Taking the potions and secreting them into his backpack, Phillip hefts his already unwieldy load and tests the weight to make sure he can manage it. Forsaking the bow he settles for a tip of his imaginary hat before offering "Many thanks Samaritha, I hope your new roost serves you well little bird." giving a wink and a smile before waddling through the doorway and back into the oppressive heat.
"I'll try and make it by the Gold Goblin tonight," she calls after him, "but if I don't make it, at least wish everyone well for me. Well, except for Thuvalia." She wrinkles her nose, laughs, and waves a farewell to the encumbered halfling.
While gravity is on his side going down the hill from Windward, reentering the airless heat and the miasma of the river is less pleasant. Phil is already uncomfortably warm when he passes the Publican House and wiping beads of sweat from his brow by the time he reaches the ferry dock. Hailing the other side, he wishes for a bench to get off his feet while he waits for the flatboat to cross the river to pick him up.
On the other side of town, Phillip waits alone after Samaritha goes through the door; after a few minutes, she returns, carefully carrying three vials. "Here you go. They're labeled; that's a service the Lodge provides so they don't get mixed up in your bag or so you can send someone to fetch one for you and be sure he'll get the right one," she smiles, pointing to labels in neat script pasted on the sides. "This one is vanish, this is touch of the sea, and this is a curative. I gave them a minty taste, but it will only last an hour." She gives him a wink.
150 gp for 3 1st-level potions with the "discount."
If Samaritha has been inducted into any sort of super-secret Cypherlodge knowledge about the events of Wealday last, she is a cooler customer than Phil remembers her being; she doesn't react at all to the mention of the harbor wave, instead pursing her lips over the halfling's requests.
"Invisibility is awfully expensive," she advises. "There's another spell that has the same effect for only a few seconds, though. And we always have touch of the sea available; it's very popular with those expecting to travel aboardship. Wait a moment, and I'll be back with them." She turns toward the door, then stops with a blush. "Oh--! We're supposed to see the customer's coin first, to ensure this isn't a frivolous visit or some sort of set-up for a robbery. Would you mind... just on the counter there?" She seems quite embarrassed to be have to ask it of Phillip.
Samaritha nods. "The least expensive potions we have cost 27 gold coins; those are for minor cantrips. More puissant potions cost 55 gold coins -- those are the cheapest curatives we have -- and the prices go up from there, although there is a discount if you buy at least three. What effects are you shopping for?"
10% surcharge over list price without the volume discount. What potions does he want?
Holding a hand up he clarifies "No deaths to our number... yet... but the day is still young and time remains." a wink betraying some whimsy in his doomed soothsaying. "As to the what of my presence... I seek what objects of vast arcane power are within the reach of my sadly limited budget."
"Oh, of course." She remembers where she is and draws herself up into a professional stance. "What magical aids or items of power are you desiring to purchase?" Before he can answer, she lowers her voice. "I don't suppose there's been any news of Malkith?" she adds.
Phillip waits while the clangor of the conjured bell dies away. Before long, one of the doors behind the counter opens, and a Cypherlodge apprentice enters; it takes the halfling a brief moment to recognize Samaritha. She looks tired, and the Lodge-issued buff-colored robes are far less attractive on her than her own green. When she sees Phil, her face lights up. "Phillip! What are you doing here? How is everyone?"
Samaritha blushes as Saul kisses her hand. "I ... I'm not sure I'll be free. I can't exactly ask for an evening off on my second day there. But I'll drop in if I can."
Having finished her pastry and her cup of tea, Samaritha pushes back her chair and gets to her feet a bit self-consciously. "Well ... I really should be going. Thank you again for all you've done for me. You'll tell Mr. Felden? I hope he doesn't think I'm rude to disappear like this. He wasn't at dinner last night either. If there's ever anything I can do for you, Mr. Vankaskerkin ... well, I can't imagine what it would be, but you know the tale of the firepelt and the mouse ... just send word." She looks around the table, giving Snake a polite nod before her glance hurries quickly around Bojasc, her eyes dipping to the table. "Phillip. Braddon." She pauses a moment on each of them with a warm smile. "You know where to find me."
Knowledge (local) DC 10:
An old Varisian fable tells of a firepelt cougar which catches a mouse. The mouse pleads for its life and promises, if the firepelt lets it go, to do the cat a favor in return. Amused at the humble creature's hubris in thinking it could ever repay such a boon, the firepelt acquiesces. Some weeks later, the cougar is caught in a hunter's snare, and the mouse gnaws through the rope to free it.
Samaritha smiles at Phil as she sets the teapot on the table near the basket of baked goods. "Mr. Vankaskerkin," she turns to the owner a bit nervously, "I'll be on my way to the Cypherlodge directly. I just wanted to say again how grateful I am for the kindness you've shown me this past week. Oh, and here's the key to the room; I've left it tidy." Her gaze wanders to the foot of the table as she lays the key next to Saul's plate. "I was hoping to say my thanks and farewells to Mr. Felden as well. Do you expect him for breakfast soon? Or have I already missed him?"
