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Tain’s Journal
Twilight, the 27th of Abadius

“Perhaps I should recall that note sent,” Marcus commented. “It might be better not to meet with Ambassador Amprei at this point after all.” He looked about at the rapidly darkening sky and shrugged. “Well, it’s unlikely that anything has been put in motion as yet. It can wait until I get back to Brock House. Now, what are we going to do about Trinia Sabore?”

“I have been thinking about that,” I said. “Agon’s brother had an idea for getting into that block - I think I may know what he meant; the Shingles.”

The others looked at me blankly. “The Shingles, the Thieves Highway,” I explained. “The rooftops of the city, particularly the poorer and more densely populated areas. Many of the criminals I have arrested use the rooftops to get around. I suspect that Felix was thinking along the same lines.”

“So how exactly do we get to and make our way along this Thieves Highway?” asked Mari. “Can any rooftop be used, or just particular ones? How does one cross streets using this method?”

I had to admit that I could not answer these questions. “We need Felix,” Marcus said, “and who knows where he’ll be? Agon perhaps … but we don’t know where he is either.”

“Felix isn’t the only person who might know how to get around on the rooftops,” Aria suggested. “What about Osric?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, nodded. “Osric’s warehouse is not so far from here - closer than home at any rate. Feel like taking a detour?”

The streets were quiet, and none of the dubious looking folk that we did pass seemed inclined to trouble our well armed party as we walked through Midland towards Osric’s warehouse. The dwarf was in, and after dismissing his employees, sat down to tell us about the Shingles.

Tain’s Journal
Late Afternoon, the 27th of Abadius
The office of Field Marshal Kroft

Ariadnae was ready to admonish the sergeant for keeping us so long, but I gently reminded her that the man was simply doing his job. I then requested of the man that our three prisoners be kept in separate cells, and (as we had all agreed earlier) that no one be allowed to take statements from them or otherwise question them until after we had spoken to the Field Marshal. I reminded him that, officially, the three were in my custody - or the custody of the church of Abadar - and not the Korvosan Guard. Meanwhile, Marcus, who had penned a hasty letter whilst we were in the meeting room, passed it to one of the guardsmen and requested he deliver it to his manservant at the town house. His sergeant nodded and the guardsman hastened off with the letter.

We were still forced to wait another hour or so before the Field Marshal could see us, but at least we waited in a rather comfortable waiting room this time. While we waited, I asked Marcus what the letter he had sent was about. “I’m calling in a few favours,” he replied, “trying to see if I can set up a meeting with Amprei. If we confront him with what we have on him, especially with Lady Yasmin’s murder, I believe we can force him out of this city.”

Field Marshal Kroft looked like she had not slept since last we saw her; obviously keeping the peace in these dark times was taking its toll. We wasted little time in briefing her on our encounter with Devargo Barvasi and what we had learnt of Ambassador Amprei. She seemed pleased, intimating that the information we had gathered should be enough for her to use against the ambassador. However, when Marcus mentioned that he had already put the wheels in motion to meet with the ambassador, she recommended caution; knowledge of his affairs should be enough to blackmail or embarrass the man, but accusing the Chelaxian Ambassador of murder, with evidence that was circumstantial at best (after all, we did not even know for certain that Lady Yasmin was dead), could start an international incident.

Tain’s Journal
Late Afternoon, the 27th of Abadius
Citadel Volshyenek

Little was said during the coach ride across the city, as none of us wished to speak freely in front of our three prisoners (who all sat on the floor of the coach, throwing baleful glances at us and each other, but unable to act under our watchful eyes). Even had we wished to interrogate him at this time, we soon realised that we would have a hard time in getting Marcus’s prisoner to talk - he had no tongue in his head, and could do no more than gurgle. Marcus did briefly tell how he had managed to catch and over-power our tail when he ran as the ambush started. He also noted that the purple cloak the man had worn (which Marcus now held) seemed unusually resistant to damage.

Soon enough we arrived at the Citadel. Departing our coach, we announced ourselves (and our prisoners) to the guards at the gate, and asked to see the Field Marshal. A harried and sceptical looking Sergeant informed us that the Field Marshal was indisposed and could not see anyone at present; if we’d like to give him our statements, and hand over our prisoners into the Guard’s custody? We declined on both counts, leaving the Sergeant unsure what to do - he could hardly arrest or throw out Lord Merivanchi and company.

In the end we (and our prisoners) were shown to a spacious but sparsely appointed meeting room and asked to wait. After we filed in, we heard the lock of the door click behind us. It seemed that, for now at least, we were prisoners in all but name.

We separated our own prisoners into different corners of the room, then huddled together to discuss our next moves - or at least the others did whilst I kept a close watch on the prisoners, especially the thief, who was eyeing the others like he would have another go at killing them, given the chance. Lamm’s man was curled up in his corner, weeping, whilst the former purple cloak stood stoically, occasionally shooting hooded glances at us.

The others apparently decided that Mari would try to question purple cloak on her own, giving him a slate and chalk to write his answers, given that he could not talk. I suppose she must have used some sort of magic on him (though I did not notice her cast any spell), for he at first seemed unwilling to respond to her, but after she spoke to him softly for a few moments, a rather dazed expression came over him, and he began writing on the slate in response to her questions.

I could neither hear Mari’s questions nor read the man’s answers and still keep proper watch on the other prisoners, so I did not try. Aria and Marcus huddled close to Mari, but I take it most of the man’s answers were lost on them too, as he seemed to be writing in some obscure language. Fortunately, Mari seemed to understand his script.
While that interrogation went on at the other side of the room, I spoke to the thief. He gave his name as Sart, though I had my doubts that this was entirely true. Initially, the man was all bravado, claiming that his Guild would see that he was not locked up beyond a day or two, and that any crime he was charged with would not stick. I assured him that while there may be corruption enough within the ranks of the Korvosan Guard to allow such a thing, the church of Abadar would not stand for street wars between criminals - or said criminals firing upon an official of the church. I promised that if he did not co-operate, I would use my position and influence within the church to see that he be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. This seemed to sway him.

My offer to him was simple; if he told me what he knew of Lamm’s group and the purple-cloaks, I would make it known that he had co-operated with us, which should have some influence over his judgement and sentencing. He looked horrified; “You’ll put the word out that I co-operated? What, are you trying to get me killed?” I was surprised at this reaction, but went with it, and soon he began to talk.

He was not as forthcoming as I had hoped (he claimed not to know very much), and I cannot be certain that all he told me was the truth, although it had the ring of truth about it. He claimed that neither he nor any in his guild knew who the purple cloaks were (so far as he knew). They had shown up in the city three or four months back, the first sign of them being when members of the Guild of Thieves began showing up dead on the streets with coins on their chests or in their mouths - coins marked with a skull and dagger. This correlated with what Agon had told me of his murder investigation, though Sart claimed to know no more than our sometime companion in regards to the identity or real motives of the purple cloaks.

The shadow war had continued since then, with the Thieves Guild steadily losing men and territory to the new-comers, with few gains of their own. At the same time, Lamm’s Lambs had taken advantage of the Guild’s losses to emulate the purple cloaks, launching a war of his own against the guild to expand his own territory. He even copied their idea of marking his conquests with specially marked coins (or at least Sart assumed that Lamm’s skull and cleaver coins were in emulation of those used by the purple cloaks).

As of several weeks ago, the Cerulean Society’s grip on the city’s underworld had been reduced to about a third of their former territory., with the purple cloaks and Lamm’s Lambs each controlling approximately another third each. The Guild’s leaders had received a message (presumably from the leadership of the purple cloaks) that this would be the new status quo, and indeed, the acquisition of territory seemed to have stopped, though the war had not, with the Thieves Guild continuing to launch attacks to retake their former holdings, mainly without success (although Lamm’s organisation seemed to be in much disarray over the past week or so).

