Gozran 13, AR 4708
Over the course of three centuries Korvosa has been many things to many people. To the lords of Cheliax in the age of her foundation, Korvosa was at once a bold step into a savage unknown and a realization of Chelish destiny to bring order to lesser men. To the 'lesser men', the Shoanti tribesmen who sheltered by Conqueror's Bay, the rising city was not just a symbol of their defeat but also a very real gateway into their lands for men without honor: adventurers, poachers and grave-robbers. To the wandering Varisian caravans, she became a new stop on an old road. A new place to meet and trade, to love and to die.
Generations of these three stocks of man, littered here and there with immigrants from more exotic locations, married and interbred across three hundred years have produced a flavor of humanity unique to Korvosa and her sister city Magnimar. But where the City of Monuments embraces the pluralistic makeup of her street, Korvosa struggles to keep it contained to her slums to preserve her credentials with the throne in Egorian. When Aroden died and the world of Man flipped upside-down, the unbridgeable fissure that opened in Korvosan society between pro-Thrune royalists and pre-Thrune traditionalists led to the depopulation of the Korvosan middle class and the foundation of Magnimar. Some of the neuveau-riche neighborhoods of that day still sit only partially repeopled a hundred years after the diaspora. But the tenements and slums of Old Korvosa and upper Midland teem.
Since the chaotic days of Aroden's death the city has largely ruled herself with minimal interference from a Chelish monarch. And for the last 60 years the nobles of the city have appointed one of their own to rule from the Crimson Throne as monarch over a demense that reaches well beyond the walls of the city, into lands disputed by the Shoanti tribes, by enigmatic Kaer Maga and their cousins in Magnimar. The Kings (and one Queen) of Korvosa have been good stewards of the city as a rule, and the last several decades have been kind to her and her economy. King Eodred II has sat the throne 22 years now, and though few would say that his rule has been transformative for the city, his years have been characterized by peaceful relations with Korvosa's neighbors and general prosperity for those with privilege. Still, his reign has not been without its problems.
Aside from being a redolant executive indifferent to consistency or logic, Eodred is a womanizer. Four years ago, perhaps in a fit of mid-life anxiety, King Eodred set aside the personal harem he'd built over 18 years of rule in favor of a young paramour he brought to the city from Cheliax. Ileosa came to Korvosa at the fair age of seventeen from a place of extreme privilege and within a year she was the city's new queen. In house politics the tie of house Arabasti of Korvosa to a prominent pro-Thrune house was a strong play, reinforcing Korvosa's alignment with Egorian - against the sentiments of those who left to create Magnimar. Elsewise the match was clearly less successful. No heir has produced. On the street it's said that the queen is capricious, cruel, and prejudiced. Though rumored beautiful, she does not appear often in the public eye and this is because she despises the crowd. It was feared in the days just after the marriage that Ileosa would lure Eodred back to the court of Thrune for extended periods of time, creating a crisis of governance in Korvosa by his absence.
Those fears seem far-off and laughable in the light of the news of the morning. For word on the street is that King Eodred has died in the night! The deep bells of Abadar and Pharasma begin tolling the news almost in unison, and are soon joined by Asmodeus, Saranrae and the secular institutions across the city. There's a dangerous electricity in the air this morning, a growing buzz to the crowds that form as the news and rumors spread mouth to ear. The king's recent health issues had been subject of street rumors for a month or more, but a quiet death in the night? What do the king's physicians have to say for themselves? Word spreads of demonstrations being planned and of the Acadamae sealing its huge wrought-iron gates. There's a rumor that the Bank of Abadar has closed its doors or is thinking of closing its doors, or might close its doors - and everyone with wealth stored there is said to be headed there at once to pull it all out.
Korvosa teeters on the edge of anarchy!
Kayleigh Fairwind was preparing breakfast for the priests of the Temple of Aroden when the first church bells began to toll far off in the southern and southeastern parts of Korvosa. “What’s that all about?” she asked, her concentration still focused mostly on the pan of scrambled eggs she was trying not to burn.
“The King is dead,” bald-headed Garlan decreed grimly. Kayleigh stopped stirring the eggs briefly as the breath caught in her throat. She’d heard the rumors of his ill health, of course, even though most of the inhabitants of Old Korvosa she tended to daily had never seen the city’s monarch. Eodred II had been the only king Kayleigh had known in her short lifetime, and she felt an irrational depth of loss and sorrow at the clanging indication of the monarch’s passing. Then habit kicked in and she began stirring the eggs again. Matters of state and monarch were beyond her; she instead concentrated on and poured her energy into what mattered to her—caring for the less fortunate citizens of Old Korvosa.
She served the three middle-aged priests their breakfast, leaving the clean-up to them. Then she returned to the streets of her adopted neighborhood, following, as always, her strict daily routine. Although she varied her route each morning, Kayleigh always walked through the city streets, using her goddess-granted powers to cast purify food and drink spells on the previous night’s leftovers or (all too often) garbage pickings of Bridgefront’s poor and doing several castings of create water for the elderly and families with several small children, who would find a walk to a city well either stressful or dangerous.
As word spread of the king’s passing, the streets grew more filled with citizens, some of whom mourned, some of whom cheered mean-heartedly, and some who bemoaned the fact that Korvosa would now be ruled by a ‘foreigner’ queen. Too many folks gathered on one poorly-built porch in the Shingles causing a collapse, so Kayleigh was summoned to treat the wounded. She stayed for an hour to help shore up other nearby Shingle sections possibly compromised by the collapse. Then the young healer, covered with grime and blood, returned to the Temple of Aroden to check in and see if the priests there had heard anything substantive regarding the king’s death.
