“You don’t? But what else is there?” Chaïa asked flippantly. She was able to maintain the façade for a couple of heartbeats before the priestess inside her added, though still lightly, “Well, apart from love and beauty, kindness, and knowledge…”
As the others made themselves at home with unnerving rapidity, she said, still grinning, “Anyway, someone’s got to keep an eye on the younger ones before they do anything too too reckless. If something does come up here, do let us know, will you?”
With that, she entered the tavern, planning to acquire a glass of wine before – since Lucrecia seemed to have getting the gossip well in hand – settling quietly where she could observe the activities around the place, preferably away from any of the floor’s dubious sticky patches.
The "wine" that Chaïa procured looked like heavily-watered beer. It also tasted the part. And perhaps of rats. But it was wet and gave her something to hold while she took in the Cow's patrons. Most gave her a look and then ignored her.
Fetching the knives again, 3 of which stick together right at the center, Janus offers them to her with a very casual, short bow.
"Yes, I definitely learned. I come up short one point, but that means I did better than I thought I would. I haven't seen you around here - are you here with company? If not, why not join my friend and me for a horn of what passes for wine around here when your throat becomes dry?", he open-handedly gestures towards Lu sitting next to his empty chair.
Tirra watched the throws with amusement, "You're the first one here worth my time. That's worth a sit and a drink, but 'ware the wine here. The beer tastes enough like a chamber pot without a grape skin floating in it." She signaled for a drink and settled down at a table, casually rolling aside a passed-out drunk for her seat.
"I'm here with Auric, the whoremonger, and Khellek. But Auric's off whoring and Khellek's probably at that dragonchess place. Too damned boring. Can't wait until we're quit of here and back doing something exciting, as long as it's not trying to find Warlock's Crypt. You know what happened to the last fools that tried it."
What else was there to life? Well... ultimately, life was what you made of it. Some people had exciting times, others were boring. A lot of it came down to people's choices... and for now, she simply wanted to repay a little of what she owed the wizard.
"Thanks for the warning. Beer it is, then.", Janus settled down opposite of her. "Now, I may see the appeal of one of your friends passtime...", Janus pauses, taking a moment to drink before continuing: "...but why would this Auric go chase whores rather than trying to make a move on you?", he attempts to play it smooth.
"Seriously, though, I know what you mean. Life is meant to be exciting. If I do grow old, I'll have enough time to be bored then, until such time, I want to lead a thrilling life...so...Warlocks Crypt? Sounds intriguing. I seem to vaguely remember something, but can't quite recall it. What happened to the last fools?", he inquires.
The "wine" that Chaïa procured looked like heavily-watered beer. It also tasted the part. And perhaps of rats. But it was wet and gave her something to hold while she took in the Cow's patrons. Most gave her a look and then ignored her.
Chaïa took one brave sip of the concoction handed her, already regretting handing over her coppers, before setting the cup as far away from her as she could. She wondered idly what she could possibly do with it: if it would be too cruel to use it to kill vermin, or, an even more horrible idea, whether it was even able to do so, given the texture of the flavours her revolted mind was trying not to process. Her fingers rubbed idly against the wall of the cup, cooled by the contents. Having discovered the drink’s apparently sole redeeming feature for one not in imminent danger of dying of thirst, Chaïa lamented not having prepared a cantrip for prestidigitation, anything to get rid of the stuff.
She focused on trying to follow the threads of the others’ conversations through the hubbub of the tavern, smiling as she caught the warning about the ‘wine’ too late, and glad that Janus thought to ask about Warlock’s Crypt. Knowing what these people are afraid of might give us a sense of their experience.
"Thanks for the warning. Beer it is, then.", Janus settled down opposite of her. "Now, I may see the appeal of one of your friends passtime...", Janus pauses, taking a moment to drink before continuing: "...but why would this Auric go chase whores rather than trying to make a move on you?", he attempts to play it smooth.
"Auric's a soft heart. He likes to keep all his parts in their usual homes," Tirra said, smiling.