And that was it. Sart claimed (truthfully I thought), not to know where the purple cloaks had come from (though most of them ‘looked foreign’ he said) or what their real goals were. While the various criminal pies that Lamm had had his fingers in were well known, the purple-cloaks’ dealings (beyond their war with the Guild) were much better hidden.

***

By the time Sart had told me all he knew (or was willing to), Mari had also finished with our mute friend, who sat slumped, apparently asleep or unconscious after his talk with Mari. Now she huddled in quiet conference with her brother and cousin, sharing what she had learnt. I stepped back so that I could hear, but my attention was focused on watching our prisoners and I did not hear or take in everything that was said. Still, from what I did hear, it seemed that the man had revealed little of worth, or at least sense.

Mari thought that (as well as being physically unable to speak) the man seemed to be under some sort of geas that prevented him from revealing much at all about his organisation. His written answers had been vague and mysterious, as well as being in some ancient and obscure language akin to an archaic form of Kelish (fortunately Mari could read the language - probably through magic I thought).

He had claimed that (at least until now) his organisation had no special interest in us - apparently (if he can be believed) his fellows had been at the Sweeping Griffon the other night on some unrelated business, and attacked the Merivanchis only because they thought that they were following them - a rather deadly confusion as it turned out.

He would say little of his group’s goals, but Mari got the impression that they were something more akin to a cult than a criminal organisation. He had indicated that he, or his group, worked for some ancient power, and that he was more afraid of it than anything we might do to him. The man had also referred to some group that he called ‘The Harbringers of Doom’ - Mari thought that he meant Lamm’s Lambs, though this did not make much sense to me - perhaps either I or she had misunderstood.

The man’s obscure answers had reminded Mari of the strange prophetic sounding verses in the book we had discovered at Lamm’s hideout. She had quoted some of the lines to the man from memory, and at this he had clammed up, refusing to answer anything further, whether cajoled or threatened.

***

So there remained only one of our prisoners left unquestioned - Lamm’s man. While I continued to keep the other two under guard, Aria, Mari and Marcus began to interrogate him. He told them that his name was Barvasi. We’d had a long day, so I do not fault them overmuch that they did not question him on this coincidence - or lie. It was not until later when I heard of it, and pointed out that he appeared to have the same name as the man who had recently been torturing him.

At any rate, ‘Barvasi’ (if that is his name) claimed that he was no criminal - not a real one at least. Apparently he only worked at Lamm’s warehouse, loading and unloading boats. Although he admitted that he knew of Lamm’s criminal activities, he claimed that he took no part in them, and did not share Lamm’s taste for children. He was just a working man, he said, trying to make a living and provide for his family. Under Marcus’s questioning he admitted that he had observed Ambassador Amprei meeting with Lamm several times over the past few months. He did not know what they talked about, or the nature of their relationship. Marcus had the man write a confession, swearing to the connection between Lamm and Amprei.

It was just as ‘Barvasi’ was finishing this that the door was opened from the outside. In came the Guard sergeant we had spoken to earlier; it seemed that Field Marshal Kroft had sent for us.

Tains Journal
Afternoon, the 27th of Abadius
The Rooftop of The Sweeping Griffon

“Who do you work for?” I repeated.

The man that I held by the throat glanced wildly about, his eyes widening as he saw the cobbled surface of the alleyway - three stories below his dangling feet. He could see the muscles in my arm straining to hold him up.

“Thieves guild!” he managed to choke out.

I frowned. Why would the Cerulean Society be out for us? But then, his arrow hadn’t found me or any of my companions, had it?

“Why were you trying to kill us?” My arm was beginning to shake. The man looked at me, terror evident in his eyes. “Pull me in,” he croaked.

Knowing that I couldn’t hold him out over the edge for much longer even if I wanted to, and having no desire or intention to end the man’s life on the cobbles below, I took a step back, allowing his feet to find the edge of the roof - though I kept my hand on his throat, my grip relaxed just enough for him to talk.

“Not trying to kill you,” he gasped. “But the ones you brought with you.”

“Who are they?” I asked.

“The one I shot was one of Lamm’s men,” he answered. I kept my face blank, but my mind raced; the thief either had very good eyes, or a good source of intelligence (or both) to have picked out our prisoner. “And the man with the purple cloak?”

He hesitated, glanced back at the drop just behind him. “I … we … don’t know exactly who they are.” He turned back to face me, looked into my eyes. As far as I could determine he was telling the truth. “But there’s a war going on. We’re not going to let those purple cloaks take any more from us.”

At this moment, I felt Mari’s hand on my arm. I turned to her, and this time she returned my gaze. Nothing was said, but a look passed between us, and much was communicated. I knew that, somehow, she had used magic, and she knew that I knew. She also knew that I would not betray her secret.

“We have to go,” she said after a moment, pointing down to the street. Following her gesture, I saw that Aria had hailed down a horse drawn cab and was half carrying, half dragging our prisoner (who appeared, with the priestesses ministrations, to have survived the poisoned arrow) towards it. A few bystanders stood about, watching curiously, but the streets were not busy, and thankfully none of the Guard had arrived at the scene. I did not fear arrest - we had acted lawfully in disarming and detaining an armed criminal who had attacked us without provocation - but I was determined that we, rather than the Guard, take these men into custody and have an opportunity to question them. I felt sure that if we could get them to Field Marshal Kroft we would find an ally to help us bypass the red tape that unfortunately tended to mire the workings of the Korvosan Guard at times.

I nodded to Mari, quickly frisked the thief I held, then marched him back down to the street, Mari following.

We greeted Aria, then climbed into the cab, sitting our two prisoners on the floor between us. I kept my gauntleted hand on the shoulder of our thief, watching him closely for any sign of treachery, or seeking to finish his failed assassination. Ari directed the driver to pull around the corner, where we picked up Marcus and his prisoner. With all seven of us crowded into the cab, we set off back to Citadel Volshyenek.

Tain’s Journal
Afternoon, the 27th of Abadius
Near the Sweeping Griffon

There were a few people around, hurrying along on their own errands, but the streets were not near so crowded as you would have expected, so close to the Castle prior to the current troubles. We skirted around the Castle, a street or so back from Seneshal and Castle Streets, concerned that the concentration of guards here might scare our follower away.

As we neared the Sweeping Griffon we were all on alert. Some sixth sense drew my attention to the rooftops – and it was there, on the roof of the inn, that I spied our would-be assassin. A dark clad man knelt by the edge of the roof, a loaded crossbow pointed down in our direction. My eyes met his, just as his finger began to tighten on the trigger.

“Archer!” I cried. “Mari, watch out!” I noticed a deeply recessed doorway in the wall of an adjacent building, and pushed our prisoner within, hard enough to make him stumble, gesturing for Mari to shelter within also.

I spun about and raced back towards the alley we had just passed – I had noticed within it a rickety wooden stairway on the outside of the inn, leading up to the roof. As I turned, I saw our purple-cloaked follower, still some way behind us. I had expected him to rush forward to join the attack – but instead he stared for a moment, then turned and ran off down a side street. Someone broke into a sprint and raced after him – I realised it was Marcus. I hoped he could handle the man on his own – in my armour, and with an archer on the rooftops, I was too far away to help.

As I headed for the stair, Mari ducked into the cover of the doorway, whilst Aria pulled out her sling. A crossbow bolt whizzed down from above, sticking inches deep into the wall of the building near the doorway where Mari and the prisoner sheltered. I pulled out and loaded my own crossbow as I ran.

