Almost delicately, and certainly with a certain sense of refinement, Ianna takes her seat.
"I am Ziza Dibh Muileta, an importer/exporter. I arrived in Grastle Hollow recently when I heard there was a shortage of a rather valuable metal. I had hoped that when I arrived I could turn a tidy profit providing an alternative source. Unfortunately, things in the Hollow are not well managed. The criminal element seems to have turned quite impolite in the recent past and the government does not seem to have the knowledge or, if you will forgive this observation, the competency to keep things under control.
Once I realized that the energized criminal element appears to be behind the shortage from which I had hoped to profit, I knew that I had my associates would likely be their next targets. This simply will not do.
We decided that the most efficient thing to do would be to eliminate and replace the current criminal leadership, who seem given to excess, and profit from a more manageable decadence.
I think you should help us because I believe you may have once been part of a gentleman's agreement that has been horrifically betrayed by outside influences. I hope that you have knowledge about the way things once were that might aid in my current pursuits."
"Of course you're a bleeding merchant. Nobody's motivated by anything but money anymore." He spits in the fire. "Those green ears couldn't run a river, much less handle the crime. In my day we had order." He narrows his eyes at Ianna. "Yeah, I dealt with those criminals, but that's because it was either that or watch the city burn. Lesser of two evils. These criminals, these kind won't last. They'll be put down like the rabid dogs they are. But I'll be damned before I put another organized crime group in charge. They're festering sores that kill the city while its citizens think they're helping. I'd rather fight plain evil that would kill me than work with evil that will slowly bleed my dry while smiling politely. Go back to your masters, b*!!@, and tell them they can figure out their own damn problems. I'm not part of that life anymore."
Ianna's smile does not waver.
"You may not like my methods or motivations, Smearg; but, I am on the side of the angels here. I have no intention of setting up in the Hollow long term -- as either criminal or merchant. My plan is to remove the current element and then turn everything over to the government for a profit.
I am a business woman. Corruption, in the long run, is bad for business. Happy, healthy citizens buy more things. Citizens who trust in their government are good for the economy.
There is little doubt in my mind that I could weave a story for you that you want to hear. That would sound good to your ear, but if our partnership is to work there needs to be honesty and respect, if not courtesy.
My market research indicates that these criminals in particular might be more resilient than you might hope. I have credible reports that one of their more blood-thirsty leaders, an anti-paladin, literally cannot die. This matches with reports of similar trouble over the past year in east.
You and I have similar goals, if not motivations. This type of wickedness is a boil. One that needs to be lanced.
Please, help me, help your city. For all your protestations, you still care. Together, we might be able to do something about these troubles."
"So, what, benevolent dictators? I think I'd rather die kicking. Grab your calf out there and get out of my house." The fire crackles for a few moments, keeping the silence at bay.
Then suddenly there is a cry from the backroom. Smearg's face screws up in anger and concern, flashing daggers at Ianna. "Out! I said out!" There's another cry from the back; clearly an old woman in pain. Smearg glances over with a concerned look and quickly grabs a mug of water and a rag, hobbling to the back.
A weak female voice responds. "Is...is that guests in the other room? Oh the place is such a mess..."
"No, nobody is here. Please, you need your rest..."
"I have knowledge of healing. I would help you, if you let me."
Ianna has been a healer and a sworn daughter of Bolka long before she was a spy.
Smearg turns sharply, and Ianna can feel how his anger is actually pain. The old woman looks and gives a gasp of delight and a smile. "Ohhh, look at you! You have grown up so much my daughter, come over so that I can see you better." Smearg hands his head in a defeated look.
A green and gold halo briefly flash over Ianna's hands soothing some of the pain and confusion from the old woman's body and mind.
"Her affliction is one that strikes at those who are older sometimes. Certain, powerful prayers can restore her to herself."
She gently mops the older woman's brow and prays.
Golden Gift, I beg you look down upon these two lovers. Please, give them the gift of your succor. Restore the joy of their union that has lasted these many years, I beg.
"Oh Variasa, I haven't seen you in so long. You must tell me how you and that boy are getting along." She nods and smiles.
Smearg gently holds her hand. "Marlith, would you like some of that cobbler? I'm going to get Variasa something to eat."
Marlith smiles and puts a hand on his cheek. "That would be lovely. You're such a good man Smearg, that's why I love you. You always help those who need it." With a nod from her Smearg leads Ianna out of the room.
Back in the kitchen Smearg pulls out a pan half full of cobbler and a bottle of amber liquor. He pours a generous swallow of it and downs it, hands visibly shaking. "What is it that you wanted from me?"
"Any knowledge that you possess that might aid us in getting rid of the new criminals and keep us alive while we do it."
