Ialia chooses to follow after Calen, curious as to where his interests lie in town. Perhaps he's found somewhere to eat. A warm meal would be most welcome.
”Well I dare say that your mounts would enjoy a night in the granary but you’ll understand why that’s not going to be an option.” A small smile plays on the man’s lips. To Samara he says, ”I imagine someone can probably find room for your mounts if you make it worth their while. Course you might be sleeping in there with them as there’s no inn or lodging house in the village.” His smile widens and he offers a solid calloused hand to Samara and then Joreld. ”Name’s Hirus. Why don’t you tell me about this search party? What exactly is it that you’re seeking? I’m assuming it’s not a lost dwarf,” he adds, as Pick rounds a corner looking for the others.
* * * * *
”That it is, my good man, from just down the road in Nettle, would you believe” Garrick replies. He squeezes round behind the bar, selects a tankard and pours Calen a drink. The name is not misleading; as you take a sip you discover that the beer is indeed good - ruby in colour, malty and with a slightly sweet finish.
”Your crew, you say? Are you leading some kind of workforce?” he asks. ”If you’re sailors by my reckoning you’ve blown a long way off course. And if you’re pirates looking for treasure I think you’ll end up disappointed.” He grins, but looking Calen up and down he says more seriously, ”You look like you know how to look after yourself, anyhow. I can buy you as someone people follow.”
”The name’s just a little bit of wordplay. This being Dagger Springs, the Zhents finally getting the kicking they so richly deserved and us making a fresh start out here a couple of years ago. Hope springs eternal, as they say.” Garrick stoops into an exaggerated mock bow. ”Always funnier when you have to explain your jokes. But being serious, hope is important and we - me and Cassi, that is - got a good thing here.”
As if on cue the door opens and a short woman with frizzy chestnut curls enters slowly, her dress taut against a heavily pregnant belly. ”Please, tell me more about this good thing,” she smiles, and Garrick bends down to kiss her. ”Actually leave it a while before you serenade me, I’d like to hear from our guest. Left to himself he’d happily talk the rear legs off a griffon.” She gestures with her thumb at her husband. ”I’m Cassi,” she says, ”just in case you thought he was talking about his other wife. I didn’t catch your name though?”
At that moment the door swings open again and Ialia walks in.
”One of your crew?” Garrick asks, ”or has Tymora seen fit to bless us with two mysterious strangers on the same night?”
Calen tipped his hat to Cassi, returning her smile with a respectful nod. "Name’s Calen, ma'am. And your husband here’s done fine with the welcome. This Hope Springs of yours—it’s somethin' special. I can see why y’all’d want a fresh start out here."
He took another sip, savoring the beer’s malty sweetness before answering Garrick. “A workforce? Reckon you might say that,” he replied, lips quirking in a small smile. “Though most of 'em don’t take kindly to followin’ orders, and I’m about as much a sailor as I am a griffon-rider.”
Just then, Ialia entered. He gave her a quick nod and gestured to an open stool. “She’s with me, yeah,” he said, adding with a dry chuckle. "Reckon, I'll let her introduce herself though,"
Calen set his tankard down, the malty taste lingering as he reached into his bag, fishing around until his fingers caught hold of a gold piece. He held it up, letting it glint in the dim light as he slid it across the table toward Garrick.
“Gotta say, Garrick,” he said with a sly smile, “Hope Springs seems as peaceful as any place I’ve seen, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask after a bit of local color. Reckon you’ve had any trouble around here as of late? Or perhaps seen an elven woodsman pass through?”
His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. “Y’know… just tryin' to keep tabs on the lay of the land.”
”Well I dare say that your mounts would enjoy a night in the granary but you’ll understand why that’s not going to be an option.” A small smile plays on the man’s lips. To Samara he says, ”I imagine someone can probably find room for your mounts if you make it worth their while. Course you might be sleeping in there with them as there’s no inn or lodging house in the village.” His smile widens and he offers a solid calloused hand to Samara and then Joreld. ”Name’s Hirus. Why don’t you tell me about this search party? What exactly is it that you’re seeking? I’m assuming it’s not a lost dwarf,” he adds, as Pick rounds a corner looking for the others.
The red warrior removes his hel and shakes the offered hand. "I am Joreld Huntsilver, a paladin of Lathander. I, and my group, are in search of a ranger who tracks these lands often. He's named Gladwyn. Interested parties in Dagger Falls want his safe return."
Samara looks at the man’s hand for a moment before taking it and offering a firm handshake. ”Hullo, Hirus. I’m Samara, of Anauroch.” She leaves the chatting to Joreld while she considers whether it would be better to try to find a place or sleep out of doors. It wasn't a hardship either way. If the weather turned suddenly, she could always create shelter.