Garlan simply said that the rumors were true and asked Kayleigh about the mood of the people on the street. Kayleigh gave a brief report and noticed that the priest was looking at her a bit strangely. “And what are your thoughts and feelings on the matter?” he asked.
My thoughts? What do my thoughts matter? Kayleigh didn’t give voice to her inner musings. Instead, she replied, “That the people of Bridgefront and Old Korvosa will be just as poor, underprivileged, and ignored under the new queen and whomever comes after her.”
Garlan eyeballed Kayleigh critically. “That doesn’t sound like a priestess dedicated to the goddess of uprisings,” the bald man commented. He frowned a bit and added, “A very dirty priestess with blood on her hands and tabard. Go use the washbasin, my dear, and clean yourself up a bit.”
Kayleigh did as she was bid. “Milani’s also the goddess of hope, as you well know,” Kayleigh replied as she cleaned her hands in the soapy basin. “That’s my calling—to give hope and support to Old Korvosa’s poor…not to start some sort of revolution.”
As the young woman dried her hands and turned to rejoin him, Garlan said, “Wash your face, too! And what’s that hanging out of the back of your breeches?”
Puzzled, Kayleigh reached behind her and found that something small and made of heavy card stock had indeed been tucked behind her belt and pants at the small of her back. She pulled the item out and looked at it. A harrow card, old but of high quality…the Carnival. On it, a child was being menaced by a creepy masked jester. In the background stood a tall figure which obviously had stilts hidden beneath the lengthened legs of its breeches. Its face was hidden by a scarf and wide-brimmed hat, a black void with only a pair of gleaming, malicious eyes breaking the swath of blackness. Gaedren Lamm! The breath caught in Kayleigh’s voice and she gasped before pulling the card in for a closer examination. The background lurker was not the nightmarish figure from her childhood.
Yes! It’s Gaedren Lamm!
She glanced up crossly at Garlan. “Why did you tuck that into my belt?” she demanded. She wasn’t the greatest at sniffing out liars and conmen, but Kayleigh was fairly certain the priest’s puzzled denial of involvement was genuine. Then she flipped the card over and found the scrawled message.
“Who’s Gaedren Lamm?” Garlan asked. “Who’s nosy?” Kayleigh countered, hiding the harrow card from the priest’s sight.
Instantly she felt guilty—Kayleigh’d never spoken crossly at the kindly priest before, yet she didn’t want to disclose the details of her horrific few days in Lamm’s Lambs to anyone. "Very well--you don't have to tell me if you don't want to.". Before she realized what was happening, Kayleigh found herself seated at the table with all three of her priestly acquaintances (including gangly but witty Crayden and the circumspect, gray-haired Amistan), spilling her guts about her childhood and the near-murder at the hands of the cruel crimelord. The priests listened raptly before Amistan broke the silence.
“You seem to be a child of destiny, Kayleigh Favored of Milani, Lady of Uprisings. Don’t you find it the least bit unusual that you, one of the few if not the only priestess of Milani in our city, are here during such a portentous moment in Korvosa’s history?”
“With a harrow card bearing a mysterious note hanging out of your pants?” Crayden added with an amused smirk.
“That’s not what my relationship with Milani is about!” Kayleigh protested vehemently. “I revere her aspect of hope; I care for the city’s poor. You all know this!”
“There are worse things than poverty in this world,” Garlan pointed out, a bit ominously, “and sometimes hope is the only defense we have against these things.”
“Indeed,” Crayden replied, his smirk returning. “But that doesn’t explain why our dear Kayleigh had a harrow card hanging out of her pants. Have a nice roll with a handsome fortuneteller before stopping by, maybe?”
”CRAYDEN!!” The cries came from all three other people seated around the table.
The irreverent priest smiled softly and raised his hands in a gesture of apology. “I’m sorry. That was just my way of pointing out that there’s no good explanation as to how that card came to be where we found it. Smells like destiny to me.”
Kayleigh offered Crayden a smile to let him know that no (lasting) offense was taken. ”Sometimes I wish my life were that exciting,” she joked, ”but mostly it’s dawn to dusk work followed by a good night’s sleep. Alone.” After a pause, she loosed a resigned sigh and asked, ”So…do any of you know where Lancet Street is?”
**************************************************
The solo walk through North Point and into Midland were a bit harrowing (pardon the pun) for Kayleigh: The streets were bursting with myriad energies: shock, anger, disbelief, rebellion…and even anarchy. While looking out for the usual dangers presented by gangs, the priestess also kept her eyes open for Kevlin Hillbrake, the young lad she’d been quested to find one morning earlier. The mystery presented by the harrow card and its message made it difficult for Kayleigh to concentrate, always trespassing on her thoughts.
Of course—the card was placed there by a friend of Mrs. Hillbrake…or someone else she'd spoken to about finding her missing child. This person has a lead for me and will divulge it at Lancet Street.
But if that were the case, why not just approach me openly and deliver the message? Why the secrecy? Why a harrow card?
And the message on the card hadn’t mentioned the missing boy at all—it was all about Gadren, and it hinted at retribution and maybe even violence.
As she passed through the city streets, rife with garbage and infused with emotion from the old king’s passing, every shadowy figure at the edge of Kayleigh’s vision became Gaedren Lamm. Before long, the skittish girl became aware that she was no longer looking for the missing child she’d been asked to find: she was jumping at shadows…Gaedren-shaped shadows.