The old grizzled gnome gives a hard look to Ianna, then pulls out a piece of parchment and rips a corner off of it. He scribbles something down on it, then limps over and hands it to Ianna. As she reaches for it he suddenly grabs her wrist, looking her in the eyes. "Villichi doesn't f%#% around. To survive finding him, you might have to do some dark things." He releases her wrist and walks back to the table in the kitchen, pouring another drink and downing it before getting a piece of cobbler ready for his wife. He looks up with a sour expression. "You can go now."
"I will be back. You can bank on that. Thank you, Smearg."
Ianna goes through her government papers detailing important people in the city, and only one such individual is powerful enough to cast the required magic; Father Thriun. He is a cleric of Nivi Rhombodazzle and spends most of his time at the temple of his god.
Ianna will see if Father Thriun is willing to cast Heal on a house call for her. Regular Rates of course, with a small bonus for the out of temple visit.
Father Thriun listens to Ianna's request and agrees to it, a very calm and pragmatic fellow.
Ianna will take him back up to the hovel (with Bjorkus) so that Marlith can be healed.
Father Thriun, once he realizes who the request is for, exhales slowly. "I hope that Smearg will accept the help. He is a stubborn man."
As Ianna and Thriun walk back up to the hovel, Smearg comes out and smirks at them. "What is this now, planning to blackmail me or say I owe you a favor? I've already given you what you wanted!"
Father Thriun holds up his hands in a calming manor, but then looks to Ianna with a curious and wary look that says What exactly am I getting into?
"If you want your old lady to get better you're gunna have to take a chance on us", Ragnar explains. "If it means makin' her whole again, isn't it worth the risk?"
"Did I say any of those things? You are correct. You already gave me what I wanted. This is a gift -- freely given. Marlith deserves some peace and joy with you."
While they had agreed to attach themselves to future buyers, the particulars of the prospective purchasers remained undetermined. Normally, Dalton would think about a plan of action over a meal, but "Lopa" would have to settle for a drink.
Toramin's sister seemed to be as clever as she was devout. Ianna could make a wonderful long-term addition to the Aestherics, but that is not where her heart lies. Truth be told, Dalton was feeling unsure of them at the moment as well. For all the intelligence they were given about places far and wide, the nooks and crannies were what eclipsed the group. Corruption is here, but we know not the source. A dictator ruled Akropash, but we knew not the support structure.
The overarching way decisions were made reminded the wizard of a small contingent of powerful people, not unlike the nobility he served in his youth. But at least these have some merit. Though I don't trust all of them... While Heff's power could not be disputed, his motives were opaque as a brick.
Taking his seat at a local tavern, Dalton ordered some rum. He swallowed a bit, savoring the notes. I have a debt to repay to the magelord as well, but not making a scene is doing exactly the right thing at this point; the focus is on these various mischiefs in different countries. The possibility did not escape the jeweler he was saved for the precise reason of being a pawn placed in advance, but even still, the debt hung over his head like a cloud.
Undercover and underweather, he paid his due and asked about for smiths that could outfit a band of mercenaries. Top quality. The group request carried the underspoken necessity of quantity of metal desired, and he needed a merchant to play off his previous contact. Toramin would not have hurt anything, but bringing a dwarf to the table as the opposing merchants bid against each other later would make the process more cutthroat. I could learn a thing or two...
Returning to their temporary base, Dalton met up with the Trealamhgabhas, Bjorkus, and Rilka. "I don't know how you feel about the going-ons in this town, but I'd prefer to uncover some of these mysteries. The amount of preparation without cards on the table is beginning to feel lopsided."
Smearg narrows his eyes, then points a finger at Ianna. "This gets done, and then I never see you again? I owe you nothing, you owe me nothing."
~~~
Dalton learns a number of names that could serve as outfitting mercenaries, and the clamor for the demand of adamantine is practically deafening.
Before returning to the others, the mage followed-up on his leads, a casual eye glancing about the warehouses and vendors he passed. He did not deign to dally about, but rather kept his anonymity. These lot may be useful later.
"I can make no promises about what your eyes behold, Smearg." Ianna gently teases to cut the tension.
"But, this is a gift to the both of you and not an effort to create leverage. Give yourself permission to be joyous."
Ragnar lets the old gnome be as grumpy as he sees fit as long as he doesn't try to stop the priest from working his magic.
~~~
An hour later, the priest comes out from her room with a line of sweat on his forehead but a smile on his face. "The woman's mind illness is cured, although she is still very advanced in age and frail physically. It will take her some time to recover." With that he gives a short prayer and waits for Ianna outside.