Pick enters to realize this is... not a stable. He grunts vaguely in the direction of the man whom Joreld and Samara are speaking with, and then backs out again. If it's not the stable then it is much less interesting to him. Instead, he can collect the steeds of the group-- at least, the ones that will be staying on this plane of existence-- and work to start relieving them of harness after the long day of travll.
Ialia straps Fennelseed's reins to the post outside, then reaches into her bag of holding and pulls out a blanket to drape over the animal while it waits. She quickly casts Guidance on herself before finding Calen already drinking.
"Who's looking for a sailor?" she asks with a flourish and sidles up next to the slender man. She's not ready to sit again already and she rests her elbows on the small bar and looks at the amber liquid in Calen's glass.
"One for me, thanks. I am Ialia. Garrick, is it? And I thought I heard your name is Cassi. A pleasure. My friend Calen cuts straight to the heart, but time is not our ally. We're looking for a friend by the name of Glanwyn. Last seen passing through these parts."
Ialia watches the pair behind the bar to see how they react when she drops the name.
”Well met then, Joreld Huntsilver and Samara of Anauroch,” Hirus says. ”And to you,” he calls to Pick as the dwarf collects the mounts. Taking note of Joreld’s holy symbol and attire, not to mention his self-confidence, he says, ”I know Glanwyn. He’s a good man so I’d like some assurance in who these interested parties are and that you mean him no harm before I’m willing to show trust. I hope you understand.”
* * * * *
Cassi nudges Garrick gently in the side with her elbow. ”You heard the lady. Ialia and Calen - well met, both of you.” Her husband inspects a tallglass, before replacing it and choosing another. He gives it a quick polish with a bar rag, before pouring the newcomer a glass of the local brew. While he does this, Cassi continues, contrasting the woman’s directness with Calen’s more relaxed demeanour and roundabout line of questioning. ”Yes and yes, that’s us.”
”Would your elven woodsman happen to go by the name of Glanwyn?” Garrick asks, and Ialia picks up on him glancing quickly at Cassi. ”Or are we looking for two people here? Just, y’know… asking,” he grins back at Calen. ”As for trouble and local colour, well, you’ve come to the right place. More than happy to fill you in on that, my friends.” Cassi rolls her eyes in an exaggerated fashion but smiles fondly at him.
”Let’s see. Well something has been attacking sheep on a couple of the farms out west.”
”Wolves,” Cassi retorts.
Garrick shakes his head. ”Darnath swears not, says he knows wolf raids and this is not it. According to him the bites aren't consistent with wolves.”
”Darnath tried to convince everyone a couple of months back that a spell-hurling ogre had stolen his dog. Turns out he was just visiting his mistress and a litter of pups,” Cassi says, clearly setting out how much stock she puts in this story.
”I heard tell from a fellow in Upper Nettle that drow had been sighted in Spiderhaunt Woods. What kind of nefarious behaviour they were engaged in he couldn’t say but it’s a little too close to here for my liking,” Garrick shudders. ”He also told me that Hasat - he moved here a few months ago - is a wanted man in his native Amn. He keeps himself to himself a bit but he seems like good folk to me. I guess you never can tell though. And it’s a long old way as I understand it so feels like there’s got to be a reason to move thousands of miles.”
”You’re worse than any gathering of highnose nobles at some fancy party, repeating any gossip you’ve heard as if it were the word of Torm,” Cassi says.
”If you ask me,” she continues, ”it’s those three who were here last tenday that are worth talking about. “People of the Green” they called themselves, though I’d just call them stirring up trouble. They were all wearing these bracelets with some kind of green stones on them. Not sure what, but not emeralds. Obviously.”
”Ah they were harmless, Cassi,” Garrick says.
”Your judgement is impaired because the pretty lass was flirting with you all night,” she says acidly.
Garrick puts his arm around his wife. ”She was nothing compared to you, my radiant little Sune,” he replies, likening her to the goddess of beauty.
”Well Hirus didn’t like them, thinks they’ve turned Iltumar’s head. He might not admit it - obvious as it is to anyone with eyes - but he cares deeply about that boy. And Tess said something similar about Jevan, though I’m less surprised to hear that as he’s always seemed a foolish lad to me.” She stops, a smile crossing her lips. ”Here now, apparently it’s my turn to chat like a housewife out on market day.”
”Well met then, Joreld Huntsilver and Samara of Anauroch,” Hirus says. ”And to you,” he calls to Pick as the dwarf collects the mounts. Taking note of Joreld’s holy symbol and attire, not to mention his self-confidence, he says, ”I know Glanwyn. He’s a good man so I’d like some assurance in who these interested parties are and that you mean him no harm before I’m willing to show trust. I hope you understand.”
