Shadows & Sorcery #162
I’ll confess: I’ve done something a little different this week. But good different, or at least I desperately hope so. See, sometimes I have images or ideas for stories that are just too troublesome to develop completely, I can find no satisfactory way express what they spark in my head, but I don’t want to get rid of them either. Hence, this edition. So this week, please enjoy an extended interview (or at least the best parts) with Candorick and Rudge, agents of Lord Jerican of the Ministry of Public Works, about all the weird stuff they’ve seen off-screen and before we met them back in Issue 152.
Quick reminder for those who just got here: the serial adventure The Path of Poison is on a bit of a hiatus while I do some heavy planning, so now is the best time to start digging into those 29 chapters, which you can do RIGHT HERE
If you missed last week’s edition, or you JUST signed up, well no fear, the third installment of the haunted knight’s tale, as well as a harrowing two-parter of vampiric sorcery can be read RIGHT HERE
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This week, Candorick and Rudge, ritual material gatherers and agents of Lord Jerican of the Ministry of Public Works, sit down for an interview with an agent of the Communion who seeks to plumb their minds for the secrets of hidden cults…
They hadn't been back two days before messengers had arrived at the respective domiciles of Candorick and Rudge with requests for an audience with Lord Jerican of the Ministry of Public Works later that very day. Honestly, he might be fronting the coin but at this rate he'd work them the bone. Their actual profession as ritualists was suffering: they were already behind keeping up with the new candlers and idol carvers stock, and a procurement deal with a small jewellers for certain gems was long past its expiry date, now Lord Jerican wanted them to trot off somewhere else? So, with this mind, they deliberately took their time wasting his. From each man's apartment did the two meet in a public house for an extended invocation of the great saint of the vine, and then of the harvest. From there they made gentle, ponderous progress past a spirit tree or two to shake themselves free of their good time, and then a leisurely walk up to the office of Lord Jerican, in which, they were surprised to see, someone else had already joined him.
"Good...afternoon, gentlemen," said Jerican from atop his tall oak desk with a more than disapproving eye. "Apologies for the disturbance in taking your rest, but I must introduce you both now to Auguste," he gestured towards the dusky woman in cream robes who stood, slate ready, "Archivist of the Communion."
Candorick straightened up, Rudge raised an eyebrow.
"Good day, gentlemen," said she, stepping forward with a smile, "word has been reaching us for some time of your wondrous exploits in the name of Lord Jerican." The glance the two men shared sincerely asked: wondrous? "He is, as someone of great faith, a friend to some of the Communion's governing figures, who, much like m'lord, have a great interest in the less common cults and the visions they perpetuate. I was to interview him about the more esoteric pieces of his collection, but, as m'lord said, credit where credit is due, which is why he recommended I speak to you instead."
Candorick just about fell over himself getting a seat for the woman, while Rudge simply thought "about damn time". She was carrying a bundle of wax paper sheets, a malleable but otherwise tough writing material which could be heated to be reused, if needs be. Jerican went about whatever work he had on his desk, throwing over an occasional glance as Auguste took out her stylus, and began asking about a series of very particular cults...
Chasm Communion
"Yeah, that was a weird one," said Rudge, sitting back, scratching the back of his head. "They were..." he let out a sigh in thought, "a bit eastwards, local, more or less, but not near the city, you ken?"
"It was a pretty rickety little settlement camped out on the edge of this massive chasm," Candorick continued, "this huge rent in the stone out there, where the land of kind of dips for a bit, where a lot of dust storms blow. This was a while back, but from what I remember," he said with a look to Rudge for clarification if needed, "nobody ever really paid them much heed, you know how it is with the smaller cults, they go looked over for ages, but Lord Jerican, he'd heard tell of them when some...ministry business, I assume, got his attention out there."
"So he sent us out to take a look," said Rudge.
"But there was nothing there. The little village was there, but, well, no people."
"No, there was someone, about three people."
"Oh..oh! Yes. Yeah. Just those people...sitting on the bare stone outside."
"What happened to them?" Auguste asked, peering up with a raised brow.
"The people there said the village had answered the call," Candorick replied, but he wasn't looking at her.
"Came through their idols, they said," Rudge added.
"Yes, that was it. It seemed to be a case of a saint being rediscovered. They told us that someone's child had found the first idol after being lost in the sands outside the city. Brought one back, said there were more. Then a bunch of families left, apparently mesmerized by the thing, went out to the chasm where they kept finding more and more idols. Those families returned and revealed that the village had been chosen by the saint who dwelt below. Like, they said, so many before them."
"There isn't a trace of that village anymore, by the way. We passed near there once not too long ago."
