As they walk to a place they know they can safely grab a meal Obella looks thoughtful.
The day is even hotter now, as late afternoon comes on. The pair stick to the shadows with the ease of long time natives. It isn't a matter of stealth but survival. The late day heat is enough to kill a man, if he is not careful.
As they round a corner Obella says, 'I think we will need an inside man, if we really want to do this."
"An inside man would be ideal. Do you know anyone? Part of the reason for checkin' out the gardens was to get more info on who comes and goes. The only person I can think of is the servant who almost had us arrested. I don't think he's be too happy to see us at his door, do you?"
After a moment Rayka adds, "Maybe this is somethin' Anax can help us with if he shows tonight. He's been lookin' at the manor for awhile so maybe he can point us in the right direction."
Obella shrugs, "I don't know anyone, but we should keep our eyes and ears open. A disgruntled servant or something could work nicely. Maybe even just someone who delivers stuff?" The halfling suggests, obviously slightly unsure herself.
The two of them find a small tavern they frequent. It is semi-hidden below an old jail, now abandoned. While not illegal, it keeps quiet and isn't really open to the Chelish, who don't know it exists.
The small, smoky main room is full of shady characters and a few outright criminals. Rayka recognizes most of them, at least by face if not knowing them personally.
Rayka asks around for some information on a few topics. Obella helps but Rayka seems luckier then usual today and runs into a few talkative barflies.
White Jackals- They seem to be a weird sort, and most of their crimes are selling/buying illegal magical items for the black market. They run a few stalls in most of the clandestine markets that spring up all over the city, avoiding Chelish taxes and rules. No one knows much about Anax except he seems a bit more interested in magic then crimes.
Manor Servants- Rayka finds out the manor doesn't hire very often and the turnover is low. She doesn't get any names of servants there, but she does hear they hire a good deal of people to help with the frequent parties, including local musicians and other entertainers.
As they learn more about the White Jackals and Anax, Rayka leans over and whispers to Obella, "See? Magic."
A full stomach and being out of the heat did a lot to put Rayka in a better frame of mind. She finds it more interesting and bearable to talk with the patrons who had had a little too much to drink. Thankfully this also loosened their tongues. When they had gleaned all that they were going to, they retreated to a table in the back to discuss their next move.
"So, do we track down some local musicians and see what they can tell us or do we try to get hired for one of their parties? Maybe they need extra serving staff or maybe I could convince them that their guests would like themselves sketched. Although I'm not very good at convincing people with words."
Obella sips her wine before answering. The little halfling never cared for beer or ale and actually had a refined taste for wine, despite being a street rat.
”If we want to get hired, we'd have to go to Amon's Square.”
Amon's Square is a large city square once used for religious festivals and events before the Awakening., Now it acted as a local labor auction for the Chelish. Everyday people looking for work arrive and are inspected and hired by local Chelish employers. Due tot he nature of the work however, this is often a last resort for the city dwellers and working for the Chelish can give a person a bad reputation.
'As for the musicians...We could try the temple of Sheyln.” her faces turns a bit red at it.
Rayka raises an eyebrow at her friend before breaking out in a grin. "So the temple of Shelyn it is then. That way I can meet whoever it is that can make you blush like that. And maybe I'll find out why you didn't tell me. Unless you want to tell me now..."
Obella hides behind her cup, shielding her face before saying, 'It isn't like that. It is just a nice place, with all the music and dancing...stop grinning!" She says and buried her face in her hands.
From this melodramatic bit of shame she says, "Do you have anything colorful to wear? They frown on the usual browns and dirt there."
The more Obella protests, the more Rayka's grin widens. "Music...and dancin'. That's it? Or is it who you get to dance with?"
Rayka looks down at her things. "You know all the stuff I got. My mom's scarf ain't colorful enough? I guess I could always pick up somethin'. What'd you have in mind?"
Obella pointedly ignores Rayka's questions but says, 'A scarf? Rayka! I won't have you embarrassing me in front of my new friends. You'll need a whole new outfit, at the least. Maybe a bath too." her nose wrinkles slightly, although as far as Rakya knows, the halfling hasn't had a bath in weeks either.
