She grins. "Ah, I ain't any 'Miss'. Name's Tirra." She offers her hand. She wears long, dark gloves. "What I've heard is that you've been spendin' a lot of time outta town lately. Takin' a break from the jus'-eh-minerin'? Am I right on that?"
"Why d' y' care'f I dun'neh work'n th' mines ev'ryday?" Broccan asks, his tone carrying a slight, uncharacteristic note of warning. "Folks 'round'ere don' go ask'n'bout'oth'r folks bus'ness uninvited."
"Why do you care if I do not work in the mines every day? Folks around here don't go asking about other folks business uninvited."
"Ah, well, there's your problem. Not from 'around here', am I? No, and no fear from me, Broccan. I'm not workin' for whoever you're supposed to be on the clock for, nor whoever owns that land you've been profiting from. But it's more my business than you'd think."
She turns away and takes another deep drink.
"See, I think you've been delving. Dipping your paws into one of the old dungeons around here and coming out dripping with gold." She tilts her head. "Am I right?"
Wha' make'syah think that? An'ev'n'f I was, y' still 'aven't said why'ts yer bus'ness," Broccan replies.
"What makes you think that? And even if I was, you still haven't said why it's your business."
Tirra chuckles. "Oh, yeah, I neglected that, haven't I? Name's Tirra, of Auric's Raptors. We're delvers ourselves, y'see. Of a somewhat professional nature. So it straightly is my business." She smirks, and Broccan might get the sense she's playing with humble understatement. "Now, I don't see a lotta members of the Profession in small towns like this. I hear 'bout a little crew of locals 'round these parts playing in the Cairns? 'Course I'm interested. 'Specially if we're digging in the same area! And while we come up with stirges and nothing else, you..."
She shakes her head ruefully. "Well, you're keepin' close. That's smart. But you might say it's my job to find things out, an' you don't usually take this many days off. An' when you do, folks don't catch you at bars, do they? You save for bread. 'Cause you can't feed your Ma if you're spendin' it on booze, now, can you?"
She takes another drink. "You ain't stupid. You found somethin', an' you ain't tellin' me 'cause you're scared of poachers." She snorts. "Or that I might tell whoever owns that land 'boutcha."
"'f y've been talk'n t' folks 'roun'ere, they might'eh mentioned I make money bare-knuckle box'n'in'ere from time't'time. They migh'also'eh mention'd'I beat th' local champ just'eh few days'eh'go..."
"If you've been talking to folks around here, they might have mentioned I make money bare-knuckle boxing in here from time to time. They might also have mentioned I beat the local champ just a few days ago..."
"Oh, right! Kullen, yeah?" Her brow furrows. "Didn't hear anything about that bein' a paid match. More sounded like you were pickin' a fight with that, uhh, Babalar Skink guy."
She seems a little less confident, though. She rolls the handle of a throwing knife against the wood grain of the counter in a repetitive motion. "Anyway, it ain't in me to snitch, so rest easy on that. I just wanna know where you got what you got an' if there's anything left. This trip's been a real shitpit so far. Think of it as professional courtesy to a 'colleague'."
Broccan takes a drink and gives an exasperated sigh.
"I dinnae know wha'scutl'butt'ye been lis'nin teh," Broccan replies, "but'ere's wha't'app'ned. A frien'eh mine'n'I wen'tin'teh a cairn where're'eh 'nother frien'd'd gone miss'n'n back when we'ws kids. We knew she w's dead, bu' we need'd t' find'r bones'n put'r t' rest. We got'eh few oth'r friends t' go wi'thus 'n case we ran'n t' trouble. We foun'der bones'n took'm 'cross th' lake t' be buried. No piles'eh coin'r gems. Sorry t' disappoint ye."
"I don't know what scuttlebutt you've been listening to, but here's what happened. A friend of mine and I went into a cairn where another friend had gone missing back when we were kids. We knew she was dead, but we needed to find her bones and put her to rest. We got a few other friends to go with us un case we ran into trouble. We found her bones, and took them across the lake to be buried. No piles of coins or gems. Sorry to disappoint you."