"We did take one of the idols back, though." Candorick shot a quick look up. "The people remaining there were very eager to give us one, and, well, we were there to get one."
"It's sealed away, have no fear," Jerican said from his desk, not looking up. "And I've heard nothing, either, if you're curious."
Shrouded Rune
"Ah, these ones were interesting!" said Candorick, though Rudge just sniffed at that. "And I believe they're still around. They're centered in the north-western quarter of the city here. They have all the makings of, dare I say, a fine faith. I would consider them, myself, closer to Dwimmerstone scholars than anything, though they profess a priestly caste." Candorick leaned in as he became more excited. "They drew blessings and knowledge from a set of stone plates—in this case, there actually wasn't a seal to bring back for Lord Jerican, the plates bore sacred runes which were the object of their veneration. Only, and this is where it got interesting," Rudge could be seen looking away, scratching his cheek, "the runes acted as a kind channel, or rather configurable veils or aspects might be more correct, through which, via the various levels of priests who attended them, the power of the shrouded rune which lay beyond them all could be transmitted by the high priest."
"Was this, ah, this shrouded rune an actual object?" asked Auguste.
"I believe so, but, well, it is intensely sacred to them, and powerful, too. I didn't see it, if it is a physical object. The shroud, you see, refers not to an actual shroud, but rather a veil of secrecy and mystery the priesthood maintained to shield the uninitiated from its might."
"They weren't a very big cult, you can probably guess why," Rudge said, arms crossed.
"I was on this one pretty much myself. Rudge," whom he gave a side eye to, "had some problems with their priesthood."
"More like they had a problem with me. I mean, Dwimmerstone you can learn to read," Rudge piped up, "their scholars go out of their way to teach you, and funny as that lot are I respect them, but these chaps don't even let you look at the damn stones 'til-"
"As I said," Candorick cut in, stopping his associate from getting too worked up, "there wasn't any seal to bring back, but I did glimpse one of the rune plates, and one of the priests extended an invitation to Lord Jerican should he ever wish to meet with them."
"Bet you a day's wages they'll never see his face," Rudge half sneered. "People want to see and experience things for their faith, not get told around by a bunch of-"
"They're quite insular," Candorick interrupted, "I'd call it protective, myself-" he shot another side eye to Rudge, who said nothing, "but sure, there are a number of Communion members who protect their inner knowledge, nothing wrong with that. Some of it is quite powerful, after all. And many of the inner beliefs of Communion cults can be more than a bit esoteric, like the star cult, they hold to a very complicated set of doctrines."
"And they actually let you into their temples, fancy that" added Rudge, just loud enough to be heard.
Plateau Kings
"See, I dunno if this even counts as a faith," said Rudge.
"It's a kind of faith," Candorick mused, sitting back.
"Yeah, but not like...the Communion, or anything with a seal. You don't pray to or focus upon them."
"Some people do. And they have all kinds of little symbols and amulets."
"It's a folk tradition—tell me, 'Orick, if you pulled out a saint-king's amulet right now, what could you conceivably call up?"
"Not everyone's into their faith for the powers, Rudge!"
"No, I think a lot of people are—excuse me, ma'am," Rudge said with a nod to the archivist, who smiled it away.
"You can't deny people don't believe in the vision. The slumbering saint-kings in the plateau, to awaken when the city of the south needs them most! Faith like that gives people the strength to go on."
"I can get strength from a spirit tree or a sun disk. Or grow a pair of dragon wings."
"Gives people hope, too, Rudge."
"More like a dream for peasants than a vision, in my opinion."
"They're always like this," said Jerican from his desk with a flash of a smile. Auguste didn't suppress hers.
"Well regardless, their symbols are everywhere, as are the legends—and I know you enjoy those, Rudge.
"Who doesn't? Got nothing against this, mind you, just don't know if it counts as a cult."
"If not, it's close enough, at least for some people. Also," Candorick looked to the Archivist, "Lord Jerican is the proud keeper of a pretty fine carving."
"Aye, it is. Custom piece, too, a good market for those, which is power enough for some folks."
"You know, maybe it's a subtle strength, Rudge, have you ever thought of that?"
"Maybe it is, 'Orick, maybe it is."
Catacombs of Ritual
"Ah yes!" exclaimed Candorick. "I honestly cannot believe they're not part of the Communion."
"Aye, aye, they're huge. Everywhere," Rudge said, leaning in and with a wave of his hand. "I'd wager they must rival the bone readers in size and territory."
"Though there's much overlap there, I'd say."
"That there is, yeah. But for all that, not every popular. In our experience, cults without seals or a focus, or even a tabernacle just aren't as popular."