Kayleigh stopped, took a deep breath, and spit out one very vulgar word, the sort of language she hardly ever used. It made her feel better. Good, because she was nearing the neighborhood where she believed Lancet Street to be located.
The *skritching* of a quill on parchment fills the still air of the small South Shore apartment suite. Another page of the spellbook filled in--another incantation committed to memory. Her hands were starting to cramp from all the writing she's been doing, and her backside had already went numb from sitting at her desk for hours.
Tassira leans back in her chair and sighs, rubbing her eyes and stretching her long legs underneath her desk. The past week has been an eventful one--after a long reign, word on the street was that King Eodred II had taken ill. Questions were flying left and right--who's going to succeed him? Will Korvosa be alright without his guidance? Which of its laws will be affected by his successor? And most importantly (at least, for most of the aristocracy), will I be affected in any way at all?
"That, and there's still the matter of getting my rent money together by the end of the month..." Tassira mumbles to herself as she gets out of her chair and stretches. I don't have enough together yet to keep the apartment... and work hasn't been working out too well for me.
"Then again, I'd probably have earned more if I wasn't so focused on Lamm." She grumbles as she tries to rub some feeling into her backside. Lamm had become a bit of a fixation for the young mage--ever since she lapsed into shiver addiction and near-death, the idea of finding him and bringing him to justice wouldn't leave her alone.
I wonder if Emileva's been having better luck than I have...
A *scratching* at her study door shakes her from her thoughts. She sighs and moves to open it.
"Ravnos, I really wish you wouldn't do that. It ruins the door's finish, and I can hear you meowing just fine if you're hungry--"
Her train of thought is interrupted as she opens the door and looks down at her calico tabby. The little cat is looking up at her with her soft green eyes, and she has a card of some sort in her mouth. Tassira cocks her head at her familiar and bends over to take the card.
She walks into the living room and more or less flops onto the couch, reading the card. The Snakebite? This is some sort of Harrow card, isn't it? Her cat hops up onto the couch as she turns the card over, reading over her shoulder.
"I know what Gaedren Lamm has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at noon. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done."
Tassira's eyes harden as she reads the handwritten message on the back. She briefly considers asking Ravnos where the cat found this card, but decides against it.
"...hmm." She mulls the card over for a moment before getting up from her couch. "It's better than nothing."
It could be a real lead, or it could easily be a lie. Whatever the case, it was at least something worth investigating--at least she'd be out of her apartment for a few hours. She walks over to the well-crafted leather backpack hanging from a peg on the wall and takes it before moving back to her study and slipping her spellbook into it. Then she gathered the weapons she had scattered about her home--a knife, a light crossbow, and a case of several bolts.
She's just about ready to leave when she feels her backpack become heavier with a "Meow!" She looks back and gives her familiar a little smile. Ravnos had claimed her backpack as a sort of living space for when the two had to go out.
The mageling steps out of her apartment and locks the door behind her. It was time to head out.
These crowds are perfect for me. No one is going to notice what I'm doing if they are all busy worrying about the old king or the new queen. I doubt it'll be much difference either way. All the people at the top are rotten as they allow people like Gaedren Lamm to exploit the poor and the Acadamae to make test subjects out of their students. Neziana's sharp eyes scan the crowd for the best target from underneath her hood. The cowl is making it rather warm on this spring day, especially for her furry ears, but she would rather suffer that than to draw attention to her unnatural beastial features.
The young tiefling girl spots what appears to be a shopkeeper yelling loudly to the sky, yet no one is paying particularly attention to him, however he seems really into what he's doing, complaining about having a foreigner and a woman ruling over them. Perfect, and someone with that kind of attitude towards women doesn't deserve to keep their coin anyway.
Her pulse quickens, but her actions remain calm as she leisurely strolls past the man. With deft fingers she cut lose his purse without him noticing and strolls on. That went well, this should be a good catch. Now I can afford food for today. She cheers inwardly.
Neziana makes her way over to a food stall where she purchases a piece of grilled salmon that she proceeds to wolf down with delight. Ahh, fresh salmon in the morning is wonderful.
Back on the street she thinks to herself. I really should figure out how to do something about Gaedren. Not only did he abuse me when I was a child, but he's responsible for my mother's death. I can't let that stand. I would love to do something about Rosti too, but he's protected by the walls of the Acadamae. It won't be easy to get to Gaedren, but at least he's out here on the streets. Though, how I'm going to get to him still remains a big question. While I think about that, I should see about collecting some more coin. A girl can never have enough coin.
Suddenly Neziana is wrested out of her thoughts as she feels the hands of someone else near her belt. Her hands shoot out, but come up empty and when she spins around to look, all she can see is people complaining or cheering about the dead king. Embarrassment fills her and she feels her cheeks growing even hotter. What a pickpocket I am. I stand here in the middle of the street, completely lost in my own thoughts, so distracted that I become a target myself.
The young rogue doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry as she searches herself to see what she has lost. Quite confused she finally determines that she hasn't actually lost anything at all, but rather someone have put a card of some sort in her pocket.
After walking into a less crowded part of the street Neziana picks it out and studies it. Some sort of bug with a crown? The queen mother? What is this for a message? Is it trying to tell me that the royalty is as ugly as bugs? I already knew that. Oh, there is something written here. Neziana's eyes goes wide as she read the message. They must be reading my mind... Who sent this? She looks around, but quickly stops again as she knows it's futile.