Joreld nods. "To our knowledge, Glanwyn has not broken any laws. The council members of Dagger Falls are just eager for the return of their highly-esteemed ranger."
Samara appreciates the blacksmith’s innate caution. Sometimes you can’t tell if a snake is poisonous until its fangs flash. She frowns, considering what evidence she can produce, which isn’t much. ”Hear Lord Morn ask for help? It about Glanwyn. We answer. More… you know Glanwyn verra well? Know of his, uh, woman?”
Calen raised his glass in a friendly toast to Ialia as she joined him, glad to see her jumping into the fray. He took another slow sip of the Nettle’s Best, nodding as she laid out their business, pleased with her direct approach.
With an amused glance at Garrick’s question, he leaned forward, voice low but genial, “Now, if this Glanwyn fella did pass by, it’d ease our minds to know where he might be headed. Can’t have an old friend wanderin’ off into mischief, y’see.” He pulled another gold piece from his pack and set it gently on the table. “A small token for your trouble, should any trails jog your memory.”
As Garrick and Cassi discussed the wolf—or maybe not-wolf—attacks, Calen tilted his head thoughtfully. “Folks tend to exaggerate, but sounds like your Darnath knows wolves from somethin' else. And these ‘People of the Green’...curious sort to be sure.” He watched Garrick and Cassi closely, especially as the subject of the strange bracelets came up. “I’ll say—seems odd for good folks to get so riled up over green stones. Y’all ever hear of them turnin’ heads so easily?” He glanced at Ialia, raising a brow.
As they chatted, Calen kept an eye on how comfortable the couple seemed, keeping his tone warm and relaxed. But the hint of wariness stayed in his eyes.
"A fine ale," Ialia opines, having consumed overmuch wine and exotic liquors while employed as a spy in Saerloon. A simple beer suits her very well.
She didn't realize how thirsty she was! Clinking glasses with Calen she adds, "To quiet trails," and then drinks the glass down and sets it heavily, empty, back on the bar.
A bit sheepishly she asks, "Another?"
"Yes, Glanwyn, any knowledge about his direction or intentions would be most appreciated."
When the story about the People of the Green is debated, Ialia replies to Calen, "Calen, you missed the lede! Men easily seduced by beautiful women - the oldest tale of woe, to be true. Hold no ill feelings toward your husband, Cassi. In my estimation he kept his head when lesser men lost theirs. A properly trained seductress will pierce the vows of most men. But tell me, what was their stated purpose for passing through Hope Springs? Rather an out-of-the-way destination. If we had not been on the trail of our lost friend I doubt this encounter would ever happen."
"And to you," he calls to Pick as the dwarf collects the mounts.
Pick grunts.
A look of consternation crosses Hirus’ face at Joreld’s words. ”I had not heard of any call for help. Though I assume you when you say that they are eager for his return you mean that he is missing rather than something more sinister? He was here not so many days ago so I’m guessing this is a recent development?”
To Samara he says, ”I would say that I know Glanwyn a little. He’s often on the road here and there but makes time to stop by when he can and speak to us common Dalesfolk and help as he can. I’ve got to know him a bit the past couple of years through this and I appreciate that he does it. Sensible leadership if you want my two coppers.” He runs a hand through his thinning hairline. ”I do also know of Cariamma rather than know her, though we have met once when she came through the village. Seemed friendly and folk speak of her as a good influence - gives people a fair hearing.”
* * * * *
The couple exchange another glance but leave the coin Calen places on the table alone. Instead Garrick busies himself pouring Ialia another drink. ”I’m sure it would ease minds,” he agrees. ”It’s good that he’s got folk looking out for him.”
”Of course,” Cassi agrees. ”I don’t disagree that he knows wolves. But not all stories are true and many grow in the telling. How many who boast of slaying dragons simply speared wyrmlings fresh from their eggs? Or simply made the whole thing up as a good tale when they lucked into some gold.”
The woman reaches down to rub her stomach and sits down heavily, glad to take the weight off her feet. ”You get more people come through here than you might think,” she says to Ialia. ”Mostly looking to buy or sell this and that, traders taking food and things to market, that sort of thing. Though you’re not wrong that most nights it’s only villagers in here and this group weren’t exactly the usual type.” She wrinkles her nose. ”They didn’t give a purpose as such but they spent time chatting to pretty much everyone in town that they could."
Garrick nods. ”You’d kind of say they were.. asking questions. Spreading ideas, maybe? I hadn’t really thought of it like that till just now but I reckon they were figuring out who was interested in what they had to say.”
”So you were paying attention to something above chest-height,” Cassi smiles sweetly at her husband. ”I’ll consider giving you a pass though - she did put a lot of work into making it hard to look elsewhere."
