"Cui bono?"

In the harsh light of the campfire, smiles flickered briefly on the faces of the six men gathered around it. They all looked at Ian and a few nodded. "Who benefits? Someone had a reason for this. Send your men out. Listen in the taverns. Gossip with the servants. Trade pillow talk with wives and lovers. But find out who stands to gain the most from this." He turned and walked off, his voice coming out of the darkness beyond the firelight. "You have one day."

**********

"You have one day!" Count Giles gave an imperious wave of the hand to the head cook and frowned to himself as the man scurried away. Another of his late father's staff he would have to replace. Old men, all of them, like his late unlamented father. And how ironic Father should die of a fall from his horse the same day as his odious friend the mercenary was killed. Ironic... and well executed. The Count lifted a goblet of wine in a self satisfied toast to his own brilliance. Ferret seemingly cut down by one of those tiresome wretches from Carcasonne that were lurking about constantly planning vengeance on half of France and Ferret. The note dropped by the body had been cut from a petition to Father, so there was no way any could trace it to Giles. And a cleverly placed trip wire on the path his late father usually took for his morning ride had completed the move. Giles chortled. Ferret had to be removed first; the bastard had been an old friend of Father's. Giles had known the little man would dig until he discovered the truth, so he simply removed him first. And now HE was Count, and Father was already in his tomb, and the damn Twisted Otters would ride away after mourning their fallen Captain. He smiled to himself. "Perfect!"

"Rather proud of ourselves, are we? " The lightly mocking voice was followed by the slim face and figure of Ranulf, Giles cousin. "I am sorry to have intruded on this, your moment of grief. It IS grief, is it not, Giles?" Giles nodded. Ranulf always made him feel so... fat. "Of course. But we must carry on. Father would have wanted us to that, wouldn't he?" he asked solemnly. "My Council approved my inheritance this morn, after I replaced a few with men more trustworthy. Tomorrow night we celebrate, and the day after, we resume the campaign."

"And what of the treaty your father negotiated with the cities?"

"It died with him. The cities will pay what I demand, or they will suffer the consequences". Again he waved a hand, and the sunlight flashed off a ring with a large ruby stone. Ranulf's eyes narrowed. "Isn't that the ring your father gifted to Ferret for his help in the rebellion years ago? " He watched as Giles piggy little eyes got that devious look he knew so well. "I ... bought it back. You know these mercenaries. Always looking for money." He glared at Ranulf, then swallowed some wine. Finally, he looked his cousin straight in the eyes and laughed. "Alright, I took it! ME! What do you think of your ne'er do well kinsman now, heh?"

"I think", Ranulf drawled, "you are more devious than I thought."

*********

That night in an ill-lit tavern men sat at a rear table. A tale was told, a tale of an ambitious son, two dead men... and a ruby ring.

10/99


The Legacy: Part V

The castle shone and sparkled and glittered, and in charge of it all, resplendent in newly tailored robes paid for by the treasury was the new Count Giles. Everything was going splendidly. The old cook had, much to Giles' amazement, outdone himself. The meal had been delicious, made even more so by the dour expression on Ranulf's face and by the news that the Twisted Otters had lit a funeral pyre for the dead Ferret. It was perfect! He sipped the fine wine, then nodded to his chamberlain to bring on the entertainment. The old man coughed before speaking. Giles made a note to replace him.

"Milord and ladies... the Fire Dragon tumblers and jugglers." A burst of polite applause greeted the troupe as they cartwheeled and backflipped into the middle of the hall.

Giles looked at Ranulf and was rewarded by a wan smile. "I hope these are all you said they were, Cousin!"

Ranulf nodded. "They come very highly recommended, milord."

Indeed, after a few minutes, even Giles had to admit they were quite good. Especially the big man in the jester's cap who tumbled and rolled about with wild abandon as his fellows flipped daggers past his wildly flailing arms and legs. Yes, quite good indeed!

They moved closer to the dais, and with loud whoops and shouts began to climb upon each other's shoulders, until only the tall fool was left on the ground. Giles laughed as the man awkwardly climbed to the top, nearly causing his fellows to topple over several times by a misplaced foot or elbow.