"Seriously, though, I know what you mean. Life is meant to be exciting. If I do grow old, I'll have enough time to be bored then, until such time, I want to lead a thrilling life...so...Warlocks Crypt? Sounds intriguing. I seem to vaguely remember something, but can't quite recall it. What happened to the last fools?", he inquires.
"Company of the Bold Banner," Tirra said. "Said they found a keep full of vampires and zombies somewhere in the Troll Hills. They got in and one made it back, full of gems and stories of vampire courts and lich kings, trolls for slaves. And the Rotting Plague. It took him and half Baldur's Gate off to their gods in the Year of the Crown."
From the doorway, it was hard to hear too much - but Saeri paid attention anyway, doing her best to keep an eye on the surroundings and an ear on what was going on inside. She idly shuffled a simpler deck - not her fortune-telling deck, but extra cards she kept for amusement - as she did so, practicing the smooth movements that let her perform with just a flick of the wrist.
Haytham slid into a spot just inside the door. Lounging against the wall, he carefully watched the interplay around Tirra. His eyes were colder and more intense than normal, but his stance was at ease. From the looks a few patrons cast his way this was not his first time at the Happy Cow. When he flagged down the serving girl, any suspicions the young noble frequented the place were solidly confirmed.
"Hi Lise, how's the crowd tonight? Anyone getting too handsy? Grab me a beer, the good stuff, on my tab if you will." His eyes snapped over to the fighting pit, "Nice of Ol' Bluto to put his face in here, especially at the cockfight... when he still owes me from the last time he lost. Well then, when you're grabbing that beer would you be so kind as to tell him to come over and have a chat with me? Tell him, 'I might have it in me to forgive his debt, for a little easy work.'"
"Hi Lise, how's the crowd tonight? Anyone getting too handsy? Grab me a beer, the good stuff, on my tab if you will." His eyes snapped over to the fighting pit, "Nice of Ol' Bluto to put his face in here, especially at the cockfight... when he still owes me from the last time he lost. Well then, when you're grabbing that beer would you be so kind as to tell him to come over and have a chat with me? Tell him, 'I might have it in me to forgive his debt, for a little easy work.'"
Lise did her usual shrug. You didn't get far working at the Cow by griping about the patrons; someone might stab you. But she nodded at Haytham's order and then went off for Ol' Bluto. He shuffled over a few minutes later, limping like usual thanks to the toes he got frozen off one winter up in the North.
"Easy work?" he grunted.
From the doorway, it was hard to hear too much - but Saeri paid attention anyway, doing her best to keep an eye on the surroundings and an ear on what was going on inside. She idly shuffled a simpler deck - not her fortune-telling deck, but extra cards she kept for amusement - as she did so, practicing the smooth movements that let her perform with just a flick of the wrist.
[dice=Perception]1d20 + 1
Saeri could hear the occasional raised voice clearly, but the Cow was too loud for her to follow much in the way of conversation.
Haytham smiled but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes, "That's right Bluto, easy. You see the young lady throwing those knives over there? I want information. Find out what you can about her and come back and tell me what you've got. I'd do it myself but I'd like to keep eyes on her for now. If you get information on her friends I may even throw in a bonus."
"Auric's a soft heart. He likes to keep all his parts in their usual homes," Tirra said, smiling.
"His loss, then...staying at home, sticking to the usual...doesn't sound as if it would be much fun. Exotic places are a lot more tempting.", Janus smiles back, glancing over at Lucretia for a moment before focusing on Tirra again.
I sure hope Lu doesn't misunderstand."Company of the Bold Banner," Tirra said. "Said they found a keep full of vampires and zombies somewhere in the Troll Hills. They got in and one made it back, full of gems and stories of vampire courts and lich kings, trolls for slaves. And the Rotting Plague. It took him and half Baldur's Gate off to their gods in the Year of the Crown."