I gained the stair and started racing up, taking two steps at a time, but slowed by my bulky armour. I heard a loud curse from the rooftop and a cheer from Aria – it seemed that she had found a mark with her sling-stone, though she had obviously not caused any serious injury. I was sure that the crossbowman would have fired again by now, but the fact that I could not hear any alarum from below boded well.

I reached the roof – it was tiled but with only a slight fall towards the edge, easy enough to traverse. I could see the archer kneeling by the edge nearest the street, pulling back the lever on his crossbow to re-load. As I brought up my own crossbow to fire I glanced about, in case of more danger. I could not see the street from here, but from this high vantage point I could see back the way we had come – I noticed two figures wrestling in the street, one of them being Marcus. I prayed that he would be all right as I fired – and, distracted, missed!

As my bolt flew past his ear, the crossbowman aimed and fired – not at me, but again down into the street. I heard a scream. It did not sound like Mari or Aria – who had been hit?

He started to reload yet again as I dropped my crossbow and raced across the roof towards him. I felt something whoosh past my ear, and, glancing back, saw Mari standing behind me, her hands outcast. Whatever she had thrown hit the crossbowman in the back, and he screeched in pain. I smelt something burning. Had Mari cast a spell at him?

I did not have time to wonder, as my charge had brought me up to him, and I slammed my gauntleted fist into the side of his head just as he was bringing his crossbow around in my direction. He crumpled to the roof, not quite falling off it, his weapon dropping from slack fingers. I knelt beside him. He was breathing, still, but shallowly – if he did not receive some sort of healing soon it was not likely he would live. He had an egg shaped bruise on his forehead from Aria’s sling stone, a scarred, burnt patch on his back the size of a fist from whatever Mari had thrown at him, and my spiked gauntlet had ruined the left side of his face.

Looking down to the street, I saw Aria kneeling in the doorway of the building opposite, her hands glowing slightly as she laid them upon the prostrate form of our prisoner. I saw the crossbow bolt sticking out from his shoulder. She glanced up and saw me looking down. “The bolt was poisoned!” she called out. “I’m doing what I can.”

I nodded, then dragged the unconscious, bleeding crossbowman across the roof to where Mari stood. She had her back to me now, looking out across the city block towards Marcus. I looked too – saw that a small crowd had gathered to watch the brawl. One combatant seemed to be on the ground, whilst the other was climbing to his feet, apparently victorious. I sighed with relief, realising that the one standing was Marcus.

“Are you alright?” I asked Mari softly, not sure what else to say. It wasn’t the time to ask her how she had done what she had done. She nodded, but did not turn to face me. I looked down at the man I held by the tunic. I realised that unlike the man following us, he did not wear a purple cloak. Had he shot at our prisoner on purpose? He did not have long left to live.

I took him by the throat and held his limp body out over the edge of the building, feet dangling towards the alley below. Calling upon the mercy of Abadar, I felt a warmth in my hand, mentally pushed the positive energy into the broken body I held. As I watched, part of the flesh of his wounded face knit itself back together. His eyes fluttered.

I held him straight out, the muscles in my arm straining, and looked straight into his face as he began to realise the position he was in. “Who do you work for?” I growled.

Tain's Journal
Early afternoon, the 27th of Abadius

Barvasi was true to his word (so far), and we left Eel’s End safely and without incident, and Old Korvosa shortly after. I concerned myself mainly with the way forward, and keeping a tight grip on our prisoner, whilst the Merivanchis remained alert for any sign of pursuit, of which they saw none whilst we made out way across the Narrows and into the new city.

“I’d like to question this one, see what he might know – whether of Lamm’s organisation or Barvasi’s,” Marcus said to me in a low voice as we traversed the wide avenues of Northpoint.

“The Bank of Abadar is just ahead,” I noted. “I was going to take him to the holding cells there.”

Marcus frowned. “Will we all be able to get in there to question him in that case?” he asked.

I was about to reply that I should be able to get them in, as I had done done for Aria the previous day, when my mind turned to the near disastrous questioning of Balko. It could hinder my authority if our new prisoner heard the story that was no doubt doing the rounds there. “On second thoughts … it might not do to give him a chance to speak to Balko.”

Marcus pointed out that our route back to the Citadel would take us near enough to Osric’s warehouse – a secluded place to question our prisoner, but I did not like that idea for various reasons. In the end, we decided to take him with us to the Citadel and question him there.

*

We had traversed most of Midlands, and were nearing the point where we would turn east towards Citadel Volshyenek when Marcus, who was still occasionally checking to see if we were being tailed, said in a low voice, “Don’t look back, but I think we’re being followed. Some distance behind us, purple cloak. He’s been with us for a while.”

I remembered the others saying that the men who had ambushed them near the Sweeping Griffon had been wearing purple cloaks, and the significance was obviously not lost on the Merivanchis.

“If we turn back suddenly, perhaps we could detain him,” I suggested, but Marcus shook his head slightly. “He’s too far back,” he said. “He’d get away easily. Everyone, this way!”

Marcus turned right down a side street (heading away from the Citadel), and, as soon as we rounded the corner, took off his hat and the old riding jacket he wore, and put them on our prisoner. “That might work,” he muttered, then to us, “Keep moving, but don’t lead him back to the Citadel. I’ll follow.” With that, he ducked away, out of sight down a narrow alley.

As we continued walking (rather aimlessly at this point), it occurred to me that we didn’t know exactly what Marcus had planned. We could see (glancing carefully back) that the purple cloaked man still followed us from a distance, presumably having not noticed Marcus’s hiding place. I assumed that Marcus was following him too, though I couldn’t see him. Not knowing where out tail’s tail was exactly, I could not be certain that we could trap the man if we turned to confront him now.

Having turned right from Harbourview Boulevard, we now found ourselves heading almost directly towards Castle Korvosa – we could see the castle ahead, towering above the city upon its pyramid base. Something else occurred to me at this point. “The ambush last night,” I said to the ladies in a low voice, “it began with someone tailing you in this manner did it not?” The pair agreed that is what had happened. “This may pose some danger,” I continued, “but perhaps the best way to catch our tail is to lead him back to his own territory – try to draw him into attacking us. If you are both in agreement, I’m going to lead him back towards the Sweeping Griffon.”

Aria immediately agreed, while Mari was more hesitant. Not scared; she had amply proved her bravery, but uncertain. Still, with her two companions for the idea, and both of us promising to protect her, she soon agreed.

Tain's Journal
What Barvasi Knows

“Agreed,” Barvasi replied after a short pause. “Ambassador Amprei is a man of surprisingly few vices, for a Chel. He doesn’t drink to excess, nor gamble beyond his means. He stays away from drugs that are dangerous or illegal. What he comes here for is sex. Oh, his tastes do not run to the particularly deviant if that’s what you’re thinking, he just likes to be with women that are not his dear wife back in Westcrown. His favourite at the House of Clouds is a girl named Bessy.”

Barvasi pauses again, perhaps for effect, or perhaps because he’s still in pain. “I happen to know that the girls at the House of Clouds are not the only ones Amprei has been tupping. He’s also been involved in an affair with a young lady named Yasmin Marcella … he’d certainly not want a certain person to know about that.”

We all exchanged significant looks – of course we recognised the name from the diary we had found at Lamm’s hideout, and I’m sure we were all wondering exactly how much Amprei might have had to do with Lady Yasmin’s disappearance.

“Who exactly would Amprei not want to know of the affair?” I asked.

Barvasi shot me a withering look. “His wife of course. Try to pay attention.” He looked at us expectedly, his tale apparently finished.

“What of Amprei’s schemes?” Marcus asked.

The criminal shrugged. “What would I know of that? Amprei comes here to screw, not to shoot the breeze. Ask him yourself if you’re so interested.”