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Kata, like the room, falls silent when Ilthane the Black enters, and realizes she's even stopped breathing. She only takes her next ragged breath when the conversation picks back up again. Leaning back, Kata whispers over her back to Venelle, still sitting nearby.
"Ilthane the Black. You ever see her about? I heard she's been clinging to Smenk like a barnacle-- no, like a lamprey. Strange, huh, that she's involved with him, and that he's rumored to reopen the pit, and that he and Parrin are gearing up for a fight. Maybe we should visit her next? But first... let's see what shakes loose with a few pointed lyrics."
Kata sets her drums in front of her, a small frown gracing her face as she wishes she'd taken the time to learn the basics of the fiddle. The lyrics she was running through her head would be perfectly accompanied with a lingering twang of a bowstring across a fiddle's bridge. Oh well, if she lived through the night, Kata vowed, she would start learning the instrument at first opportunity. For now, the drums would have to do. Kata laid out a low, rumbling beat, letting it repeat a few times to set the song's mood and draw attention to her.
"Come and listen you fellows, so young and so fit,
And seek your fortune in the dark, dreary Pit.
It'll haunt your dreams and seep in your soul,
Till your blood is as black as Nerull's toll."
"It’s dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew,
Where danger is double and pleasures are few,
Where the rain never falls and only torchlight flits
It’s dark as a dungeon way down in the Pit."
"What's that there an emerald vein's shine?
Like a field of Pharasma's mint so sublime.
Nothing so saintly, so kind I'm afraid,
Nerull's wriggling grasp I'm sad to say"
"It’s dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew,
Where danger is double and pleasures are few,
Where the rain never falls and only torchlight flits
It’s dark as a dungeon way down in the Pit."
The third verse needed work, but it would have to do for now. Kata's voice trails off, the last beat of her drums sliding into silence. Kata let her eyes wander the room, looking at the faces of the spectators, letting them land on Ilthane the Black for few lingering seconds before moving on.
Tirra holds Broccan's gaze for a long moment. Her shoulders slump, and she looks away. "Right. That... makes sense. My mistake, then." She empties her tankard, then abruptly slams it on the counter, not bothering to conceal her disappointment. "Well, guess that serves me right for jumpin' to conclusions. Sorry to trouble ya, doc."
A gold sail falls rattling upon the bar counter as she rises to her feet. "Next drink's on me. And for your pal, if he comes back." Tirra lingers a moment. "An' sorry 'bout your friend, by the way. I wasn't lookin' to dig that up." The elf takes her leave.
"This f**$in' town..."
"Much'obliged, Mis' Tirra," Broccan replies, and raises a tankard to her. "Best'o'luck t'you'n yer friends."
Broccan watches her leave, and once he feels reasonably certain she has left the tavern, he slowly exhales in relief.
He waits patiently for Edrukk to come back, ready to fill his friend in on the exchange and to buy him a round on the coin of the overly inquisitive elvish lass.
Relatively certain that any excitement would come quickly, Edrukk draws back from the door when he doesn't hear any commotion. He's almost waited as long as his patience can stand when the elven woman comes out looking none too pleased. He watches her go on her way, not hiding his interest. If she doesn't come accost him, he will head back into the bar.
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Tirra gives Edrukk a small nod as she passes by, but doesn't accost him.
Kata's song echoes across the Emporium, and she can see it in people's eyes, that light that enters them, the way they start to move to the rhythm. There is power in her words beyond the power of any bardsong. People don't often play such songs in the Emporium, and rarely with such power, such personal feeling. Even Venelle stares in wonder, although she gets it under control quickly. When the song ends, there is thunderous applause. Zalamandra, appearing across the hall, claps delicately. Her restrained smile marks wariness, though who can say whether it is of the radical message or of being seen to applaud such a message in public?
Ilthane the Black, though, just smiles. Her smile sparkles in the moody light as she makes her way over, and once again the crowd quickly parts to make way for her. She barely seems to notice.
"You have a beautiful voice," she says. Her own voice has an easy melody to it, flowing from syllable to syllable without roughness or break. It's pleasant to listen to, but also a little unnerving, a little too casually perfect. "Should I be flattered to have graced it in such a charming little song?"