"You know I think you might be onto something there,” she says after considering for a while. ”It’s not always easy to make folk here trust - with good reason - but now you mention it they were very good at putting folk at ease and getting them to open up a bit. Happy to buy drinks and that's never going to go down badly after a long day in the fields.”
The Bedine isn’t sure what Joreld said to make the blacksmith trust them, but it certainly simplified matters. She becomes animated by the blacksmith’s news. ”How many days since saw? Maybe 13 or 14? Leave village at north, yes?”
Many words are happening. Pick decides to let Red Armor and Veiled Woman handle that. Horses need tack taken off.
The deepening night of the village is soothing to Pick. He works with a low, tuneless hum deep in his chest. He rubs the horses down and checks for blisters. If Glan came through here, they will know soon enough, but to the horses this fact doesn't matter. Life is simpler for them.
The call of the birds of twilight makes him cock his head briefly. Perhaps there is something he can do while he waits to see what human intelligence brings... He clears his throat a few times, then lets out a whistle of sorts, a noise that carries despite its relative softness.
He must also write another message for Cariamma, using Veiled Woman's pieces of paper. He will wait til he hears what the others found out first, though.
Pick frowns as something occurs to him. He did not offer her anything for the paper. There is a debt. It is uncharacteristic of him to forget-- given how deeply the lesson was taught.
'It's a geode,' he mumbled, but she wasn't particularly interested. 'Yes, yes. You MUST remember that we give nothing for free, pebble! You've accepted your rock and now its owner has a claim on you.'
'What'll we do?' the boy mumbled, his blue-grey eyes wide with worry.
'We? Nothing at all. You'll have to pay your own way, I'm afraid. How else will you learn? Oh, don't look so dire, now. And definitely don't cry. It's so distressing.'
'I haven't got any money...'
'Wouldn't do you much good if you did,' the huldra said crisply. 'No, Artabraxes will be wanting something like, oh, ten years of labor, or perhaps the color of your eyes, or the memory of your mother's name, or the taste of strawberries. You'll sort something out, I'm sure....'
This time Ialia savors the taste of the beer - the bittersweet earthiness along with that subtle tinge of the fermentation. She sets the glass down again and stares at the remaining liquid, the light dusting of bubbles.
"You're an artist, Garrick. I could travel across half of Faerun and not taste better."
She steers back to their purpose. "I can't imagine we'll be staying long enough to make such acquaintances as did the People of the Green. Our mission is rather urgent, I'm afraid. We were dispatched only two days past from Dagger Falls by by Cariamma Stillwater, advisor to Lord Morn. She fears for Glanwyn's safety, enough to send a team of five, including Calen and myself. Likely we'll be off again at first light. Anything else you might remember about Glanwyn's heading, or if he shared any concerns, would be most appreciated. As would a room for the night. Is there someplace in Hope Springs to rent a bed?"
Ialia hides nothing, if they are trying at all to discern her intentions.
Calen tilted his head slightly, the faintest of smirks playing at the corner of his mouth as he studied the couple. He caught the flicker of hesitation between them, and it told him plenty—whatever they knew of Glanwyn, they weren't ready to part with it.
Tipping his tankard slightly toward Garrick, he said, "Mighty kind of ya to keep an eye out fer folks passin' through." He let his gaze linger just a heartbeat too long, the sort of look that suggested he wasn’t buying all the pleasantries but was happy enough to let it be for now.
"’Preciate the drink, truly," he added, nodding at Cassi. "Place like this, reckon ya get all kinds. Sounds like those green-wearin' folks were right friendly," he drawled, giving her a knowing look. "Reckon we’ll try’n keep our distance, unless ya think they’re folks worth crossin' paths with?"
Hirus scrunches up his face, trying to do some mental calculations. ”Couldn’t say exactly for sure, but there or thereabouts. At least a tenday, anyways.”
* * * * *
”Kind of you to say so, Miss Ialia, but I’m only pouring it. Not that there isn’t a little skill to it, but it’s the brewer as deserves the credit,” Garrick replies.
At the white-skinned woman’s directness regarding their mission, the pair seem to relax slightly. ”You’ve something to back up this claim?” he asks Ialia? ”Easy for any lad or lass to proclaim “I’m here at the behest of Storm Silverhand” or “I’m with the Harpers” when it’s straight from the mouth of Cyric.” He mimes spitting behind himself after invoking the name of the Prince of Lies.
Cassi looks a bit sheepish at the question of beds. ”I’m sorry, this isn’t an inn,” she says. ”Even ‘tavern’ feels a bit grand for us.” A small smile plays on her lips as she gestures to the walls of the small room you occupy.