“Our patron had led us to believe you knew a lot more than that,” said Marcus skeptically, to which Barvasi just shrugged again. I looked at Marcus and shook my head slightly. It seemed to me that Barvasi was telling the truth, and besides I thought that the information we had on Amprei might just serve Kroft’s purpose.

“If that’s all you have, then we will take our leave now,” I said.

“Yes, back to Citadel Vraid,” replied Aria looked hard at Barvasi, attempting some misdirection. “Don’t think about trying to hinder us as we leave,” she said. “Nor follow us. I guarantee it will not be worthwhile for you.”

“We’ll be taking your prisoner into our custody too,” I said, indicating the recent torture victim, who still seemed somewhat dazed. Marcus and Mari were already finding him some ragged clothes to wear, and a short length of rope to bind his hands. “He will receive any punishment that he deserves, but not by your hand.” I hesitated, then reached for my purse of coins, the share of the bribe money that I carried, and placed it on the table beside Barvasi. “We’ll stay out of your way, you stay out of ours.” I had no fear of the man or his thugs coming after me, but his type are not always so direct – I did not like the thought of him choosing say Mari as the target of his revenge.

Barvasi looked at me, then at the rest of my companions. “There aren’t many I’d let get away with what you did here, payment or not,” he said slowly, candidly. “But you don’t entirely fool me you know. I strongly suspect that you’re nobles or close to it, and that this patron you’ve mentioned is somewhat I won’t want to mess with. So I’ll consider our dealings concluded. But should you decide to return to Eel’s End, all bets are off.”

Tain's Journal
Just past midday, the 27th of Abadius
Barvasi’s chamber

Marcus and I used the ropes that had tied Barvasi’s prisoner to the torture table to bind the three thugs, while Mari stood whispering quietly to Six Foot, who sat slumped, his head in his large hands. Aria had used her magic to heal the worst of the torture victim’s wounds, but we could get little sense from the man, who seemed to be in shock.

There was a muffled knocking at the door, and someone tried the handle, to no avail. The door was solid, and the landing small enough that they could not use a ram to force it. That, and any uncertainty amongst the men outside about exactly what was transpiring in the cabin would give us some time.

On the floor, Barvasi moaned, shifted, coughed up blood. He was probably not in immediate danger of dying, but my hit had no doubt broken ribs and done him internal damage – he would need to see a healer soon or he would be in real trouble.

We removed his gauntlets, then, together, propped him up in a chair. I stood ready beside him, holding my flail ready, while Marcus bent down and slapped his face lightly. “Wake up Barvasi. We need to talk.”

The crime boss opened one eye, glared balefully at first Marcus, then me, and spat redly onto the floor. “If you kill me,” he said hoarsely, “you’ll need to fight your way through fifty armed men to escape.”

“And you’ll hafta get past me,” spoke up Six Foot, standing up and positioning himself, arms folded, before the door. “Don’t hurt ‘im.”

“We don’t intend to kill you Devargo,” said Marcus, standing straight. “We’re here to talk. Do business.”

Barvasi snorted, then coughed when that hurt. He looked down at himself, at me standing beside him, at his bound henchmen. “This is how you do business?”

“I could not let you torture that man,” I said sternly. “Such an act could not go unanswered.”

“He deserved every cut,” the criminal snarled. “Heard of Gaedron Lamm? Well that man was one of his cronies. Likes little children if you get my meaning.”

I looked over at the man we had rescued, sitting against the bulkhead, sitting in slack-jawed shock. He did look somewhat familiar … that was it, one of the men carrying crates when we had burst into Lamm’s hideout those few nights ago. Whether he was an accomplice to atrocities or simply a hired hand I could not know, but Barvasi was at least telling the truth that this was one of Lamm’s men. My heart sank. Had I compromised our mission for Kroft in order to rescue a criminal? Someone who, if convicted, may well face the same punishment that Barvasi was inflicting on him?

After a moment of doubt, I realised it did not matter. I had seen the look on Barvasi’s face as he cut the man – I had been right to act. It was not Barvasi’s place to punish without trial and conviction of a crime.

“You are an evil sadist,” I said. “You are fortunate I did not kill you – and will not if you co-operate.”

“Oh, so you could kill me,” mocked Barvasi, then wincing at the pain. “If you kill me, someone else would take my place here – and who’s to say it wouldn’t be someone worse than me? Someone like Lamm? Oh, perhaps I am evil, but I have my limits. I don’t rape children; I don’t sell slaves to Cheliax or Katapesh, or,” his eyes narrowed as he gazed at the four of us, “the nobles of this city. I run legitimate businesses, offering entertainment and hope to people in dark times.”

I began to retort about him preying on the foolish and vulnerable, but Marcus cut me off with a look. “Business. As I said, that’s why we are here – and you must admit, we are bargaining from a position of strength. Hear me out.”

“Maybe,” answered Barvasi. “But I can hardly do so if I die before you finish.” He wheezes and coughs again, his chin and neck now stained with blood. Ari stepped forward and retrieved a small glass bottle from her belt pouch, poured a few drops onto the man’s lips. Immediately some of the colour returned to his face and he sat up a little straighter.

“You’ll get the rest if you agree to deal with us,” the priestess said sternly. Barvasi nodded, and Ari gave him the rest of the potion. There was immediate and obvious improvement to his condition, although it was obvious he was not completely healed. I tightened my grip on my flail just in case … but he didn’t try anything, just nodded at Marcus to continue.

“Our employer – a person of considerable influence – wishes to know as much as possible about the Chelaxian ambassador, Darvayne Amprei,” Marcus began. “We’re given to understand that the man frequents your fine establishments here, and that you may be in a position to know something of his schemes and habits. We’d like you to tell us all you know.”

Barvasi looked incredulous, then shook his head. “Amprei? That’s who this is all about? Well … Amprei is a powerful man, dangerous to cross. What’s in it for me if I snitch on him?”

Marcus nodded towards me and smiled. “My companion will not smash your face with that big flail he holds.”

The criminal sneered. “I told you, kill me and you won’t get out of here alive. If my life or death is your only bargaining chip, then I’m afraid we are at an impasse.”

My brother in law looked at Aria, who shrugged, then the two of them produced their coin purses, letting the heavy bags drop onto a side table. “This should break the impasse,” Marcus suggested. “Five hundred gold pieces. Yours – not to mention your life – if you tell us everything you know of Amprei.”

Tain's Journal
Midday, the 27th of Abadius
An audience with Devargo Barvasi

The stairs led up to a tiny landing in what must have been the ship’s sterncastle, with a heavy looking door of oak reinforced with iron bands opposite the top of the stair. Six Foot knocked loudly on the door, then opened it, gesturing for us to squeeze past him into the cabin beyond, before stepping in after us.

The room was large, no doubt occupying most of the sterncastle, and well appointed, but I did not much notice the details, my attention focused on the spectacle at the far end of the room.

There stood a tall man who could only be Devargo Barvasi. He had a pale, pinched, feral looking face (although it was currently pulled into an expression of cruel pleasure) and wore black leather armour, sleeveless so to show off the corded muscles and tattoos of his arms. On his hands he wore leather gauntlets adorned with oversized, razor sharp blades … blades that dripped with blood.

The blood belonged to a near naked man strapped painfully to a bench beside Barvasi, his flesh covered in dozens of cuts and flayed patches. As we entered, Barvasi caressed his skin with one of the blades, then swiftly dug it in, eliciting a hoarse scream from the man – this had obviously been going on for some time.

The crime-boss looked up from his work, studying us with interest (though seemingly no surprise), whilst the several burly men who were lounged around the room came to attention, watching us carefully.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fist. I knew that we were here to bargain with Barvasi, to get him on our side … but could I really stand by whilst he took such obvious pleasure in torturing this man?

