Calder greets him respectfully. "Greetings I am Calder Brandson. My companions and I are part of the caravan run by Sandru Vhiski. One of our number is seeking information on a katana owned by her family and sold in Kalsgard when they traveled through here from Tian Shia many years ago."
He gives the man time to think over his words and respond.
Tallak stands quietly behind the others, not wanting his size to obscure anyone else should they wish to speak on the nature of their visit.
The old man's bushy eyebrows raise up high at the mention of a katana. "Surely you can't mean Suishen... Yes, yes... it decorated my mantle for years, but it was stolen just a couple of weeks ago."
He opens the door a little wider and steps aside - "Please, come in. I'll have one of my servants fetch you all a drink and a snack. What do you prefer? Tea? Warm milk? Coffee? Rum? Your wish is my command." He lets everybody into the house, and leads the whole party to a nearby well-appointed sitting room, directing everybody into a lush couch or easy chair before scurrying off (with impressive energy for somebody who must be in his eighties at least) and coming back a few moments later after having ordered a kitchen servant to prepare a meal.
He sits down, leaning back and sighing with relaxation. "Alright, yes... The sword, Suishen. Some robbers broke into my home a fortnight ago to take the sword. They didn't take anything else, so I know they were here for it and it alone. What is your business with the sword?"
Calder accepts a coffee with thanks. "Ameiko Kaijitsu is sadly the last of her family. This Suishen is one of the few links she has to her past. She hoped to find the sword and learn more of her families history. Between the attacks on our caravan, and this theft it seems the sword holds more than just memories?"
He pauses and sips his coffee with enjoyment "Do you have any thoughts as to who may have taken it? Did anyone try and buy it from you before the theft? We offer our aid to recovering it."
Clara's ears perk up and wiggle a bit as the old man discusses beverages. "Hmmm, do you have anything fizzy? If not, maybe some spiced rum.
"And thank you for your hospitality. I am Clarabibulus Flingflopsparkfizz, great-great-great-granddaughter of the world-famous hero and explorer, Umbilicus Flingflopsparkfizz, inventor of the Ultimate Fizzy Drink." she offers her hand (covered in a sticky indigo ichor) to greet him.
Clara cocks her head as Fynn mentions that the robbers stole only Suishen. Oh deeeear! This really is getting odd. Who else is after this, and why?
She nods excitedly as Calder suggests they can help.
"Tallak, son of Sigurdar," Tallak says as he enters. He waits while the others talk over the sword, taking in the man's home in silence. Eventually, though, he adds his own two coppers, "It is an item the Lady of our caravan seeks, a link to her ancestors."
He folds his arms and looks directly at the old man, waiting for him to answer Calder's questions.
The old man's face tightens up a little bit, and he scowls. "Yes, we're talking about the same sword. I used to own it. I bought it from a young Tian immigrant. One of his ancestors? I used to raid, and in those days I had quite a bit of spending money... it went to a sad foreigner who said he just needed his family to be safe. Maybe I was more charitable in my days of killing for a living!" He says, laughing.
He man chuckles. "It was a powerful magic weapon, flaming, and it protected me from the weather... And sometimes, from greater extremes of elements. but I never felt comfortable carrying it. So it became a mantelpiece."
The man shrugs. "Well, until just a little while ago. Some men broke into my house while I was away on a business trip... They killed several of my servants, and they stole the sword."
The older Ulfen shakes his head at Calder. "No, unfortunately the only thing any of my servants was able to say before dying was 'the lion was paying its due'. Although if you seek blood vengeance on my behalf for the theft of the sword (though I was once a fine warrior, I am far too old to be seeking retribution myself) then I am happy to reward you with the sword and perhaps a bonus. If you bring me the blades and crests of those who have done this, I can pay out a handsome sum."
Fynn furrows his brows. "What do you mean? Do you know something about whoever attacked me?"
Calder shows Fynn one of the armbands worn by the men who attacked the caravan. "As I said, we have been attacked as we traveled here. The men who attacked us wore these."
He looks disgusted. "It bares foul magic, the man we captured died before he could speak."