"Ah, that was them. The Plague, of course. Just couldn't remember the connection between it and the name of the party. But aye, plagues, liches, vampires and trolls, that sounds a little too exciting for my taste, too. So if you're not here after Warlocks Crypt, why did you come to this village? I don't think you are here for the quality of the whores, I KNOW you are not here because of the drinks, and I doubt the two of you would tag along for a match of Dragonchess...", he curiously inquires.
Haytham smiled but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes, "That's right Bluto, easy. You see the young lady throwing those knives over there? I want information. Find out what you can about her and come back and tell me what you've got. I'd do it myself but I'd like to keep eyes on her for now. If you get information on her friends I may even throw in a bonus."
Bluto nodded, tapped his nose with one gnarled finger, and went on his way.
"His loss, then...staying at home, sticking to the usual...doesn't sound as if it would be much fun. Exotic places are a lot more tempting.", Janus smiles back, glancing over at Lucretia for a moment before focusing on Tirra again.
I sure hope Lu doesn't misunderstand.
Tirra laughed, "Auric has no imagination."
"Ah, that was them. The Plague, of course. Just couldn't remember the connection between it and the name of the party. But aye, plagues, liches, vampires and trolls, that sounds a little too exciting for my taste, too. So if you're not here after Warlocks Crypt, why did you come to this village? I don't think you are here for the quality of the whores, I KNOW you are not here because of the drinks, and I doubt the two of you would tag along for a match of Dragonchess...", he curiously inquires.
"We'd be gone by now of Auric didn't insist on whoring his way down the Sword Coast. The wizard thinks there might be something valuable in on of those old tombs everyone picked over."
Lu quietly sips her "ale", curious to see how Janus charms would work on their mark. Also, just to pass the time, she tried to figure out how to make unprovoked shiving look like an honest accident. Well, honest enough to *just* start a little brawl. But best to let some time pass, just so the patrons don't remember all that knife throwing too well...
Chaïa was finding it a great relief that trying to follow along in all the noise required enough focus that the other details of the space in which she found herself could begin to slip away. She didn’t catch much other than something fanciful about undead, and “the wizard,” but as the conversation lulled, an idea crossed her mind as she observed Haytham talking quietly with some ruffian.
From where she was sitting, she couldn’t see that Tirra was wearing any conspicuous insignia, and that might mean… In any case, it would give her a chance to get in a word in edgewise after the fiasco with that Auric creature, and her exact position would come out anyway when they were swearing their oaths the next day.
Standing up, Chaïa quickly checked the fall of her robes, readjusted her spellcasting materials so her holy symbol was prominent, and walked over to Lucrecia, Janus, and Tirra as carelessly as she could. She realized, though, that she probably couldn’t completely disguise her discomfort with her environs. Maybe some desperate soul will dispose of that nasty concoction for me, at least, she thought, as she moved through the tavern’s unnerving patrons.
“There you two are!” she said, “Keeping out of trouble, I hope?”
She acknowledged Tirra with a glance , and offered, “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but catch the last bit of your conversation as I came to find my companions. Warlocks, tombs, liches? Sounds like someone could have used a wizard and priestess.”
She smiled to indicate that she wasn’t offering a serious boast, her eyes flashing briefly to Lucrecia as if to say, “Introduce us?” Noticing the drink in Lucrecia’s lifted hand, her horrified mind added, Goddess, she’s actually drinking the stuff.
She acknowledged Tirra with a glance , and offered, “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but catch the last bit of your conversation as I came to find my companions. Warlocks, tombs, liches? Sounds like someone could have used a wizard and priestess.”
Tirra's clothing was frustratingly nondscript and functional. She didn't bear any badges that Chaïa could see.
"It's a life," Tirra said. "Warlock's Crypt is someone else's problem. We've got enough just here for now, until Khellek gets interested in something else and talks Auric into it. Might be the High Moor next, or even the Backlands, gods help us."
