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Toilday, 8 Desnus 4708
Two old men died last night. One sat in wealth and opulence over looking the city he ruled. One rutted in filth and squalor destroying and soiling all he touched. One I imagine died without suffering wondering if his legacy would endure. One I know died in pain and agony, condemned to Hell equal to the torment and suffering he wrought. The greater died in lofty heights and in death heralded destruction and wrath unimagined. The lesser died in my arms, gasping foul filth to his last, but promising to some hope and perhaps redemption.
It began with a single card. I was ferrying a turnip farmer across the Jeggare from the Dock Street No. 5 to Vesporlon’s New Dock on the Midland side. This is what I’m good at: a mean sprint across the Flow dodging cattle and ore barges and the Free Privateers bonded by the finest of Korvosa. The Lark is always ready. The Lark is what I call my shell, is lean and shallow, and at 4 ell is longer than somes that run the Flow, but agile. She fairly dances on the foam and swirl. I think Iralmi would have liked her. And it is a rare delight to race the luggers bound Up Flow with their massive banked oars or drawn by divers sea beasts – a chary bet with the later. I shuffed the foam abaft of the Honour of Endrin and the old plodder turned green. Bet he thought his turnips were bound for Azlantia. It was a tidy run Mr. Turnip paid his pinches. He is a regular so I knew he wouldn’t be a cheap Ermer. I didn’t check my catch until after we had loaded the cart at Vesporlon’s, so I was keen surprised to find a Harrow card in the gullet. It wasn’t from a gambler’s or sailor’s deck that was certain. This was a real Harrow card like the kind my Nana used. Old and worn by many spreads, but the colors still vivid. The face showed a roiling, thunderous sky, slaves and bound folk raising up their arms, their bonds shattering as lighting danced across their features. On the cardback was scrawled:
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
I reeled and nearly fainted at this. Iralmi! When my daughter disappeared three years ago shattering my world – the only evidence I could find were veiled hints about the shadowy Gaedren Lamm. The authorities had not been able to assist us, and Erisana blamed me. To be truthful Erisana blamed everyone. But if I could wrap my hands around Gaedren Lamm’s neck I might be able to wring some truth from him. I had been trained for caution, so before I could take the words on the back of the Harrow card at face value I needed to learn more.
Number 3 Lancet was easy enough to find. It was in Midlands, just up from Pinter’s Dock toward Warehouse Way: a small shop for a Varisian fortuneteller named Zellara. I checked with Nana’s apprentice, Anozsha, on the mean of the card: the Big Sky, escape from bondage. I watched the shop till around sunset and saw some interesting characters enter: a young drunken priest of Cayden Cailean (is there any other kind) and a sad, but pretty little mageling of some sort. Someone else seemed to be watching the shop as well – but I couldn’t quite tell who or from where. Adjusting my battlechain under my robes I entered the shop. It was a cluttered sort of shop, a lot more prosperous than Nana’s: tapestries, lots of incense, rugs, and some nice chairs around a table. The priest and mage girl had already settled in. There was a note on the table indicating that Zellara would return soon and to help ourselves to the bread and wine in the basket. The priest had no problems complying with that. He introduced himself as Crispin, and seemed like a bluff fellow. The sad little girl called herself Aula. Two more individuals joined us shortly: a shabbily dressed young halfling woman and a reeking empty (a woman, I think) that stank of cat urine and garbage. The halfling introduced herself as Lem – I’m not sure why a tiny dancer would use that for a street name (she didn’t seem either bean-y or goat milk-y). I don’t know much about halflings though. The empty mumbled that her name was Amber. She’s probably a woman then – I did my best to breath through my mouth. We all sat rather pensive, but not for long when with a poof of sparkling dust and a cloud of smoke, our hostess, Zellara appeared. She fixed us with a practiced stare and bade us listen to her tale.