The oenophile tries to sketch her metaphor delicately, feeling she ought to say something, but not wanting to offend Briar either by being too snobby or by mouthing off like a would-be champion of a world she knows nothing about, really. A wicked part of her wonders if she could introduce her brother’s friend’s colleague to the question, and see what a nest of Calistrians putting their heads together might do to disabuse Moonmeadow of his misapprehensions.
This Miss Strixis sounds like a handful in all the best ways, she thinks, before refocusing on matters at hand with a smile. “But as I said, the thrust of your argument is well taken. Family, as you say, and I’ll do my best to remember that. I’m the youngest, you see, so my experiences, as far as extending the idea to keeping everyone happy in other contexts… So on that note, how do you defuse disagreements so resentment and gossip don’t … turn sour?”
"Well, nothing like Dourstone's draconian punishments or Smenk's oafish cruelty. A gentle but firm hand is the key." He smiles thinly. "I am the provider. I provide them housing, food and fair recompense for what they can offer. I ensure they are taken care of when they fall ill. We have our own stores, our own separate housing, even a separate building and paid staff to care for the sick and injured. I keep my employees separated from the corruption of Diamond Lake. I am the hand that feeds them, Miss Moonmeadow."
His hand pats his chest in a light display of modesty. "But, you know, a hand can't feed wild dogs, can it? Those who mistreat--who poison the community I've worked so hard to build may promptly find themselves seeking somewhere else to live. It's as simple as that."
Broccan drinks and waits for Edrukk to return. They needed to decide if they were going to try a dig up any more leads or try to meet up with the others and share what they'd found out so far.
Edrukk enters the bar and lets his eyes adjust. He yells, "Lad, ye cheated me! Ah came 'ere fer four beers 'n ye let me leave after only two!" He laughs as he approaches the bar and takes a seat. "Didja leave any fer me 'r didja drink mine already?"
He signals the barkeep and asks quietly, "Ye don't seem t' 'ave any wounds in ye. Did she leave ye 'lone, then?"
"Th' lass bought fer'us both," Broccan replies, tapping the sail on the bartop, "so ye c'n'ave yer two'n'eh few more'f ye like."
He takes a sip from his own mug, then continues. "She was ask'n'bout our adventur'n. She says sum'n tole'r we'd found'eh fortune'n one'eh th' cairns. I tole'r we found th' bones've'eh lost friend'n laid'r t' rest. That was good'eh'nuff fer'er t' layoff'n leave me be."
"The lass bought for us both, so you can have your two, and a few more, if you like. She was asking about our adventuring. She says someone told her we'd found a fortune in one of cairns. I told her we found the bones of a lost friend, and laid her to rest. That was good enough for her to lay off, and leave me be."
"She's right!" He taps the gold coin, "'ere's 'r fortune, right 'ere! Ha!"
Broccan gives a chuckle and grin, then flags down the barkeep to refill their mugs.
"We shou' fine th'others'n let'm know what we've foun'dout. Bu' les' fin'ish these firs!"
"We should find the others and let them know what we've found out. But let's finish these first!"
Edrukk simply nods and presents his mug to the keep.
Kata cocks her head, a small shrug uplifting her shoulders. "I'm sorry, m'lady? How have you graced my song? It is about the Pit, and I'd not compare such beauty as yours to that place. Am I missing something?"
In truth, Kata was a bit thrown by Ilthane's approach - both its directness and indirectness, all rolled into one worrisome package. When in doubt, play dumb.
"Alais'n'Briar'r hang'n wi' th' rich'elves. I dinn'eh think we'll be greet'd warmly. Kata'n'Venelle'r 'cross th' Square'n th' Emporium. There's less hassle meet'n'up wi'them. Wha'd'ye'think?" Broccan suggests to Edrukk.
"Alais and Briar are hanging out with the rich elves. I do not think we'll be greeted warmly. Kata and Venelle are across the Square in the Emporium. There's less hassle meeting up with them. What do you think?"
"Seems good t' me."