"It comes from this guy Asvig. Apparently he's part of a gang of ruthless killers who run around rhyming. The literary angle sounds cool but his men tried to murder us, which isn't cool at all. And when we almost captured one, he bled to death from his eyes before we could even talk to him, which was totally creepy. Oh and his wife is a witch, which might explain the bleeds-from-the-eyes-before-you-talk thing. Or could explain why a red-feathered raven keeps spying on us.
"Do you know anything about Asvig? Or his wife? Or the Rhyme Runners?
"Oooooh, what if the curse is that they can only speak in rhyme, and the reason that one bled out suddenly is because he was about to give away their secrets in plain verse?"
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Fynn Snaevald takes the lion's-head arm band from Calder, frowning. "Asvig Longthews. I know that name! Yeah, he's a ring-giver. A local bully, but a relatively successful raider. Young, attractive, and with a particularly intimidating wife."
"She's known to curse, to charm, and even to hurl lightning, but... nothing I've heard her do has approached the level of slaying a man all the way in Brinewall. Helva Longthews is her name."
"You say a red-feathered raven? Such a creature is known to be a familiar in these parts, but not of Helva Longthews. A local sorcerer and mercenary named Goti Runecaster keeps the red-feathered raven as a familiar. He works for the Rimerunners Guild, who are a powerful mercenary organization. They're headed by a ruthless businesswoman named Thorburg Silverskorr. She's dominated the financial atmosphere of Kalsgard for years now, at the head of her Guild. Are they mixed up in all of this?"
Calder goes back to his default frowning expression. "So far all we really know is that this Asvig sent men to attack us. Bound by magic not to speak of anything."
He thinks about it. "From what we have been able to find out ourselves Asvig is aligned with this Rimerunners guild in some way?'
"His wife is powerful and feared, yet Asvig openly uses the most expensive brothel in Kalsgard? I wonder if it would be worth talking with her?'
Fynn shrugs about meeting Helva. "It could be, or it could not be. It could just as easily give you away as give you leverage."
Clara's eyes go wide, and she stops fidgeting with the vial of greenish goo she's twirling. "So the red-feathered raven really is someone's familiar--and you know whose it is--and they're another rhyme runner? What is it with all these poets of evil?!?
"Oooooh, and we're totally getting spied on." She is clearly bothered, but also kind of excited.
"You said your servant's last words were, 'the lion was paying its due'. Is that the kind of thing a human around here might say if they'd been killed by Asvig and his brutes?
"If it is...well Asvig's men attack Ameiko's caravan...and steal Ameiko's grandpapa's sword from you...and some other rhyme runner is spying on us...those rhyme runners are clearly up to really bad stuff! But why? And how do we stop them?"
Getting as solemn a look as she can manage on her face, Clara kneels before Flynn (awkwardly mimicking the gestures of knighthood). "By all that is gnomely, we pledge that we will avenge the theft of your katana, and stop their evil rhyming ways. Oh, and bring you their blades and crested bits."
She stops and looks around at her companions. "Don't we?"
Fynn scratches his head awkwardly, deciding to finally be the one who corrects Clara. "They're actually the Rime Runner's guild. Like a layer of frost that builds on something when it's cold, not words that sound similarly."
"It seems all arrows are pointing back to Asvig and the Rime Runners. Our path is laid bare before us," Tallak says as he stands, as if all his questions had been answered.
"Is there anything else you can tell us regarding this man and this guild that may be of use? Their enemies? Their strengths?"
Fynn shrugs. "The Rimerunners Guild doesn't really have enemies, except for competing businesses... and that's more of a rivalry than anything. They're just a Guild. A rich, powerful, ruthless Guild, but just a bunch of businessmen nonetheless."
"Asvig's got a lot of friends though, and the friends are all warriors. If you're going after him, I'd be careful. You'd be in danger if you try to take him down. The same goes for the Rimerunners. They have a lot of powerful folks on their payroll."
Calder shakes his head in annoyance. "We're chasing shadows at the moment." He growls. "Hints here and there, but never a clear trail."
