The Vivacious Deadlock: S3G6: Round Three: The Sable Masque

Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.

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Klendel was instantly on guard. The last time he'd tangled with Cascala she had tried to kill him. He hadn't been able to get a good look at her, but she hadn't seemed nearly as zoned out as the individual in front of him. There was no doubt about it - she had to be planning something. He took a moment to choose his words carefully.

Harmon, on the other hand, had no such reservations about speaking, having not met Cascala before. "The hell is the song?" she demanded, folding her arms across her chest. "And why are we important to it?"

Cascala moved forward surprisingly quickly and placed her hands on Harmon's crossed arms, staring at her earnestly. "The song is everything!" she said emphatically. "The past, the present, the future! Everything! You are in it, wise woman beyond her experience."

Harmon pushed her off, taking a step back. "What are you talking about? Get off me!"

Klendel chose now to pipe up. "Cascala, you seem..." he paused visibly. "...different." He paused again as Cascala looked at him vaguely, a slight grin spreading on his face. "Have you done something with your hair?"

Cascala's eyes grew a bit wider - a surprising feat, given how wide they were already - as she saw Klendel. "The shadow from the roof, the one that got away," she said in a hoarse whisper, tilting her head in a way even Klendel found slightly unsettling. "The song speaks of you as well." She giggled in a high-pitched, I've-lost-my-marbles way. "It speaks of all of us."

Klendel decided that whatever this "song" was, it was important to Cascala. Whether or not it was actually relevant to anyone else was something he'd need to know more about it to be able to judge correctly. And with Cascala in her current state, he doubted that line of questioning would go anywhere.

But he couldn't just leave her here. It wasn't that he particularly liked having her around, or that he was worried about her - rather, he didn't like the idea of not knowing what she was up to. He didn't want to get surprised again, and he didn't want her running off and tipping the balance of the conflict. "I believe you, Cascala," he said, resting a shadowy hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you come with us and tell us all about it?"

Harmon glanced at him in irritation, but didn't object. She knew there was something up with Klendel, and she wanted to find out what it was. She was just sighing in grudging agreement when the rhythmic sound of marching footsteps reached her ears. The pedestrians on the street quickly stepped to the side of the path, and Harmon did the same. Klendel followed suit, pulling Cascala along with him and hiding himself behind the two women.

What looked like a particularly grim marching band trotted down the road. A conductor who didn't seem to be conducting at the moment was leading the ensemble. A pair of trombones had taken point, followed by some french horns, with trumpets behind them. A few drums followed, and some tubas took up the rear. Every step they took had military precision, and every face was flat and expressionless.

Harmon, Cascala, and Klendel waited until the marching band had passed before walking back out into the street with the rest of the pedestrians. "What was that all about?" Harmon mused aloud.

Cascala muttered something unintelligible about the song, but Klendel chose to answer her question. "I believe they were soldiers," he said. He didn't mention that the reason he knew was because the entire group had been fearing death; specifically, death in battle.