Broccan gulps down the last swallow-and-a-half of his ale, and sets down the mug with a hard rap on the bar top. He waves down the bar keep, and settle their tab with the gold coin, taking whatever change is proffered.
"Les' get mov'n then," he says to Edrukk. "Bes' t' get'evryone work'n on th' same vein."
"Let's get moving then. Best to get everyone working the same vein."
Outside, Broccan and Edrukk notice that Tirra has gone to talk to two well-dressed men whom Broccan recognizes from a chance meeting at the General Store--albeit less covered in insect stings than last time. One man, bearded with a receding hairline, wears a high-collared red cape fastened with a skull clasp. The other towers over his companions and wears a unique red and black leather girdle topped with the representation of a haunted female face.
The bearded man seems to be arguing with Tirra, looking extremely frustrated.
Ilthane tilts her head quizzically to the side with a light laugh, playing with an earring. "Oh, you flatter me mercilessly, Miss...? Perhaps I just imagined those echoes--black darkness and emerald veins. I have been accused more than once of being a little self-centered. But I'm also often accused of a weakness for emeralds and all things green." She winks. "So, what's your weakness? Or poison, if you'd rather?"
Kata realizes Ilthane is gesturing over a member of the waitstaff, the bespectacled anadi Ten-Eyed Tim.
"Shou' we make'r'ntroductions t'er firends'r jus' keep walk'n?" Broccan whispers to Edrukk as they cross the Square.
"Should we make our introductions to her friends or just keep walking?"
"Didna think 'bout 't. D'we care who they 'r?"
"Treas'r'unt'rs, from watch'ee said," Broccan replies. "They wen'into th' Stirgenest 'n din't fine annethin'." Broccan stifles a chuckle at the name of the cairn. Whoever pointed them to it had a sick sense of humor. "Thas why she came look'n fer me. She'd'eard'I'd found a fortune'n'gold. Thas when'I set'r straight."
"Treasure hunters, from what she said. They went into the Stirgenest and didn't find anything. (chuckle) That's why she came looking for me. She'd heard I'd found a fortune in gold. That's when I set her straight."
"Don' know why we wanna talk t' them. Leave 'em be, Ah'm thinkin."
"Fine by me," Broccan replies, continuing into The Emporium.
When he gets inside, he very purposefully looks around for Kata and Venelle amongst the crowd.
"Coszma. Kata Coszma." Venelle's words rebound around Kata's mind, even as she studies Ilthane. No respect for Smenk? Perhaps Smenk was just a useful idiot then, a sucker, complicity in something very bad simply because his insatiable need for money and power could be exploited? And the real boss was standing in front of Kata? Perhaps...
Kata swallowed, and forced a smile to her face. "Poison? Hardly. I am afraid I live a rather staid existence. I love music of course, creating it and performing it. I'm truly sorry for any confusion on your part. I have heard rumors that the Pit is set to reopen and it is an evocative place for a song." Kata pauses, unsure of just how much to press, and then let's herself cross a line that perhaps shouldn't. "The Pit has always been a dark place - figuratively and literally. I heard, again just rumors, of something brilliant and green there. Emeralds? Or even something more valuable?"
Kata pauses again, searching Ilthane's face for any clues as to whether anything Kata is saying is landing a bit to close to comfort, giving the woman a fleeting glance up and down her dashing figure. Catamount indeed.
"I'm buying you a drink, Kata Coszma." Her eyes narrow in an amused half-smile. "I'll just order you what I'm getting, though. And as for reopening the Pit... well, you do hear things, don't you? A charmer like you must be good at finding things out. Now, myself, also being very charming, I hear all sorts of things."
After placing her orders with Tim and waving him off, Ilthane takes a step forward, leaning in so she can still be heard as her voice lowers. "I heard one rumor about the Old Observatory being left vacant in a hurry, and another about Kullen with a black eye and a bloody nose and a story about people who asked too many questions. I heard a rumor about bright, green things crawling in the earth. Isn't that interesting?
