If there was a more perfect day, Doumane couldn’t recall it from recent memory. The sky is clear and bright, sun shining against a beautiful cerulean blue. The light dazzles off the abalone shells of Starsilver Plaza reminding the halfling of diamonds. His perch is perfect to watch the many people who flood the plaza. Brightly colored clothing, a favorite of Varisians, combine in a swirling rainbow that is pleasant to the eye.
Then music begins to play. At first it is a solo clarinet which causes the movement in the crowd to slow to a stop as they try to find the source. The music continues to build and is followed by an eruption of street performers who run throughout the crowd. Stopping at various places throughout the plaza, they delight the people around them with various displays of acrobatics. Even though the acrobats themselves are amazing to watch, to someone who enjoys people-watching, the reactions of the crowds are just as entertaining. A child’s overt glee, a woman’s rapt attention, a man’s grudging appreciation – Doumane drinks it all in as he watches.
*Thump, thump, thump* A muted, but persistent, banging cuts through the music and causes the halfling to look around at his surroundings a little closer. Seeing nothing, he brushes it off as his imagination and returns to enjoying himself. And sure enough, it stops.
Doumane feels a poke in his side. He jumps to his feet looking for the culprit but is perplexed to see no one. Even though there is a crowd below, he is alone in his perch. Then he faintly hears someone saying his name over and over but again sees no one. Just as he begins to think he's going mad, Starsilver Plaza begins to fade into darkness as Doumane groggily surfaces from his dream. His instincts immediately warn him that he’s not alone and he reaches for a blade that is never far away.
He leaps out of bed but then pauses. What he sees makes him question whether he is still dreaming. He recognizes the man standing at the door to his room. He’s holding a light in one hand and a broom in the other. The broom handle is just long enough to reach the bed and Doumane figures it was the source of the poke in his side he had felt. What makes him think this is still a dream is that for the last three years, he thought this man was dead. ”Mihail?”
Relief shows on the man’s face as he hears his name and sees that Doumane isn’t going to attack. The light reflects a mixture of grief and anger in his amber eyes and there is desperation in his voice as he speaks, ”Doumane, I need your help.”
Doumane wakes with a start, eyes still hazy with sleep. His hands however are already groping for a weapon, a light, anything to brace himself. As a face looms out of the gloom however he stops, brain working.
The halfling takes a deep breath and says, "Mihail? Is it...is it really you?" You heard stories of course, of the dead. Everything from ghosts, to spirits to undead. Doumane knew there were people on the street who found value in corpses for arcane or unholy rituals. It would not do to think of this as Mihail when it was merely a automaton with the same face. Slowly, his hand still goes for the knife under his pillow.
Mihail sags against the wall, "I am sorry for letting myself in. This must be quite the shock at this hour. It's really me, in the flesh. I'll explain what I can if you're willing to hear me out. A lot has changed since we knew each other here in Magnimar. The key being I now have a son and he has been kidnapped. I need the help of the best fixer I know, which is you."
He shakes his head, "I never thought I'd ever be back here in the city. We tried so hard to disappear," he murmured. A bitter laugh escapes his mouth, "But obviously not hard enough. Now I get dragged back in."
Doumane relaxes slightly. Mihail didn't sound like a zombie or a vampire, but instead a very tired person.
"A son?" Doumane says blankly but then recovers, "Kidnapped? By who? Why did you fake your death? There is a great deal here I think I need to know." he waves to the bed. 'Sit down, you look like you need it more then me."
Once Mihail sits the halfling says, "Tell me the whole story."
Mihail gratefully sinks to the corner of the bed beside Doumane. ”Back when I was part of Razvan’s crew, when you and I would occasionally work together, I got involved with someone I probably shouldn’t have. Not only did she belong to a different gang but she was also a tiefling. We were careful enough and managed to keep our involvement secret so it was no big deal. But then it got complicated when she got pregnant. Nemeia and I were okay living the lives we were when it was just us but the thought of raising a child in that environment…well, we decided to get out. And the only way to get out was to die. A borrowed corpse and a fire to hide its real identity was how I died, as you know. Nemeia made use of a water-breathing potion and staged her drowning. Of course, we needed money to disappear so I took what was necessary from Razvan. With me being dead, I never thought he’d suspect me but I guess our deaths weren’t as convincing as I had thought. That or we trusted the wrong people.”