I don't like it. Why couldn't they just have talked to me? Something is not right here. Still, it's a better chance than what I got by myself. Now let's see about finding this street.
Just as you were leaving to attend the collapse and its resulting mayhem a distraught woman came into the Temple seeking the help of one of the priests there.
Later in the morning, after the tale of your childhood is done, Garlen relates the sad tale of a local book trader named Velaka Hoon who took his own life last night. The upset woman was his wife, who'd found him hanging in their parlor. It's said that the man was also a local writer and publisher of dark fiction, and his pamphlets and plays were much cherished by the masses. He has no theories why such a man would take his own life.
The tolling bells wake Nebbin wake with a start, his pulse pounding, as he finds himself in a strange room, dilapidated wooden walls barely holding up a leaky roof to protect him from the elements.
Wait, where am I? he thinks in a near-panic before memory comes flooding back. Oh, right, this is where they said I should stay to keep safe. No one will know I'm here.
He stands, trying not to kick the thin straw mattress that's serving as a bed, not that it was much worse than what he actually grew up with, if he were honest. He shivered as shouts from the street reached his ears.
What's going on? Did Lamm find me?
But though some of the shouts seemed angry, they didn't seem directed at him, at least.
Eodred? Ileosa? That's the king and queen ... I think. Why would people be shouting for them? Are they here? That doesn't make any sense. Why would they come here?
Confused, the big man gets dressed, grunting as he pulls on the leather armor his friends forced on him. He doesn't really want to wear it -- he knows he looks downright foolish in it; he may have the massive bulk to look like he belongs in armor, but he's just a Bridgefront boy, not some dashing warrior from the stories. But he also knows Lamm's thugs would like nothing more than to do to him what he did to Thamos Skel (even if Thamos Skel deserved it for what he was going to do!) and Nebbin's friends all saved to get him the armor to protect him.
Looking around, he pushes his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, and spots the big board he's been hauling around, like his friends insist. He feels silly about it, but ... well, it did work well when he hit Skel with it. And if they come at him again, well, he can defend himself, right? Even if he doesn't want to hurt anyone.
Steeling himself, the big man takes a deep breath and turns toward the rickety door, ready to go out into the cacophony outside.
It's just getting louder. I hope it's not something to do with me. I mean, it's not, right? I've never met the king or queen and I'm not ever going to, so what would it matter to me? He chuckles to himself. Could you imagine me, meeting the queen? That would be crazy! I'd have to learn to bow and ... wait, what's that?
He spots something new in his small room, a piece of ... paper? Trash? No, a card. He bent down to pick it up, examining it.
It's a card. Someone must have lost it. I should try to find out who so I can give it back.
A small chill runs up and down his spine as he sees the creepy crow painted on it and flips it over; maybe the owner put his name on the back, but more importantly, he wouldn't have to see that scary picture any more.
He pauses as he realizes the writing is not in fact the owner's name, but a message. Apparently to him.
What Gaedren Lamm has done to me? But he didn't really do anything to me? *I* attacked Skel. I guess he wants to do something to me now, though? Is that the same thing?
Still pondering the message, he heads out into the noise outside, flinching a little as a few people bump into him, before his size makes them give way (not that he means for them to do that, he'd be happy to step aside, but he never really seems to have to).
Maybe he'd head to Lancet Street, so he could return the card. And explain that it's his own fault ... sort of ... that he's having problems with Lamm.
Emileva leans against the wall in an alley just down from 3 Lancet Street, watching the building. She has a good view of the door and the street on either side of it and has spent more than half an hour watching for anyone or anything to move there and give her a hint about what''s to come.
She takes out the harrow card, The Liar, and looks it over once again. She had just bought a couple of mincemeat buns from a street stall when she found it. As she stuffed the buns into her purse for a later breakfast, there it was. It couldn't have been there more than fifteen minutes, She had been at home before that. When she read the card she instantly smelled a trap.
Whoever had placed the card in her purse was fast, with nimble fingers. The stall was the only place she had stopped. Although the crowds on the street made some jostling unavoidable, she had been moving quickly. Those nimble fingers didn't speak well for the cards origin.
The card itself practically threw her words back in her face. When she had confronted Ansel she had called him a liar more than once. It was almost as if the sender had been there to hear her. Someone who was in the crowd gathered around them? Ansel himself? He wouldn't dare do it. Unless he had been pressured to. Lamm would be just the kind of person who could apply that kind of pressure I guess. Of course Ansel squealed to Lamm, of course he did. The thought of Ansel brings a pressure to her chest before she puts him out of her mind.
She had wanted to go find Tassira and show her the card, but there wasn't time for that and scoping out the building before noon as well. The card mentions others like her. Maybe she and the wizard has asked the wrong question of the wrong person and come to Lamm's attention. Could Tassira have gotten one also? Probably just a lie to make coming sound more interesting. Best she isn't here anyway. I'll probably be dead very soon after walking in there, but at least she won't be.
Emileva puts the card back in her coat pocket and resumes watching the addresss. The extra people in the street make it more difficult to watch the place, but also distract from her loitering. Otherwise she ignores them. She had heard of the King"s death though her window first thing this morning. It had made her feel a little sick to realize how little it mattered to her anymore.
If she were still at the academy it would have been the only thing she would have thought about. A successor, and their possible policy changes, could alter the course of a career. But now she is only a couple of steps above a bum. Whoever sits on the throne won't matter in her life at all now.
