Zeeva perks up as her attention is drawn to the fruit depicted in all three cards, “I’m a fool—studying the meanings so intently, I missed what’s right in front of me. If this means that my marketplace is in danger, I should return at once. But please, keep investigating other possibilities.”
She collects the cards from you once again and grabs at Graff's arm to stop the party from rushing off. "Listen, before you all go to the market, let me do a quick Choosing for you. It's like an abridged harrow reading. Maybe it will give you all good fortune in your efforts today!"
She pulls nine cards from the deck, all of the same suit, then presents the spread of cards to you. "This is the suit of Books. It's the same suit as the Yellow Prophet. I hope giving you a reading from the related suit will ensure your success in unraveling the mystery that card has brought to light."
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As soon as Zeeva mentions doing a harrow reading for them, Yangrit turns away to hide her reaction, which would no doubt have given offence. What the...? Ugh! It is bad enough that she is sending us on a goose chase because of this utter rubbish, but now I must play along? Grrrrrrr! Worthless mumbo jumbo... Taking a moment to clear her head and facial expression with meditation, she finally turns around and takes a card. She exerts herself to make sure that her face remains expressionless during the whole gosh-darned pointless ordeal.
As you draw your cards, even the most cynical of you feels something deep within yourself, as if some great meaning or insight will be revealed in relation to the cards you've drawn. Fro the time being, though, that insight remains elusive .
Zee thanks you for your help once again before moving off into the market on her own to go around checking to make sure everything is alright. Meanwhile, all you spend some time checking things out as well, while simultaneously asking around about the elusive fortune-teller.
Customers from every district of Korvosa and beyond crowd the kiosks and surround the stalls that comprise the Green Market. Along with its vast selection of imported and domestic produce, clothing, jewelry, and wine, the high-roofed, barn-like building boasts several impressive features, including a central fountain, an indoor green park at its northern end, and numerous glass skylights that can be accessed and opened with ladders and extending poles. The crowds are just beginning to gather in the market, but you can tell that, at its busiest hour, it might become a challenge just to move around in.
After 3 hours, of asking around, you eventually decide that whatever threat is looming over the Green Markets is apparently not set to happen yet. You also find out, though, that penniless Varisians often gather in a building called Traitor’s Mews in Old Korvosa, and that a woman matching the fortune-teller's rather distinct description was recently seen near that building.
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I am not so delighted about this card. I hope it is warning about someone else's idiocy and not the fortune just mocking me, Miriel comments her card.
In the fruit stands, Miriel is again distracted. "I have to show you, there can be art everywhere, even in eating", she says, mostly to Graff. She buys an orange, then takes her dagger and cuts the peel to slices still connected at the bottom. Then, she opens them like a flower bud opens, and arranges orange slices as inner petals of the flower. "See, a passing moment of artistic beauty in everyday life", she says, eats herself one slice and offers the rest to Graff.
"Oh, of course, the person whose predictions set this all in motion. Let us go and hear the story from the original source", she agrees.
And so you begin the trek through the city street of Korvosa to the Traitor's Mews. Wedged among the many-tiered tenements that clog Korvosa’s poorest district, this rambling black-brick manor house has been claimed by displaced families. The wary eyes of countless waifs, beggars, and other people in tattered clothes peer through shattered windows, their spirits as weathered as the building itself.
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Yangrit's eyes widen in disbelief. "Why the axe, Lybram? I know that I am no smooth talker, but even I know that one attracts more flies with honey than vinegar. Put away your weapon. Let us try simply talking first." She shakes her head as she walks toward the door, grumpily sighing and thinking: Amateurs.
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"We are here to discuss with a free person, not capturing a criminal. There are no grounds for us to force the fortune teller to do anything, and if she wants to leave, running or otherwise, it is up to her to decide", Miriel agrees with Yangrit, and walks after her to the door. "Come with a rose, not a blade", she finishes with a teaching of Shelyn and knocks the door.
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"I am always cautious. We are entering an unknown area that could be a trap. I do not plan to brandish it in front of the fortune teller, but I do plan to defend myself."
Lybram hesitates for a second or two. "Erastil protect us. Alright, it is a nervous habit. I am a woodcutter by profession. It is like an extension of my arm. But, you are probably right." Lybram stows his axe.
As Miriel knocks on the door, she finds that it is not latched, but swings open slightly. As soon the door begins to open, a smell of sweat and stale urine wafts out. You open the door further and find yourselves looking at a collection of dozens of people scattered around the once-opulent entry hall of this deteriorating manor.
As you enter, you begin to hear the low muttering of a large crowd of people, and feel eyes watching you. Even as you look at some of the people you are sure were watching you, though, they turn away and cast their gazes on the ground.
From their general appearance, you can tell that these people are among to poorest of Korvosa's citizens, and that they are almost exclusively Varisian in heritage.
Some of the younger members of this assembly of unfortunate souls seem somewhat encouraged by Graff's politeness. They smile at the half-orc, as well as the two elf-blooded women with him, and press their way through the crowd to one of the other rooms on the ground level. A moment later, the crowd parts, and a sunken-eyed woman stands before you, her gaze wary but open.