Apparently she had been wronged by Gaedren Lamm as well; her prized Harrow deck stolen. She had discovered his location, but was not sufficiently strong to approach him in his lair, an old fishery. Perhaps as all of us had been wronged by him we could find cause to work together to bring him to justice. The others admitted that they all had reason to see Lamm brought to justice. I explained I wasn’t terribly interested in justice. I wanted my daughter back and that I had every indication that Lamm had stolen her three years ago. I was quick to act on the fortuneteller’s information. She advised that such ventures are best started with a Harrow reading. I recall that Nana had done such for my father before he went wandering.
I drew the Rabbit Prince, capriciousness in combat. I’m not sure I needed that; though if our foes be mighty such might come in handy. The others drew equally portentous cards. The full spread was filled with storms and portents. Lots of destruction and impending chaos. The cards fell too fast for me to fully comprehend. I noticed that Aula and Lem both seemed mesmerized by the movement of Zellar’s hands at the deck. Thoughts of catching up to Lamm pulled me back out into the streets. I knew the area of the docks Zellara had indicated; I could find the fishery.
We arrived without much delay. Already dark the fishery looked empty and abandoned. Some light leaked from under the front door and through some boarded up windows though. Lem took a peek. She noticed a very ugly spiked-backed dog under a desk in the front office. She padded to the next window while the rest of us arrayed ourselves along the front. “There are kids in here!” she whispered. I had to see for myself.
Behind the boarded window was a chamber where children were working at some trough with paddles and pushers. Even through the crack the place was thick with the stench of dead fish. They seemed to be pounding garbage fish (skates, rays, net hangers, and sunbakers) into some sort of slurry. I popped the door and Lem rolled in. She pulled her hat low, scrunched her face and fed the kid at the door a line about looking for work – pretending to be an urchin herself. Unfortunately, he wasn’t an urchin either – but a gnome. He grabbed her, slammed the door and whirled with a knife at her throat. That was enough for us. Crispin shattered the door and clouted the gnome. I came in behind him and gave the bugger a belt as well. Aula and Amber followed behind us. We shook the gnome a bit, and I asked him if he had seen my daughter and he croaked out some nonsense about “Giggles”. Lem ushered the kids out the door and I eyed each in turn – no little Garundi girls among them. We coshed the gnome – I gave him a good rap with the battlechain and he dropped like a stone. Amber went to an interior door where she heard something scratching: the spike dog. She reported that it sounded like no dog she had ever heard. About that time a huge one-eyed half-orc with a cat’o’nine burst in through one of the other doors and a full imbroglio commenced. The spiky dog turned out to be two monstrous rats followed by some beaky acid flinging fellow in fancy clothes. The acid flinger, Yargin, and half-orc, Giggles, turned out to be old friends of Amber and Crispin. Giggles gave Crispin a horrific lashing and nearly dropped him to the ground. I shoved Crispin behind me and went toe-to-toe with the Giggles. Crispin called for a blessing from Cayden Cailean which greatly improved his health. Unfortunately this also roused the troublesome gnome. Crispin dealt with him. Aula and Amber had their hands full with Yargin and the rats. Lem darted behind the half-orc into the other room leaving me to face the brute. Amber’s cat arrived and lent a paw. Crispin roused himself to action and our opponents went down in short order.
Beyond the fish trough room was a chamber hold a huge vat of bubbling roiling fish filth. During her explorations Lem managed to find out just how disgusting it was. She also had promised the children found there succor at the Temple of Cayden Cailean. The kids fled, but not before she found out that Iralmi wasn’t among them and had been sold. Sadly I didn’t get a chance to ask the children further questions. We had finished off Lamm’s henchmen, but there was no trace of him. Either he was hidden somewhere or Zellara had been wrong. We searched the remainder of the Old Fishery and found little of interest. A hole in the vat room seemed promising – the children had indicated that this is where Lamm took some of the children. We also discovered that behind the fishery was moored an old dilapidated scow. We moved to examine the scow further.