Ilthane's head tilts from side to side. She seems to be inspecting Kata, though for what, Kata can't guess. "I love your curiosity, you know. But the Pit is a dead end. People are just trying to make sense of Balabar's movements, but they know less than smart girls like you and I, don't they? If you're really curious, and anything I just mentioned sounds familiar, think about this instead: Many living underground means many, many mouths to feed. Look for where food is disappearing into the earth.
"But be careful, Catmint." She twirls an earring around her finger. "You know what they say about curiosity and ca--"
Ilthane the Black goes silent, eyes glittering, then takes two steps back. Kata turns to see that Broccan and Edrukk have just joined her and Venelle. Ilthane smiles at the new arrivals. "Oh. You have quite a few admirers, don't you?"
Broccan freezes when he notices that the woman sitting with Kata is Smenk's assistant. He shifts his position a bit, turning slightly away lowering his head, allowing his shaggy hair to fall across his face.
"Wan'eh drink?" he says in a muffled voice to Edrukk and Venelle, much lower than his typical speaking voice. "I'll buy th' firs' round."
Venelle seems reluctant to leave Kata to face Ilthane alone, but she nods quickly at Broccan's suggestion.
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Again, Alaïs is unsure of what to make of the biggest elf around town. He seems to be in earnest, as far as she can tell, and if his attitude seems rather overbearing and interfering compared to leadership as she knows it, well, he has been living cheek-by-jowl with shorter-lived folk for who knows how long, and, sadly, she can well imagine that that rubs off on a person in unfortunate ways. There’s a reason such elves are known as the Forlorn, after all.
She takes her leave, not quite sure if she’s been skillfully put off by someone with something to hide, but trusting her gut for now. Moonmeadow all but makes her shiver, as if he casts a chill as cold as his stretched shadow is unearthly long, but his scorn for Smenk seems real enough, so not a likely candidate for helping to hide a lunatic cult.
“You’ve certainly given me much to think on,” Alaïs says as she rises and flutters through the polite valedictions. “Of course, putting your advice to best use might have to wait until I can visit my people personally, but what I can do from here…”
For all her uneasiness with Moonmeadow himself, she takes her time leaving his domain, trying to get a sense of his people, their moods, and what might be going on in their lives. Like Moonmeadow said, those blessed by a position of influence owe it to their own to look after them. And, after all, the wicked side of her just can’t help but discreetly goggle at the Kyonin-lite effect of his enclave.
“The prince had some interesting suggestions,” she dangles casually to the servants as she arranges her outer layers. “It is good to be among one’s own people, and I’m glad that there’s something for us even in Diamond Lake.”
She lets her eyes linger longer on the friendlier older couple than on the standoffish maid, though she certainly does wonder what the story is there. “Though it’s also been refreshing to see the wider world, I must admit. If the town ever tempts you on a free evening and I can be of help, please don’t be shy. Or I can stop by again with a song and a tale? It’s no trouble, and it’s the sort of thing I do.”
Fine lady though she may be, Alaïs is also a bard, and that is as bards do. She lives off gossip and stories almost as much as song and wine.
Moonmeadow gives a brisk nod. "Remember what I said. Once someone truly depends on you, there is nothing they will not do for you, no treasure they will not gamble, no confidence they will not keep. As they say, Miss Thalanessa, with enough leverage, you can bring down the moon."
Later, as Alais speaks with Moonmeadow's employees, the older elven man gives a slow nod. "I suppose you could see it that way, my lady. Winter comes earlier every year, and one must have a roof over one's head."
"Pity about the feast, though," his partner murmurs.
"Hush, Aerel. We shouldn't bother the lady with such matters. Times are lean. I'm certain His Highness's own plate will be just as bare." There is a glint of wry amusement in the man's eye.
"What are you two gossiping about?" The maid appears at the foot of the stairs, scowling as she carries a large stack of folded blankets. "Honestly. You're worse than the busybodies at the Emporium."
“Oh no, that won’t do!” Alaïs immediately protests, positively aghast at the idea of cancelling a party. “What’s needed? I’m afraid this far from home there’s only so much I can scrabble together on short notice, but there must be something I can…”
Something a bit more rustic than she’s used to might have to do, but given time to forage for wildflowers, and any berries and such in season, and to do a bit of hunting. After all, she and her friends seem to have somehow saddled themselves with an owlbear chick that will need to be taught how to look after its needs, she can only presume – not being an animal trainer herself – the sooner the better.