"We have to look presentable, especially if we are asking for information." Obella goes on. 'And no fighting! They really frown on violence there.
"New friends?!? More than one? What's wrong with the old ones? It ain't because of how I dress, is it?" A horrified expression crosses the brawler's face, "You ain't gonna make me wear a dress, are you? There's certain things that friends just don't ask friends to do."
Rayka's brow furrow at Obella last comment. "Is this what you think of me? That I go around fightin', rollin' in the dirt, and wearin' rags? I didn't realize that you thought I was such an embarrassment."
Obella's face gets even redder and she starts to actually look upset. It is plain to Rayka, who knows her well, that Obella is really speaking about her own self-esteem issues in her remarks about Rayka's dress.
"Of course not, of course not. Let's just go. I'm sure it'll be fine." She stands up right away, knocking over her wine nervously.
Rayka's face softens as she cleans up the spilled wine. "Obella, you're one of my favorite people so if you think that'll help then let's do it. I'll agree that maybe I could use somethin' more colorful and if you want to help me pick somethin' or get yourself anythin' then let's do it. It's not like we treat ourselves often."
Obella's face breaks into a real smile, and she says, "And maybe having some nice clothes will come inhandy for the job anyway. WHo knows what we might have to do."
She finishes the remains of the wine and says, 'Come on, I know a stall that sells used clothes from Chelish girls when they are outgrown."
Rayka sighs in resignation knowing that she was going to end up in a dress somehow. It's not like Chelish girls ever wore pants. She follows Obella and mutters, "You're lucky I like you. Lead the way."
Obella, leads the way out of the smoky and dirty secret tavern, back out onto the streets. The sun is lowering now, and starting to cast long shadows over the streets. The city is cooling slightly and life is picking up again, with pedestrians once again emerging.
Rayka's friend leads her into the heart of the city, but still in the poor sections. They dodge through a few back alleys and courtyards, at one point even passing through a house, before coming up to a tiny market stall at the edge of a bazaar.
A sharp looking woman is running the stall, with iron-gray hair and a wrinkled tiny body. Her black eyes spot Obella instantly and she smiles, revealing brown teeth, "Why, if it isn't my favorite customer."
The stall owner gazes at Rayka, "Is this your friend you speak so much about?" She smiles at the brawler, "You are in need some something a bit fancier?"
Around her are stacks of used but clean clothes of all types, men's, women's and children. It is a riot of color and a world away from the brown homespun Rayka usually wore.
Rayka glances sharply at her friend as the stall owner warmly greets the halfling. How often is she comin' here?
She smiles politely at the woman, "I've been told that what I got ain't nice enough so I'm needin' somethin' to be a little more presentable but not too fancy. But I doubt I'm the one Obella's been talkin' about." Apparently we ain't as close as I thought. But Rayka kept that last thought to herself.
She showed her mother's scarf to the lady. "Do you have anythin' that would go with this?"
The woman eyes the bolt of multi-colored cloth Rayka holds forth. She touches the heirloom with experienced fingers, rolling it.
'Ah, good Taldan silk. This is rare stuff." She doesn't say she is surprised to find it in the hands of a street urchin. 'And many colors. It will be easy to match."
She looks squarely at Rayka, "So what do you mean by presentable?" She glances at Rayka's rough hands and scarred knuckles, "Will you still need to fight where you are going? " The shopkeep asks lightly.
"Presentable means not embarrassin' my friend. But I ain't a lady and I ain't dainty. Puttin' a dress on me probably be like putting pearls on a pig."
The brawler follows the woman's eyes down to her hands and she flexes her fingers. Then she looks up, meets her gaze, and grins. "I don't go lookin' for fights but I ain't afraid of finishin' 'em. They leave me alone then there ain't a need to fight."
The woman nods, 'Wise words." The graying clothes seller turns to the stacks of her clothes and begins pulling out items, muttering to herself.
Obella stands off to the side and mutters something like "I already have nice clothes to wear..' The halfling is looking more embarrassed by the minute with this whole affair.