At that moment, however, someone does walk through the door with a steaming kettle: not Gristav, but Samaritha. "Good morning," she smiles at the gathered company. "I thought I'd bring up the tea."
Samaritha shrugs. Avoiding Thuvalia is a motive she can well understand. "Eble mi estos for antaŭ ŝi vekas tiam tiel, kaj tio vere estos bona mateno," she whispers back, her eyes twinkling, before turning and heading up the corridor toward the rest of the casino.
Elvish:
Perhaps I'll be away before she wakes up then as well, and it really will be a good morning.
You can hear the conversation in the hallway, enough anyway to know that Samaritha hasn't been successful in drawing Gristav away.
Gristav wrote:
Raising his voice just a half a door's thickness over normal, Gristav said, "Please do, take a last breakfast. You'll have to compare our fare, someday, to the Cypherlodge."
Samaritha seems mystified by Gristav's pantomime but kens enough of his meaning not to inquire out loud about it. "I'm sure the Gold Goblin would win the culinary battle," she smiles. "A bunch of mages and scholars, they probably have to be reminded to put their books down and eat when they've gotten engrossed in their studies."
"If you'll give me a moment, I'll bring some of the sausage; he liked it well enough..."
"Bring it upstairs, if you don't mind," Samaritha suggests, stepping out into the corridor and closing the door behind her, "or better yet, just come upstairs with me and fetch it in a moment. I haven't much time to say my farewells, if I want to get to the Cypherlodge bright and early. I do want to make a good first impression."
Samaritha opens the door, pulling her loose hair back with pins in her mouth. "Sorry; takes two hands," she smiles, as she deftly pins her hair at the back of her head. "Oh, is this the cat I've been hearing about?"
As Gristav calls through the door, Samaritha's eyes widen. Far from discouraging your impulse, she puts a finger to her lips and, looking around the room without finding any better hiding place, nods you under the bed. "Just a moment," she calls out, hurriedly pulling the pins out of her hair and shaking her curls loose.
Gristav wrote:
Knocking gently enough not to startle in mid-study, Gristav speaks through the door, "Samaritha, I'm sure you're welcome at breakfast. The pastry has gone up, the coffee water is warming. We're in some disarray, but, that only gives us longer, to say farewells, and see to welfares..."
"Just a moment," Samaritha's voice calls through the door.
"Braddon," she laughs a bit shakily, resting her head against your shoulder, "I'm not going that far, just up the hill to Windward. It's not like you'll never see me again."
As she returns your hug, you hear a faint rapping at a door: not Samaritha's, but most likely yours across the hall.
"Well ... all right. But I won't presume I'm invited to sit down and eat; I'll just say thank you and wish everyone well." She tucks a stray curl behind her ear. "When you see Daynadrian, remind him to come to the Cypherlodge if he needs arcane help."
"Oh ... I don't know. Do you think I should? It seems rude to leave without saying goodbye and thank you, but it also seems rather rude to assume I'm invited to a staff breakfast when I've just quit the staff on such short notice. Perhaps I'll just stop by the Publican on my way up to Windward and have a bite with Lalie and Arnando."
"Oh!" she says with a guilty start. "You know about that, right? I mean, you've seen him? It's very strange, nothing I know anything about at all. I've never heard of a reverse-aging spell. But the new man, Snake, seemed to be familiar with the magic and thought there would be a way to reverse it. I told him to come to me at the Cypherlodge if you all run into trouble; I'm sure someone there could help him, if only we could persuade them to take an interest. That can take a while," she admits ruefully.
"Don't forget Mr. Felden," she reminds him. "He seems to be quite responsible and trustworthy ... although he may be a little out of his depth dealing with all these layers of motivation and deception. Poor dwarf, he just wants to run a successful business and be let alone, but I'm afraid he chose the wrong partner for that. Not that I've anything against Mr. Vankaskerkin," she qualifies quickly; "he's been more than generous to me. But his past doesn't seem to want to stay in the past, does it?"
"Just wondering where he fits into all this and how much I should tell him about Malkith and this."
"Out of everyone, Malkith trusted you," Samaritha points out. "I suspect that means he trusts your judgment as to how to share the information. If you're asking me...," she considers a moment. "It's easier to tell you who I don't trust: Thuvalia, obviously. And Bojasc. I wouldn't say a word to either of them."
"Phillip is a good man," she answers without hesitation. "I mean, what he does behind closed doors is his own business, but he's been.... I trust him."
Will get the contents of the second note typed up tomorrow.