”We built a new life for ourselves in Nybor because we knew they would be the most accepting of us being together. In hindsight, it may not have been far enough away from Magnimar but I didn’t realize they knew we were together. And after three years it never even occurred to me that we were still being looked for.” He took a steadying breath before continuing, ”I wasn’t ready when they came collecting and they got the jump on me. I failed my family and it led to Nemeia’s death and them taking Karlov. I was knocked unconscious and they were gone when I woke.” He pulled out a crumpled note from an inside pocket. His voice sounds bitter as he continues, ”They left instructions. It says I’ll get Karlov back if I steal some ledgers from a rival gang but I obviously have my doubts. So I have two choices – steal for Razvan and trust him to keep his word to give me back my son or I go up against Razvan and take back my son.”
”I understand if you don’t want to get involved but I’ve been away from Magnimar for too many years and didn’t know where else to turn. Especially since it seems like Razvan's operation has grown and that his brother Flavius is a member of the Council of Ushers. The man who killed Nemeia felt the need to make sure I knew that. Maybe so that I'd know I couldn't go through legal channels to get Karlov back? I don't really know.” Mihail studies Doumane's face for a moment, "But you do. You've always had your finger on the pulse of this city."
Doumane nodded along with much of the story. While he didn't travel is quite as serious circles, it was open knowledge that one didn't simply 'leave' some gangs. You knew too much to be let loose. While faking your death wasn't a rare idea few people managed to actually carry it out effectively.
When Mahial mentions the Council of Ushers Doumane whistles. That drastically increases the danger. They were the main power int eh city and if your foes had friends among them...'legal' means weren't even an option.
"I cried at your funeral you know." Doumane says, playing for time to think. "It was very touching."
"So they took your son....despicable." Even for the rougher gangs in the city, attacking kids was a low blow. "Is Nemeia all right?"
"Who is the other gang he wants you to rob?" Doumane asks, brain still working through the problem. There was much to process here and any misstep could lead to them all being killed.
There is no guile to be found in either the man's words or demeanor. Most likely, he knows that to try to play Doumane would be counter-productive.
Mihail looks conflicted at Doumane's comment about his funeral. "Umm, thanks? And, I'm sorry."
"I'm sure taking Karlov serves two purposes - to ensure my cooperation and to make me suffer. But I have this nagging thought that no matter what I do, they won't return him to me." He gets a faraway look in his eye for a moment, "I wish you could have known Nemeia like I did. I don't think you ever ran into each other but Magnimar is both big and small at the same time - maybe you did run into each other at some point."
Doumane recognizes the name of the man who has ordered the kidnapping of Mihail's son. Razvan Dragomir has steadily been taking over various smaller crime organizations in Magnimar which has been growing his own power. Most people attribute this to his brother, Flavius Dragomir, finally weaseling his way onto the Council of Ushers. Flavius himself is a legitimate merchant but everyone knows he bends most laws by working under the table with his brother. In return, Flavius feeds pertinent information to Razvan to keep him one step ahead of the authorities. Doumane is all too familiar with the passing of this information as he is often used to transmit these delicate messages. It had started back when Mihail was working for Razvan and it had continued after his 'death'.
"I don't have a lot of information about the other gang because they weren't around in Magnimar when I was here. Supposedly they're based in Riddleport and are looking to expand their territory into Magnimar. I think this is why Razvan wants their ledgers. He's hoping to reverse it and expand himself to Riddleport using their contacts. The name of their group is in the note, The Black Cyphers."
Doumane ponders this. He has already decided to help his friend. Not only because he would gladly help a friend with such a challenge but the fact they took Mihail's kid.....disgusting. Everyone knew Magniamr was a rough town and that was part of the charm, but this was too far. Much too far.
The halfling drums his fingers on his wooden table, a sure sign of agitation.
"We must be careful. Flavius is very well connected and could have both of us thrown into the bay with little trouble."
"We need more information, but one thing is clear. We obviously can't hope Razvan will upkeep his end of the bargain. The sheer fact he took your son is proof of that. But I don't think we know enough to outright attack him...not yet. We need to play both ends against the middle, make him think we are, reluctantly' helping and work against him."
Doumane pauses and looks at his friend, "Can you do that? You may have to look Razvan, or Gods help us, your son, in the eye and agree to keep working for him." The halfling grabs Mihail's forearm and says, "It won't be true but you'd have to be convincing. If ...if you don't think you can be, well, we will need another plan."
Mihail seems to regain some of his vigor as Doumane speaks because he now has help. He nods and murmurs, "play both ends against the middle, right."
His amber eyes are bright as he returns Doumane's gaze. His voice is adamant, "I will do whatever necessary to get my son back."