To Calen she says, ”Been and gone days ago to who knows where. Don’t know that I’d be in a hurry to invite them back but can’t complain about their coin.”
Ialia winces, realizing that something so important was overlooked.
"A writ of command could as well be forged, but we carry no official signet of Lord Morn. I'm very sorry for the position this puts you in. I can say that Glanwyn was wearing a necklace that Rissa, the gnome mage in service to his lordship, was attempting to communicate with through divination or the like. Our companion also carries Glanwyn's shirt and boots so as to provide scent to creatures that may have crossed Glanwyn's path.
"I can only ask for your trust, understanding that is not given freely. But as I said, Glanwyn is very likely in trouble; Cariamma loves him and knows that his lack of response is an ill omen. If you have any information that could help us to find him, please, consider carefully before turning us away."
Ialia finishes the second glass of beer and waits hopefully.
Ialia's speech certainly sounds plausible, and it would make life easier if what she said was true, but the looks onGarrick and Cassi's faces suggest they are not yet wholly convinced. "I'm sorry," Cassi says again. "Your tale rings true but you'll forgive us if we wait and see what your companions can add to corroborate it."
"Thank you, Hirus. Do you know someone in the village that might have enough room to give our mounts, and possibly us, quarter?"
Ialia shrugs. It was not the answer she hoped for but it was the one she expected.
Calen gave the couple a final nod, the easy smile never quite leaving his face as he tilted his hat to them. "Well, appreciate all y’all’s kindness and the drink,” he drawled, tipping his glass toward Garrick and Cassi. “But I’m thinkin’ we’d best step out, see what else Hope Springs has to offer.”
Turning to Ialia, he said quietly, "Reckon we've squeezed this place dry. Let’s track down Joreld, Pick, and Samara—see if they’ve gotten any more meat off this bone.”
With a last glance at the rustic little tavern, Calen headed toward the door, eyes sharp for anything unusual outside as he and Ialia stepped out into the streets.
Hirus thinks for a minute. ”Evollana will probably be able to take your horses. Might be she can provide a bed as well. I can ask around for you, though probably you won’t all be in the same place unless you’re willing to sleep on the floor.” He shrugs. ”Guess that’s not so different to camping out and at least it’ll be dry.”
”Let me go speak to Evollana. I’m sure it’ll be fine but don’t want to be presuming, turning up at her door with all your steeds without having asked first,” he explains. ”In the meantime maybe go see if Garrick or Cassi will open up for you at the tavern? Figure that’s the most sensible place.”
"Your introduction would be appreciated, Hirus", Joreld smiled. "Are you talking about the building with the 'Hope Springs' sign?"
”You’re welcome. And yes, that’s the place,” Hirus replies.
Turning to the exotic spellcaster, the paladin comments, "Let us go and see this 'Hope Springs', Miss Samara."
Outside the tavern, Ialia sees the rest of the party coming up the street with their horses still in tow.
"No luck at the stables?" she asks. "Joreld, if your tongue is as talented as I assume it is, you might convince the couple inside the tavern of our good intentions. They have more information about Glanwyn than they are letting on."
On what passes for a main thoroughfare, Samara says to the group, "Glanwyn visit ten er more days past. So left before talk to Cariamma. Go missing soon after leave here, think me."
"No luck at the stables?" she asks. "Joreld, if your tongue is as talented as I assume it is, you might convince the couple inside the tavern of our good intentions. They have more information about Glanwyn than they are letting on."
The cormyrean lord gave Ialia a knowing look. "I shall do my best", Joreld smirked.
The red warrior let go of the reins of Sunrise, as the steed walked to stand next to the fence. The paladin took a deep breath, calling upon Lathander's brightness and walked inside 'Hope Springs'."Hope Springs!" Joreld pronounced magnanimously. "Have I entered a temple to The Morninglord! Greetings to all!"
Ialia reenters the tavern to introduce Joreld.
"Cassi and Garrick, this is Joreld, paladin of Lathander, one of our companions working to find Glanwyn. The ale is quite good, Joreld."
Calen leaned against the hitching post, his back to the tavern door, and struck a match to his cigar, the orange glow flaring to life as he cupped his hand around it. He took a slow, deep drag, savoring the earthy, smoky taste as he watched the quiet street in front of him.
"Well, Pick, reckon we’ll see if they can’t charm a little more outta those two. Joreld and Ialia’s got a knack for softenin’ folks up—saves me the trouble of pry’n too hard." He chuckled, sending a plume of smoke drifting up into the cool evening air. He gave Pick a sideways glance, checking to see if he looked as skeptical about the whole setup as Calen felt.
"Sometimes, I wonder," he muttered, rolling the cigar between his fingers. "Folks in these parts love a good secret... all we can hope’s they let one slip." He settled in, keeping a lookout and letting the warm glow of the cigar steady his thoughts as they waited.