“Easy Tain,” muttered Marcus. “Ari, can you -” But whatever he was going to say to Aria was cut short, as he realised that she looked almost as angry as I did.

I could stand by no longer. “Step away from that man Barvasi,” I growled, “or things will go badly for you.”

Barvasi smirked coldly. “Oh yeah? Are you going to make me?” His men started edging forward.

“Yes.” I grabbed me flail and charged towards him as Barvasi called to his men, “Stop him!”

As I leapt forward, everyone else in the room began to act at once. Six Foot started to reach for my arm with one beefy hand, but Mari said, “Don’t!” and the thug hesitated, torn. Aria reached for her morning star and began chanting a prayer. Marcus drew his rapier and leaped at one of the thugs trying to block my way, but the unfamiliar blade stuck as he drew it forth, and his resulting lunge was clumsy, almost sending him sprawling.

I charged across the room, shouldering goons out of the way as I swung my flail mightily at Barvasi with both hands. “I smite thee, evil-doer!” The criminal had settled into a defensive stance, and was preparing to leap aside and cut at me with his gauntlet-blades, but the fury of my assault took him by surprise – as my flail hit him with bone-shattering force in the ribs. He crumpled to the floor, eyes rolling up in his head, blood and phlegm dribbling from his slack mouth.

Two of Barvasi’s thugs charged at my back, striking at me with their fists. They may have been unarmed, but they were trained boxers. Not used to fighting opponents wearing breastplate armour though … one of the men cursed as his fist bounced harmlessly (for me) off my armour, whilst the other hit me hard in the jaw, splitting my lip. A third guard scooted around me and knelt down beside Barvasi, lifting up an eyelid to see if his boss still lived. Six Foot still stood near the door, shaking his head in confusion as Mari pleaded with him to join the fight – on our side. “I can’t!” he wailed, but neither did he fight against us.

A voice called out from the stair, asking if all was well – the door was obviously sound proofed (as the screams of Barvasi’s victim had not reached the casino below), but we had left it open. As I whirled about to face the thugs behind me, I saw Aria turn and slam the door shut, then look about for something to move against it. Mari’s eyes were sharper – she saw the key in the lock, turned it.

Marcus, his sword issues sorted out, and buoyed by Ari’s prayer of blessing, closed in behind one of my assailants, cutting a thin slice along his side with his rapier. As the man howled in anger and pain, I swept my flail low at his companion’s legs. The thug tried to jump out of the way, but I was quicker, my flail knocking his feet from under him and sending him crashing to the floor. As I spun, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the third guard had pulled a glass bottle from his belt-pouch and was about to pour the contents into Barvasi’s mouth. I continued my spin and brought my flail crashing into the man’s hand, breaking his fingers with an audible crack and sending the bottle flying, smashing. The man howled in agony, rocked back, clutching at his ruined hand.

“Yield!” yelled the only thug still standing (with the exception of Six Foot Cubed, who stood still, having decided to help neither side in this skirmish), putting his hands up in the air. “We surrender.”

As quickly as it had begun, the fight was over.

Tain's Journal
Late morning, the 27th of Abadius
The gaming floor of the Twin Tigers

The thin man gave me a look of annoyance as it became clear that I was coming over to speak to him – if he was intimidated by my size or the weapons I kept about my person he did not show it.

“Excuse me,” I began with as much politeness as I could muster towards someone with such darkness in their soul. “My companions and I have some business we wish to discuss with Mister Barvasi. I was hoping you might be able to arrange a meeting for us.”

The floor manager looked me up and down for a moment, glanced at the others gathered behind me, then said “No. I don’t think so.” I was momentarily taken aback at being so completely rebuffed, and while I gathered my thoughts for what to say next, Mari stepped up beside me. “This meeting will be profitable,” she said, smiling sweetly and pressing a handful of gold coins into the man’s palm. He looked at the coins – there must have been twenty or thirty gold pieces – smiled mirthlessly and shook his head. “Nope,” was all he said.

“It will be to Mister Barvasi’s advantage, our proposal,” I began to speak again, but the man cut me off. “Piss off, I’m working.” Looking past me he signaled to one of the guards – the massive, evil fellow I had noticed earlier.

As Six Foot Cubed began to lumber down the stairs, I stepped away from the floor manager and turned to face the approaching threat, positioning myself so that I would be the first one of us he came to. I felt Ari step in beside me, whilst Marcus moved towards the floor manager. “Look,” I heard him begin, speaking quickly and earnestly. “We’re here on behalf of a patron – someone rather important …”

I tuned out the rest, focusing on the approaching guard. He was not as tall as I, but must have outweighed me by at least half again – probably more. Although he was not visibly armed, I had no doubt that he would be an accomplished and deadly bare knuckled fighter, and for my part I had no intention of swinging my heavy flail or firing my crossbow in a room crowded with (relatively) innocent civilians. I stepped forward to meet him.

“Perhaps you can help us then,” I said. “Take us to Mister Barvasi.”

He stopped, confused, expecting a fight. “Urm … nah, I can’t do that. You gonna have ta leave. Ya can come quiet-like, or I can throw you out.” Several other guards lurked in the background, looking to see how things would develop, ready to help him carry out this threat.

I clenched my gauntleted fist, while Aria took a battle ready stance – and then I heard Mari speak behind me, in a clear, musical voice. “Oh no, you don’t want to throw us out,” she said. “I’d like us to be friends. Please?”

Now Mari is certainly an attractive girl. Woman really. I can see a lot of Talia in her. And people just seem to like her, are willing to do things for her – but I really did not expect Six Foot, ready for a fight as he was, to go for the cute, sweet girl act.

Apparently he didn’t expect to either – but somehow he did. He blinked a few times, a look of confusion crossing his dumb, brutal face, and then he smiled down at Mari, showing a mouthful of chipped and missing teeth. “Alright then … you can stay.”

“And my companions too,” said Mari, cheerfully but with authority. He looked less pleased at this, but nodded his grudging consent.

I stared at him, then at Mari, then turned to look back at the floor manager. He looked as dumbfounded as I felt, just shook his head in disbelief, but before he could say anything Marcus attracted his attention again, finishing his pitch.

“So what is Barvasi going to say when he finds out you prevented a deal that would have made him a lot of money, hmmm?” Marcus was asking. Seeing Six Foot enthralled by Mari, and given the repeated mention of money, the floor manager seemed to give in. “How much money?” he asked, somewhat suspiciously. “We do alright here you know.”

Marcus produced his coin purse. “Two hundred and fifty, gold,” he said. The floor manager snorted. “Is that it?”

“We have the discretionary funds to pay several hundred more if Barvasi will deal with us,” I interjected. “I think he will find it profitable.”

The floor manager threw up his hands. “Fine, fine. Just get the hell off my floor. You!” This last was directed at Six Foot Cubed. “Take them up to see the boss.”

Six Foot nodded slowly, smiled again at Mari, then led the way towards the spiral staircase at the back of the boat.

Tain's Journal
Late morning, the 27th of Abadius
Eel’s End

The entire hull of the old ship had been converted into a cheap but gaudy casino. A wide mezzanine ringed the ship, set up with a bar, tables and comfortable seating. The gambling floor, hosting dice and card tables and settings for more exotic games of chance occupied the centre of the ship, set down some ten feet from the mezzanine level, accessed by a wide stair. Another spiral stair at the rear of the ship led upwards. The whole place was lit with hanging chandeliers that might have been of crystal and gold, but were more likely glass and copper. Although we were on a boat, there was hardly any sway or movement, so securely was it lashed to the pier (and thanks also to the relative stillness of the Narrows). Here and there around the room stood burly men in uniform-like outfits, keeping a close eye on the patrons – including us.