'Well, that is a start." Then Doumane thinks of something rather worrying, "I wonder if they are having you followed. Probably not, but that would make things more difficult. Do you have any idea if anyone followed you here?"
Doumane begins gathering his gear, getting ready for a night out. He would need to gather information before they could even begin to strike back. "It would be best if we could keep my involvement with you secret for as long as possible. We want Razvan to think you are a helpless, lost patsy. Make him underestimate you, then we strike, and strike hard."
Mihail gives Doumane a slightly amused look. "I know it's been three years but I'm back in my element. No one can track me in this city if I don't want them to. I didn't want to bring any trouble to your doorstep."
Then his face fell, "I didn't even consider that people would recognize me, that that might be a problem. I was just thinking about getting Karlov back. What do you think we should do? Do we split up?"
Doumane shakes his head, "Maybe later. For now, you lie low. A dead man can't go into taverns asking for information. At least in Magnimar where you are known. Maybe if we end up in Riddleport or some other place. But for tonight, stay here and keep your head down. I'd tell you to relax, but I know that won't be possible. I think I have some food and drink in a cupboard, make yourself at home. I am going to go out and do some serious information gathering about Razvan, Flavius, and the Black Cyphers. At the very least I want to find out who their big rivals are, both on the street and in the Council of Ushers. It'll be a start."
It is obvious that Mihail is torn as Doumane tells him what they should do. "I know you're right but the thought of staying here, not being able to do anything, is going to be difficult. What if you get into trouble and I'm not there to help?"
He ran a frustrated hand through his black hair, "Nemeia had a good friend who waited tables in a tavern by the docks. At least I think she was a good friend. She may be someone who can help if you get into trouble. If she's still there, that is. Her name is Evelina and the tavern is...is...the Red Swan, I think."
Doumane nods, 'I'll be back by morning, probably. Lie low." With that the halfling heads out into the Magnimar night. The Red Swan seems as good a place as any. After that, maybe a few other rougher taverns he knows. The sort of places that rivals of Razvan would hang out.
It isn’t difficult to find the Red Swan along the docks. The sign outside the building is a couple planks lashed together with a picture of a red swan painted on it. Inside the décor is just as rustic with crates and planks acting as tables and benches. However, as taverns go, it is surprisingly clean despite its surface appearances.
Regardless of the hour, given the comings and goings of ships along the docks, there were always hungry and thirsty people about. A woman with unnaturally red hair bustles between the tables. Even though she seems to be the only one working, and therefore busy, she always has a smile for the customers.
She glances over at the door as the bell hanging above it jingles as Doumane enters. She is headed for the kitchen with a mish-mash of dishes but she pauses long enough to say, ”Sit yerself. I’ll be with ya in two shakes.”
Doumane takes a seat, as instructed. Out of habit he scans the room for danger or people of interest.
Meanwhile the halfling waits for the redheaded woman to reappear. If she does, he ask, casually, "I heard I might find someone named Nemeia here? Friend of a friend sent me. Do you know her?"
There are a few groups of people sitting around the tavern. Judging from their appearance and demeanor, most are dock workers who were either unwinding after their shift or preparing to start.
Even though Doumane doesn't see anything that registers as dangerous, he does see something peculiar. Sitting in the corner facing the door is a boy, maybe about twelve years old, watching the people.
The server reappears before Doumane can contemplate anything more about the others in the Red Swan.
She visibly blanches when Doumane mentions Nemeia which is quite the contrast to her hair. Her voice is shaky and she doesn't make eye contact with Doumane, "Nem...Nemeia ain't been 'round for three years but I did know her." She quickly changes the subject, "So what can I get ya? I have a stew that'll coat yer insides an' keep ya warm."
The halfling doesn't want to overdo it. The woman looks on edge about the matter. Still, he had to get something. "Any idea where she went? I heard she fell in with a rough crowd..."
Going on he says, "The stew will be fine, it's a cold, foggy night out and I have much to do." Pointing with his chin Doumane asks, "Who's the boy? Seems a bit young for this crowd."
"Depends on what ya mean by rough crowd," she murmurs.
She brightens a bit at his acceptance of stew. "Anything to drink?"
She falters a bit with his question about the boy. "Him? He's my, my nephew. My sister's working an' he can't be by himself at this hour." She turns on her heel and heads for the kitchen. "Be right back."
It takes her a few moments to return but when she does, she has a bowl of steaming stew sitting on a plate and beside the bowl are a couple fresh rolls.
Doumane starts to eat the stew, dipping the rolls into the thick soup. After he swallows the first bite he says voice low, "I heard a man named Razvan might have been part of that 'rough crowd'? Maybe I should be looking for him."