"People like to carry their faith, physical reminders and a physical presence really seem to matter. But besides that," said Candorick, his voice going a bit low, "they were a bit odd."
"Yeah but so are—no offense 'Orick—or you, ma'am—plenty of things in the Communion, too."
"Odd in a way that makes me understand why they're not popular, is what I mean."
"Yeah, sure. Hey, even bone readers take a day off now and again, but these fellows, they're like a society down there."
"Their whole thing," Candorick continued, "is predicated on the idea that being close to the dead lets you draw or express power better, since the dead are free of mortal limitation, so instead of...well, killing themselves or binding their spirits or what have you, they dwell in catacombs full of massive long-term ongoing rituals. Living next to the dead, next to the veil, just not beyond it."
"Though I must say," Rudge was quick to add, "nothing untoward, you understand? It was a transcendence or empowerment thing, greater understanding. All very esoteric, but that was the extent of what we saw, at least."
"Oh I know who you're talking about," said Archivist Auguste, "though I can't say I, or many on the Communion upper echelons, ever paid them much heed. I confess," she said with a laugh, "I always figured them just local cult flavour."
"They appear to be part of some inter-faith pact," Candorick half mused to himself, still a little unsure, "since they have such wide access. Verbal agreements, maybe, individual bargains. I dare say local cult branches might even be actively facilitating them."
"Aye, we must have followed them around a dozen different kinds of tombs when we met with them. No one seems to mind having them around. Ones to keep an eye on."
Consumed Ash
"To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure this was the strangest group we've ever met with, but..." Rudge leaned back in his seat, trying to conjure up the right words.
"We're not exactly experts of the law," Candorick said with a nervous chuckle, "so there's a reason we didn't seek out the authorities on this, considering especially some of the, ah, lesser known practices of certain cults—which are perfectly within the law, but..."
"Look, to cut to the chase, ma'am," Rudge said with furrowed brow, "these people were eating corpse dust." Auguste paused for a second, and immediately dove into her wax paper sheets, scribbling furiously. "Funerary practices vary quite a bit, we know that well, but that's usually within your own faith or family or whatever, these fellows, though, they were wandering into any and all tomb that was open and gorging themselves—I do not use that word lightly, ma'am—on corpse dust."
"We...didn't stick with these ones long. For obvious reasons." They watched Archivist Auguste scrawling down her notes at an exceptionally rapid pace. A single, wide-eyed upward glance told them to continue. "We did, however, uh, learn the basic tenets of their faith. The idea was that by consuming the dust from corpses, they gained some kind of...it's difficult to describe, a kind of all-in-one immortality. As in, the minds or living memories of all they consumed lived on, as one, in them."
"I remember the only thing which even got as far as convincing us this wasn't just, well, just a bunch of freaks saying they were a cult as a veil for their doings, the only thing was...they knew things."
"Now, to be fair, there's all sorts of ways, especially through bone readers, to learn things that've sunk into bones. But they went on at length, about a lot of different things, flitting from topic to topic, like...like it was more than one person talking. I know how that sounds, but a lot of talk, I remember, was about things we'd only ever heard whispers of before."
"I remember a good bit of that myself...stuck with me...really deep things from the more esoteric cults. We come across all kinds, and stumble of secret teachings. And there was something going on with them for sure, because they were talking to us about things like...the tri-partite form, stuff about motion, habitation, expression, all this really obscure stuff. Stuff I know—stuff 'Orick and myself know isn't mainstream doctrine or belief. Now they could have just been mind-rotten on corpse dust and lotus flowers, y'know, hitting on things by chance, but it had...ah, it had a ring to it that even a couple of ritual material gatherers could tell was more than rambling, you ken?"
Auguste was just nodding along as she wrote, not even looking up at that point, merely saying, in a hushed tone every so often, "go on".
"A quite frankly, ma'am, we're not just saying this because we don't get in trouble," Candorick said leaning in, "but it was weird. Maybe even say interesting, but weird. And they were so few in number, it was either some old saint's cult they dug up, or..." Candorick just waved his hand in implication.
"Well, we won't jump too far ahead..." said Auguste, biting her lip in thought, "but you're right, it does bear keeping an eye on, at least for complaints of tampered graves."
The Archivist looked over her notes one more time, allowing the authority of her station to give her the time to make sure all was in order, asking for only a few little clarifications before she stood up with a smile, shook both their hands, thanked them profusely, and left with a bow to Jerican, who came down from his desk the moment she'd left, still rifling through her notes.
"Fellows, you've done the Communion a fine service today. I dare say your records here will be of immense use to the inter-faith scholars. So drinks are on me," he said, proffering a small coin sack, "invoke now only the finest fruits of vine and harvest, you hear me?"