“The High Moor? Good luck to you, when you get to it – that’s a bit beyond the places I’m more familiar with,” Chaïa said, pensively. And past the edge of Eaerlann that was. I wonder… After a moment, she shook off the mood and continued lightly, “Old hills, old forests… a lot of history hiding around here. Too much for anyone to hope to uncover it all. If you ever do find something curious, though, and pass through Daggerford again, look us up and let us know? After all, oddments of lore, exorcisms, unweaving dweomers – we might be able to help. Preferably not with where liches are like to hide their souls, though.”
Another grin showed she was teasing, but Chaïa knew that she was out of her depth. She wished she could have had a proper glass of wine, or something to do with her hands, but she wasn’t desperate enough to consider taking up knife-throwing. “But I know one wizard’s gossip is bad enough, and that’s not what you’re here for, so I’ll leave you to it.” “Have fun!”
“The High Moor? Good luck to you, when you get to it – that’s a bit beyond the places I’m more familiar with,” Chaïa said, pensively. And past the edge of Eaerlann that was. I wonder… After a moment, she shook off the mood and continued lightly, “Old hills, old forests… a lot of history hiding around here. Too much for anyone to hope to uncover it all. If you ever do find something curious, though, and pass through Daggerford again, look us up and let us know? After all, oddments of lore, exorcisms, unweaving dweomers – we might be able to help. Preferably not with where liches are like to hide their souls, though.”
Tirra laughed, "Only after we've taken our fair helping!"
Tirra laughed, "Only after we've taken our fair helping!"
“Naturally,” Chaïa laughed good-humouredly, smiling over her shoulder as she took her leave, resisting the urge to add a last sententious remark. True, but surely knowledge – at least that which should circulate freely – should be shared for, well, the cost of ink and parchment and scholars’ time. Naïve, I know. “Until we meet again.”
She expected Lucrecia and Janus might still want to unwind, but Chaïa estimated she had gathered what she could herself, so she gratefully took the opportunity to rejoin Saeri, taking a deep breath of the cool air outside the stuffy tavern. “Your decision proved the wiser, I’m afraid,” she told the fortuneteller. “Whatever that was supposed to be, its connection to wine was deplorably distant.”
She shook her head. “Still, it wasn’t all bad news. This one seems reasonable – pleasant, even. Difficult to get a sense of, and with a rather alarming choice of pastimes and companions, but no unwelcome propositions or veiled threats of insulting transmogrifications. She might be the best one of the three to work with, as far as I can judge. In any case, the others are still enjoying themselves.”
Day 2: Flamerule 20 in the Year of the Worm. (324th year of the Northreckoning)
The next morn dawned bright and hot, the perfect setting for a Lathanderian service. The rose-robed Liam Sunmist made the most of it, with a lengthy sermon exhorting the faithful to give their righteous blood freely so the sun would rise ever-higher and Daggerford would abound in new and joyous beginnings.
The desperate faithful, a few dozen miners, took the message to heart and a score of them stepped forward to the altar, beneath the Morninglord's disk and in the red-tinted light that played through an east-facing window, to scourge themselves. Most made only a few deliberate strikes, just enough to draw blood, but the spirit captured one and he beat himself with abandon as he cried out to the gods above. Finally acolytes gently took him away, weeping, whilst others began to collect the shed blood with bright white cloths that stained at its touch.
The blood offering done, the service broke up. Sunmist put himself by the doors and had brief words with the faithful as they filed out. Just as the last few passed, Auric, Khellek, and Tirra arrived.
"Are you fools or cowards? the large man said, smiling as he adjusted his wide belt and gazed lewdly at the women. Tirra gave them a long-suffering look and Khellek stood just slightly apart, expression cold.
"They come to swear to us what is ours and peace besides," Khellek reminded him. "It is prudence; they know that they cannot stand against the Champion of the City of Splendors."
"Belt up, mage! I'll say as I will!"
"Of course, Champion. But remember that they do you an honor here."