Lancet street is a short, unremarkable alley on the north side of Highbridge with broken cobbles and drooping eves. 3 Lancet is a street-level shop door that opens to stairs leading into the building. In flowing script and fading paint, a sign on the door reads "Madame Zellara, Harrower". There's a very large crowd just blocks away at the front gates of Citadel Volshyenek, home of the City Guard, and the sound of their voices drifts up the street on gusts of breeze. The only others on the street seem mostly concerned with rushing to join that crowd. There's some indiscernible chant going up, something about the queen and it doesn't sound positive...
Nebbin walks up to the door, hesitating before it as he glances at his card, and then back at the sign. After a few moments, he knocks uncertainly.
Tired and a bit aggravated by the poor directions Crayden gave her, Kayleigh arrives at Lancet Street just in time to see a large man step up and knock on the front door of...Madame Zellara, Harrower. Doesn't ring a bell.
Uncertain as to whether this might be a trap set by Lamm, Kayleigh quickly decides she's no match for the big fellow at the door if he's one of Lamm's allies. Better to watch and wait before acting. Unfortunately, stealth and sneakiness are two things foreign to the priestess of Milani. And it's hard not to stand out in this city when you're dressed all in white, she chides herself. Kayleigh drops to one knee and pretends to tie the laces of her right boot.
There's no answer at the door. Repeated knocking brings no change. There's a cracked window in the door. Looking through it one can make out a dim landing at the top of the stairs and another door on the left, likely the proper entrance to the place.
Neziana walking with a mixture of grim determination to see it through and something like contentment that she might finally have found a way to get anywhere. Just out of habit she surveys the crowd around the building before heading to the door. Her heart skips a beat in surprise when she sees the woman in an armored coat with a huge sword very clearly studying the door.
Instead of stopping Neziana continues on leisurely then when out of sight turns back and find a place where she can hide and study both the woman and any others approaching the door. It pays to be safe. This might very well be a trap. It doesn't seem like Gaedren's style, but someone from the Acadamae could definitely do it.
Tassira eventually finds her way to the address on the card. After taking one too many wrong turns in Midland, of course...
She stops short when she arrives--apparently, she wasn't the only person who was summoned here.
There are two people present that she can see--one barrel-chested giant of a man with an equally large club knocking at the door, and a young woman with some sort of holy symbol around her neck peeking through the house's keyhole.
Ravnos jostles around in her backpack for a moment before she peeks her head out and blinks at something outside of Tassira's field of view. "...meow?"
I guess I should go and introduce myself... She thinks to herself and begins to step forward.
"Er... hello." She nervously waves at the two at the door. "Mind if I ask what you came here for?"
Kayleigh leaps to her feet, looking panicked and guilty as sin. Guilty of what exactly remains to be seen. Trying to recover her poise and calm, she laughs nervously and lightly says, "Oh...I was just considering having my fortune told by Madame Zellara. Have you seen her before? Is she any good?"
Tassira shakes her head. "No, not really..."
She fumbles around in her pockets before finding the card she received and pulling it out. "...I just got this card, and it said for me to come here."
The calico tabby in her backpack is now peeking over her shoulder, her whiskers twitching with curiosity.
"I got a card too!" Nebbin says excitedly, glad that there's someone (two someones, in fact, and pretty too, he realizes with a slight blush) he can check with about the right thing to do. "But there's no one here. I guess maybe we should come back later?"
...really?
Tassira's widen slightly. "Sir, what does your card say?"
Nebbin looks around for a moment at the woman's words and then realizes she means him.
"Oh, I'm not a sir," he says, as he pulls out the crows card and hands it to her. "Um, here, though. You can read it."
She has a cat! How bad of a person can someone with a cat be? And it's looking at me. Obviously I'm not very good at hiding. Though the people seems oblivious so far. She looks over at the other woman worriedly. Will she attack the people, or will she go back to report to her masters? Then the people pulling out cards catches her attention. They got cards too? What is this? Were we all lured here? Or is what's written on the cards true and we are gathered here to deal with Lamm? Either option is a possibility, but I sure hope it's the later. I kinda want to get closer to hear what they are saying, but what of the other woman?
She looks over at the woman then back at the group. Wait... That girl is familiar. Where do I recognize her from... She searches her memory, but her sharp mind has not forgotten. Kayleigh! That can't be a coincidence. I thought she was dead. Either way, she certainly got reason to want to deal with Lamm herself. That lends credibility to this operation. Bah, I don't want to wait anymore. She gives in to her impatience and curiosity.
The hooded girl approaches the others. She's oddly attired with her arms bare from her elbow, except for what looks like a fur glove on her left hand and similarly her legs bare from her knees down, but with what appears to be fur leggings on one leg where it appears to disappear into one of two sturdy boots. She is wearing an odd short cloak that ends mid-thigh, but with a hood over her head, putting her face in shadow.
She pulls out her own card and waves it at the others. "If your card is like mine, what it says is best discussed inside, away from prying eyes. I assume that's what you are here for as well Kayleigh? Even if you haven't shown your cards yet." At the mention of prying eyes she looks over at the other watcher before she makes for the door. Clearly intending to go inside and bring the others with her.
As Emileva watches the building, a large man approaches the door and knocks. With his club and muscular appearance, he's exactly what she was expecting. I made it here before Lamm's thugs. she thinks with some satisfaction, but also some disappointment. It is too bad there wasn't something to the offer on the card.