After a bit the old woman hands Rayka a long tunic like dress saying, "I think this will do. You wear it like a tight dress, cinched at the waist. However, it is flowing enough and you wear leggings under it. So you won't be confided like in a real dress. Ten gold pieces..."
The cloth is clean and strong, with the weave in tact. Best of all it is a kaleidoscope of colors, that shimmer in the red evening light.
Rayka actually smiles when she sees the colors of the long tunic. She starts to reach out to touch the fabric but then becomes self-conscious of the dirt on her hands. She quickly pulls her hand back and reaches for her belt pouch instead. However, before handing over the money she turns to Obella and asks, "So, will it do?"
Rayka stows her package in her bag and falls into step beside Obella. Hundreds of questions parade through her mind but she figures that a lot of the answers will become clear when they actually visit the temple of Shelyn so she keeps those questions to herself. But there is one question that she asks the halfling. "So are you goin' to make me have a bath too or are we just goin' to change and go?"
Obella nods at the bright new clothes and they leave, the old woman wishing them well. Rayka feels strange moving through the streets, carrying finery at her side. At least it isbetter then trying to sneak around wearing a rainbow...
At her word Obella grins, still a bit red-faced, "Actually, we did both take a dip in the canal today. So that should cover things."
Her friend is rather quiet as they move around buildings and streets, Obella leading the way. To Rayka's surprise she hears the little halfling muttering what sounds like snatches of poetry or song under her breath, as if trying to remember them. None of them sound like anything Rayka has heard before although her experience is mostly either childish lullabies or drunken tavern songs.
Finally in a clean but quiet street Obella stops saying, "Ok, let's change here. Around the corner is the temple. It is disguised as a stable. Sheyln isn't exactly illegal here but they don't like uninvited guests."
Rayka looks around, "Right here? In the middle of the street? Or does one of these buildin's belong to you?"
"So, do you trust me to do the talkin' or would you like to considerin' they probably already know you here?" Rayka looks doubtful, "But if I need to recite poetry as a password or somethin' to get in then you should do it - since you seem to know some already." When Obella's head snaps up at Rayka's last comment, she gives her friend a grin and gleefully watches as Obella's face reddens again.
'Well, we can just throw our new clothes on over our old ones. Should do in a pinch." Obella says, pulling a bright magenta robe out of her pack, an article of clothing Rayka has never seen before.
At the mention of poetry Obella's face turns the same shade as the robe as she answers, 'No, it isn't a password. I am just...well, I usually do a bit or two when I arrive. They seem to like it." She hides her face under the robe, pulling it over her head.
Rayka shrugs and pulls her new garment over her head. She then uses her mother's scarf as a makeshift belt to cinch it in at the waist.
Rayke stops and looks at her friend in amazement. Wait, you wrote that? Such an interesting hidden talent, why keep that to yourself? Or are you just keeping it from me? And if so, why?"
She looks embarrassed and says, "Who would want to hear it on the street? We are always busy looking for the next meal or dodging Chelish patrols. I don't think a poem is much good then. besides, they aren't very good."
Without saying anything else, correctly dressed, they cross the street to a big rambling stables. Out of a shadow corner a tough looking man appears, but upon seeing Obella he nods gruffly. He opens a side door in the wall and Rayka hears music, pouring out o the doorway. It is sad, melodious music the like of which she had never experienced. It made her heart melt as the tones reached up and up toward the heavens...he breath catches in her throat at the song.
Obella smiles and says, "You get use to it."
Together they step into a well lit circular room full of people. It is a very active place with some people playing instruments, some singing, a few painting and some just sitting and talking. All are wearing elegant colorful clothes, quite the contrast to the drab exterior. Event he walls are painted stucco, bright yellows and reds.
Eyes turn toward them as they enter and a few cry out, Knne, which Rayka knows is the Old Osrion word for 'sweet'. Obella blushes more but waves.