The tavern keepers both register surprise at Joreld's appearance. With his impressive stature, flaming red hair and unique suit of armour, he cuts an imposing figure that draws the eye in any situation. His look is also totally different to both Ialia and Calen, presenting Garrick and Cassi with a third mysterious stranger, part of quite a diverse group.
Cassi is first to recover. "Well met, Joreld. I thank you for your blessing, but you don't need to humour us - we know this is a pretty humble offering." She makes a point of visibly inspecting the paladin for any iconography connected with Lathander. Satisfied, she adds, "Though I guess you're right, the Morninglord probably would appreciate the name."
"Ialia is right too," Garrick chimes in, "the ale is good. Could I offer you one?"
"We've heard your companions' story," Cassi says. "Can you give us anything else to support this?" She groans softly and rubs her pregnant belly. "Your pardon," she says.
Garrick grins briefly, "If it helps, you don't look like Zhents. Far too much imagination on display, even if you're all in disguise. But to be blunt there are any number of other organisations, cults and the like who might wish this lands harm so I hope you understand," he adds more seriously.
The tavern keepers both register surprise at Joreld's appearance. With his impressive stature, flaming red hair and unique suit of armour, he cuts an imposing figure that draws the eye in any situation. His look is also totally different to both Ialia and Calen, presenting Garrick and Cassi with a third mysterious stranger, part of quite a diverse group.
Cassi is first to recover. "Well met, Joreld. I thank you for your blessing, but you don't need to humour us - we know this is a pretty humble offering." She makes a point of visibly inspecting the paladin for any iconography connected with Lathander. Satisfied, she adds, "Though I guess you're right, the Morninglord probably would appreciate the name."
Joreld shook both tavern keeper's hand in greetings. "Well, after being on the road for several days, it was an welcome sight. Lanthander was with us: we experienced no trouble on the road here. Morninglord, be praised!"
"Ialia is right too," Garrick chimes in, "the ale is good. Could I offer you one?"
"Oh, please!"
"We've heard your companions' story," Cassi says. "Can you give us anything else to support this?" She groans softly and rubs her pregnant belly. "Your pardon," she says.
"No need, m'lady. How far are you?" Joreld asked respectfully of Cassi.
"Well, under Lord Morn's direction, our party was gathered by Miss Cariamma, a cleric of Eldath, and Father Tunfer, a cleric of Tyr. Our objective is to find Gladwynn, discovery why he has gone so long between check-ins, and to return him safely to Dagger Falls. Miss Cariamma was very concerned. Do you know Gladwynn?"Garrick grins briefly, "If it helps, you don't look like Zhents. Far too much imagination on display, even if you're all in disguise. But to be blunt there are any number of other organizations, cults and the like who might wish this lands harm so I hope you understand," he adds more seriously.
"A neighbor, Hirus, is acting on our behalf to introduce us to a Miss Evollana, in hopes that she will have enough room to shelter our horses, and hopefully ourselves, tonight."
Garrick pours another Nettle's Best and hands the full tankard to Joreld.
"A couple of months to go still," Cassi smiles, though it is slightly strained, "thanks for asking. Looking forward to meeting him or her now."
Letting out an audible sigh of relief, Garrick says, "Well if you'd said that from the start that would have helped. If Hirus is willing to vouch for you that's good enough for us." Cassi murmurs concurrence. "I wouldn't say I know Glanwyn well, but we do appreciate his visits. Always makes time to come and find out what's happening. Not always the most talkative but he takes his job seriously."
"To put it another way, he's very patient listening to your endless stories and shreds of gossip," Cassi says to Garrick. "In truth I don't know how much help we can be. He was here, what, must be at least a tenday ago. I know he was heading north to Goldfields and the abandoned village that was once a quarry."
"Stonehome," Garrick chips in.
Cassi's face creases in concern. "I hope he's ok. I don't know much about what he does but I've never seen anyone move as quietly as he does. Fluid, almost you might say. And he's been walking these lands since well before my grandfolks were children."
Garrick nods in agreement. "I don't reckon much would get the jump on him so if something's attacked him it must be powerful."
"It's not much but you're welcome to stay in here tonight. Move everything to the side and we can lay a couple of old mattresses down," Cassi offers.
"Well, Pick, reckon we’ll see if they can’t charm a little more outta those two. Joreld and Ialia’s got a knack for softenin’ folks up—saves me the trouble of pry’n too hard." He chuckled, sending a plume of smoke drifting up into the cool evening air. He gave Pick a sideways glance, checking to see if he looked as skeptical about the whole setup as Calen felt.