She stays in place to see what happens next, but from there things take a turn toward the odd. The man is not let in and seems to be confused by it. Then a woman in white who seems familiar to Em begins to linger around while trying to be inconspicuous. She could be the healer who was fetched for her a couple of months ago, when she had nearly slipped away due to the shiver, but Emileva can't be sure. Her state of mind at the time hadn't been all that sound.
But then Tassira shows up and approaches the woman in white! That's it then. There really are more people. Lamm's planning a massacre rather than just my murder. Can't walk away now. I'll have to warn Tassira and get her out of here.
Em takes second to focus herself and breath deeply a couple of time. The man at the door has noticed them and walks over. For an open street like this, she opts for the dagger, drawing it and starting forward walking briskly.
But the man, the woman in white, and Tassira seem to be comparing cards she realizes as she gets closer. As she walks up to them Emileva pushes the dagger into her belt, close at hand. As she reaches them she calls over to Tassira.
"What are you doing here Tassira? Meeting some friends?"
Kayleigh's mind can't adequately process what's going on with the gathering of strangers...some of whom aren't exactly strangers. She recognizes the two young women she helped out from bad reactions to shiver a few weeks back; both, she's pleased to note, look quite a bit healthier today. When someone addresses her by name, though, panic again sets in. Though it's been seven years, Kayleigh instantly recognizes Neziana. Her reaction to the cat-featured young woman isn't so ambivalent.
"Neziana!" the white-clad cleric gasps, unconsciously reaching for the handle of her morningstar. She worked for Lamm! It IS a trap! Then Kayleigh notices that Neziana, too, has one of the harrow card notes. "I take it you no longer work for Lamm?" she inquires, unable to keep an edge of suspicion from her tone.
Talk about putting me in a bad light. If these people got cards like mine they probably want to kill anyone who has ever worked for him. "No one wants to kill that bastard more than me. I didn't work for him, he exploited and abused me." Neziana sneers back in an angry voice, though she's careful not to raise her voice too much.
"Now, let's get inside, these are not words for the street." She opens the door and steps in. As she does so she feels a prickling sensation along her back, ready for the dagger to fall. She keeps half an eye on the others around the door.
"Wait!" Nebbin says panicked as the strange woman -- why's she wearing gloves and a hood when it's so warm? -- opens the door. "No one answered when I knocked. I think we should come back later."
As she passes Neziana to enter the fortuneteller's shop, a contrite Kayleigh whispers a quick apology to her fellow former Lamb before calling out to warn the proprietor that she's got visitors. When she hears Nebbin's words, she thinks Oh, he's right too!, but it's too late--she's already inside.
The door opens admitting you to the short set of steps and the small landing. There's a single door to the left with a note pinned to it. The note is written in the same hand as the messages on the cards.
"Thank you for coming. I had to step out for just a moment, but will be back directly. Please have a seat within. There's bread and drink provided to thank you for your time."
Tassira nervously swallows when she notices Emileva addressing her. "Oh... I don't know who any of these people are, really. I got a card saying I'd meet people interested in stopping Gaedren Lamm here..."
She warily follows the others into the small home. "...and apparently, we've been expected."
"Anyway... might I ask for your names?" She addresses the healer, the large man and the cowled one. "Mine's Tassira. And this is my familiar, Ravnos." She lowers her backpack to the floor and lets the calico tabby hop out.
The cat stretches and looks at the others with wide green eyes.
Relief flows through Neziana when the dagger she expected never falls. Maybe these aren't as prejudiced as the people at the academy, or maybe they simply haven't recognized what I am yet. The tiefling walks up to the message and reads it out loud for the benefit of the others.
She then turns to the rest and says. "Seems like whoever wrote this didn't want us to come back later. If this is some trick of Lamm's then the pieces would have already been set in motion by us showing up at the door, so we just gotta stay on our guard and do as best we can. This really isn't his style though..."
Seeing the familiar Ravnos fills her with a mix of emotions. That could have been me. Neziana is sad over what she has lost, but at the same time she's quite endeared by the cat. She can't help herself, walks over and drops to one knee and starts cuddling with him. "Nice cat, nice Ravnos." You cats are nicer to deal with than humans. Less judgemental and prejudiced. And of course you got lots of nice fur, just like my own, but all over.
The small calico tabby's tail points up and its tip dips as the cowled Neziana starts playing with her. "Meow!"
She rubs her head against the lady's knee and purrs.
"Ah, I have one as well." Emileva pulls out her card and holds it up with a grim smile.
Inside the house Emileva looks about, and relaxes a little when it seems they are the only ones there, but only a little.
"So we mostly don't know each other, but all have something to settle with Gaedren Lamm. How did the person, maybe this Madame Zellara, know about all of us though? I for one have never actually even seen Lamm in person. It bothers me."
Emileva considers a trip upstairs to look around.
Seeing everyone else enter, Nebbin follows the women. He looks around as Neziana reads the note and heads toward one of the chairs before stopping with a start.
He moves to the wall and gingerly leans his heavy board up against it, pausing a second to make sure it doesn't fall, then heads back and carefully sits down.
"I'm Nebbin," he says. "I don't have a familiar, though. We had a chicken once, but someone took it."
He ponders for a moment at Emileva's question.
"Maybe the cards told her? She's a Hollower or something like that?"