“We’re drawing attention, standing here,” I said, noticing eyes upon us. “We’d best move, perhaps over to the lounges.”

“Or down to the gambling floor!” suggested Mari, already beginning to move over to the stair, before Marcus put a hand on her arm, almost dragging her around the other way, towards the lounges. “You don’t know how to gamble,” he said.

Once we were seated, in a position where we could survey the chamber, Marcus signaled a waitress. “What do common people order to drink?” he asked me in a low voice as the woman sashayed over. “Ale?” I suggested.

“Not that common,” Marcus replied.

“Perhaps some type of spirits then, or the house wine,” was my next suggestion. Marcus, looking horrified at the idea of drinking the house wine, ordered some Varisian vodka.

I began scanning the room – not just with my eyes, but reaching out with the senses granted to me by Abadar, the ability to see the evil lurking within people’s souls. I suppose I should not have been surprised that most of the patrons on the gaming floor or drinking at the bar were not evil – since my courtship with Talia had first began several years ago I had moved often in noble circles, so I knew better than most that foolishness and decadence did not always equate to evil.

I did see evil though, here and there. Some of the patrons and most of the guards. For the most part it was a small, petty sort of evil, a festering of the soul, but two individuals stood out, the evil radiating out from them in black waves. One of the two was a guard, the one standing closest to the entry-way. He was a giant of a man, six feet tall and seemingly almost as wide and deep. He had a shaved head, no neck to speak of, layers of fat and muscle bulging beneath his too-tight tunic and coat. The other, a tall skinny man dressed in a robe embroidered with fighting tigers, stood on the gambling floor, carefully watching the players.

Slowly, I tuned back in to my companions’ conversation. “I still think we should gamble,” said Mari, jiggling her coin purse. The large bag of coins that Field Marshal Kroft had given us was both heavy and conspicuous, so before we left for Eel’s End in the morning, someone had suggested that we split the coin into four smaller pouches, and carry one each. “If we win big, Barvasi will notice us – he might come to us.”

“Who says we would win?” asked Marcus thoughtfully. “But losing big may attract us just as much attention…”

Aria shook her head. “We don’t have funds enough with us to lose a lot and still bribe Barvasi when we meet him.”

I interrupted. “That man down there, in the robe. I suggest we speak to him – I have a feeling he may be able to get us to Barvasi.”

Marcus peered over the railing to where I had indicated. “He’s probably the floor manager. It’s certainly worth a shot.”

We all stood, and I led the way down to the gaming floor.

Tain's Journal
Mid-morning, the 27th of Abadius
Old Korvosa

We met at the appointed hour and began making our way north across the city, on foot. We were all dressed in older and more worn clothes than typical (except Mari, who had found time for shopping in the morning and was wearing a quite sensible if new looking outfit) and Marcus had exchanged his ornate fencing blade for a more functional looking rapier. Mari had the wand we had found at Lamm’s warehouse tucked into her belt (I supposed that she had taken Marcus’s advice to dress as a mercenary magician after all) and Aria and I had our holy symbols tucked away out of sight, wearing our borrowed armour.

The journey across the city was peaceful enough – it seemed that the Guard were beginning to bring things under control – and had it not been for the occasional burnt out building or long food queue that we passed, or the occasional flight over head of a Sable Company hippogriff, it would be hard to know that we walked through a troubled city.

Soon enough we reached Northpoint, passed by the Bank of Abadar and City Hall, then crossed over the Narrows into Old Korvosa. The streets here were narrow, with tall and decrepit buildings crowding in from either side. Most of the people on the street were either visibly poor while those with anything worth stealing traveled well armed. Marcus had been concerned that our weapons and in particular Ari and my armour might make us stand out – but not so much. The locals gave us little trouble; at one point a rather brazen fellow leaned forward to leer at Ari, and made some off-colour remark, but before either Marcus or myself could leap forward to defend her honour, she merely looked at him with her Pharasma-touched eyes and he quickly backed down.

I led the way eastward, remembering on which pier Eel’s End was located from my days as a Guardsman (the Church of Abadar seldom sent patrols into Old Korvosa). And there it was, the long pier stretching halfway across the Narrows back towards Northpoint, with the large, decommissioned ship moored at the end almost completely blocking the strait. Another four ships (all old and in poor condition for sailing) were docked at the pier. The Goldenhawk appeared to be a tavern of some type, the House of Clouds was a brothel, the Twin Tigers a gambling hall and the Dragon’s Breath was a drug den.

A fair number of people were about even at this hour, visible on the pier, or on the decks of the ships, and even at this hour many of them appeared drunk or drugged, though most seemed cheerful enough – those not vomiting off the side of the pier, or crying into their hands over lost money or perhaps belated remorse at their sins. I was surprised that the place was so busy, given recent (and current) events in the city, but I suppose that in times of uncertainty and hardship the foolish and weak of spirit often turn to such vices seeking false comfort. The wise find strength in themselves, in their families, or in the gods.

A number of people about were armed, but there were no obvious guards – at first glance. On closer inspection there appeared to be a burly well dressed man or two standing near the gang planks leading to each of the ships. They carried no visible weaponry, nor did they appear to be stopping people from coming and going, but they were clearly keeping an eye on things.

“Well,” commented Marcus, looking at the scene before us, as we stood on the street near the pier. “Where shall we begin out search for Barvasi?”

“I would suggest either the tavern or the gambling den,” I said. “In the tavern, people may be less focused on other pursuits, and we may be able to ask about for information. On the other hand, a man like Barvasi will probably stay where the money is, to keep a close eye on things – thus we might find him at the gambling den. Of the two, I think the casino the better option.”

There were no dissenting views, so I led the way onto and across the pier towards the Twin Tigers. There were two smartly dressed but rather thuggish looking men standing to either side of the gang plank; I strode purposefully past them, and they made no effort to stop us as we filed along the plank and down into the ship’s dark hull.

Tain's Journal
Night, the 26th of Abadius

“What’s the plan?” asked Aria.

“Well to begin with, let’s escort Marianna back home,” I began, but the young woman shook her head.

“No.” Mari’s voice, usually girlish or excited in tone was serious, and perhaps a little sad. “I’m in this with you.”

I looked at Marcus, expecting him to argue (though not necessarily win), but he just looked at his sister, eyes narrowed slightly, and said nothing. I was surprised that he did not offer some sort of protest, and wondered what had passed between them, but if her brother did not insist that Mari not partake of this mission, then neither would I.

“Well you’ll need something appropriate to wear then Mari,” continued Aria. “Tain and I probably won’t look too out of place in Old Korvosa armed and armoured – we’ll pass as mercenaries. How can we make you look like a mercenary or scoundrel … maybe if you wore a rapier …”

“But I can’t use a sword!” Mari protested, sounding more like her normal self. Marcus and I agreed with her. “She’ll just look awkward wearing a blade she’s not used to,” I said. “Mercenaries come in greater variety than just sword-swingers,” added Marcus. “She could be a mercenary wizard for example …”

Mari ignored him whilst Aria continued. “Well at least wear a dagger, or two. Oh, you can buy a pair of boots with a dagger sheath on the side.”

“Or we can get her an entire bandolier of daggers,” Marcus observed, Mari continuing to ignore him.

“Anyway, you’ll need some new clothes cousin,” Aria stated. “Everything you own will stand out like anything at Eel’s End.” A discussion ensued about where Mari could find a suitable outfit, such as something borrowed from her own or Marcus’ servants, or wearing something that had belonged to Talia. Mari discounted all of these suggestions outright, insisting that she would buy something suitable.

