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Oth. Three.
Adae. Three.
You wait.
Eventually three figures emerge from beneath the outcropping of
roots and earth. In the night it is difficult to make out their
features. Each is fairly short and squattish, and one seems to be
licking the blade of a long knife.
You can hear their speech much clearer now. You also become aware
of a foul stench that seems to issue from the figures.
Joachim whispers, "urdari".
As they begin to move away from the hill one moves off through
the weeds a bit. Untying
and dropping its trousers it begins an unseemly grunting and snarling
while squatting in
the high grass. The others seem content to wait until their companion
is finished.
Kaithah. Three.
Behind you a doorway opens into deeper blackness. Picking a large
stone from the ground you move quietly back into the recess.
The sound draws closer, a gentle dip and pull of oars in water.
Slowly, an image appears. A vague white shape sliding smoothly through
a black sea. As it nears you see the shape grow larger. Large shoulders
and arms draw slender oars forward and back through the water in
a slow powerful cadence.
Soon you can hear it singing softly to itself.
"Fishing in the dead stream Hook on the end of my line Fishing
for the master's pot I best be back in time.
Closer now, you can make out a tattered shirt draped across its
shoulders, and a sad porcelain face. Wide white eyes look about
in no particular direction. You see a pole rising from the bow of
the small rowboat, an unlit lantern swinging from its hook. The
pilot sits in half of the vessel, a canvas covers the other.
Five paces from your hiding place, the figure draws the boat to
a stop. Pulling the oars in, and laying them in the boat, he reaches
under the canvas and pulls out a rope with a heavy metal hook on
the end. The boat nearly capsizes as he stands and throws the hook
into the still waters.
Slowly, he coils the rope, and casts the hook again.
He begins to draw the line back a second time but stops and smells
the air. A strange expression crosses his face. He smiles. "You
can come out. Do not fear."
Dammon. Three.
Moving into the front room, you find and gather what few articles
you left. Picking through the over turned chairs and broken table,
you find what you are looking for.
Climbing the stairs, you search the bedroom to find your book,
and find it is gone. Thus begins a second frantic search of the
house in less than a day.
In Leva's room, you find personal items and some sentimental trinkets
in a small box. The floorboards of the room are ripped from the
floor, and the wallpaper hangs in ragged sheets. It is easy to deduce
that whatever they were looking for, they had expected to find it
here.
Behind a splintered chest you find your book laying splayed on
the floor. Seizing it, you are relieved to find all damage to be
superficial. Why it was carried into this room and abandoned? Surely,
they would have recognized some value in such a tome. Curious but
relieved you take a quick inventory of yourself and leave.
The back door (which you find unlocked), opens to a short alley
which in turn opens onto a wide and busy street. You find it easy
to navigate through the alley clutter, and soon become another face
in the milling queue.
Mishara. Three.
You find two heavy doors leading from your chamber, each with a
small barred window in the normal prison style. The lock and handles
of the doors are iron. Looking through the bars, by the torchlight,
you can see old crates piled into the darkness. It is impossible
to tell what the crates might be for.
Testing a door gently with your hand, it moves. The locking mechanism
clicks and the door swings inward a fragment on old hinges. Aren
lied.
Holding your dagger firmly, you push the door farther open. The
torch floods the small room with light. Each of the crates is sealed
wood, and covered with a layer of dust as deep as your fingernail.
The flagstone floor is scattered with something that may have at
one time been straw.
Dusting off the crate tops you find some words (maybe numbers?)
that are not written in
anything familiar. Before testing the crate's weight you hear a
scratching noise coming from somewhere behind or underneath the
boxes. Turning instinctively toward the door (someplace more open,
well-lit, and defensible) you hear movement in the chamber you left.
Your eyes fall to your dagger and to the walls that seem to be closing
around you. If you ever see Aren again, you know a few words you'd
like to share with him.
Malyn. Three.
The man stops and smiles despite himself. "So you will do
it!" He reaffirms his grip on the bag. "Nobody sent me."
Again he glances toward the bar. "Not really. I asked Tavon,
the bartender, where I could find someone to hire, He pointed to
you.., ..No one else knows, Well, I mean." He stops again.
"No one knows about you, that is. I mean." He struggles
with his words. "What I mean to say is, I'm here for me. I'm
not working for anyone." You can see that the man is trying
to quell his shaking but not succeeding.
A barmaid steps up to the table and places two ales between you.
The man fishes a coin from his pocket and she leaves.
"I can't stay here long." He glances about the bar again.
"Listen, I don't even know who you are. I don't want to know.
If you take the money, and decide not to deliver," he shakes
his head, "there's really nothing I can do about that. But,
if you want the extra twenty-five you'll do what I ask."
He pushes the bag halfway across the table. "Are you willing
to listen?"
A quick look around the barroom and across the balconies tell you
that noone is paying
your table any special attention. But in a crowd, you can never
be sure.
end
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