As the toughest-looking woman present (Emileva) says, "Ah, I have one as well," Kayleigh can't prevent a sudden giggle from escaping her. "I thought you meant you were carrying around a cat as well!" she chuckles. The cleric gives a silly wave to Ravnos but doesn't pet the feline (not wanting to add cat hair to the list of filthy stuff soiling her clothes).
"I'm Kayleigh--Kayleigh Fairwind," she says by way of introductions. "Some of your faces are familiar to me but not your names. Oh, and I'm not really looking to bring Lamm to justice, though I wouldn't pass up the opportunity if it presented itself. I've been asked to find a young boy who went missing in Midland...and is now, perhaps, in Lamm's clutches."
Out of habit, Kayleigh casts purify food and drink on the bread before sampling it and uses another spell (create water) to make her own drink.
Tassira moves to open the door leading further into the house. "Well, we might as well make ourselves comfortable..."
Ravnos turns and follows her mistress into the room.
Neziana looks up from petting the cat. She's smiling from the exchange, which might be possible to see despite the hood due to the angle. "Ah, sorry. I got carried away. I'm Neziana. Neziana Fentel."
She stands up and walks after Nebbin and Kayleigh into the room. There she digs into the food as fast and as much as possible. Though she takes a small pause to let Kayleigh bless the food. I'm not going to pass up free food.
After she has eaten a bit she looks over to the others. "About bringing Lamm to justice..." She nods towards Kayleigh. "I already mentioned how he abused and exploited me, when I was younger. But he is also responsible for my mother's death. I certainly want to make him pay for what he has done. It doesn't appear like any authorities care enough, so if it's going to be done, we have to do it yourself. Do you not all have grievances with him?" She looks around to the others, trying to get them to fill in their stories, but being rather brusque about it. She has guessed that the cards all say similar things, so the others must have some history with Lamm as well.
"I remember you," Kayleigh says softly to Neziana. "Seven years ago, I found a holy symbol of Milani wedged in a crack in a curbstone and took it to the Pantheon of Many in South Shore. Gaedren Lamm caught me with it, broke it, and said that no god could care for such a weak and useless child. He beat me almost to death. I was found and healed by a kind priest from the temple and worked there for most of the past seven years. Only recently did I move to Old Korvosa to help care for the poor there. I had forgotten about Lamm--or blocked him from my memories--until yesterday, when I was quested with finding that missing child. And then, this morning, I found this card...."
The young woman holds out a harrow card: The Carnival.
"I think he actually wants to kill me. I, um, accidentally beat up one of his men -- becausehewasgoingtohurtafriendofmine! -- and I think he's mad at me," Nebbin explains, speaking very quickly at one point.
I don't want them to think I really meant to hurt someone.
He looks around to make sure these strangers don't think he's a monster now.
Tassira's face darkens. "...I'm a recovering shiver addict. Almost killed me. I heard he was the dealer responsible--so I'm going to try to bring him to justice."
She holds up her Harrow card: the Snakebite.
"My story is much the same as Tassira's" Emileva says tersely.
"What's... Your name?" Neziana says brusquely to Emileva, the only one left unnamed, between mouthfuls of food. She has started eating again. Never know when you'll get food. So eat what you can when you can.
She looks over at Nebbin with half an eye. There is an undercurrent of anger in her voice, though she's pleased by what she sees and hears of the young man. "If you beat up his men it means you can fight. That's a good thing. The bully probably deserved it too for what he has done to countless people like your friend. For what he might have done to my mom. There was no one around to stop her from getting beaten up." She finishes bitterly.
The door is unlocked and opens onto the main room of a small apartment home. The cozy chamber is filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The aroma comes from several sticks of incense smoldering in wall-mounted burners that are shaped like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke gives the room a dreamy feel. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling human hearts, another showing a pair of angels dancing on a snow-capped peak. A third tapestry on the far wall depicts a tall, hooded figure shrouded in mist, holding a flaming sword in a skeletal hand. Several brightly colored rugs cover the floor, but the room's only furnishings are a wooden table covered by a bright red throw cloth and surrounded by six elegant, high-backed chairs. A basket covered by a blue cloth sits on the table containing a bottle of wine and several loaves of bread.
As you're having your discussion and sharing out the wine and the bread (for those eating), the doorknob turns and a middle-aged Varisian woman opens the door. She's of middling height and apparent age - attractive in an exotic kind of way, flowing skirts and jangling bracelets. Her black tresses, touched here and there with strands of grey, are bound back in a bright red kerchief. She smiles when she sees the five of you seated around the table and softly closes the door.
Thank you, friends for coming here on this most fateful day, and bearing with my unconventional way of contacting you. She seems sincere enough in her demeanor as she speaks, addressing all of you and none of you at once.
I have a good reason for my secrecy, I assure you. One each of you will likely understand very well once I explain. I speak of course of Gaedran Lamm, a man whose gift for cruelty is exceeded only by his apparent ability to evade any kind of justice for his crimes. You see, a year ago one of these poor urchins he seems to perpetually exploit lifted these from my pocket. She produces a deck of harrow cards from some deep pocket of her skirts and holds it out in her palm as evidence, before sliding into the remaining seat and beginning to shuffle the cards idly.
Her demeanor takes on a note of the somber as she continues.
These cards are important to me - an heirloom of my family, really. Handed down from mother to daughter for generations beyond my knowledge. The power of my sight, it's in both places, if you follow me - in my eyes, and in the cards. I knew the instant they were taken, but I was too slow to catch the nimble thing. He darted through the crowds and I collided with a merchant. My son, however... my fine boy couldn't be shaken so easy. He chased the thief through the market and caught him!