Oh, I bleed regularly enough. Saeri thought wryly, although she didn't allow her expression to twitch. Still... men tended to get like this when they got a little bit of fame and fortune. Well, at least those who thought with their nethers tended to be easier to lead around when you really had to. For now-
-she just stifled a grin as she drew the Peacock. Yes, he was strutting around, wasn't he? But if posturing was all the cards felt it was, then there was certainly no reason to get upset. Instead, she simply curtsied slightly in greeting.
Haytham stood off to one side, leaning nonchalantly against a handy wall and filing his fingernails. He nodded to Khellek and Tirra as they arrived and raised an eyebrow at Auric.
This is why my intentions at the brothel fell through? Bringing his pride done a peg or two will certainly be amusing.
Chaïa paused to take in the rival party as a group, wondering what idea of Yellowknife’s Company had emerged once the three had had an opportunity to compare notes. She wished there were an innocuous way to test the air for signs of any magic they might be carrying, but knew such a thing would be impolitic. Besides, as soon as Auric opened his mouth, she had other things to worry about.
Her skin crawled as she felt his gaze upon her again, though a wicked corner of her mind couldn’t help but speculate, at his rude expostulation, Looks like someone’s pride is still smarting from that whole brothel thing. Chaïa’s thoughts raced on again as other eyes and voices followed: she answered Tirra’s expression of resigned patience with a glance of sympathy, before Khellek’s manner called her attention to the wizard and prompted a revision of her sense of his character.
He’s willing to let that creature think he’s in charge, she thought. Haytham might well be right about how the wizard should be easy to provoke, but he would let his pet loose first. If it ever comes to that, we’ll have to shut the barbarian down and then focus on the mage. The moment passed, and Chaïa took a breath before answering boldly - but hopefully not too boldly.
“Again, sir,” she addressed Auric, laying the appropriate stress on her first words so they rolled off her tongue with easy sarcasm and patent lack of interest, “you are under strange misapprehensions. But let’s not bandy words: we all know that the chances of an honest quarrel become rather more unpredictable once enough magic is involved, as it would be, between our parties, and we all know there is a limit to reasonable risk. Consider this another form of contest, if you like, avoiding the risk of being polymorphed, petrified, or such – whoever finds their goal first wins the boast of being fleeter of foot and more learned in the land’s lore, and that is no small thing.”
“Let us swear to it,” she concluded, nodding to Khellek, unable to resist adding with a smile, for Auric’s benefit, “You need not mistrust an oath on this lady’s honour.”
Haytham stood off to one side, leaning nonchalantly against a handy wall and filing his fingernails. He nodded to Khellek and Tirra as they arrived and raised an eyebrow at Auric.
This is why my intentions at the brothel fell through? Bringing his pride done a peg or two will certainly be amusing.
“Again, sir,” she addressed Auric, laying the appropriate stress on her first words so they rolled off her tongue with easy sarcasm and patent lack of interest, “you are under strange misapprehensions. But let’s not bandy words: we all know that the chances of an honest quarrel become rather more unpredictable once enough magic is involved, as it would be, between our parties, and we all know there is a limit to reasonable risk. Consider this another form of contest, if you like, avoiding the risk of being polymorphed, petrified, or such – whoever finds their goal first wins the boast of being fleeter of foot and more learned in the land’s lore, and that is no small thing.”
Auric gave Chaïa a slightly blank look, as though he hadn't followed at all.
"We have discussed things," Khellek said. "A simple peace oath, Champion."
"That's what I said it would be!" Auric said, quickly. "Just like I said!"
"Then we're all agreed," Khellek said. He raised his hand and beckoned the priest. Liam Sunmist came over with a bright smile on his face and a bloody rag in his hand.
"The Morninglord smiles on us this day," he said. "Would you have the dawn's blood witness your oath along with its eye? he held out the rag.
"None of your rags," Auric said. "I only bleed for Temppus!"
Chaïa hesitated for a moment; the suggestion was unlike anything she had ever heard about Lathanderian practice. Then again, Daggerford was a strange town, and under considerable strain, if the brawl of a couple of nights ago was anything to go by. And she had no quarrel with the Morninglord's faithful, so she rolled up her left sleeve away from her wrist as she joined Khellek and the priest. "The One and the Three know what it is to shed one's blood for the sake of others. I will so honour the dawn along with her."