Standing up he thanks Fynn for his advice and hospitality.
Turning to the rest of the party Calder suggests. "Lets focus on finding a guide, while doing that we can seek out more information on Asvig and these Rimerunners. They are both powerful, with many men. So charging in blindly will only serve them not us."
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"Master Snaevald, would you happen to know any knowledgeable magic users that are definitely not affiliated with the Rimerunners? Or well-connected ones?" Irissa asked, thoughtful. "I'm also curious if there are other reasonably influential people in need of outside help. We may need to earn a few serious favours if we want to discourage the Rimerunners - otherwise I wouldn't risk heading north, because they of all people should have guides and trackers aplenty."
"Magic users? There are many in the city. I could point you in the direction of several, depending on your needs. As for influential people... I wouldn't know that about those in power. I'd guess not, considering that to be king you need to be mighty enough to slay a linnorm all alone. I doubt there's much you could do for such a man and his advisors." says Fynn, stroking his beard. "Getting a guide and escaping the city may be wise if you already have enemies. I would be disappointed about not gaining blood vengeance against Asvig, though.
"I have reason to see him dead as well..."
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"We need to learn more about Helva and Goti before we can do anything about either of them. We also need to make sure neither of them can spy on us by means of scrying or familiar use," Irissa clarified. "Other than that, what we can and can't do really depends on whether we can find anyone able and willing to mess with Rimerunners or at least Asvig. Or, bar that, find some way to sow discord between the two."
Fynn shrugs. He gets a servant to get everyone another round of drinks, as well as a little platter of finger sandwiches. He doesn't take no for an answer. "I wouldn't know anything about that. Other than that Helva's a witch, and Goti's some kind of spellcaster."
"I kinda figure that you don't need to worry so much about repercussions if you just kill everyone, right? Dead men tell no tales, especially if you destroy the skull."
"Except Asvig has many thugs, as does this Rimerunners guild, and there is only a handful on our side." Calder says sourly, around a mouthful of finger food.
"Still, it could be a good thing to scout Asvig's farm and see just how many he has? Or jump him when he's out whoring."
We can split up again. Calder will speak with Sandru, asking if he has any leads on guides. Then follow them up. If not Calder will visit the taverns the traders and merchants use, seeking any guides he can track down.
Irissa can follow her trail for magic users, something Calder doesn't know much about.
Perhaps Clara goes with Calder and Tallak with Irissa?
As you finish up your snacks and drinks, Fynn stands and ushers you all out towards the door. He has business to conduct today, and he can't afford to stand around entertaining guests all day long! Plus, it kind of seemed like you were done.
He makes no promises about the information, but he points Irissa in the direction of a local spellcaster - a civic engineer who went to a fancy University down south. He's generally for hire and should know at least something that Fynn himself doesn't about the way magic works.
He does suggest that if you're looking for information about Asvig himself, or his goings-on, that you spy on him yourselves. The city holds eighty thousand people. It's not like everybody's staring at each other so much that they just know what each other are up to.
Calder heads back to where Sandru is staying. Asking him where would be the best place to look for guides when they're not working?
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Clarabibulus giggles and snorts when her misunderstanding is pointed out. "Aaaahhh, of course, people-who-run-around-in-the-cold. Sensible I suppose. Awfully uninteresting name though. I mean, it has alliteration going for it, which is nice--and it makes way more sense than folks who run around rhyming, so I guess that's something--but if the whole dang country is cold, it doesn't really say too much about you, does it? And I still think rhyme runners might make a more interesting nemesis...but great-great-great-great-grandpapa Umbilicus always said: 'You don't always get to choose your nemeses; you just get to choose what to throw at them.'"
As they leave, Clara happily takes up with Calder. "We can certainly go chat with Sandru, but let's go by the Beast's Pit too--I guess we can stop at whichever one we get to first, but I heard that that's the most likely spot to find unregistered guides we could engage."
She periodically runs to catch up with him, each time falling behind again due to her little legs. After a minute or two, she adds, "Uh, so, hey, how do you feel about piggyback rides?"