The cards stop moving for a moment. She hides her face and sniffs, checks herself and begins again, her voice growing ever quieter and more brittle.
They fought. My Eran won and took back my cards. I came up as he was walking away from the fight, the thief lay in the street with his pockets turned out and his shoes pulled off and thrown in the river. Eran had a cut... She gestures with one hand to a place above her left eye, then her hands return to the harrow deck and the shuffling begins anew.
I knew then - right then in the street, that a die had been cast. A card turned. That somewhere the Demon's Lantern shone down on our fates. These cards do not lie to me.
Gaedran's boys tracked Eran down the next day. They cut his throat and threw him in the river. The Guard told me it was gang war, that my Eran was caught in a Sczarni deal that went wrong, and that his murderers were wanted men already.
This is not the case. Now the cards begin to blur in her expert hands, thoroughly and definitively shuffled. She stops again and places the deck face down on the cloth.
This vile creature has strength. This I cannot defeat with my powers - they don't lie in that direction. But this creature also exists as much by guile, and this advantage I DO have the power to strip away. I have seen his nest, he cannot hide. He's evaded the eyes of the watch for decades, committing his petty crimes and ruining the small lives that fall into his clutches. But he cannot evade this eye, she flips the top card up almost angrily and it lands in the middle of the table, face-up. The Mute Hag stairs back at you with her sightless sockets and her accusing eye, clutched in the hag's fangs.
She whips the card back into the deck and pulls the next nine cards into her hand face down. She spreads the cards in a fan, and presents them to each of you in turn to pull a random card.
Verces and Aucturn dance their dance tonight, and the suit of moment is the suit of Keys. We call this the Choosing, if you've never experienced a harrowing before. Choose a card and find your own path through the reading. Gaedran must pay for his crimes.
Emileva - The Locksmith
Neziana - The Avalanche
Tassira - The Rabbit Prince
Kayleigh - The Demon's Lantern
Nebbin - The Dance
Tassira doesn't say anything as the Varisian lady steps in through the door, but Ravnos eyes her with interest. She picks up the cat and settles her in her lap as the fortuneteller relates her tale.
"...hm." Tassira tries to think of something to say, but there's little that's coming to mind... what does one say about someone's son dying for no reason? "I... um, I'm sorry for your loss, madame."
When the fortuneteller spreads her cards out, Tassira tentatively reaches out for one, but Ravnos beats her to it, snatching up a card in her mouth and dropping it in her hand. The mageling gives her cat a curt, disapproving look before looking at the card she picked...
"Er... the Rabbit Prince?" Tassira arches an eyebrow in confusion. "Actually, ma'am, before we begin, I have a question about these cards."
She holds up her Snakebite card. "I'm not familiar with how this works. What do these cards mean?"
They mean everything and nothing at all. They mean fortune, death, joy, pain, virtue, ruin, certainty and doubt. The unavoidable future, the uncertain past, the lies wrapped in hope, fantasies and nightmares. No one card's meaning remains the same from one reading to the next, its place in the spread, its appearance in the choosing, the intentions of the subjects of the reading, all of it.
You likely cannot know how the cards work together without years of practice at the knee of someone with the true sight. For me, whatever talent I possess in this way was learned over the course of a childhood - all the days of my life from the moment I could shuffle the cards to the day my mother passed. This was the span of my tutelage. For another, perhaps an afternoon might suffice. In this Age of Lost Omens, the power of our sight is said to be severely diminished, but I've never known another way, so the power still seems a miracle to me sometimes.
This card, she says, pointing at the Rabbit Prince as you hold him aloft, is the Rabbit Prince. Today, right now, in this reading, he marks your path, Tassira Vantyev, through the pattern of this harrowing. Name him Tassira, the Rabbit Prince, and if he shows his face again we'll know him for you. But he may also carry his own meaning in the spread. This will unfold before us as the Harrowing continues.
She reaches over and scratches Ravnos behind the ears with affection, then takes back your card and adds it back to the deck.
Ravnos purrs as Madame Zellara scratches her behind the ears.
Tassira doesn't respond to the fortuneteller's cryptic explanation, instead neatly folding her hands in her cat-occupied lap.
...I'm starting to understand Master Leroung's distaste for longwinded, unclear explanations.
Nebbin's eyes fill with tears as Madame Zellara recounts the story of her son's murder.
Not quite sure what's going on, he decides the most polite thing to do would be to take the card she's offering.
She's suffered so much, I don't want to be rude...
He reaches out, taking the card, before belatedly glancing -- slightly wild-eyed -- toward the others to see what they're doing.
Emileva sits down at the table with the others. She did not intend to eat, but with Kayleigh's purification completed she decides there is no danger of a mass poisoning and nibbles at some bread. In answer to Nezania's inquiry she replies "My name is Emileva."
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Emileva sits quietly as the Varisian woman shuffles her cards and explains her reason for inviting them all here. The woman's story about the death of her son draws no comment from her, but Em's mouth is set in a line that is almost a frown. When she is offered a card, she takes one. She looks at it: The Locksmith. After Zellara discusses Tassira's card, she flips hers around to show it.
"And this one? What does it mean?" Although Em is skeptical of the card reading, she keeps her voice neutral. The woman might be crazy, or just really believe what she's saying about Harrow cards, but this isn't Lamm's style from what I've put together about him. We're in no immediate danger at least.