Advocate Iannis

As I put the journal away, I heard a voice yell out at me.

“You'll ‘pike off’ quick if you know what’s good for you. Get out of here!”

I looked up to see a group of what passed for thugs in the Clerk’s Ward. I got up, and approached the one who had spoken. The young but well-muscled ‘thug’ — while certainly well armed and large enough to be dangerous — seemed awfully clean for a typical street tough. He was carrying a massive axe in one hand. As I neared him, he puffed up and scowled at me.

“What are you looking at, ‘sod?’ ‘Pike off,’ before I've to ‘scrag’ you!” Annah looked at the thug in disbelief.

“ ‘Scrag?!’ What in the nine Planes o’ Baator are yeh talkin’ about, yeh idjit? Scrag’s nagged, nipped, yanked by the Hardheads, yeh clueless, addle-coved berk.”

He glared daggers at Annah, but said nothing. I couldn’t refrain from commenting on his appearance, so different from the thugs I had met, and killed, in the Hive.

“You seem a little well-groomed for a thug.”

“Stop shaking your ‘bone-box,’ leatherhead! This is my territory and you'll be leaving it quick, if you don’t want my ‘bloods’ to tear you apart!” Annah snickered, shaking her head.

“Rattle, yeh sod. Rattlin’ yer bone-box, it is. I'd so like ta see how long yeh'd last dropped smack in the middle o’ the Hive, actin’ as yeh are…” Annah turned to me. “C’mon, let’s be off. No use wastin’ our time with this wee-stemmed basher would-be.” The thug’s face flushed angrily as he gnashed his teeth in frustration.

“That’s it — you've ‘piking’ asked for it! Get him, bloods!” He raised his axe and leaped to attack.

The fight was extremely short. These ‘bloods’ had plainly never met any real opposition before, and those who didn’t have the sense to flee were soon lying on the ground, spattered with their own gore.

Nordom had stayed in the back during the battle, using his crossbows. Annah, meanwhile, not having the opportunity to try her usual sneak attack from behind had been fighting almost directly in front of him. After the battle ended Nordom asked a question which had evidently been puzzling him during the fighting.

“Annah, does your tail assist you in maintaining your balance?”

“No, it’s fer scratchin’ me back, yeh soddin’ box!”

“Yes, that is quite logical.” Annah only sighed in disgust.

Several people had described a prominent advocate who lived in the ward. He might have information on several legacies I was interested in. Even if he didn’t, he undoubtedly would know the other advocates in the ward.

It was simple finding the man’s home. We were admitted into the downstairs of a large house. If there were any servants, they were not in evidence; only the advocate himself was there.

This man was dressed in soft blue robes covered with intricate designs; despite their opulence, however, the robes looked wrinkled and worn. I placed the man’s age somewhere between middle-age and early sixties… the worry lines made an exact determination difficult. As I entered, the man turned slowly towards me; as he did, I was suddenly struck with the terrible sense that I knew this man… or did at one time. The man squinted, as if trying to place me.

“Yes? Is there something that I can help you with?”

“Who are you?”

“I am Iannis.” He studied me and frowned. “Were you looking for me?”

“I don’t know… what is this place?”

“I am an advocate. These are my offices.” Iannis’ voice took on an irritated edge. “Do you seek counsel? If not, perhaps you had best test your curiosity elsewhere.” Morte broke in with a whisper.

“He’s saying he’s a lawyer. A counselor. One of those berks who rattle their bone-boxes at the courts.” I gave Morte an annoyed look, since I already knew that. Iannis must have overhead Morte, because his frown deepened as he explained his profession.

“An advocate provides counsel, helps others navigate the labyrinths of Sigil’s legal system, arranges legacies for citizens to insure that their property is divided as they choose upon death, defend those in Sigil’s courts who have been wrongly accused…” He paused. “Did you need help in any of these areas?”

“Actually, I believe you have a legacy for me.” I least, I hoped he did. “The legacy is number ‘51-AA,’ I believe.”

He looked at me in surprise as I named the legacy. “That is extremely old… are you certain… “ A shocked look came upon his face. “I hope that wasn’t one of the ones that were burned…”

“How old is it?”

“Well…” Iannis pondered for a moment. “Several decades at least.” If it was the one I wanted, it should be more than five decades old. If it still existed.

