Heather glances at her close companion "Any information would be useful Zellara..perhaps the cards can tell us"
"That is a good question. One I would like answered since Neolandis holds the fate of Korvosa."
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Zellara sighs and draws a stray strand of hair away from her eyes with a gnarled finger. [b]"The cards are not mine to bid. The Harrow hints and guides, but its information is like a room viewed through a veil, details and forms are clouded. We will see what the cards tell us."{/b]
She quickly lays out a nine card square face down. Starting with the lefthand column, she slides a long red fingernail under each card and flips it over.
A horned white horse stands in an emerald field. In the grass at its feet lies a pile of coins.
A broad expanse slow rolling hills covered with parched grass. In the distance a woman and a halfling in travelling cloaks and packs approach.
A woman in a blood-spattered apron holds an infant in a forest glade. In the woods behind her, a giant insect looms.
"This will not help you, I think. Newcomers travel a waste to find a goal that may be attained."
***
The fingernail slides down the center column easing cards over.
Two men share a cup marked with a hemlock frond. One grips a bared dagger behind his back.
A brass statue of a dwarven warrior maiden wearing a dragon crowned helmet.
Gaunt figures covered in red sores and rags drag a body to a head high pile of gaunt bodies covered in the same sores and rags.
Perception:
Emerion watches closely...
"Betrayal, reversed. The Brass Dwarf. Sickness, aligned. This is our present. Betrayal reversed indicates a chance for success by sacrificing one's own interest. The Brass Dwarf implies immunity to danger. A useful thing but I do not believe it applies to you. Who then? Your enemies? Sickness, that is plain enough, but my feeling is that it is more spiritual than physical and linked to the Dwarf."
Let us look at the future.
Exasperated Varlis snorts at Emerion and Heather, "come on! You don't believe any of this circus act, do you?" The patronising tone is gone from the down-to-earth pragmatic hunter.
"We fight a spiritual sickness using spells and enchanted weapons, and you tell us a fortune teller is nonsense?" Emerion counters. "Zellara is no charlatan, but a reader of the fates of...unique origin."
Zellara glances up at Varlis, but says nothing. She smiles slightly as she lowers her head back to the cards while Emerion defends her.
Her long nails slide down the last column flipping the cards again, the cards of the future.
A dark rough-beamed room. Tools and white crusted pots festoon the walls. An aproned man colors the red-highlighted tresses of a beautiful young Cheliaxian woman wearing a crown. A man-sized dragon and a tiger crouch in the shadowed corners.
A blue sky, a rim of solar fire around an abyssal black circle like a hole through the sun.
Green skinned and warty behind long greasy bangs. A hag bites on a blue burlap gag. She holds an eye and a long canine tooth in each hand.
"The Waxworks, energy unbounded. I fear it is arrayed against you however. You must match it with The Eclipse, loss of goal, doubt. You will face more than physical challenges. The Mute Hag. Dark secrets and hidden bargains. Mysteries swirl around your future."
Sitting thoughtfully, Phillipe is enrapt by the cards, his breathing shallow almost none existent. As each thick ornate card is over turned he almost gasps, then tries to get his head around the meaning and potential futures it reveals.
Varlis' words bring forth wide eyes; "The interpretation is all important. The auguries will be accurate, however it's how they are read and responded too that is meaningful."
He nods then in agreement with Emerion and having a smile for Zellara; "Seems we have an intuitive and practised reader." Phillipe then has a glance to his sister hoping she didn't hear his precise tone.
Zellara looks over at Philippe and smiles. "I have given my life to the Harrow. Are you interested in prophecy?" Her expression clouds and the smile falters. "My son would have been about your age. He loved the Harrow when he was small, but girls and pesh and Gaedren Lamm stole that away."
Her little speech ends in a higher, harder pitch. She refocuses her attention on the cards. "Korvosa is still in danger. Disease, wastes, tiger, dragons. Menace hovers in the cards." She looks up. "Istas and Heather and Emerion have helped in the past, but more is needed. Will you all aid my city in its time of need?"
"Whatever it is..it needs to be stopped..and we cannot do it alone.I know we have no right to ask this it is not your city after all..but as you said,One Cheliax is enough for any world. I ask for your aid in our endeavours but will not force you to help"
Nicola watches Zellara lay out the cards, her brows pinched together in a slight frown. It is obvious none of this really clicks with her, until Zellara's frank plea for help. Then she smiles at the seer. "We have helped as we could, and I thank the gods that we have met those who have done greater work. Thus shall we be used well and the limits of our strength tested. I will aid the city, for Cayden's glory. In this, though, I cannot speak for Phillipe, brother though he is. It is his choice alone."
"I am here for the Seneschal. After that the Marshall decides not me."