She stops short at the mention of Razvan but quickly recovers her smile and wipes the table with her cloth. Again the woman tries to deflect his question, "Eat while it's hot. The rolls are especially good, made 'em meself. Silly me, I forgot yer drink." And with that she's off again.
As Doumane begins to eat, he notices a tiny piece of paper tucked under one of the rolls. He also senses a pair of eyes on him and as he looks up, the boy in the corner quickly looks away.
Doumane lets out a sigh of relief at seeing the tiny roll of paper. The halfling had been worried he had come on too strong and scared off his contact. Clearly he needed to practice his finesse.
He tucks the paper into his pocket, aware that it was the clumsiest lift he has done in years. Clearly the gods were against him today. Maybe he needed to make an offering in a temple somewhere.
As Doumane reaches for the paper to palm it without anyone noticing, he doesn't realize that a corner of it is under the heavy bowl of stew. As he pulls the note up, the stew begins to tip sideways and as he goes to right the bowl, he manages to swat the second roll across the table and onto the floor. Every head in the place turns towards him at the sound of clattering dishes and sees the halfling with stew splashed on his chest and arm. Their eyes then travel to the floor where the roll finally comes to a stop against the leg of a table a few down from where Doumane was sitting.
A couple of the workers grin and give him a round of applause but most just go back to their conversations and food.
Whether anyone noticed his retrieval of the note in the midst of the mess he made remains to be seen.
Doumane mutters a curse as he wipes the hot stew off his arm. Not only had he caused a major scene, he had ruined a rather good bowel of stew. The halfing does his best to smile at the brief flare of attention, even doing a mock half bow to the applause.
Then, shaking his head, he steps out of doors to read the note as best he can.
Doumane exits the Red Swan and finds a better lit part of the street in order to read the note he'd managed to extricate.
We need to talk but not here. That ain't my nephew. Watch yer back. I'm going for supplies as usual in a bit. Meet me at the Market.
I knew I didn't like that kid.. Doumane thinks to himself, happy he stepped outside to read the note, away from those watchful eyes. Still, his dance with the stew probably aroused suspicion.
Doumane starts to make his way to the market, doubling back frequently, to check if he is being followed. If he is or not, the halfling tries to lose them and sneak down the darkened alleys.
Doumane is fairly certain that he hears footsteps following him as he leaves the Red Swan. But his knowledge of his city and his experience quickly puts distance between him and his would-be follower.
He soon finds his way to the Bazaar of Sails. Regardless of the time of day, there are always people about and the halfling soon moves into the crowd.
Just when Doumane begins to think that the note he'd received was an elaborate hoax, he catches sight of some very red hair out of the corner of his eye. He approaches the stall and overhears her haggling over the price of some root vegetables.
Doumane smiles with relief at having found his contact (and losing his tail). The halfling glides through the bustling market, avoiding elbows with an instinct all halflings who live in human cities have. He sidles up to the vegetable stand and says, "You scamming this woman! This potato is all rotten, look at it! Horrible, all dark and moldy."
He looks up at the red-haired bartender, "Lady, come with me, I can show you better stuff then this garbage." he waves, to lead her away.
The stall owner glares down at the halfling as he interposes on his business. He then looks apologetically back at his customer and says, "I would never scam a customer. But surely you cannot penalize a poor merchant such as myself for ignorant harvesters who don't know how to properly use a pitchfork. Everyone knows if you impale the potato with a pitchfork that that part of it will spoil."
As they turn to leave the merchant tries again, "Fine...fine! I will throw in free delivery."
Evelina smiles sweetly at the merchant, "Of course ya will. But I'm still only takin' the carrots, turnips, an' parsnips. This gentleman is right about the potatoes." With that she hands over her payment.
With her business concluded, she turns to Doumane, and keeps the charade going of them having just met, "Please, lead on, sir. I still need potatoes."
Doumane gives the simmering merchant a saucy wink and and says, "Right this way, madam."
In a moment they vanish into the bustling crowd. In a low voice the halfling says, "Want to find somewhere quiet to talk? Are you being tailed? I was but I lost them."
She nods at Doumane, "We definitely need to talk an' quiet would be better. They wouldn't have bothered tailin' me 'cause I come to the market daily to do the shoppin'. But who knows what they'd do if they saw the note." She looks pointedly at the halfling, "I heard ya made quite the spectacle." Then she shrugs, "I didn't notice anyone comin' here."
"It may be best if ya pick the place 'cause they don't know ya or where ya might go."