As the unhappy maid appears, the bard allows her fervid imagination to pause for a moment as she explains, “I gather there’s a problem with a feast? I’d be happy to help, if I can.”
What is it with Moonmeadow’s people and the Emporium? Granted, Lazare’s House seems to be the place to be, as far as Alaïs has been able to tell from her time in Diamond Lake, but at least Zalamandra’s has more interesting people and business around than the Spinning Giant or, gods help them all, the Feral Dog.
"There's nothing to help with. And nothing to gossip about." Aerel shoots the maid a cross look. "He's canceled the last two season's end feasts. They're something of a tradition, especially the Autumn's End Feast. The miners look forward to them."
"Depend on them," the male elf says, though he seems to have the sense to keep his voice down.
The maid huffs. "Harvests have been weak this year. And the feasts have always been a gift, not negotiated pay. Anyway, it's not as if anyone is starving."
"Of course, Faunra."
Broccan turns and walks over to the bar, seeing that Venelle has followed, he says to her quietly, "She works fer Smenk, th'one talk'n t' Kata. Don' know'r name, bu'she's'is eyes'n'ears."
"She works for Smenk, the one talking to Kata. Don't know her name, but she's his eyes and ears."
Edrukk looks brightly at Kata, then her conversation partner. He realizes that Broccan has changed course and perhaps why, so he nods, says "Ladies. May ye 'ave a fine day. Th' ale calls." Turning deftly, he heads to the bar, wagging a finger to get the server's attention.
“If anyone could do with a squarer meal than usual from time to time, I think miners would be high on the list,” Alaïs nods to Aerel, trying (and mostly failing) to imagine what it must be like to spend day after day hacking away at and hauling ore.
“Fortunately, there’s still some time, isn’t there?” she adds, thinking of the date. “What makes for an enjoyable feast in this part of Varisia? How many usually attend? That will give us some idea of what might be possible. I’ll think it over, and in the interval, if something comes up ... I’ve been strolling in the hills a bit lately, but my letters are being delivered at the general store, and I do try to keep up with them. I’ll be in touch with himself, certainly, and - until then - wish you a good day.”
Once she’s got some idea of what she has to work with, Alaïs saunters off with a nod. If it comes down to it, she wonders how far she can stretch a goodberry salad, and how long it would keep, and, most of all, how delightful it would be if she and her friends could thrash a wicked cult and turn their pelf towards good ends instead.
That means finding said cult first, and she drifts towards the centre of town to find the others, hoping they’ve had a bit more luck than she’s had.
Edrukk looks brightly at Kata, then her conversation partner. He realizes that Broccan has changed course and perhaps why, so he nods, says "Ladies. May ye 'ave a fine day. Th' ale calls." Turning deftly, he heads to the bar, wagging a finger to get the server's attention.
Venelle hesitates, then follows the pair to the bar. In a low voice, she says, "Yeah. She's the one who came when it was time to renew my lease, too. She scares the crap out of me. Kata may have, uhh, possibly accidentally referenced her in a song about the Pit."
All three servants seem startled by Alaïs's offer. "W-Well," Aerel stammers, "there's usually... I suppose about eighty guests? You have the miners, and their families, and the rest of the staff. It helps people tighten their belts the rest of the season and save their scrip, knowing the next feast is coming up. Not to mention that there's usually enough for everyone to take home a little leftovers for soups and the sort the next day. We have the staff to handle the cooking and the seating, but it's a lot of food to come up with at short notice."
After her conversation, Alaïs exits and meets back up with Briar, who isn't quite done with her own line of inquiry around the Village. Briar has a stop to make after this, and it's a busy time of day with plenty of safely public space, so she encourages Alaïs to head over to the Emporium and meet up with the others.
So it is that Alaïs enters the Emporium and sees the scene set out before her.
"Any ideas'n 'ow to get Kata'way from'er withou' bring'n Smenk down on our 'eads?"