A slight young man walks over, looking a bit embarrassed himself. He is wearing the same bright colors as everyone else, and holds a wet paintbrush in one hand. He bows formally to Obella (despite being a small man, he is still nearly twice her height), 'Hello, Knne.'
Then he nods politely to Rayka, 'A friend?' Obella looks too tounged-tied to even speak. Rayka, who knows her so well, can tell instantly her friend is smitten with the man but won't tell him herself.
Many are looking at Rayka now, curious what the newcomer will say or not. There is also an edge of tension in the air. As Obella said, this is not strictly illegal but the Chelish law enforcement can be very fickle.
Rayka is caught off guard by the music. There is very little that stirs up her feelings anymore so to be moved in such a way is very surprising. She forms a couple fists in order to dig her finger nails into her palms to keep herself from reacting emotionally.
Knne? She resists the urge to raise an eyebrow at Obella.
Rayka inclines her head towards the young man. "Sure, yes, I'm her friend..." Then she mutters under her breath, "I think."
"I'm Rayka." She looks at the paintbrush in his hand. "You paint?" She holds up her sketchpad. "I draw. I'd like to see your work if it's ok." She would have waited for Obella to introduce her guy friend but Rayka realizes that she'd be waiting for a long time. "And you are?"
At Ryak's words about drawing his eyes light up, and Yayka sees they are a rich dark green, rare in the city.
'Ah, excellent. A fellow artist. Knne, I didn't know you were hiding your talented friends from us."
The young man leads them both to a canvas saying, 'My name is Aman. I used to live in Wati, but I moved here to meet other artists. So far it has proved very profitable."
He grabs the canvas and slowly reveals it, looking nervous himself. he is still young enough that showing his work bothers him apparently.
'It is that of a Chelish shipwreck. I heard a drunk sailor telling the story a few months ago. What do you think?"
Obella looks at the painting, visibly moved although Rayka isn't sure if it is the painting or the painter that is effecting her.
Again, the brawler sees many watching her, wondering what he reaction will be.
"I ain't no scholar but you definitely captured the raw power of the sea. I know what I like and I like that." Under her breath she adds, "Especially 'cause it's a Chelish shipwreck."
She nudges her friend and pushes her forward slightly, "But I'm sure that Knne can speak more eloquently about it than me. She's good with words, ain't she?"
Obella looks like she is would rather melt into the stone paved floor, as Rayka pushes her forward. A few others come over, wanting to hear what the little halfling will say. Obviously hearing her recite is a bit of an event.
Seeing there is no way out, Obella slowly calms down. She closes her eyes, and begins to recite, her voice high and clear.
The ocean has its silent caves,
Deep, quiet and alone;
Though there be fury on the waves,
Beneath them there is none.
The awful spirits of the deep
Hold their communion there;
And there are those for whom we weep,
The young, the bright, the fair.
Rayka looks about and sees tears in a few eyes, while others are nodding. By their standards this is well said. A few more people pause their work or recital to hear the words and they drift through the dry, dusty air.
Calmly the wearied seamen rest
Beneath their own blue sea.
The ocean solitudes are blest,
For there is purity.
The earth has guilt, the earth has care,
Unquiet are its graves;
But peaceful sleep is ever there,
Beneath the dark blue waves.
As she finished there is a moment of silence as everyone savors the words. Then, slowly, the moment passes and the world re-starts. Men and women talk and laugh, the music starts again and Aman ventures, "That was...very good, Knne."
He turns to Rayka, "Do you have anything to share?"
Rayka pats her friend on the back to congratulate her performance. Then she looks up in surprise at Aman's question. "I ain't good at speakin' like Knne and my drawin's ain't near as good as yours. I draw to remember my parents and because I enjoy it. I ain't even sure I'm any good," she shrugs, "But if you promise not to be too harsh, you're welcome to look."
She didn't realize how difficult it would be to actually hand over her sketchbook to a stranger until she was about to. But she'd already offered and couldn't change her mind now. Tentatively she says, "Here."
Aman takes the drawings and holds them up to the soft light. He nods appreciatively and murmurs a few compliments but an older man glides over, eyes fixed on them.