“Well you’ll not find a clothing boutique open at this hour,” said Marcus, squinting about in the darkness, “so we’ll need another solution if we are to visit Eel’s End tonight.”

“I’m not sure that we should go tonight,” I said. “It would be best to wait till morning.”

Marcus looked exasperated. “We’re fine,” he said, absently touching the torn sleeve of his doublet, where the would-be assassin’s blade had pierced him earlier in the afternoon. “And we are not likely to find Ambassador Amprei indulging his vices during the morning.”

“That is why I suggest it,” I said. “I think it would be best if we try to approach Barvasi when Amprei is not around – he is more likely to inform on his client that way.”

The others saw the sense in this, and we agreed to visit Eel’s End on the morrow, meeting at Marcus and Mari’s town house at the tenth bell. In the meantime though I insisted on walking the others home; despite the fact that all seemed quiet here, we could not count on the streets being safe, and I had not yet forgiven myself for not being present during the earlier ambush.

We walked briskly along the cobbled streets, cloaks pulled tight around us to stave off the night time chill. As we walked, Aria spoke up again. “There is another thing that occurs to me; even if our garments don’t betray us as nobles tomorrow, our voices and accents surely will. Tain, you are the most common amongst us – oh, no offence meant …”

“None taken.” I smiled inwardly. It was ironic. Whilst the Merivanchis considered me a commoner – and indeed they were right, as I am not of noble birth (though my family was moderately wealthy), most in Old Korvosa would mark me as a noble by my speech and dress.

“Anyway,” my cousin by marriage continued, “perhaps you should do the talking on our behalf once we get to Eel’s End.”

“I’m a pretty good actor,” spoke up Mari, “and I can do a good Varisian accent.” Marcus rolled his eyes.

“I am happy to speak for us,” I said, “but you should know that I have made a holy vow that no lie should pass my lips … so if I speak for us, my approach will be direct.”

“Fantastic,” said Marcus sarcastically. “You’re doing the talking but you can’t lie? We may as well don Guard uniforms and be done with it.”

“I won’t lie,” I said, “but neither do I need to tell the entire truth…”

Soon we reached the town house. I bid the others good night, then returned home without incident, to spend a few hours praying for success on the morrow before turning in.

Tain's Journal
Late Evening, the 26th of Abadius
Citadel Volshyenek

Having presented ourselves at the gates, we were shown through the corridors and courtyards of the Citadel to the office of the Field Marshal. An older man and a younger woman waited within. The woman, her face looking worn and tired beneath her short cropped hair, and wearing red enameled field plate emblazoned with the coat of arms of the Korvosan Guard even indoors, stood and introduced herself as Field Marshal Cressida Kroft, then thanked us for coming.

The man sitting beside her stood also; he wore his long white hair pulled pack into a pony tail, and an ornate fencing blade at his side. The Field Marshal introduced him as Master Vencarlo Orisini. We had all heard of him of course, and Marcus knew him well, as the man was his fencing teacher and, as I understand it, a friend. Master Orisini had taught many of Korvosa’s current crop of accomplished swordsmen and women. In fact, as Marcus informed us later, he had also taught our recent acquaintance (and Queen Ileosa’s bodyguard) Sabina Merrin.

For now though, Marcus introduced us to Master Orisini (who was pleasant to all of us, but paid particular attention and compliment to Mari), then Field Marshal Kroft quickly came around to the reason she had summoned us. “You’ve all seen the state of the city these past few days,” she began. “The Guard is stretched thin trying to keep the peace and ensuring, as much as possible, that everyone is kept safe and fed. Between riots, looting, gang violence and desertions,” her expression darkens at the last, “we are struggling, even with the assistance of the Churches,” she nodded to Aria and myself, “the Sable Company and even … the Hellknights.” It sounded as if she could have done without that last bit of assistance.

“There are things that the Guard has just not been able to attend to – and some things that it would be best handled by … others. To that effect I have been putting together some teams of specialists – loyalists, people with skills, but not necessarily known to be affiliated with the Guard.” She looked us over critically, then nodded. “You come highly recommended by Lady Elizabeth and the Queen,” she added.

“So, I have a task for you. I’ll have Master Orisini give you the details.”

That worthy nodded and stepped forward. “The ambassador to our fair city from Imperial Cheliax is a man by the name of Darvayne Amprei. It is no great secret that he hates Korvosa, and to all appearances his appointment here. What is less well known is that he has, for many years, been seeking to buy up property within the city – he is quite a land-holder, and has some influence over many of his tenants. We believe that he has been using his money and influence to stir up trouble within the city and de-stabilise the economy. Up until now, this has been on a small scale, but with the recent troubles he has increased his activity. It appears that he intends to keep the current chaos going for as long as possible – enough perhaps to leave Korvosa ripe for a take-over by the Empire.”

Marcus stroked his chin. “Ironic. It was not so long ago in our history that many in the city would have welcomed a return to Chelish rule,” he said.

“Perhaps,” I countered, “but I believe that sentiment has changed as rumours of House Thrune’s loyalties and atrocities have been proved true.”

“Our city will never again willingly bow to tyrants.” Orisini spoke firmly, putting a premature end to the political argument. “We want Amprei gone, but the Guard cannot simply arrest him … or stick his head on a pike.”

“Diplomatic immunity,” I nodded. “You do not want us to …” I was concerned. I am loyal to Korvosa, I am not afraid to bring the good fight to the city’s enemies, but I am not an assassin.

Orisini shook his head. “Nothing like that. Amprei is a man of many vices, and he likes to indulge them at Eel’s End – perhaps you have heard of it? A collection of vice houses of various stripes, located at the eastern end of Old Korvosa, run by a rather ruthless crime boss named Devargo Barvasi.”

“Barvasi is a scumbag,” Field Marshal Kroft interjected, “but he pays his taxes and does not engage in any activity that is outright illegal – at least not that we can prove.”

The sword-master nodded. “We believe that Barvasi may know something of what Amprei is up to, or at least know something that we can use against the ambassador. We would like you to try to find out what he knows, find something we can use in some manner to shut Amprei down, or cause him enough political embarrassment that he will be forced to leave the city.”

“I do not know this man Barvasi,” I said, “but I know his type; they respond best to money. We may need to pay or bribe him.”

Field Marshal Kroft nodded, and turned to open a small strongbox behind her desk. “One thousand gold pieces,” she said, handing me a hefty coin bag. I accepted the money. “We’ll keep receipts,” I said.

“What does Amprei look like?” asked Ari, but Marcus fielded that question. “I’ve met the man,” he said sourly – obviously not a particularly pleasant experience. “I’ll know him if we see him.”

“Is there anything else you need?” the Field Marshal asked.

“Yes,” Ari replied, glancing down at her armour. “I think our armour might stand out at Eel’s End,” she gestures to her own breastplate, emblazoned with the comet symbol of Pharasma, and my scale mail, gold coloured in typical Abadarian style. “May we borrow something less conspicuous from the Guard?”

Kroft nodded, and suggested that we stop by at the armoury before we left the Citadel – we should be able to find something that would not stand out as Gaurdsmen’s armour.

“There is also the matter of recognition,” Marcus spoke up. “Obviously we are happy to serve the city in this capacity, but we will need the correct tools to do our job properly.”

The Field Marshal frowned slightly. “I’m not sure that I follow you – you’ll be deputised, so you may act with the full authority of the Korvosan Guard.”

“What my cousin is too modest to ask outright, is what rank will we be given?” Aria spoke, after a glance at Marcus.

Kroft’s frown deepened. “The point of us hiring you is that you’ll be working under-cover, indepentantly of the rest of the Guard. You won’t be running patrols or standing guard duty, you won’t have anyone working under you, and you won’t have anyone but me giving you orders.”