"Oh I'm in for the duration, though it may be the end of us Desna shall decide."
"Desna bless you all."
Zellara smiles until her chin dimples. "And thank you."
"I'll confess Dragons and Tigers sounds like some story from far Tian."
Nicola chuckles and grins at Heather, grateful for the break in the serious mood. "It does, doesn't it! Well, we're in the story now. What's our next step? The Seneschal?"
"I do not really see any alternative to that" Heather agrees.."We need to track him down and that means starting with the Arkonas I suppose"
Still a touch taken-aback with the reading, not quite sure how to interpret it. His fingers play across his lips, tapping them in a staccato rhythm.
'Firstly, unicorn in a field... purity, youth and the coins may mean luck? A Princess or a lucky start?
Then a spiritual sickness that maybe overcome, the dwarf....an allegory?
And to overcome all we must face powerful energies and be prepared to make dark and mysterious pacts.' A smile starts to slide across his face, as he thinks of the many other Chelliaxian nobles who've made similar pacts.
Slipping from the reverie, "Certainly the Arkona's, shall we use subterfuge? Or seek an audience and use guile. In my experience gaining entry through direct confrontation is tricky - however maybe we could get in through the servants quarters. That's usually less guarded and busier."
"I believe that we might be best served by talking rather than fighting.There has been enough unnecessary bloodshed already..and perhaps the Arkona's will be reasonable, after all they do have a lot to lose if Old Korvosa goes to the dogs"
"Do the Arkona want the Seneschal for their own reasons?"
"I expect so, they wouldn't potentially anger the Queen if they didn't gain something from the fact. That's why we have to be circumspect, be able to offer something in exchange for what we require." Phillipe muses softly.
Well we have disposed off Pilts and his "Empire" that should count for something..but we could stand and talk here till the shadows lengthen, and get nowhere.Every day we delay means that Ileosa strengthens her stranglehold on the city"
Heather picks up her haversack and slings it
"I'm ready" she states simply
"That sounds like the direct approach, Heather," grins the bearded hunter.
"Let's go," Emerion nods. "Just let me change into my less conspicuous gear," he adds. He retires and quickly changes, throwing his normal shirt, coat, and breaches over Blackjack's armour the way he covered his mail shirt, and rolling up the cloak but keeping it handy for use.
"I'm ready," he reports simply.
Zellara hauls herself to her feet. "I will see you again, yes?" She wraps her shawl over her shoulders and starts downstairs. Morino takes her elbow and Rowena follows the pair downstairs.
Istas addresses Phillipe and Nicola. "We will stop by your clinic on the way so that you can introduce me. Do not worry. I will take good care of your patients."
When you are ready to leave, Morino and Rowena have small parcels wrapped in large kerchiefs. "An old Varisian custom, wrapping food for travelers. We wish you luck," Morino says.
Rowena lingers by the door.
As we have to stop by the clinic we then take the most direct route from there.
Rather not use a boat.
Emerion lingers with Rowena.
"I don't know when I'll be back," he tells her. "I can only promise you that one way or another, I will be."
There's a mixture of relief and concern to his visage, however he turns to Zellara and bows to the seer - a clear sign of the respect he holds her in.
Taking Istas' hand and shaking it warmly; "Thank you, most kind. Old Mrs Catterick isn't doing so well, she needs extra attention."
However, he doesn't linger instead letting Emerion spend a few private moments with Rowena. "Boating can be quite hazardous, especially in these uncertain times."
"Actually I was thinking more on the lines of walking up to the front gate and requesting an audience with Lord Arkona" Heather remarks.."Sometimes it's best to be direct"
The clinic: Istas agrees to give Mrs Catterick special attention. The Shoanti priestess immediately issues orders for cauldrons to be heated and water boiled as she pulls a leaf-wrapped packet from her bag. "Pharasma has placed me here so that no more will die from the Queen's scourge. This is my current fate. Go find the seneschal. I will find you once I am done here."
"That would be direct." he rubs a finger across his auburn beard, pondering what'll happen afterwards, whilst at the same time impressed by Heathers' straight-forward politic manner. "Get the lay of the land once we are inside?"
With a smile that lights up his entire face, he profusely thanks Istas and makes sure that she knows the formula to slow the plagues spread - even if the clinic has few ingredients.
Istas assures Philippe that she has all she needs for the first batch in the leaf-wrapped packet. She is confident that "... my Lady will provide any more that is needed."
The gate: The ramshackle barricade looks much the same, but may be slightly higher than it was on your last visit. As you approach a man's voice hacks a laugh. "Call the captain. Them adventurers what faced down Raimondo are back."
The head and shoulders of an older man with roan hair peek around the edge of the stout planks of a table near the top of the heap. He is apparently the owner of the voice for he addresses you.