When he finally had reached the top, standing precariously on his fellow's shoulders, Giles tossed a gold coin up at him in reward. For the briefest of seconds, it seemed he would gather the coin harmlessly ---and then the pyramid collapsed. The tall man tumbled forwards towards Giles, and the new Count found himself pushed back into his chair, with a dagger at his throat held by the erstwhile fool.

"First lesson: never assume your opponent is not at least as smart as you are." The fool removed the cap to reveal blond hair and pointed ears.

Giles gasped. "Blackthorn! But you are in England!"

Ian shoved Giles back into the chair. "Second lesson: always expect the unexpected." He fished about in his tunic until he brought out a blood soaked rag. Giles swayed back and forth in his chair. "You can't do this! My troops! My guests! Ranulf!"

"Third lesson: who benefits? Your troops know you killed your father. Your guests have heard you intend to dishonor the treaty. And Ranulf? Ranulf was the one who recommended us, remember? They all benefit by ridding themselves of a fat murderous tyrant." A wild look from Giles to his cousin gained him a glimpse of a face full of contempt. "In short, Giles, there is no one to save you. You are mine." And with that, he suddenly shoved the rag into the mouth of the Count, silencing the mounting protests.

Ian leaned closer. "Fourth lesson: we always avenge our murdered dead." He placed a hand over Giles nose, cutting off the air and whispered in his ear. "Tell them Firnadan sent you." It took a few minutes for Giles to die. Ian looked away after the first few seconds. But he never loosened his grip.

10/99


The Legacy: Part VI

"Here old man, you dropped this. Knowing you, you would not rest easy without it." Ian knelt in the ashes by the burnt-out byre and laid Ferret's pipe down. A young lad named Mathias had found it at the ambush site and brought it in to Ian as he returned from dealing with Giles. The half-elf swallowed heavily. "T`si im T`si" Blood for Blood... the scales are balanced... and gods, Ferret, I wish it hadn't been this way. I should have hauled your butt off to Camelot so you could train recruits... but you wouldn't come, would you? You always said you'd die a merc. I just don't think you counted on this."

"I don't think he did, either. For all he trained us, he just couldn't let go of that last shred of honor, and expecting to be treated with honor by those he dealt with." Hadrian's smooth voice floated over from where he stood just at the ashes' edge. "He passed that on to us, Ian, you and I, and Marcus, and Dev, the rest. That's why the Twisted Otters are renowned... honest mercs!"

Ian nodded, then lay a glowing hand on the pipe and it flared. In seconds, it too was ashes. He rose and walked back over by Hadrian. "Do you think he would have liked my plan?" The older man chuckled. "Liked it? It was classic Ferret. Make the bastard at ease by thinking we'd all be here. Find an ally within by "cui bono." The execution... flawless. Except... Ian, the men were a bit, um, taken aback with how you finished him off. Why not a clean kill?"

"I truly don't know. I had such rage in me --- perhaps it was the blood oath. I truly don't know." He shook his head. "I'm hoping I'll find the answer when I get home. There is something not feeling quite right... " He looked off towards England for a brief moment, then came back to the task at hand." I couldn't be here last night, Ferret. but I am this morning, and there is one last thing I can do for you." He raised his hands, whispering softly in his Sithryn tongue, and slowly, the ashes began to rise and whirl about within the confines where they had lain. Faster and faster, higher and higher they whirled, until, now high above the men, they were blown away on a blast of wind Ian summoned.

Hadrian clapped Ian on the shoulder. "Oh, well done! Well done indeed!" They stood there a few moments longer as the wind whipped about, perhaps hoping it would strip away some of their grief. Finally Ian turned and walked to his big bay. "I loved him like a father, you know." He swung up into the saddle. "Take good care of the Otters, Hadrian. They are his legacy."

"I know, and I will. And could you give this letter to Marcus for me? Tell him... er... " Ian grinned. "I will, and I know. Good fortune to you, Hadrian, till next we meet." He took the letter, tucked it in his tunic, and with a final wave rode off. The older man watched until man and horse reached a ridge and disappeared from view. "You are wrong, Ian. The Otters are only part of his legacy."

"You are his legacy, too."

10/99