Sandru is back in the Bone Quarter, housing with the caravan and all of its people until word gets back from the party about what to do (if anything). It takes a good 25 minutes to walk there, with Clara and Calder talking amiably (or not) the whole way. Nobody bothers them, but the streets are busy with various Ulfen going about their business.
The Bone Quarter is not as nice as any of the other parts of town. The buildings are primarily wooden, and there's also a pretty significant tent city in the quarter. Several caravans of travelers clump together on a small park, including the cluster of Sandru's trade caravan. Sandru paces back and forth outside of Koya's fortune teller's caravan. He looks stressed out, and he keeps running his hands through his hair.
You managed to get away from him at last, staggering into the Bone Quarter. Barely maintaining consciousness, you fell down in an alley. The last thing you remember before blacking out is a pair of voices talking in alarm, and footfalls through the snow towards you.
You wake up warm and safe, and when you reach for the wound in your side you find that it's all the way healed! You're in a small room lit by a myriad of beautiful scented candles, and three women stand over you. One, an older woman (at least fifty if not more) wearing the garb of a Varisian traveler. The second, a gorgeous Tian woman with a grey streak in her bangs. The third, a tall, lithe elven woman with a beautiful elven-made bow slung over her shoulder. They're talking in hushed tones, but they stop and look at you as you awake.
"Well, it looks like you won't be meeting your maker after all." says the oldest woman, her face crinkling kindly with a smile.
Calder and Clara show up, with Clara riding on Calder's shoulders.
"Sandru, is something wrong? Calder asks when he see's Sandru's state.
Matin pauses, realizing that perhaps he had said enough for the moment. But that had never stopped him for too long before, so he started talking again. "I assume you all are the ones who found me in the alley? I've got to say, thanks for that. But--I should probably go. Thanks for the help though!" he says, as he rises up and tries to walk as casually as he possibly can to the door, pass the three women.
Sandru stops scratching his head and looks up to see the approaching Calder and Clara. He breaks out into a trademark roguish smile and waves. "Oh, just a little strange happening. We found a young boy bleeding in an alleyway a bit ago, and we've just all wondering what's up with that."
He shrugs. "He had a pretty nasty, deep piercing wound. Looked like he messed with the wrong folks. Koya fixed him up, though."
"You all--you all aren't from around here, are you? You wouldn't be planning on leaving anytime soon, would you? Because I've just realized that I'm not really that fond of Kalsgard as it turns out. And if you all are leaving, I'd love to show you the best ways out of Kalsgard. I happen to be an expert at where all the gates are located and when the guards aren't paying attention."
Tallak follows quietly along with Irissa, remaining just a few step behind her, within arms reach should trouble present itself.
The older woman smiles and pats Matin. "What Shalelu's trying to say is that you look too young to be getting in mortal danger. Is there anything we can do?"
When Matin mentions getting out of town, the Tian woman and the older woman exchange looks, raising their eyebrows. The Tian woman says, "As a matter of fact, we are trying to get out of town... and I think we could use a little bit of help doing it. We seem to be running into some institutional blockages getting supplies and a guide, because we're trying to cross the Crown of the World."
"You help us find what we need, and we can protect you and get you out of the city. How does that sound? Disclaimer: We're going to Tian-Min, so you might not be able to get far with us unless you want to come all the way."
Curiosity is plain on Clara's face when Sandru mentions the bleeding boy.
"Oh, Koya won't mind if we go in. Let's see what he's like!"
Entering the tent, you see a young gnome. Her skin is a light milky blue, her eyes are a piney green, and her hair is an electric blue. Her stained and sticky apron--and the various vials at her belt--are an easy giveaway of her passion for alchemy.
Addressing the older woman, she says, "Hey Sis, what's going on?"
"I know my way around Kalsgard, I can help you out. Just, uh, you might want to stand around me at all times. I'd rather the next pickax not get aimed at my face. I'm rather fond of it," he says in response to the older woman's offer.
"You know, I've heard that Tian-Min's rather nice this time of year. Maybe I'll tag along a little once we get out of Kalsgard," he says in response to the Tian woman's offer. "My name's Matin, by the way. Probably should know that if I'm going to be helping you all out."