I stepped forward. “I believe that the Field Marshal is saying that we will be out-side the chain of command – exact rank is unimportant in the context.” I turned to look at the leader of the Korvosan Guard. “I further understand that we should report only to yourself?”

The Field Marshal nodded. “Yes, to me, or to Vencarlo if I’m unavailable. He acts with my direct authority in this matter.” Orisini smiled. “You know where to find me if I’m not here,” he said, directing the statement at Marcus, who indicated in the affirmative.

“Speaking of such things, I met your companion Agon earlier in the day,” Kroft added. “I suggest that it might be best if he did not come with you to Eel’s End; someone there may recognise him as a member of the Korvosan Guard, which could throw this whole mission into jeopardy. I’ve reviewed his file … Agon seems a competent Guardsman, but he is rather … noticeable.”

The four of us exchanged amused looks. That sounded about right.

“In the interest of full disclosure, there is something you should know,” I said, addressing the Field Marshal. “When the Lady Elizabeth suggested that we come to see you, she also tasked us with a mission directly from Queen Ileosa. A woman named Trinia Sabore is wanted for questioning, suspected of the late King’s murder. We have been asked to find her. Should the opportunity arise, we will need to pursue this woman, to bring her to trial, perhaps in favour of any mission we are undertaking on behalf of the Guard.”

The Field Marshal exchanged glances with Orisini. “We’ve heard of this suspect … though not of any trial,” answered Kroft guardedly (Marcus gave me a knowing look). “Of course, if you have been tasked by the Queen to find her you should do so.”

“We have heard rumours of a contingent of Hellknights keeping watch over a part of the city where Sabore has been sighted,” I continued. “We thought that, perhaps if the Order of the Nail is here at the request of the Korvosan Guard, you may be able to help us get through their blockade.”

“The Hellknights are not under my command,” answered the Field Marshal, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed. “I do not know at who’s bequest they are here – possibly the Queen’s, but more likely their own. I’ve heard of this blockade of course – they’ve been in place there since early this morning, or perhaps some time last night … and don’t seem to be moving. I would say you have time in regards to Sabore – the Hellknights will not act until they are certain of her location, and if she is within their blockade, she’ll not get out easily.” She looked at the sword-master again, who merely raised an eyebrow, then turned back to us. “Help us with Amprei, and I will see if there is anything I can do to help you with the Hellknights.”

There were no more questions and after a few formalities we were dismissed. Orisini showed us to the armoury, where Aria and I each requisitioned a battered, unadorned suit of armour, and then we were back out on the street, the sword-master having given his farewells and blessings.

Tain's Journal
Evening, the 26th of Abadius

Along the way, the Merivanchis gave me a brief accounting of some of the things they had learnt. Marcus did not go into great detail about his and Mari’s visit to House Bannyer earlier in the day, except to say that it appeared most of the noble families remained loyal to the throne … though not necessarily to Queen Ileosa.

The trio had managed to hold a hasty conversation with Agon between the end of their battle and my arrival at the scene; although the details remained vague, it seemed that Agon and his brother Felix had uncovered some possible leads on the whereabouts of Trinia Sabore. Apparently she was still in the city, being protected and hidden by persons who believed her innocent of the crime she was accused of. They had also discovered that a squad of Hellknights had sealed off several city blocks, and were not allowing anyone in or out – an area where a woman matching Trinia’s description had apparently been sighted. Unfortunately, Agon had not told the others exactly where all this was taking place before the Guard patrol had occupied his attention and taken him away. But it would not likely be difficult to track down this Hellknight blockade – Hellknights were not known for subtlety.

“We will certainly need a way past those Hellknights,” commented Marcus, “if we are to find Sabore.”

“Surely if we have the authority of the Queen, or even the Guard, they will let us pass?” asked Mari.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Aria replied. “It will depend on whose authority they are here – the Queens, the Guards, or their own. The Order of the Nail was invited here to Varisia by the Crown long ago, but they only work for Korvosa when it suits them.”

“Indeed,” I said. “The Hellknights are sworn to uphold law and order – not the law of any wordly nation or city, but rather the absolute order of Hell. If they think that things have slid too far towards chaos here, they would act on their own. At any rate, I would prefer that we find Sabore before the Hellknights do, to see that she is brought to fair trial to determine her innocence or guilt. The Order of the Nail are all too likely to act as judge, jury and executioners.”

Marcus threw me an odd look, half glimpsed in the lamp light of the street. “Lady Elizabeth did not mention a fair trial,” he said. “I suspect that, whatever the real truth, Sabine has already been found guilty. Regardless, the Queen has directly entrusted us with the task of finding her, and I also would far prefer that it was us over the Hellknights; it will reflect badly if we fail in this.”

“You are concerned of what the Queen will think Marcus?” asked Aria. “I didn’t realise you were such a loyalist.”

Marcus glanced about – there were some distant shouts and the ringing of a watch bell carrying through the night air from the north, but the street we traveled through was deserted. “I am loyal to the Crimson Throne,” he replied, “and whoever rightfully and legally sits upon it.”

Tain’s Journal
Early evening, the 26th of Abadius

Upon returning to the Bank of Abadar, I immediately sought out Archbanker Tuttle to gain permission to work with Field Marshal Kroft and the Korvosan Guard. The Archbanker agreed that such an arrangement might prove advantageous, and permission was granted. I had mixed feelings about working for the Guard again, given the reasons for my leaving the organisation in the first place, but I was willing to do what it took to help restore order in this city, and see the populous safe.

I had barely left the Archbanker’s office when I was informed that a message had arrived for me from a street-runner. I paid the boy a coin, then read the message. It was from Ariadnae; it seemed that soon after leaving the Sweeping Griffon, she, Marcus and Marianna had been attacked. None of my relatives were seriously hurt, but Aria requested that I come and meet them at the scene as soon as possible.

With all haste I gathered my weapons and made my way to the street indicated in Aria’s message.

Upon arrival I found that a squad of Guardsman had arrived on the scene, and had taken two prisoners into custody, as well as taking away the body of a third man. Agon was there also, in conference with the Guard. I sought out the Merivanchis and discovered that Aria had already healed the wounds that she and Marcus had sustained in the fight.

It seems that upon leaving the inn, the trio had realised that they were being followed, shortly before they were ambushed by four combatants. By good fortune Agon was nearby, and engaged several of the thugs in melee whilst Marcus and Aria bested the fourth. Agon slew one of the assailants, but was in trouble with the other two when the Guard arrived, routing the remaining thugs. As I had observed, two were captured, one was slain and a fourth had managed to escape.

Approaching the Guard Sergeant, we requested an opportunity to question the prisoners, but were rebuffed. “They’re in our custody,” the man replied brusquely, “and we’ll question them.” Agon gave us a look that seemed to indicate he would handle things, and soon enough he marched off with the Guard squad, prisoners in tow.

I returned to the others. “I apologise for not escorting you home,” I said, looking at the torn sleeve of Marcus’ tunic and the pink, freshly healed skin beneath, at the rent in Ari’s breastplate. “Had I not left early, they may not have attacked you – at the least I would have been here to help.”

Marcus shrugged off the apology. “It has been a dangerous city of late.” I nodded.

“The situation is worsening, if street thugs are now attacking travelers on the streets but two blocks from Castle Korvosa. Or the second possibility; that this attack was not random, that you were targeted.” I could tell by the expression on my brother-in-law’s face by the light of the street lamp that he thought the latter more likely. “Either way, we must act.” I continued. “If you do not think the hour grows too late, we should go to see Field Marshal Kroft now.”

There was general agreement, so we struck across the city for Citadel Volshyenek, alert for danger – but no further trouble found us that night.