"Any ideas of how to get Kata away from her without bringing Smenk down on our heads?"
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Having about a month to plan a party for four score on her own, or with whichever of some rather new friends she can blandish into helping out, isn’t exactly something Alaïs has a lot of experience with. And it would be awkward to send back home for help sorting everything out at the last minute, whether by messenger through the usual channels, or an extravagant series of spells, which would be really tricky for the details anyway. She’s sure that it will work out somehow: some sort of subscription to appeal to the better natures of the more comfortable in Diamond Lake, perhaps? In the worst case, left to her own devices, it will provide even more motivation to find the Triad cell quickly and despoil it.
Such are the thoughts revolving in Alaïs' mind as she tracks the others down in a much more convivial space than Moonmeadow’s lair. It takes her a moment to read the room, and what she finds there is a bit odd. There’s a post-set buzz in the air, and it’s not hard to see why, from where Kata’s standing, but there seems to be a curiously generous amount of space being given to her sister bard, compared to the well-wishers and would-be drinking companions one might expect. Even Broccan, Edrukk, and Venelle seem to be keeping their distance, which is – oh, maybe it has something to do with the eager woman in elegant black? Shop-talk with another musician? Has Alaïs missed a fabulous duet? That might explain it.
The elven lady is many things, but she has never been accused of a lack of self-confidence, so she strolls over boldly to join their conversation.
“Oh, hello, Kata! Any joy of things this morning?” she says cheerfully, before turning to the stranger. “I beg your pardon, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Alaïs Thalanassa. I hope I’m not interrupting. But you know how bards gravitate together in a room, as if to form a spontaneous band of waits. Are you also musical?”
True to her upbringing, her lightly Elven-accented voice sparkles through an effortless burst of small talk to soften her intrusion.
Kata ignores the drink placed before her, her back rigid, her eyes focused, captivated by the sorceress, even as she shivers within the Ilthane's presence. Kata was always better with reading emotions, the spaces between people, than with staying on top of complex webs of intrigue, and the reveal of Kata and her companions' activities, the emotional assault Ilthane is throwing at her makes Kata's worldview tunnel. She barely notices Broccan and Edrukk enter, only taking note when Ilthane seems put off, but even then Kata can barely register it, so her mind swims against the malice the woman throws at her, the veiled threats, the rumors.
"Bright, green things, crawling in the earth. That is interesting. What did you hear?"
Kata focuses on her drink and listens closely to any retort, trying to drown out the emotion coursing between them, and get to what lies beneath. It was like trying to eavesdrop on a conversation carried over the wind.
But, even conversations floating on the wind could be heard, and the tenor of a room could be measured. Kata loses her focus to find Alaïs standing next to her.
Looping her arm around Alaïs's, Kata forces a laugh, shrill and forced, her words clipped and rushed.
"Oh, she's not in our trade, Alaïs. This is Ilthane the Black. She serves the minemaster Smenk."
The last bit was something at least; a little jab about Ilthane's station in regards to Smenk, if she was in fact no fan of the mine boss.
“Oh, hello, Kata! Any joy of things this morning?” she says cheerfully, before turning to the stranger. “I beg your pardon, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Alaïs Thalanassa. I hope I’m not interrupting. But you know how bards gravitate together in a room, as if to form a spontaneous band of waits. Are you also musical?”
Ilthane gives a rueful laugh and a shake of her head. She offers her hand to Alais. "Oh, no, no. I'm no musician. I suppose copper is the most resonant metal, and green gems do look pretty set in copper. But myself, I'm more of a chemist." She toys with a jade earring. "And I prefer gold."
To Kata's question, Ilthane only smiles. "You know as much as my employer about the gem. We just know more about the metal the gem's set into."
"Anyways." She taps her nail against the glass of her own drink. The note rings out clear and cold. "Speaking of dear old Balabar, I should really get back to my work. And I'm sure you had better get back to yours." She winks. "I'm staying in his guest house. If you learn more about the bezel, feel free to stop by."
She finishes her drink and turns to leave, but pauses and glances back. "Oh, and please take good care of that guest of yours."
Unless called back, the strange woman takes her leave.