"This is great work." he says, reaching out to touch the cheap, much folded paper, "The use of angles and shading reminds me of old Delkaris, a great master with pencil and paper." A few heads nod although Rayka isn't sure they agree or just want to seem wise.
The man looks at Rayka, 'What did you say your name was? And where did you learn to draw like this?"
Rayka looks at the man skeptically, "Seriously? You think they're great?" She didn't want to admit that she didn't know who Delkaris was. Her mother had tried to teach her specifics about art but Rayka had only ever just wanted to draw, not learn.
"My name's Rayka. My mother taught me. Her name was Tahmine Parekh and she was an artist. Her work was beautiful but," her voice caught, "it's all gone now. I guess I got some of her talent."
The older man shakes his head sadly, "In better times, you would have been discovered early with talent like this, and taken under the wing of an experienced master. Maybe even taught in a school, patronized by the Pharaoh. Given the right guidance and made works to please the courts and glorify our nation."
Then he sighs heavily, "But now...weeds fill the garden and the flowers are cut down by Chelish swords." A despondent air seems to enter the small chamber, and someone plays a sad air on a flute.
After a moment it slowly passes and the man says, "Did you come just to show off your work or was their something else? I don't recall Knne bringing anyone else with her before."
It's hard to comprehend how different her life would have been had the Awakening never happened or if her parents had lived. The man speaks to a life that seems completely foreign to the brawler.
Rayka looks thoughtful before saying, "Well it looks to me that there are still some flowers in the garden. I mean you guys are all still here and makin' beautiful art."
She actually chuckles at the man's last question. "Quite the opposite. I came to speak with any musicians who may have played at one of the famous parties held at Iuncus manor. It had never occurred to me to show my work until Aman asked."
The old man shrugs at her remarks, 'Yes, we are here, but essentially underground. The Chelish only allow 'proper' art to be openly practiced, and by that they mean politically correct. Poems must praise the House of Thune, painting must depict Chelish victories, songs must be odes to devils...It is sickening."
A younger man ventures, 'And they pay piss poor too!"
Everyone laughs and the mood is lifted slightly. But Rayka notes the clothes are a bit threadbare, the faces a little too lined, cheeks a bit too hollow. This is a desperate group holding off despair at a knife's edge.
At her question the older man says, "Ah, then you'll want Henri. He has preformed at a few Chelish events. But you might not get much sense out of him right now."
He waves at a red-faced young man slumped in a corner, fast asleep. In one arm a wine bottle is cradled like a baby, in the other a lute lies. Rayka's speaker shakes his head, 'Such a waste. When he performs, he could make the moon shed tears but now? Why bother? The Chelish have no ears for such things."
She glances over at Aman's painting appreciating the fact that painting a Chelish ship wreck is actually quite brave on the young artist's part.
Rayka curses quietly under her breath when she sees that the person she needs to talk to is passed out drunk. Then her face reddens as she realizes how street urchiny her language must make her seem.
"How long has he been sleepin'? Is it worth tryin' to talk to him now or should I, we, come back?"
The older man shrugs, 'It won't get much better. If he isn't hired for a job, he can be like this for days. Excuse me, I think Knne is presenting another poem, I don't want to miss it."
And indeed Rayka's friend is, under apparent urging from the crowd, beginning to recite another bit of poetry. The sight of the small halfling surrounded by admiring people, most of them much taller then her, is amusing at first until you see her expression.
Her eyes are closed, her face upturned to the brightly painted ceiling in a pose of quiet yet complete joy.
Rayka has never seen Obella so joyful, so at peace. She can't help but watch her friend with undivided attention.
Once the halfling is finished with her oration, Rayka moves over to Henri and tries to rouse him from his drunken stupor.
Rayka is not a gentle sort of person on the best of days but she tries to be careful with the musician since she's certain that others are watching. She begins by nudging him in the leg with her foot. When that gets no response Rayka crouches next to the young man, grabs his shirt, and gives him a somewhat gentle shake. When her efforts are rewarded by only a loud snore, she gives him a solid slap across his cheek.