"Alas, I follow Mystra - but I'm happy to swear in her name instead." Saeri answered with a slight smile. That sort of thing was important to her - she honored and respected many deities besides the one she primarily followed, but certain things (like oaths) she was only willing to make on the name of her goddess. It simply wasn't as binding if she did it any other way.
Ew. At least he seems to be on a leash. Lu reflected as they met the other party and their "leader". But, with a bit of luck, they might get a good chance to shove that smugness somewhere the sun didn't shine soon enough.
Perhaps this is a good opportunity? The priest's question had given her an idea. An petty idea, but she didn't mind a bit of pettiness. Quite the contrary. With a nod she held out her left palm to the priest and tried to mask the glee in her voice. "Sure I'm not zat faint hearted, I'll draw some blood for ze oath."
"Alas, I follow Mystra - but I'm happy to swear in her name instead." Saeri answered with a slight smile. That sort of thing was important to her - she honored and respected many deities besides the one she primarily followed, but certain things (like oaths) she was only willing to make on the name of her goddess. It simply wasn't as binding if she did it any other way.
"The Mother of Mysteries is friend and boon companion to the Morninglord. It is she who cherishes his light when Shar throws her cloak over the heavens and fixes it to the stars. He does not begrudge her glory, and will see it as only meet that you do honor to her as she does unto him," the priest said smoothly. He looked over the assembled and allowed all to ready themselves before continuing.
"Well enough then," he said after a moment. He made sure he stood in the full light of the rising sun and lifted his face to it. "Blessed Morninglord, we stand under your gaze and feel the warmth of your love upon the Realms. You are ever at work in the world, forging new beginnings, breaking old bonds and smiling on fresh covenants. These children ask anew that your rays illuminate their souls and with pure hearts ask you to witness and bind their oaths that they may grow ever brighter in your name. Let this sacred blood be the form of your words."
Holding the cloth so that the ends stuck out to either side of his hands, Liam Sunmist presented it to the two companies.
"The Watching Gods attend. Speak your oaths and lay your hands on the token to seal them."
Calmly, Saeri did so - and oaths were very serious things, to her, not to be broken lightly even when there was cause. Though, the Wanderer was still in her mind as she spoke, as was the reversed Joke. Had either of them been speaking of this situation? ...They probably wouldn't know until later. The cards were often difficult like that, and hard to read even for a professional like herself.
Chaïa stepped forward, her religious training taking over but also allowing her to enjoy the formalities of the ritual.
“Before all the goddesses and gods,” she pronounced, sending her voice clear into the morning, “in the light of the Morninglord’s dawn and the knowledge of the Queen of Arvandor, I swear: I will respect the priority of the claim of whichever of our companies first finds the site we seek; I will leave notice and share the knowledge I may obtain within a tenday of any discovery with the Morninglord's temple, and I will do my best to preserve what can be learned from the site itself. Thus I, Chaïa Pomala, mage of Evereska, Trimorphe of Angharradh, Paramour of Hanali Celanil, I swear.”
Having spoken her vow, she drew her dagger and, passing over her hand and fingers so as not to make spellcasting any more difficult for the next little while, drew the blade over the skin a little above her wrist. Smearing the welling blood to her fingers, Chaïa wrapped the end of the cloth around the cut before taking hold of the next section of fabric to seal her oath. That done, she stepped back with a solemn nod.
Haytham stepped forward and took the oath, shedding blood from his wrist in the name of the Morninglord and the Lady of the Lanceboard. He bled more freely than was necessary and after took a soldier's oath to mirror the first. The whole time he watched the other party, intense blue eyes focusing on Khellek as if to say "the game is on."
Auric's band took their turns swearing:
The Champion himself shouted, "I swear in Tempus' name and for his Victory!" The declamation drew several looks from passers-by.