Pick grunts in response to Owl's Human's words, his eyes still on the horses as he pulls burrs out of the hair on his own horse's fetlocks. His ears are pricked for any answer from the birds of the area, but so far they seem quiet.
"People always... have secrets." This sounds vaguely condemning.
At the veiled woman's relating of the information-- that Glanwyn WAS here-- the dwarf looks up with some light interest. Good! A good sign for their trail. They do not have to waste more time doubling back south to find his path, but rather can pick it up leaving Dagger Springs. He nods, satisfied.
After a moment's silence he rummages in his garments until he finds what he is looking for. His callused hand extends towards Samara, palm up, a platinum coin in it catching the light of the rising moon.
"For paper," he says.
"People always... have secrets." This sounds vaguely condemning.
This draws an appraising look from Samara. It was a statement of multiple truths.
"For paper," he says.
The Bedine peeks in the dwarf’s open palm skeptically before gently pushing his fingers closed over the coin. ”Is gift… tack.”
The Bedine peeks in the dwarf’s open palm skeptically before gently pushing his fingers closed over the coin. ”Is gift… tack.”
The dwarf's expression turns grim. "No. I pay. No gifts." He tries to offer the coin again, stubbornly. Then, the fact that a word of Dwarven slipped the woman's lips registers properly with him.
Two human women, speaking dwarf-tongue! What ever is the world coming to, as Dellabrynna might have said. He gives her a bit of a side-eye-- not quite suspicious, not quite sure what to make of it.
"You and White Hair both speak Dwarf?"
Samara shakes her head. ”No. Try learn.” She pats the saddlebag that holds her books.
The Bedine glances at the coin still held between them, like a point of contention. An idea strikes. ”No coin, OK. Trade? Help me with Dwarf words?” She asks hopefully.
White Hair? Her eyes crinkle, amused. ”If her ‘White Hair’… what me?”
Ialia bursts out laughing as she overhears the conversation between Pick and Samara in Dwarvish. She doesn't quite recover before making a spectacle of herself.
"Damn good ale!"
Garrick pours another Nettle's Best and hands the full tankard to Joreld.
"A couple of months to go still," Cassi smiles, though it is slightly strained, "thanks for asking. Looking forward to meeting him or her now."
Joreld sets down the tankard and gasps his holy symbol with both hands. With his eyes closes and head facing upward, the paladin invokes his deity. "Lathander. Morninglord. God of Beginnings. Please bless the child within Cassi's womb. Bless the mother and father so they may see the face of their healthy child as the first rays of your divine light caress its face on it's first morn. May The Rose and Gold protect this child when it born, for all it's mornings. Amen."
Joreld smiles as he opens his eyes and takes a good sip of ale.Letting out an audible sigh of relief, Garrick says, "Well if you'd said that from the start that would have helped. If Hirus is willing to vouch for you that's good enough for us." Cassi murmurs concurrence. "I wouldn't say I know Glanwyn well, but we do appreciate his visits. Always makes time to come and find out what's happening. Not always the most talkative but he takes his job seriously."
"To put it another way, he's very patient listening to your endless stories and shreds of gossip," Cassi says to Garrick. "In truth I don't know how much help we can be. He was here, what, must be at least a tenday ago. I know he was heading north to Goldfields and the abandoned village that was once a quarry."
"Stonehome," Garrick chips in.
Cassi's face creases in concern. "I hope he's ok. I don't know much about what he does but I've never seen anyone move as quietly as he does. Fluid, almost you might say. And he's been walking these lands since well before my grandfolks were children."
Garrick nods in agreement. "I don't reckon much would get the jump on him so if something's attacked him it must be powerful."
"It's not much but you're welcome to stay in here tonight. Move everything to the side and we can lay a couple of old mattresses down," Cassi offers.
"Thank you very much for your trust in us", Joreld nods. "I think everyone would the option to sleep under a roof. Maybe not our Selûnite, but your hospitality would be appreciated."
The couple smile at Joreld's blessing. "Thank you," Cassi says, "that's very kind. And we'll see what we can do."
"I'm guessing you've not eaten?" Garrick says. "We've got some stew we were going to heat up if you like. Bread. Greens."
As you sit with your drinks in the Hope Springs, it's not too long before a couple of farmers enter. They look you over with eyes somewhere between curious and suspicious and you see them ask a silent question of Garrick, who nods. The pair offer a bluff "Well met," but then take themselves to a small table to sit and drink, though in the small confines of the taproom it's practically next to you anyway.
A short while after that Hirus appears. Cassi calls out in greeting and he grunts and holds up a hand in acknowledge. He offers a hand to both Ialia and Calen, who he has not yet met, before speaking more directly to Joreld and Samara. "Evollana is happy to stable your horses. If your good dwarf is willing to lead them I can take you over. She's also got a spare room she's willing to offer. Just the one cot in it, though room for another on the floor." He rubs the back of his neck, which flushes pink. "Reckon I can get the same from Tred after a couple of pints too."
