some gentlemen there. More than likely he'll be staying away from the main roads. Try as he might, he does have a tendency to get into trouble now and again.

JAMES: Thank you, miss. Watch out for yourself.

PETRUMH: Not half so sorry as I am, James. I've still to get my daily bread, so I'll ask you to leave me be. Good day.

JAMES: Sorry, good lady. We will leave you in peace.

PETRUMH: Spoken like a true lord, just like the rest of those brats what study at the Abbaye Ishap.

Don't know how I ever made the error of mistaking you for my kind Lysle. Good day to you.

JAMES: Sorry, good lady. Perhaps the owner can spare a meal.

"I'm eating, aren't I?" Petrumh said, stuffing bread into her toothless mouth. "I'm not so healthy I can go on having people interrupt me dinners. Please give me leave to chew in peace."

Judging by her pace and the way she was looking over her shoulder, she seemed to be concerned that someone might be pursuing her. Afraid that the woman might be in danger of some harm, Owyn called out to her.

PETRUMH: What are you doing on this road! You're not thinking of going into Malac's Cross are you?

OWYN: Actually...

PETRUMH: The Abbot of the Abbaye Ishap's betrayed his students and his town and it's besieged by some kind of monsters! I should have known that I couldn't escape the evil that brought down Sethanon! And likely your elf friend here had something to do with it!

OWYN: Gorath has nothing to do with it, I assure you. What are these monsters and why would they be attacking Malac's Cross of all places?

PETRUMH: If you value you your lives, you'll help the villagers find the Abbot and deliver his head on a stake to those...snakemen! They've promised to leave everyone else alive if the Abbot is turned over to them.

OWYN: If these are indeed some kind of monsters, what makes you think that they'll be satisfied with killing an Abbot?

PETRUMH: Who's for knowing? As for my own self, I'll be in Darkmoor drinking up the... Oh my, I've left my ale in the Queen's Row in Malac's Cross! Now I'll have none of the brew for weeks, unless...unless you brave, you courageous, boys can go an fetch it for me!

OWYN: We have quite a few other things to attend to.

PETRUMH: Oh, please. It'll brighten up an ole missus day, specially one what hasn't a good home anymore. If you get it, you can come and bring it to my friend Ulam's house in Darkmoor...that's where I'l l be staying for a bit.

OWYN: I will see what we can do, but I can't promise you anything.

PETRUMH: That's fine love, just fine. I'll see you then. And remembers that my friend's name is Ulam. Good travelling to yous.

OWYN: And to you as well. Be careful on the way to Darkmoor.

Surprisingly alert for an elderly lady who had made a trek from Malac's Cross to Darkmoor unescorted, she greeted them with a broken toothed smile and motioned for them to come in. Shaking his head, Owyn remained rooted in the doorway.

"Sorry, we don't really have the time to come in," he apologized. "We just wanted to check in and see that you made your trip safely."

"Oh, aye," she replied in her thick burr. "That I did. And what of you fellows? Did you by chance get back me cask I left at the Queen's Row?"

"Just where you left it."

"A better lad I couldn't hope for," she gushed, taking the cask. Once she had set it inside next to the door, she put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. "Oy, Ulam, where did you put those things I told you?"

From the back of the house they could hear another woman's voice replying, though they couldn't exactly hear what was said. Nodding, Petrumh told them to wait a moment longer, disappearing inside the darkened interior.

"Here they is," she said, reappearing after a few moments. With a quick motion she shoved a few trinkets into Owyn's hand. "Nothing all that special really, but you keep 'em. All right?"

Again, the voice from the back of the house rose, but this time the words were faintly discernible. "...and don't you let 'em in the 'ouse, Pet! Strangers are nothing but trouble..."

Rolling her eyes, Petrumh sighed apologetically. "Sorry, I've got to go, afore Ulam a'lays a cow. Thanks again, gents!"

"Ooah," she squawked, disappointed. "Well, that's a bit of bad luck then." Wiping her hands on the front of her dress, she looked back to the interior of the house. I was a'fixing something for Ulam to eat, so I best get back to it. Good day to you then, gents."

"Ooah," she squawked, disappointed. "Well, that's a bit of bad luck then." Wiping her hands on the front of her dress, she looked back to the interior of the house. "I was a'fixing something for Ulam to eat, so I best get back to it. Good day to you then, gents."