The old boat proved to be little more than a nesting place for some truly vicious spiders. I’m used to handling such vermin and we managed to overcome them without too much problem. Lem’s keen eyes spotted a secret door in the hold of the vessel. Beyond it we found an Underdock area that led to the bottom floor of the fishery. A jigsaw shark swam lazily beneath the opening that led up into the vat room – fat from the fishery’s leavings. We avoided him. The underside of the fishery proved to be Gaedren’s lair. A fat alligator wallowed on the muddy bank beneath small sets of manacles. Gaedren himself sat before a table piled with loot on the far side of the chamber. We rushed to engage him.
Lem, ever the first into trouble stepped onto the planking that edged the room and was snagged up by a choker that had been hiding in the shadows of the ceiling. Crispin moved to assist her. Amber spied the alligator and sought to calm it with her soothing nature – she appeared to have a way with animals. Aula began waving her arms, presumably to cast a spell of some sort. I moved to tangle with the old man himself. Things moved rather quickly from there. Aula targeted the gator with a spell and blew Amber’s chances of calming it – in return the gator gave Amber a mighty chomp and pulled her into the mud. Lem escaped the choker and moved out amid the nets and lines hanging from the ceiling. Crispin tangled with the choker. I gave Gaedren a clout with my battlechain and he tried to plink me with his hand crossbow. Lem managed to get an astounding shot off that dropped Gaedren. Aula jumped into the mud to pull Amber from the gator. With Gaedren down the choker fled and I dove into the mud to attack the irate alligator. Crispin jumped to assist and between us we managed to finish off the beast. We pulled ourselves from the mud and brought Amber around. Lem worked on Gaedren, as I needed him alive to find out what he had done with Iralmi. Crispin called upon Cayden Cailean to prevent him from dying.
I’m not sure why, but for all the misery and evil he had caused, I expected Gaedren Lamm to be more physically menacing. He wasn’t. He was a pitiful, wretched old man. A scrapper and a scoundrel it is true and more than deserving of death a thousand thousand times over. He stank. He lived in squalor and foul conditions that most Shinglers would disdain. Using all the tricks to keep a body moving we roused him to consciousness. His talk was as foul and disgusting as his person. Despite the pain he had caused her, Aula could not watch us question him. Crispin had some qualms as well. I had none. We shook him. We threatened him. We were unkind. I asked him pointedly what he had done to my daughter – the pretty Garundi he kidnapped three years ago. Iralmi. My only daughter. The spark that had lit my life and for whom my spirit had cried every day since.
Gaedren leered, “That is a tiger whose tail you don’t want to twitch boy. He likes young Garundi.”
I contained my rage and the despair that threatened to overtake me. “Give me a name old man!”
With the light dying in his eyes, he gasped and shuddered in my grasp, “Glorio.” With that he rattled, coughed and died.
I wiped my hands and arose. I knew some men of that name in the city – but only one with a reputation for dealings with the undercrust. Only one tiger few men would tangle with – Glorio Arkona – the most popular nobleman among the poor of Korvosa. I swallowed and hoped that there was some other Glorio that would fit the description, but feared the worst. My grandfather had ever counseled optimism.
The others had broken into Gaedren’s lock box and appropriated anything of value. There was a lot that was useless trash. Some things that might be of interest to someone though: a gold ingot, a teak cigar case, a tiny gold crown, an ivory carving of succubi, an obsidian wand, a jeweled broach, a shuriken. Aula was of the opinion we should return belongings to their owners if we were able to determine them – I’m not sure if she was applying the same measure to the obviously magical wand. We also found a large hat box that contained the head of Zellara the fortuneteller and our patron along with her Harrow deck. This was more than a little surprising. It was evident that she had been dead a week or more. None of us was sure how such a thing was possible. More than a little stunned and exhausted we hauled ourselves out of the dim recesses of Gaedren’s lair to find a night sky lit by fires.