"I promise we won't be offended if that sounds like a better offer," Garrick says. "As appealing as a mattress on ale-soaked boards sounds, I'd probably take the bed if it was me."
The smith's mouth quirks into a small smile. "Looks like you've got some options anyhow."
"Since Evollana is kind enough to stable our horses", Joreld noddded, "I will take Garrick's and Cassi's offer for lodging for the night. Thank you."
”Evollana is happy to stable your horses. If your good dwarf is willing to lead them I can take you over.”
”You have thanks.” By the Bedine’s reckoning, four horses were too many for any one person to wrangle. She takes the reins of a couple. ”I go too.”
Imbibing her third glass of ale, Ialia is feeling more than tipsy. She hasn't eaten supper yet, and while the practical considerations of caring for the animals and squaring beds for the night is important, the first order of business is always survival.
"Yes, please!" she replies a little to hastily to Garrick. The idea of a warm stew and fresh bread has her stomach groaning.
When Hirus arrives she reaches out to meet him and then says,"That's a very kind offer and one I will happily accept. Your all so kind in this town. Hope truly Springs here."
Once the stew is served she places five gold pieces on the counter, which Ialia assumes is more than enough to cover everything the party consumes. "Thank you for your generosity."
”No coin, OK. Trade? Help me with Dwarf words?” She asks hopefully.
White Hair? Her eyes crinkle, amused. ”If her ‘White Hair’… what me?”
A long pause, the dwarf's brows knit together. Strange humans. Speaking feytongue, wanting to learn dwarftongue... Slowly, a bit reluctantly, he nods in answer to the proposal of the trade.
As for what she is called: the dwarf gives a slight jerk of his shoulders, a shrug. "Mask." It's not quite the right word, but his Common fails him a bit.
***
He waits with a bit of sighing as all the talking happens.. and happens... and happens.... open night sky was good enough for the horses on the way here, but now there must be roofs offered. Finally it seems to be sorted, and Pick leads two of the horses, since 'Mask' is taking two-- the beautiful horse seems to have disappeared .
"Why learn dwarf?"
”Mask.”
Samara mulls it briefly. It makes sense. It wasn’t a personal feature but it was a point of distinction. ”Good word.”
”Why learn dwarf?”
It’s her turn for brows to knit… not because the question is difficult but because formulating an answer in Common is. ”I Curious. You not like lots humans, not like many mans. Listen lot, speak small. No, uh, ‘show’? I know lots mans, no dwarfs. I ask… hmm… is lots or somes or little dwarfs like this? Think dwarf talk will tell.”
”Mask.”Samara mulls it briefly. It makes sense. It wasn’t a personal feature but it was a point of distinction. ”Good word.”
”Why learn dwarf?”It’s her turn for brows to knit… not because the question is difficult but because formulating an answer in Common is. ”I Curious. You not like lots humans, not like many mans. Listen lot, speak small. No, uh, ‘show’? I know lots mans, no dwarfs. I ask… hmm… is lots or somes or little dwarfs like this? Think dwarf talk will tell.”
For those seeking extended conversation with Pick it becomes apparent it's not a fast process. After Samara's words, the dwarf is silent for a good dozen seconds, parsing between her imperfect Common and his imperfect Common to eventually translate the gist of what she said.
Then he snorts, seemingly amused.
Another handful of seconds pass, the dwarf turning to make a soft whickering noise in his throat the horses he is leading, as they follow Hirus to the place where the horses will be stabled. Come on, nearly there, you can rest soon....
"Dwarves talk less than humans. Pick talks less than dwarves."
Pick notes the tools of Hirus's trade-- a smith, well, that is a good profession-- and clears his throat at the man. "I sleep with horses," he tells Hirus. "No need bed." Pause, then a (rather rusty), "Thank you."
The birds chatter amongst themselves in response to Pick’s question before chiming in with pieces of information. ”Many two legs across the water when sun is up.” ”Make food and put food in ground.” ”Roost when sun goes away.”
* * * * *
With acknowledgements all round and the essentials of a roof over your head and a full stomach, as well as some information about your quarry, it feels like a fairly successful day. Hirus leads you to the stables and makes introductions with Evollana, one of many farmers in the village. Dagger Springs may be a small place but it has a community feel to it typical of any number of similar places in the Dales. Treat the people right and show them respect and, as you have discovered, they will often repay you in kind. It would be a stretch to say that it is an evening spent wallowing in luxury but it is solid, hearty, earthen. And a night inside on a straw mattress generally beats one under canvas kissing the cold ground.