Smearg, after talking privately with his wife for a few minutes, comes back out to Ianna with his eyes down at the floor. "That's...a great kindness you did me..." He trails off into an awkward silence.
"Love is a gift that makes us better in the giving."
She gives him a radiant smile and takes her leave. Golden Gift, though it was not by my hand or prayers, this is my sacrifice to you. May you make something even more wondrous with their love.
Outside, Ianna pays the priest his 660 gold and 40 extra pieces for the walk. "Thank you for helping them."
Smearg just nods and lets Ianna leave.
Outside Father Thriun gives a nod, drinking from a waterskin in his bag. "I'm actually relieved I could. That man did an amazing amount for the city years ago. He deserves to have some peace in his retirement."
"Then I am pleased I could help facilitate her healing."
With the good works handled by Ianna's purse, Ragnar gives the dwarven maid a nod. "Come on. We've got an appointment to keep."
As they'd arranged, Dalton rendezvoused with the rest of the party as they prepared to sort out the business with the shipment.
"You two might be right to worry about keeping your clan under a cloak of protection from this, but the wealth that will flow through this market could be extreme. I didn't need to find a buyer more than reach out and touch one." Speaking to the dwarves, Dalton was reminded of their already elaborate upbringing. Well, perhaps it isn't astronomical to them, but it would still give them quite a deal of influence in the region.
"Shall we?"
The weekend passes and the party goes over what they have learned, filling each other in on all of their separate adventures.
And then Sunday rolls around and Toramin is contacted by Yana who happily informs him that she has a small bank set up being run by a local relative (very distant cousin) of Toramin. Dalton takes this information and goes to his contacts, informing them of the shipment coming in. There is a great deal of skepticism and excitement, but they all agree to their previous higher rates for the metal.
Finally Monday comes and the party is at a small stone building that looks vastly out of place in the colorful surroundings. A remarkably short dwarf with a curly ginger beard greets the party. "'Ello! I'm Thruivan Trealamhgabha, pleasure ta meet ya. I have the vault all set up fer Yana's shipment, should be comin' in any min..." As if on cue, the movement of matter that accompanies teleportation is heard in the back. But instead of a small whoosh of air like normal, it sounds like an entire room has been displaced. With a smile Thruivan leads the party into a locked vault.
Inside are four immense sealed crates and half a dozen very tired-looking dwarven spellcasters. Most of them are sweating and panting, a few are sitting against the crates and catching their breath. One of them mutters an ugly word in dwarven and says "So damn much of it..." He signs some papers that Thruivan produces and then nods, he and the rest of the spellcasters teleporting back out.
Dalton patted Toramin on the shoulder. "Mighty impressive!"
Though short range teleportation was doable for the mage, the long distance version the dwarves used would be more draining. Their ability to do so at all was testament to their potential, but also reminded him of the greater mastery his father and Tiasar possessed.
"I believe it's obvious one who laid eyes on this location would have many more questions and suspicions than would be prudent at this time. It would be better for us to take the material to the various termini."
Deep pockets, this clan.
Ragnar can't help but whistle in appreciation of the crates full of priceless sky metal. It was the kind of fortune wars fought over among the pirate lords.
"If this lot doesn't get the attention of the fools we're lookin' for I don't think anything will", the huge brutish man rumbles.
Chibi mutters, ”We should have some refreshments for the spellcasters next time.”
He measures the crates with his eyes and pushes against one to test the weight. ”What’s the total weight of ore in the crates?” he asks Thruvian.
The dwarf strokes his beard. "All o' it? Thousands, Yana sent o'er quite a bit. You plannin' on yer buyers comin' here or will ye be doing deliveries? Need ta know so I can set tha place up if I need ta."
"Draggin' that much metal around is gunna be tough", Ragnar offers. "Seems it'd make more sense for them to come to us."
"I was thinking deliveries. Since it would make us more of a target. What do the rest of you think?"
"That makes sense. Do you think we have enough muscle to guard the deliveries and whatever we leave behind?"
”If we’re tryin’ to make ourselves a target we should wait for it to start gettin’ dark and plot a course off the main roads. That’s bound to get us the wrong kind of attention.”
"Surely. We don't want to be a geode sitting in front of a mine." The mage looked to Ragnar. "You have some experience in the area of smuggling, don't you, Bjorkus? What sort of people are most likely to stumble upon these kinds of dealings better kept quiet?"
"My end of the smugglin' always took place on the water. Movin' booty through ports was handled by my crew", Bjorkus explains. "But for our purposes it doesn't hurt if there's a few loose lips."
"I'll defer to you and your crew's sense of these matters. Let's stay alert. We still don't know the whole of who's behind the various pieces of this puzzle."
But that will be put to rest before long...