I don't know if I should be doing this.
Kurasaviel paused, clothing his eyes and breathing deeply. He was in the middle of his preparations for what would certainly be the adventure of a lifetime. His pack was open, and he was loading it with essential gear. All of his implements were laid out on his bed, crowding his otherwise spartan room at the Rusty Dragon. Days ago, Kurasaviel had committed to this course of action. He had enlisted the aid of Bethana, Brodert Quint, Father Xantus and more. He'd called in every favor and cashed in most of what he had saved over the past years to hire a wizard capable of transporting him all the way to Kalsgard.
Now, the day it was set to happen, Kurasaviel was seized by sudden doubt.
He knew it was the right thing to do. Kurasaviel felt that deep within his bones. What he didn't know was how Ameiko would react, and that terrified him. He was hopelessly, desperately in love with the remarkable woman, and too terrified of losing her as a friend to say anything about his feelings. She was on a journey of epic proportions, and Kurasaviel knew she needed someone with his skills.
He also knew she feared for his safety and would probably be pretty pissed that he went against her wishes and decided to join her.
Well. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Kurasaviel finished his preparations. He donned his sunglasses ole magical chain armor and girded his curve blade to his back. Kurasaviel double checked the positioning to ensure ease of draw, then made his way downstairs.
This early in the morning, the tavern was mostly empty. A couple of guests had made their way downstairs and were partaking of Bethana's breakfast, simple eggs and bacon cooked to perfection. The smell of the bacon proved irresistible to Kurasaviel, and the half-elf made his way back into the kitchen, snatching a couple of strips from a pole that had just come out of the frying pan.
Bethana stood, washing her hands of grease. The halfling favored Kurasaviel with a motherly smile.
"Well, are you ready?"
Kurasaviel sighed then shrugged. He chewed on a piece of bacon as he thought.
"No. But I've made up my mind so what good will hesitation do? I can only move forward. I just hope this doesn't make her hate me."
Bethana pursed her lips, thinking for a moment.
"I don't think she could ever hate you. But we both know that Ameiko is...strong willed," which was a nice way of saying stubborn, "So perhaps you should hedge your bets and ensure you won't be sent away out of hand. Let's see...Clara is with them, right?"
Kurasaviel nodded, at first unsure of where Bethana was going with that. Suddenly, realization dawned. Kurasaviel grinned, winked at Bethana, then dashed behind the bar.
Kurasaviel rummaged behind the bar, finding a flask. He examined the ingredients they had on hand, then smiled. This was perfect.
A wheat ale with orange and coriander, liqueurs of blood orange and raspberry, and a bit of peach syrup. Kurasaviel free poured the ingredients, playing with the proportions. After a minute of mixing, he put the ingredients together and shook them before distilling them into the flask. Taking a sip, Kurasaviel found himself pleased with the results. Not his greatest creation, in his opinion, but definitely serviceable, and he didn't think Clara had tried this one before. Satisfied, Kurasaviel reenterrd the kitchen, hugged the halfling who had been like a mother to him, and was out the door.
Kurasaviel took in the sights and sounds, breathing in the raw life of Sandpoint as he made his way to the Old Light. Kurasaviel figured he and his contact were not likely to be disturbed there. Upon arriving, Kurasaviel found his evidently prompt compatriot waiting for him. It was a human, perhaps ten years Kurasaviel's senior. The man was of average height and build, with dark hair and eyes and a dark beard. He was wearing dark colors, a vest embroidered with eldritch sigils, and expensive looking jewlery Kurasaviel had no doubt was magical. Kurasaviel walked over, extending a hand.
"Thanks for meeting me. I didn't catch your name I'm afraid."
"You can call me Asher, and it's my pleasure. Especially since you paid! So where exactly in Kalsgard would you like me to send you?"
Kurasaviel considered for a moment. Ameiko's quest was secret, so a random half-elf teleporting into the city and asking for her would probably raise a lot of red flags.
"Do you know an area near the city? Say, a half-day's journey and close to the main road?"
Asher nodded.