The loud slap rings through the room, as Rayka hits him a bit harder then she intends to. As a brawler, sometimes she forgets her owns strength.
Henri is rolled to the side by the blow, hitting his head on the wall. Jolted awake he looks around blearily and then, without further ado, begins to vomit onto the floor. It narrowly misses Rayka, who shuffles back.
As the young man is sick, Rayka studies him. As she guessed from the exotic name, he is not a native Orison. His pale skin and fair hair mark him as a Andoran or perhaps even Chelish (although that seems unlikely). Sothis was a big city and there were still foreigners here, even after the Awakening and the turmoil that followed. Most were oppressed by the Chelish just as much as the real natives.
After a few moments, Herni leans back and takes a long swig from his bottle, cleaning out his mouth. Looking up at Rayka with a combination of apprehension and anger he splutters, 'What did you do that for?"
Rayka winces when she realizes her slap to Henri's face was so hard. She's about to apologize profusely when he starts to drink again. Instead she snatches the bottle out of his hand. "I needed you awake and I hate seein' someone let their talent go to waste. I tried to wake you up gently but you were beyond subtlety."
"I was told that your talent could make the moon shed tears." She looked at him skeptically. "Is this true? 'Cause if it is, why would you ever choose bein' passed out over makin' music? Do you really enjoy wine more than you like playin' your lute?"
She sighs, "But I digress. What I really need to know is more about the Chelish parties you played at. Did you ever play at Iuncus Manor?"
The man looks offended at Rayka's remarks, but obviously can't keep up with her barrage of questions. His head bobs and weaves and focuses on the bottle. he makes a stumbling grab for it, fails, and lands on his face. Slowly, he rightens himself, sitting back on the brightly painted wall.
He mutters something that sounds like big bully but it is too low for Rayka to be sure.
Coughing he goes on, "Why do you care? I got fired a few months ago, threw me out into the street like a lazy servant." His face turns red from his coughing and he says, 'Come on, give me a drink. I need it."
Rayka can't answer his first question and basically says as much. "I don't know why I care. Seems to me you have people here that care about you and would appreciate your music. Just 'cause you ain't gettin' paid anymore don't mean that you drink yourself stupid instead of doin' what the gods blessed you with."
At his last declaration, Rayka offers him a deal. "You answer my questions and I'll pour you a glass."
Henri's pale face brightens at the last remark and he even manged a smile.
"Now that sounds like a better deal." He tries to stand up, wobbles and half falls, half slides back down the wall.
"Do we have to go anywhere or can we stay here?"
"I think it's safer for everyone if we stay here."
Rayka looks around for a glass and gives up shortly as she realizes they are in a place of art, not food. She digs in her things and pulls out a cup from her mess kit. "It ain't fancy but it'll do."
Settling down beside Henri she starts, "So what can you tell me about these Chelish parties? What goes on there and who's typically invited?"
Henri eyes the empty cup and says, 'I was kind of hoping you'd fill it with something. That is rather the point."
But he does go on saying, "Which type? Every week they throw a big event, and invite dozens of guests. Basically a chance to throw off to each other, dressed up in finery, with lots of dancing, expensive food that is tastefully wasted and rather overt flirting."
A small smile passes over his red face, "Ah, the music. Say what you want about the Chelish, but they know music. harpists that could make the very air come alive with golden harmony, drums that would stir the soul and voices...ah, voices of the like I've never heard."
Then the moment passes and he adds, "Other nights it is more of a private club affair. Big roaring fires, serious conversations over port, small games of chance, that sort of thing."
Then the musician grins, "Why, thinking of going? Sorry, only Chelish allowed,. except as servants of course."
Rayka pours a swallow or two from the bottle into her cup and hands it to Henri. "Deal's a deal. There's more if you answer more questions."
"How do they hire the entertainment and the help? Have you played at any of the parties? How do you know what type of party it's goin' to be?"
She gives Henri a 'we are not amused' look. "I'd be lyin' if I said I weren't curious about the parties but I'm quite aware I'd never pass as a guest. But maybe there's another way to see how the rich be livin'."