"Wait right there. The captain's not as soft as Raimondo was. We'll fill you full of bolts if he doesn't like your ways."
Nicola's eyebrows arch higher as the man speaks, and she observes her new companions' reactions to this rough reception. "You've made some friends, I see."
"Let's just say we had an interesting few moments here last time"
Varlis keeps an eye out for any shadows or tails during the walk.
As you pass, people will look curiously, but no one takes much interest in you except for Nicola and Philippe. This is after all their turf and various citizens wave a greeting, or come forward with expressions of gratitude. These small testimonials to the de Talavera's work at the clinic are inevitably short and a little shy, like gratitude had to overcome embarrassment or awe, to let them come forward.
Heather, Emerion and Varlis' last encounter at the gate must have made an impression. Roan waits for the party's response.
Perception
Heather subvocalizes "I make it eight in the rubble with Crossbows one on the third floor"
"We are not here to cause strife" she says more clearly "We seek an audience with Lord Arkona on City business.."
Diplomacy
Another hachet-blow of a laugh. "Well that will work out great for everyone. After the way you treated Raimondo, I'm sure Lord Arkona will want to see you too."
A very few moments wait and another man appears. He is dressed in the livery of House Arkona. The Arkona's are well known for their trade connections to Vudra and the Tian. Indeed the basis of their family fortune is this trade. Apparently they import more than trade goods. The captain's skin is the smooth brown of coffee with just a little milk.
The brown-skinned man glances out at the party while he confers with Roan. Suddenly his attention focuses more acutely. He nods to dismiss the grizzled man. Then he addresses the party.
"If you peacefully seek an Audience with Lord Glorio, I will escort you to the palace myself. I must have your pledge to draw no weapon, nor cast a spell without the express permission of Lord Arkona or his chosen agent."
"I will abide by the rules of common decency and safety. I come to talk." Varlis rumbles but his eyes dart about keeping count of the various targets and angles of fire for crossbows and bows. "I'm looking forward to meeting Lord Glorio, he seems to be my kind of man."
With a tight slightly muted expression, Phillipe greets those that come forth to thank him and his sister. For they had not come here for admiration, however if it would help the people and reassure then in this turbulent time. Thus the wizard is kind and approachable to any who wish to thank him.
Heathers' warming comes as little surprise, though it reassures him our her sharp eyes and tactical acumen. Though if their dealings with the Arkona's have been as brutal as the guards imply, then doubt slips into his mind.
At the darker skinned man's request, he simply bows as a simple acquiescence.
"Off course we will abide by the laws of hospitality..and will likewise expect them to apply to us."
Nicola simply nods her assent to Varlis' and Heather's words while concentrating on focusing her will. Eight crossbows! I see six... if they all fire, can I keep us on our feet? She ignores the tickle of sweat trickling down one temple.
"Then come in. I will take you to the palace."
The captain motions for his men to lower their weapons and they do.
As you scramble across the motley construct of the barricade, Roan grins. "Well that was almost polite. Maybe Lord Gloria won't skin you all if you show him the same respect."
Another man further down shouts back, "Shutup, Martin. You're never happy unless you're drawing someone's guts out."
Roan-haired Martin spins to face the man. "At least I'm happy sometimes then, you scum sucking sturgeon..."
Beyond the barricade the captain waits smoothly. When you draw even to him he spins on one heel and makes a broad sweep of his arm inviting you past him. His speaking voice is soft with a slight lilt. "I am Gafesh. Are you truly the ones who exposed Davaulus at the Hospice of the Blessed Maiden?"
Heather nods "Aye That was us,but we were just doing our duty Captain. Korvosa must live no matter what trials evil gods or their servants throw in our way"
Gafesh nods. "Perhaps we have common ground then. Lord Arkona is devoted to the city, but the queen's bottled him up here with an impossible situation. The blockade, Bloodveil, the mobs have all conspired to hold him on Old Korvosa. But with heroes like you perhaps we can turn the tide."
"Speaking of the Hospice and heroes, where is the Pharasmin and the healer? And who are these?"
Gafesh turns his face from Heather toward, Varlis and the de Talaveras.
Nicola bows briefly. "Not heroes, but healers at the very least. We were stuck here on the island when the bridges went down. My brother here and I have done our best to help with the Bloodveil, but the most we've been able to do is help people stay alive until they fight off the disease themselves." She glances at Phillippe, then back to the captain. "Simple decency, really. I claim no hero's blood."
"I work for the Marshall. Endrin. I hunt missing people, good or bad. Captain, perhaps you can help me. I need info on the whereabouts of the Seneschal, Neolandis. You seen him recently? He was last seen coming this way."
Varlis gauges the man's reactions to the shot in the dark.