Calla hands over her money gladly, and sets to work on the food with a ravenous appetite. She darts quick glances round the street, over the mug of her ale, keeping a particular eye out for the beggar that talked to Jareen.
"I can feel the meat sticking to my ribs already. Not so bad, hey Arakan?"
Jareen hands over the money, while they eat he whispers to Irivis "So what, do we wait for another random with a sign, or are we supposed to me the first move this time?"
"I think we let Arakan work some more eyebrow magic. I'm not the best person to be talking about Kalak."
"I think we let Arakan work some more eyebrow magic. I'm not the best person to be talking about Kalak."
"That nutter of a beggar seemed to think there are people here who want to stop Kalak rising from the dead. That would mean they think they know of people trying to raise him from the dead. I don't think any of us wants to be talking about Kalak, but here we are."
"And that is extremely interesting, isn't it? In a "why do I think we're going to get mixed up in this whether we want to or not?" sort of way."
Arakan eyes each of the group suspiciously, curious as to why they are speaking to and about him in such a way.
He addresses them calmly, wariness on his face "The food is better than eating sand, but by no means something worthy of talking about. What is all this talk of Kalak? You mean the mad beggar's rambling? I wonder if any of you have ever been in a city before. I don't know what you all are asking of me, or even what eyebrow magic is, but did the beggar's madness rub off on all of you?" He looks around the bar to see if maybe there is some foul powers being used, damn mind-controlling users of The Way.
"It's a compliment, Arakan. We trust your tricky, twisted abilities to find things out," explains Irivis patiently.
The adventurers munch their food at the table outside and look and wait expectantly for something to happen. The serving staff come and go through the doorway, bringing food and drink or tidying away empties. There is a brief scuffle between a couple of customers before the waitress who served the party arrives, slams the combatants heads in turn against the wall of the inn, and shoves them stunned and bleeding away down the alley. But there is no sign of the strange beggar and none of the other punters seem inclined to discuss Kalak.
Arakan is really doubtful that the assessment of his particular skills is a compliment. Once again, they are wandering blind without him to point out an obvious path. He waits until the waitress returns again, before he quickly makes it sound as if he is laughing from something funny one of them said, "Ha ha, you're daft old man." He turns to the waitress, and keeping his voice at an easy tone asks "Hey, you look like you've got a handle on the pulse of the town here. Help us solve a debate. You see, that big fire in the sky the other night? Some of these fools say it marks the arrival of a Pyreen, others think the dirty dwarven beggar they met is right, and it is the rebirth of Kalak. What's the buzz in the streets?"
The woman stares at Arakan for a moment, shrugs and starts gathering empty flagons from a nearby table.
"You are a fool boy. And you are wrong." Jareen tries his best to play along.
Calla is again abashed as Arakan takes the initiative. She covers it with another swig of beer, and then tries to pay attention to the serving woman's reaction.
"I think you've been out in the sun too long, old man," she replies to Jareen, furthering the conversation. "How do you kill a god, and make sure it sticks?"
Arakan is watching closely for signs of a reaction to his conversation.
Calla narrows her eyes as she watches the waitress hurry back inside. "Well, she knows something," she says in a casual, quiet, tone. "Even odds we're going to need to follow her, or we're about to get into a fight."
"Anyone want to order some more nameless meat nibbles?" asks Irivis casually as she stands to head casually into the inn.
Calla jumps to her feet, neatly spilling the dregs of her beer. "We could do with another round. I'll come help you, Irivis. Who's on beer, and who wants that fermented thri-kreen gloop?"
"I would like more beer" As Gorad gets up to go with Calla and Irivis.
The group rise from their benches and head into the inn. Passing through the door, which looks more like a hole that collapsed in the wall than an actual pre-intended entance, they find themselves inside. There is hardly any light, and shadowy figures move around between the tables. It is surprisingly small, with a few hauge clay jars from which the beer is drawn, a rack with the smoked meats, and some tables where the more dedicated drinkers are assembled. There is some murmuring but little chat or banter, but the air is thick with the smell of long ago-spilt beer and an undertone of body odour .
As their eyes adjust to the gloom, they can see that the server they were following doesn't seem to be inside. There is only one other exit - a set of dangerous-looking wooden steps leading up to a door, almost invisible in the dark.
"Eavesdropping seems to be in order," murmurs Irivis. "Which, by the way, I'm not good at. Distractions I can manage. Probably."
Arakan decides to try and take the lead, as he ends up having to do so often. He slithers into the darkness of the stairwell, making for the door. Stopping briefly before it, he listens for signs of danger, before he proceeds to walk on in.
Irivis gasps and clutches at her leg as Arakan disappears, hoping that her actions will mask his abrupt disappearance.
Calla stops and makes a scene over Irivis, hoping to draw eyes away from Arakan. "Oh dear! Come on clumsy, lets get you sat down over here with something to settle your nerves. It's all right, no fuss, no fuss," she says loudly, making as much fuss as possible.
Shaking his head at Arakan's lack of discretion Gorad follows him up the stairs. Looking for danger as he goes.
percp
"How much have you had today anyway? No, no, you lot don't bother to move, I'll just get the old dear sat down between you. That's it, you prop her up."
"It's the beetles walking under my feet, they're crawling up my legs," wails Irivis pathetically. She swats at imaginary insects.
"Really woman. Beetles again? Why not sand lizards this time for a change?" Jareen looks bored with the charade.
"They're not crawling up your legs."
"They're not crawling up Yours either!"
Will all the kerfuffle going on below, Arakan and Gorad manage to ascend the stairs unremarked.
Of course they were expecting him, he wasn't even intending to be here if it weren't for the others pushing him to dig up some info for them. If he's lucky he can just get back out, "Ehspektin? Ah's jus loogin fer plaista take a pizz." He tries to fake his best drunk, and back out of the room.
"Ah, Jareen - we have been watching you," murmurs a voice.
"I assume I must be quite safe then, you've had plenty of chances to cause me trouble. What about my companions? Have you been watching them too? Would you be able to turn up the light, or let us know who you are? I am not a fan of games."
"We are not playing games, Jareen, just playing safe. But we have a proposition to make you and your friends."
Wandering how he ended up being the spoksperson of the group, and who these people are, what they can know about him, and how much danger that could put him in, doesn't put Jareen in a good mood.
"Then please do, go on, we are all here to listen to your proposal."