“You said it might have been burned? What do you mean?”

“Yes, this office was the target of a senseless act of vandalism. A year ago we had a break-in here at the office. The vandal’s sole desire seemed to be to burn my legal documentation. Much was lost. A shame, really. Sigil can be quite… wearing on a person’s faith…” He seemed to lose an inch as he mentioned Sigil. “The vandal only damaged certain documents. Irreplaceable.”

“Can you tell me anything else about the fire?”

“There is nothing much to say about the matter… it was a strange, localized fire. I cannot imagine what would have been precious in the documents that were burned, but someone must have wanted them destroyed. A number of old legacies were burned, and some mementos and other keepsakes of value only to me.”

“Any luck in locating the person responsible?”

“No, neither the Harmonium nor the Mercykillers have had any fortune in locating the person responsible.”

“Can you check and see if the legacy still exists?” He left me for a few minutes, to look up the number in his records. He returned, to report that fortunately it had not been damaged by the fire.

“Could I collect on it? I am the beneficiary.” I signed the papers he put before me, and he gave me the items from the legacy.

“There we are; that should be the last of the paper work. Here are all the items that were in the Vault… one looks like a Foundry receipt, though quite an old one, to be sure. Did the deceased have something commissioned at the Foundry?”

“I don’t really know. Perhaps… I'm beginning to think just about anything is possible.” I might as well see if he had the other legacy. “I have also come to collect the legacy of a young woman…” He asked me for the number of the legacy.

“The young woman’s legacy is ‘687-KS.’ ”

He went off to check the number. After a few minutes, he returned, looking dazed.

“That…” His eyes widened. “My daughter’s legacy…?!” He looked shocked. “How do you know my daughter?!”

“I'm not certain. There is a sensory stone in the Festhall that held the legacy number.”

His eyes blazed with hope. “There is? But in which one…? You must tell me!”

“It is one of the Sensate sensory stones… if you are not a Sensate, you could not gain access.”

He thought for a moment. “I must find a way… perhaps they would make an exception for her father…”

“If you wanted, I could speak to someone. I'm certain they would make an exception in your case.”

Iannis looked relieved. “If you could, I would be most grateful.”

“I will see what can be done. I would know more about Deionarra, though. What was she like?” I had slipped, mentioning his daughter’s name when he hadn’t told it to me, but he didn’t seem to have noticed as he replied.

“Deionarra? She was… young. She had recently joined the Society of Sensation, the Sensates… not an unpleasant faction, but she had also met someone there… she followed him on a journey and there, she died. Her bod…” He looked pained. “I was not even able to recover her body…”

“You say she was a Sensate?”

“Yes… “ He became slightly more animated, as if warming himself on a precious memory. “She had joined them because of her gift… and the fact there was so much about the multiverse that she wanted to experience. The Sensates lend themselves readily to the sharing of experience and sensation.”

“Gift?”

“Oh, yes…” Iannis nodded. “My daughter had the blood of an oracle running in her veins, but it was a unreliable talent. At times, she could predict events before they took place… she had ‘Sight;’ she could see through time itself, sift through the threads of fate…”

“Do you know where she went on this journey?”

“She never said. I am not certain she was capable of saying where they had gone. It must have been a… terrible place.”

“How did she die?”

“I do not know… her body was never recovered.” Iannis’ face turned blood-red and his hands clenched into fists. “And that is perhaps the most maddening part of this misery… I will never know what possessed her to run off like that, what happened to her, nor where her body lies now!”

“Forgive me for asking, but how do you know she’s dead if you never saw the body?”

“It is most curious… I went to the Dustmen to see if they had found her body, and they directed me to one of their faction outside the Dustman monument… a Dustman named ‘Death-of-Names,’ I believe. He is said to be an oracle of sorts, concerning those who have died. He told me my daughter had died.”

“Do you know anything about this man she journeyed with?”

“Little. I barely even knew of his existence until she had departed. By then, it was too late to have known him.” I barely knew Iannis, but I owed him at least part of the truth.

“I believe the man was me. But I have forgotten much.”