"How much time do you have?" Doumane asks, thinking. 'I apologize for the note. I hope it does not make life hard for you."
Or for me the halfling thinks.
"I've taken as long as two hours so it ain't gonna raise anyone's suspicions until after that." She waves off Doumane's apology, "It is what it is. Only time will tell if there'll be trouble because of it. I know the risks."
Doumane nods, "So we have some time. Let's try to find a quiet table at the Old Fang. It is a bit higher end then the No Horn, where we might get mugged let alone eavesdropped. " The halfling deftly leads the way, heading for the locally favored inn, hoping it is a slow night.
"It would be nice to be waited on fer a change. Most people'll be finally gettin' to bed or goin' to work so it shouldn't be too crowded. But to be on the safe side..." she said a few unintelligible words and her bright red hair turned to a mousy-brown color under the hood of her cloak.
Doumane nods at the woman's disguise. "That is a neat trick. I should learn it..." Then he adds, "What is your name, by the way? Mine is Doumane."
She shakes her head, "Sorry, where are me manners...it's just ya mentioned Nemeia an' I forgot 'bout pleasantries. I'm Evelina. Nice to meet ya, Doumane."
They make their way to the Old Fang and find a quiet table away from the front door or the kitchen. They were positioned in such a way that no one could just wander by them without looking suspicious to Doumane.
Evelina waits until after the server takes their order before her posture changes slightly to become more confrontational. "Before this goes any further, you need to tell me why you're askin' after Nemeia and who sent ya."
Doumane sits down across the table from Evelina, giving her personal space as well as being able to read her face.
After waving away the serving girl, the halfling says in a low voice, "I can't answer that, not yet. It would risk too much, but I can say, I was sent by a friend of Nemeia."
He drops his voice even softer, "As for why....vengeance."
Evelina leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. She doesn't raise her voice but it's clear that her trust is quickly coming to an end. "If ya can't say then we gotta problem. I've been tricked before an' I ain't gonna be tricked again. The dead don't have friends an' have no need fer vengeance."
Doumane frowns, wondering how much he should reveal. "If you don't trust me now, why would you trust me if I named a few names? Could I not just lie and name on of Nemeia's friends? How would you know I was honest either way?"
Evelina continues to eye the halfling warily, "Fer one it would depend on the names 'cause some are more commonly known than others. But yer right, if yer a good liar then I probably couldn't tell."
She gives a sigh of resignation, "Fine. What can I possibly do fer a friend of a friend of Nemeia's? A friend of a friend of someone dead fer three years?"
"Death does not wipe debts." Doumane says darkly. "Not the kind I'm looking for."
The halfling leans forward, "I heard a man named Razvan may have had something to do with Nemeia's...demise. I asking around for information. Maybe I'm looking to settle old scores."
Something flashes in Evelina's eyes at the mention of Razvan's name. It may have been fear, maybe anger, but it happened too quickly to know for sure.
Her voice gets quieter, "Nemeia drowned. Not much to settle there. Can't fault someone else fer her bein' in that boat that night. An' talk like that'll get ya into trouble if said 'round the wrong people, like me nephew."
"That is why I'm saying it here, and not shouting it." Doumane says quietly and then adds, "What if the drowning was not an accident? What if something else happened that night? Something worth some vengeance? Why would folks like your nephew get upset if there was nothing to hide?"
She gave a harsh laugh, "My nephew doesn't care what yer sayin' other than it's against Razvan which will quickly be reported back to him. He's there as eyes an' ears to find out information to use against folks an' to keep an eye on his investment." Evelina practically spit the last word. "No one gives kids a second look. Especially if they've been given a reason why they're there."
Then she seems to deflate and sadness permeates her being. "The drownin' was supposed to be the start of somethin' good, not anythin' worth vengeance," she murmurs. Then the implication of what Doumane said sinks in and she gives him a hard stare, "What do you know about the drownin'? Why wouldn't it be an accident?"
Doumane raises an eyebrow at Evelina's words. "Maybe you know more then I thought."
The halfling sighs, "That 'drowning' was the start of something good, something that has recently been brought to a brutal end by the person I just named." the bombshell hangs in the air, mixing with the smoke of the tavern. "What would you say to that?"
Evelina's eyes widen and she goes very still. In a voice that is barely audible she asks, "Brutal end?" Still unmoving, tears begin to streak down her cheeks and she murmurs, "What have I done?"
Doumane grows tense, leaning forward, 'What have you done?" the halfling repeats, voice hard. "I think the time for dancing is over, Evelina. Tell me what you know and I will reciprocate."