{SCENE: a cave or rough underground chamber, like a dungeon. The walls are hewn but unfinished stone, the floor is tamped dirt strewn with gravel. Torches set into brackets hastily hung from the walls light the room in a flickering, shadowy light. The smell of burning cloth, wood, and oil is heavy in the air. A woman, dressed in fitted leather and brigandine, paces in the room. Rissa, as she has taken to call herself these days, seems worried or impatient. A single opening is the only entrance into the room, which is exactly five strides across. She takes her measured strides and glances at the doorway. There are no furnishings in the room.}
RISSA: (irritated) What is keeping her?
{The sound of footsteps can be heard in the tunnel beyond. A younger woman, in her early twenties with braided dark blonde hair and Takaran features, hurries into the room carrying a basket. Behind her, two others follow at a more measured pace. A man, tall and burly, dressed in a mixture of chain and plate. He wears no helm and his face is tanned, scarred, and cruel. The other is a shorter, frailer man, clearly Feth, with prematurely graying hair, narrow face, and curiously large, dark eyes.}
YOUNG WOMAN: (curtsying) I have brought what you requested, Rissa Ittar.
RISSA: I can see that, Alorna. Set them down.
{Alorna, who wears an aspirant’s symbol to Ittar, sets the basket down. From the basket, she spreads a small blanket on the floor and begins to unpack and lay out various items—clothes, a small wooden box, items of healingcraft, brush and mirror. Rissa watches the process with a critical eye and then looks up to the others entering the chamber.}
LARGE MAN: (nodding) Rissa Ittar. Good to see you back…so soon. Where are the others?
RISSA: (nodding) Joven Iirago. (firmly) Dead.
FETH MAN: What? Abraxal Rul?
RISSA: The lord demon and Loxias battled. I do not know what has become of them. The so-called heroes of Burnbeard sided with the lich.
JOVEN: I see you survived.
RISSA: (defiantly) There was no more to be done. They felled both of Abraxal’s guard, the giant darkling, and the necromancer.
FETH MAN: A pity. It took quite a bit of magic to re-empower the corpse.
JOVEN: So, you fled?
RISSA: I do not make it a habit to come between a master mage and a demon lord.
{Rissa begins to slowly, calmly, without any shame, undress. Alorna helps the Priestess of Ittar with her armor. The two men seem surprised. Joven lewdly watches. The Feth man turns away.}
JOVEN: (seeing the Feth man’s expression) I think you have worked too long with your corpses, Mhitai…
MHITAI: I… I…
RISSA: At least one of you has some manners.
JOVEN: (laughing) Propriety from a priestess of whores.
RISSA: (fiercely) You will learn to hold your tongue… (drawing a dagger) or I will hold it for you.
JOVEN: (laughing again) You may hold whatever you like…
MHITAI: It is unwise to provoke a woman…
JOVEN: There is no better way than to poke and prod…
RISSA: (icily) Enough. (finishing dressing) I have more pressing matters than unmanning you, Joven. The box, Alorna.
ALORNA: (picking up the small wooden box) Yes, mistress.
RISSA: (taking the box and opening it, revealing a crystalline sphere of fiery quartz) Abraxal’s sphere is unbroken. It means he is still alive, somewhere.
MHITAI: Can you contact him?
RISSA: I will try. (touching the sphere three times, intoning) Once to hear. Once to see. Once to be seen and heard. Lord Abraxal, I call you. Abraxal Rul, my lord.
{The sphere shimmers for a moment. A voice, deep and gravelly, speaks from the crystal.}
ABRAXAL: (wearily) I hear you, Ittar.
RISSA: By the Lady, what happened?
ABRAXAL: (anger rising) The lord fool fought well. Though he summoned the aid of the gods to his cause. How did he come by a Seal? I am trapped now. Trapped until freed. But he, too, suffered at my hands…
RISSA: What do you wish of us?
ABRAXAL: Mhitai will prepare a summoning.
RISSA: Your will will be done, my lord.
MHITAI: (worried) I do not know if I can break the power of Loxias.
JOVEN: If the demon lord commands it, you will try and succeed or you will fail and die.
MHITAI: It… It is not that easy! If the Lord Mayor possesses a Seal, an artifact of the Age of Power, then he has trapped Abraxal Rul with the equivalent of knowing the lord demon’s True Name. I cannot break such a power.
RISSA: Lord Abraxal, Mhitai expresses concern about his abilities to… (she pauses for a moment as if listening to something the others cannot hear) Your will be done, my lord.
ABRAXAL: Prepare the ritual in the chamber of return.
RISSA: Mhitai, prepare what you need. Joven, Alorna, you are to leave at once. Joven, you are to prevent anyone from entering this chamber till Lord Abraxal has been summoned.
ALORNA: Yes, mistress.
JOVEN: As you please, Ittar. But perhaps I should stay to assist. My god knows the ways of summoning as well.
RISSA: Lord Abraxal commands that only myself and Mhitai may be present during the summoning.
JOVEN: (suspiciously) Very well.
{Alorna quickly gathers up the belongings on the floor. Both Joven and Alorna leave.}
MHITAI: (to himself) This is impossible…
RISSA: No, it is not. Abraxal Rul has revealed to me how it will be done.
MHITAI: I cannot undo the magic of a Seal.
ABRAXAL: Give the sphere to Mhitai. He will hear my thoughts. He will know how to summon me.
MHITAI: (incredulously) How?
ABRAXAL: I will tell you my True Name.
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