"Last time I was out that way before I could cast this spell, my party stopped for the night in an abandoned tower by the road. There was nothing fun there; no restless dead or ancient curses. It was just in disrepair. I can put you there. It's about a half day's walk north to Kalsgard from there. Sound good?"
Kurasaviel nodded. He was ready.
Asher walked over and put an arm on Kurasaviel's shoulder. Kurasaviel felt a pulling, and then, suddenly, he was elsewhere.
He closed his eyes, bracing himself against a sudden wave of vertigo. His senses had not been prepared for such rapidly changing input, and Kurasaviel fought down a wave of nausea. After a minute of deep, steady breathing, Kurasaviel opened his eyes.
It was as advertised. A ruined tower, ceiling partly collapsed, allowing beams of sunlight to illuminate the bare chamber he now stood in. It seemed that anything of value had been taken from here long ago. Kurasaviel found the door, and exited. Getting his bearings, he saw that he was on a hill, overlooking the road. It would be a simple matter to navigate to the road to Kalsgard. Kurasaviel noted the position of the sun in the sky and determined where north was, then made his way to the road.
There was no turning back now.
The young gnome bursts into the already-extremely-crowded fortunetellers' wagon, and the oldest woman turns to greet her. "Oh, hello Clara." she says, with a kind smile. "Your investigations going well?" She looks out the door to see Calder and waves to him as well.
"Ameiko and I found this young man bleeding to death in the snow not far from here. We brought him back to the caravan and stabilized him." she says, indicating Matin. "He says he stole some things from a giant green monster and then the monster tried to kill him. Now he says that he wants us to take him out of the city, but only if we bodyguard him so that the green monster tries to kill us instead of him."
Her wrinkled face crinkles. "He's a nice young man."
When Matin introduces himself, the ladies in the room all do so as well, naming themselves Shalelu, Ameiko, and Koya. Ameiko pipes up. "I'm doubt we'll be in any extra danger with this dude along... and he says he knows his way around Kalsgard! Maybe he can find us a guide."
Shalelu turns to Clara to address her with a question as well, "Speaking of that... did you find anything pertinent to our leaving Kalsgard? We seem to be stuck here until we can find somebody who will help us avoid the morozkos. The unpredictability and danger of the Crown of the World is quite legendary."
The guards at the gate only give you a cursory look as you enter the city - 'nope, not a giant monster here to slaughter townfolk', their eyes seem to say.
On the road, Kurasaviel stayed focus on moving. He knew that no matter how much his muscles were complaining, if he kept moving his body would stay warmer. He thanked Desna for warm cloaks and resisted the urge to take a sip of the alcohol that he had created for Clara. It would only make him feel warmer, he reminded himself, though that was sorely tempting at the moment.
Despite his discomfort, this suited his plan perfectly. It was easy to find a bit of snow to briefly roll in, which, yes, made him even colder, but gave him the appearance of having traveled longer than he had. After too long, Kalsgard was in view.
Kurasaviel hadn't expected this. He'd known it would be big, but never in his wildest dreams had he expected a city of this size. Kurasaviel managed to keep his awe in check. He wasn't some bumpkin that was going to lose his composure; he was here for a reason.
Kurasaviel stopped to speak with some of the guards at the gate, getting some basic information about the city layout. He wasn't precisely certain where Ameiko and her group would have gone, but he was fairly certain he knew where to start looking. He had, after all, worked a tavern himself for years. There was always information to be found where mugs were hoisted.
Kurasaviel decided to visit the Hunting Serpent Inn. After hearing a bit of it's reputation (inexpensive, welcoming, accommodating of guests with exotic pets or special retinues), it seemed as likely a place as any that Ameiko might have chosen or passed through. It also had the added benefit of being in the Ice Quarter, where Ameiko and any of her companions likely would have to have gone to sell any loot they had acquired.
Kurasaviel arrived at the end, finding a solid but simple building. He could already tell he was going to like it. He was greeted by a boisterous barkeep, identifying himself as the proprietor, Tosti Finehall. Kurasaviel bit back a grin. Given the warmth of the lodge and the relaxed atmosphere he almost wondered if that were a stage name, it was so on the nose, but he thought better of saying anything.
