PALE REIGN OVER GESHEM - CHAPTER 13 By Abyss DISCLAIMER: Go to previous chapter. Read disclaimer, apply here and to all following chapters so I can quit writing these stupid things. HIhihi... the adventure continues. Brace yourselves, this chapter has an ending that will knock your proverbial yellow-underwear-worn-on-the-outside-of-the-body off... maybe ;-). Rants, raves + reviews readily received. Spoilers on request. Keep the faith, -Abyss **************************************************** "This was the best way into the city?" The Prelate's voice echoed softly through the dirt tunnel. "Why is it your entire resistance has to move through gopher tunnels?" "Quiet, we're almost at the surface." The Hunter's reprimand was sharp. Cyclops made a disproving look back over his shoulder. The Prelate clenched his teeth and crawled forwards after them. Though they had seemed to make peace back in the village, his other self's attitude had been wearing his patience thin the last two days. *He is the most focused person I've ever met, and probably the most uptight. How did I end up like that?* He stopped short to keep from crawling headlong into his other-self's feet. Peering over Cyclops' shoulder, he could see the Hunter was standing up. *Not that the lady is any less focused, but at least she's able to relax a little...* He thought back to her scolding of both of them back in the village. *Has a temper though. She could probably have stared Apocalypse in the eye and told him where to go.* Cyclops had gotten to his feet and climbed up into wherever it was they were going. Prelate Summers scrambled forwards and stood when the tunnel suddenly opened up above his head. There was another level at chest height and he pulled himself up. As Cyclops closed a trapdoor behind him, he looked around. They were in a basement. The walls were a mud-plaster, and the dim light came from two small windows set high in the wall. Poles were hanging from rope about a metre below the ceiling, and two or three of what could only be animal bladders were hanging from each. Moisture condensed on them and dripped from the bladders into buckets below each. "What the hell?" The Hunter looked at him. She almost smiled, and her dark eyes were definitely amused. "I do not know how they make wine in your world, Prelate..." It bothered him somewhat that she had taken to calling him by his former title, but what had started as a way to make him seem more acceptable to the resistance leaders, who placed great value in rank, had become a habit. *At least she's not calling me Cyclops. THAT, I could not handle.* "...but in Geshem, this is how we do it. I would offer you a drink, but now is not the time for clouded judgements. Perhaps later." Cyclops spoke up. "Who are we waiting for?" "When the Pale Man took over the city, he tried to find allies within. Even here, there were those of less than sterling loyalty to the Queen. Surprisingly, those who one might think to be least loyal refused to join him, and they paid a bloody price for it. The Pale Man tortured much information from the thieves he caught." "Thieves?" Prelate Summers waited for some comment about Cyclops not working with criminals, but it didn't come. "Yes. Their leader has always been a mystery to the Mage and the High Lords, may they rest in peace. He actually broke into the castle once, but didn't steal a thing." A horrible suspicion was beginning to form in the Prelate's mind. He didn't ask the first question he thought of, though. He asked the second. "Then how did you know he was there?" "He left a note." "A note?" "Well, more of a card really. A fortune teller's card. The Fool." "Why call him a fool? He got away." "No. The card was the one known as The Fool." The Prelate heard something in Cyclops' voice in the next question that made him wonder just how similar their worlds were. There was dread in his voice. "What's this man's name?" The voice that answered the question wasn't the Hunter's. It was a man's, it had a strangely musical quality to it, and it made the Prelate's stomach tense up and turn over all at once. "S'not polite to talk bout a body behind their back." The Prelate dropped to a fighting stance and spun towards the voice. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Cyclops simply turned and looked. Restraining himself from an optic blast took extreme effort. Though they hadn't heard the door open, there was a man sitting at the top of the stairs leading down into the wine cellar. He wore dark leather clothes not dissimilar to the Hunter's. A long cape flowed over his shoulders, and a wide brimmed hat covered his head. Across his lap lay a long thin staff. He pushed the rim of the hat up and looked at the three of them with dark eyes that sparkled with laughter, but would have seemed proper if they had red pupils and black where they were white. * * * A lurking suspicion was had been growing in Cyclops' mind, and he had tried to ignore it. The realization was far too disturbing to contemplate. His heart sank like a stone when a familiar voice sang out from a grinning mouth under dark black eyes that laughed like a court jester. "The name is none of your business, but round here, we call me the Gambler." In perfect synchronicity, Cyclops and the Prelate heaved identical, deep and heartfelt sighs. END CHAPTER 13 ..