Khellek swore himself, "That the Binder may hold me as he does all Knowledge."
Tirra shrugged and appended, "May Tymora turn on me if I lie."
And it was done. The priest spoke a brief blessing, and bid all depart in the Morninglord's warmth.
Not departing when a priest said to sounded like a bad idea - and Saeri, at least, began moving out.
The ritual completed, Chaïa discreetly paid her acknowledgements for the elaborated form of the proceedings to the Morninglord's priest. Wanting to avoid a theatrical exit, as she took her leave she kept her pace calm, and an eye on Khellek and company to gauge their attitudes, to see if knowing there were other people looking for the same site would push them to a quicker departure.
Conferring with the others, she asked quietly, "Any last minute concerns?"
The ritual completed, Chaïa discreetly paid her acknowledgements for the elaborated form of the proceedings to the Morninglord's priest. Wanting to avoid a theatrical exit, as she took her leave she kept her pace calm, and an eye on Khellek and company to gauge their attitudes, to see if knowing there were other people looking for the same site would push them to a quicker departure.
Conferring with the others, she asked quietly, "Any last minute concerns?"
Janus had waited in the common room of a nearby tavern while the oaths were spoken. As he previously explained, he was not willing to give up a chance at finding his sister simply because of some deal someone else arranged that may or may not be beneficial to their mission.
He was nervous, regardless. He and Tirra had a decent chat last night, and when the others decided to take part in the conversation, she would likely be smart enough to understand that Janus was part of the (incomplete) group that had shown up to say the oaths...
He didn't think she was the kind to point this out to Kellen or Auric right there, or make a public scene, but she seemed smart enough to understand something was off.
Meeting up again with the others, he seems restless and agitated, from too much pondering and too little sleep:"No concerns. But we should move quickly. Preferably before they depart. Maybe pay some whores to line up along the road to Trevgil and let the first person claiming to be a champion mount them."
"No last minute ones, at least noh?" Lu nods to Janus. Thinking back, he had mentioned something about his aunt or some-thing-almost-like-that. I think? Something. "But I don't have anything either. Pack the last of our zings and be off? I'll ask Arun to keep an eye at ze road, just so we know if zey leave before us."
Haytham delivered Janus a wan smile, "Probably have to be more specific, champions of the lanceboard have other concerns than whores. It's good you didn't take the oath. I wasn't about to mention it ahead of time as it would impugn my honor to do so, but having someone not bound by the oath could be very useful." He thought a moment, "We should get a head start, I'm probably better in the wilds than our competition but I'd rather not take chances and this armor isn't exactly light."
Chaïa schooled her features at the crude banter, stifling the impulse to deliver an impromptu oration on decorum and the true nature of love. She focused instead on trying to remember if she had heard anything about the Trevgil mine, and after a moment's thought, she offered, acknowledging Haytham's boast, "I can get us there, but I'm no woodswoman. Once we start beating about in the bushes and overgrowth, you'll have a much better eye for what we're looking for. After all this time, I wouldn't say much about my chances of picking out a proper cairn from the oddments and contours of the moor. I don't have much travelling gear to get together, so we can be on the road presently."
Yellowknife's company set out from Daggerford into the Forlorn Hills. Following Chaïa's lead, they turned off the heavily-trod paths to the working mines for a trail that barely deserved the name. Grass rose up to their knees and made the occasional hard wagon rut that much more likely to catch a foot.
The earth grew harder and grass more sparse as the company passed under the shadow of looming tors that gave some relief from the summer's heat. They came to a steep defile with a rotted, broken-down cart at its foot and track ties marching up the slope. A few still bore traces of rust.
Climbing the path, the company reached a flat expanse marked by tufts of grass and piles of rock. A tunnel pierced the flank of a hill, but the earth above it sagged and dirt and stone spilled out of its mouth. The shell of a single stone building stood near the tunnel, its roof and windows long lost. A low wall surrounded it and a tumbled hole that might have once been a well stood to one side. They had found the Trevgil mine.