“You?!” Iannis looked me up and down. “You are the one… and you say you have forgotten?!” Iannis drew himself up; he looked like he was squaring himself for a battle. “You have forgotten… but the incident was not so long ago. How can this be?” Not so long ago? More than fifty years in the past. Iannis must be older than I first thought. But I could see how his torment was still fresh to him, and his daughter’s loss must still seem like it had happened only yesterday.

“I have a strange condition… I lose myself… for a time. Anything you can tell me about myself or your daughter would be invaluable.”

“Countless liars have I known in my tenure in this city.” Iannis studied me intently. “You do not strike me as one of them… at least on this matter.” He sighed. “If you truly do not remember, then whatever befell you and my daughter on your journey must have left deep scars.”

“I am inclined to agree.”

“Then I ask your word on this: If your memory returns, and you discover what has happened to my daughter, return to me so that my mind may at last be at rest on this matter.”

“I will do that.”

I then asked for the legacy Deionarra had left for me. He disappeared for a time.

“All the articles are accounted for…” Iannis was holding two scrolls and a ring in his hands. “I had no idea she had established a legacy here…” He was staring at the items, almost hypnotized. “Here you are. If I may… may I read them, sir?” I could not deny him. One scroll held a healing enchantment, but the other was a note written by his daughter.

“Of course. Here you are.” Iannis took the scroll and studied it. There was a long silence, then he slowly looked up at me.

“You… meant very much to my daughter. She was willing to give up her life for you.”

“I believe that is the case.” Iannis handed the scroll back to me.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your kindness.”

“It is the least I can do.”

I was about to leave, but I had not been fully honest with Iannis. I knew something more about his daughter, and I didn’t feel right about leaving without mentioning it. Even though what I had to say could only increase his agony.

“I saw a woman by the name of Deionarra interred in the Mortuary memorial hall. She had become a ghost and claimed that she knew me.”

“Wh… what?!” Iannis looked flustered. “Wh… what did you just say?!”

“Her spirit now resides in the memorial hall. I spoke with her for a time, and she seems to be in distress.”

“You… spoke to her?!” Iannis seemed to become more confused by the moment. “What distresses her?”

“Me, apparently. She said that she loved me and that I had loved her… and that I had forsaken her.”

“I see.” Iannis frowned and studied me… his face had become like stone. “You are the one she left Sigil with. The one who led her on the journey that killed her.”

I had nothing to say to Iannis’ accusation, because I believed it was true. I had led her on a journey, had deliberately manipulated her into coming with me just to use her powers. The fact that I didn’t directly remember these events, or that I now felt exquisite anguish over her fate, didn’t, couldn’t, change what had happened. I left his house without another word.

Once outside, I opened the scroll from Deionarra’s Legacy.

My Love,

If you are reading this, then the tragedy I have Seen has come to pass. I have died, and you have remained to suffer the loss.

Know this, my Love… I know why you were forced to shield your feelings from me. You sought to protect me from the terrible burden you carry with you. The distance you kept between us was your way of protecting me, and the brief moments when we were alone and you let your feelings be known, that was when I knew you cared for me. Carry no regrets with you, carry no guilt, for I came with you on your haunted journey of my own accord, and no matter how death came for me, I know that you did everything in your power to save me.

Our lives are intertwined my Love, and death shall not be a wall between us.

For my Sight has seen what is to come, only in staccato segments, but it is enough for me to know that we will be separated for a time, but we shall be reconciled again. Thus, do not see my death as a farewell, but only as an interval before we meet again. Carry my ring with you, and these other pieces of me, and think of me. Keep me in your mind and heart, and that will be the beacon that brings us together.

Forever,

Deionarra.

I examined the ring she had left for me, having difficulty seeing it, for my vision was blurred with unshed tears. Some memory from the depths of my mind allowed me to identify it.

The ivory ring radiated a slight glow, and though it was cold to the touch, the chill was strangely comforting. Among the many secrets of the Society of Sensation, I had remembered, was the ability to shape a peculiar stone from Elysium, dubbed “soulstone.” While this stone was not as powerful as the sensory stones, the soul stone was said to carry an imprint of the shaper’s feelings. Such rings were often used in Sensate marriage ceremonies, each ring inscribed with the feelings of the other.

I put the ring on my finger, resolving to find some way to help Deionarra. The ivory band stretched to fit the width of my finger.