As was his wont, Kursaviel swept his gaze around the room before deciding to belly up to the bar. He didn't see anything out of sorts, so he decided to have a drink and get warm. Tosti offered him some mulled wine, served hot, and the thought of that made Kurasaviel's mouth water. He readily accepted, removing his wet cloak and hanging it from a nearby hook. His weapons and gear became immediately visible, then, and Tosti struck up a conversation. Kurasavel was clearly the adventuring sort, and the barkeep had had enough of those pass through to know it was better to be on their good sides, and know their intentions. For Kurasaviel's part, Tosti seemed kind and charming, and it was refreshing to speak to someone with an outside perspective. Bartenders were, after all, the poor man's therapist.
Kurasaviel was, however, not quite naive enough to ignore this opportunity entirely. He told his tale with the appropriate sighs, wielding the truth like a dagger. He was the very image of a lovesick boy, intent on proving himself more than a friend to the girl he'd loved for so long. Kurasaviel secured the barkeep's promise that he wouldn't tell a soul of the half-elf's true feelings, of course, and then launched into the tale of him and Ameiko (although he was careful not to mention her name). He told of a beautiful woman that regarded him as almost a little brother, something he chafed at, and her intention on becoming a wealthy merchant. Kurasaviel spoke of his sorrow at being left behind to mind the tavern, at his sure knowledge that she did that to keep him safe, and the desperate hope he fostered that that pointed to the possibility of more for them. At the end, Kurasaviel said this.
"Truth be told, I didn't come here just for a warm-up, although that was sorely needed. You see, I'm not exactly certain where this caravan is at the current moment. I thought, maybe they'd be here, close to the trading quarter. Maybe you've seen her? Beautiful, with a shock of white in her hair, a beauty mark on her left cheek and a tattoo on her right shoulder. Any help would be appreciated, my friend."
Calder leans against the outside of the wagon, keeping an ear on the chatter inside. "A giant green monster? Sounds like a Troll, but what is one of those doing inside the walls?"
He's just a foot or so taller than a man, but can grow to the size of a regular troll.
Shalelu shrugs at Calder's question. "Kalsgard is a savage place."
Matin shrugs his shoulders. "I was just saying, if you all needed a guide, than I was available. Just that I was maybe being chased by a monster because maybe I had stolen something," he says, trying to make the most innocent smile that he could and failing rather badly at it.
"I--I think may know who it was," says Matin, scratching the back of his head and trying not to make eye contact with anybody in the room. How could he have screwed up this badly? A Rimerunner.
"Not a troll, exactly. A half troll, Goti Runecaster. He can do magic or something--he's already a foot taller than anybody you'll ever meet, but he can make himself even bigger. Don't know why he needs to do that in the first place, he could already kill somebody with his bare ha--" he stops midword, realizing that perhaps he shouldn't be telling these people how bad of a mistake he has made. "Gorum's fist, I may be in trouble. You all haven't heard about the Rimerunners, have you?"
"You seem to have strange luck." Calder says dryly. "We have heard of the Rimerunners. They have attacked us once already as we journeyed here."
He moves so he's now filling the doorway to the caravan. "What was it you stole that they sent this Goti after you?"
Aside to Clara. "A half troll, maybe one of your more fiery drinks for him Clara."
Ameiko raises an eyebrow. "So you figured out who it was that ambushed us? Do you know why?"
Sandru's hand goes to the sword hanging at his belt. "Surely they don't know we're here already, which means the element of surprise goes to us... Why aren't we going on the offensive?"
"Some folk came in here yesterday asking about the same girl. Tian men, with a look about them I didn't like. 'Course, I didn't know anything, so I didn't say anything, but... if you say she's here with a caravan, she's probably in the Bone Quarter." he says, in hushed tones. He grins wryly. "I'd tell you to be careful about mixing yourself up with a girl in trouble, but I know you'll ignore me... Love makes people stupid. Watch your back, though. You never know when an honorless wretch will sneak up."