"What is it we can do for you?" she asks, her voice edged with skepticism. "Or better yet, since you seem to be the ones here who have eaten most recently, what can you do for us? Anyin here says one of you said something about fruit?" From the way this woman presents herself, as well as how the rest of the crowd quieted down when she began speaking, you can tell that she seems to be some sort of leader for this community of poor, downtrodden people.
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Smiling, Darksid'Ious says We are friend with Zeeva, the proprietor of the Green Market, and she had someone of your community that give her a reading.
It seems that she draws a very specific cards, The Yellow Prophet. After drawing that card, the woman giving the reading moves away without finishing it, letting Zeeva in the expectative.
She asks us to help her find this woman and finish the reading.
Meanwhile, we will be happy to help you in any way.
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Fishing around in her pack, Yangrit pulls out all of her cloth-wrapped bread and cheese. "We give you this food to show our goodwill. Please help us find her. We need to clarify her reading for our client."
Her words come out harsher than she intends, as a sneeze begins sneaking up on her, threatening to burst forth as she speaks, which causes her face to warp into a rather non-diplomatic expression. Still, she holds out the bread and cheese, offering it to the woman before her.
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"Oh we ate it" Miriel says embarassed, but then sighs with relief when Yangrit gives her food. "Please, we are here on a mission to help people in need. Our acquaintance here requested for our aid as she was concerned about predictions of disasters that were to fall on the city. We have come to discuss with the harrower who presented the original predictions to aquire more information", she explains the mission.
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Hannar looks saddened and humbled by the group and he approaches the leader. He hands the lady some coins from his pouch and says..."Perhaps this will go a bit further towards feeding your people."....as he hands her 10 GP. "If you would be so kind as to direct us to the lady we seek, or at least, send word to her we would like an audience, we assure you no harm will come of her from us."
As Yangrit produces food and Hannar offers gold, the eyes of the mass of poor souls grow wide and greedy. The woman who came forward clears her throat, though, and the crowd draws back. She steps forward, accepts the gifts you offer, and thanks you.
"This will go a long way to keeping these people alive, I assure you," she says, now much more gently. "I am Tsura, and I represent the Empty--that is, the people you see here. As for your questions, the fortune-teller you are looking for is a woman named Goldtooth, a Sczarni criminal who sometimes impersonates a harrower. This Goldtooth fled Korvosa some time ago after trying to cheat some fancy lady from overseas” but recently returned with some mercenaries and took over a room upstairs. She insisted that she be left alone."
At this, a young boy of about four years, who had been following behind Tsura and clinging to her skirts, moves out from behind her and speaks up, "Maman, I saw what the dark lady was doing. I went upstairs. I know you said not to, but I wanted to see. She and her friends were looking at a big map and writing lots of things really fast, but then she yelled at me to get out. Her friends had swords. She’s scary,” the boy says.
"Tamas! That was very foolish! You might have been hurt if you were not so young," Tsura tells the boy firmly. She strokes his head, then turns back to you. "Listen, I do not know if Goldtooth’s crimes extend beyond stealing from non-Varisian people, and I do not see Goldtooth as a physical threat to her son or anyone else in Traitor’s Mews. I do believe, though, that as long as Goldtooth lingers, there is the risk that other people in the Mews may take up her lifestyle, or that my son could be influenced by the swindler’s way of life. So if you want to look upstairs, we will not stop you."
She invites you to look around the Traitor's Mews if you wish, and tells you that Goldtooth had claimed the third floor for herself and her mercenary friends. She also mentions that, if you are curious about the Harrow, she has some skill as a reader as well, and would not charge you for her interpretation, especially for the three cards pulled after the Yellow Prophet appeared.
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Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Yangrit forces herself to nod appreciatively at Tsura's interpretation of the cards. Once the group is ready to head upstairs, she cracks her knuckles as grim expression falls over her face. She knows they will start with trying to talk, but criminals tend to prefer to talk with their weapons. She is ready for this.
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"Please do, we are desperately in need of any information possible about the perils that were prophesied", Miriel agrees to the woman's harrowing.
After the harrowing, she also heads upstairs. She glances at Yngrit flexing, and pleads her: "Please, although they seem to be known criminals, we don't have any justification for violence yet. Unless they escalate the situation, we are here just to talk". She straightens her dress and takes a deep breath. "But let me be in front, to take the hit if it does escalate. It is my duty, and my love", she adds.
After the interpretations, you leave Tsura and her son behind to head upstairs and check on Goldtooth's room. On your way up, you pass through the second floor of Traitor's Mews. This level once contained Lord Viamio’s chambers, sitting room, and private dining room, but all of the furniture from those rooms has been stripped and sold. The only notable feature of the second floor is a haphazard maze of bedrolls, where a few people are sleeping.
Finally, you arrive at the top of the stairs. Miriel stands at the top of the stairs and, after glancing around the room, quickly determines that it is unoccupied. The ramshackle attic is filled with knickknacks of all sorts. Most of it has been thoroughly scavenged for anything of value, leaving rat-chewed paintings, shards of porcelain, and cobwebs. On the far end of the attic, a crate serves as a makeshift desk, holding a stack of papers and an inkwell. A flyer is nailed to the wall above the desk. The window beside the crate is shattered, letting in the cold air from outside.