Samaritha smiles wanly. "You can trust me, but ... I don't think I want to get any more involved than I already am in Mr. Vankaskerkin's affairs. He's been very kind, but he has so many enemies. I don't know if Malkith ever told you, but he did a Harrow reading for me last week when we all got hired on here. The cards said that my being here, meeting all of you, had put me in danger." She hesitates. "I don't want you to think I'm a coward, but I've just now gotten a toehold in the Cypherlodge. The last thing I want is to be a distraction by bringing any ... unpleasant connections to their doorstep. I mean, Lil Scarlet? Cleg Zincher? It's bad enough Mistress Bromathan believes I've been apprenticing myself to a drunken master," she concludes unhappily.
"Malkith," she repeats, holding out another folded paper that you are just realizing is the not the note she slipped under your door and you returned to her. This one has a blobby wax seal. "He left a separate note for me and asked me to give this one to you. I think.... He seems to have thought that not everyone working for the Gold Goblin was to be trusted," she admits reluctantly. "In my note, he told me to give this to you, without telling anyone else about it."
There is a pause and a faint rustle behind the door across the hall; then it opens just a crack, through which one of Samaritha's green eyes peers out cautiously. When she has seen you, she steps back into the room, pulling the door open as she does so and wordlessly motioning you to come in quickly. As you step across the corridor in two swift and silent strides, she hastily closes the door again behind you and leans against it for a moment. Then she gives you a smile and whispers, "I'm almost done," gesturing toward the spellbook open on the bed. "Do you mind waiting just a bit?" She nods you toward the chair at the end of the bed, while she returns to her studies. You see her bag lying neatly packed atop the chest near the fireplace and a dried palm frond leaning in the corner behind your chair.
She shrugs again. "I'll be shelving books and refilling components," she replies realistically. "Still, at least it's a foot in the door. Better than working in a casino. No offense."
Gristav waits for her eye, then, smiling warmly, says, "Congratulations"
Samaritha turns her lips up into a tired smile. "Thank you. It all seemed very thrilling before sunset, but with Malkith gone and Daynadrian's misfortune...." She shrugs wryly, her thunder clearly stolen.
Leaving his own room to Snake and Daynadrian for the moment, Gristav steps out into the corridor and next door, to Samaritha's room.
Gristav wrote:
"Samaritha, If you'd have a half-elf's hand at packing or porting... well, you'll have to ask for it.", Gristav smiles faintly, then quizzically creases his brow, and asks, "Will the kitten, be welcome?"
She is gathering her few personal possessions, in readiness for her departure in the morning. At Gristav's question, she pauses, frowns, and sighs with resignation. "I really have no idea what you're talking about. What kitten?"
"Because 'all Saul's men' would be Phillip, as well, and Bojasc, Deverin... even perhaps, until tomorrow, Samaritha... Thuvalia? Does Shorafa know of Malkith, to miss him? We cannot obey her intent.
Samaritha has been listening with some bewilderment to the conversation flying around her but puts in, "If you're parsing terms, I think it's fair to say that neither Thuvalia nor I are Saul's 'men.' And if the meeting is set for tomorrow, then I won't be working for the Gold Goblin anymore at all." Daynadrian scowls and starts to try to explain, but she raises her hands with finality. "I don't know, I don't want to know, and I won't repeat anything I've heard. It's none of my business. But," she looks at Gristav, "if you want to help someone, make sure they want your help first." She turns back to Daynadrian. "If you need anything, I'll be at the Cypherlodge. I'll be really unimportant at the Cypherlodge," she smiles, "but I'll see what I can do."
Gristav's warning comes too late, as the new arrival breaks Samaritha's concentration. Her face flushes as red as her hair. "I... I don't know," she stammers, shaking her head.
"Come in. It was a ruse, to gain you from the table without informing Thuvalia." Ushering Samaritha into the room with a gesture and a raised brow, Gristav shuts the door, saying, "Samaritha, you know Snake... and Daynadrian?"
Samaritha enters the already-crowded room somewhat grudgingly. "I.... What? What is this...?" Her gaze slides over the elf child, then snaps back with an expression of shock. "Daynadrian? That's not...!" The boy smirks and waves. "What happened?"
He glances around at the empty seats as if looking for someone, but his gaze quickly rests again on Samaritha.
"Are you okay? I heard... nothing."
Her eyes and nose are a little red, as if she may have been crying, but she quickly smiles. "I'm fine. I'm actually ... better than fine. I," she glances nervously at Saul at the head of the table, "I've been accepted as an apprentice at the Cypherlodge. I'm ... one of the three ... or four? ... who are leaving," she trails off apologetically, much of the pleasure of making the announcement quelled by the awkwardness of this being the first her employer is hearing of it.
"Not yet," she replies, looking a little nervous. "I only just arrived from Windward District. I do hope he won't think me ungrateful. He was tremendously kind to put me on staff, knowing I was hoping for a position elsewhere."
Despite her recent mood swing, she draws herself up with pride. "I've been accepted for an apprenticeship at the Cypherlodge," she informs him, "starting immediately. The Cyphermages are doing research on the shadow in the sky out over the harbor and got approval to bring in some new apprentices to do the grunt work. That's me. I'll be moving myself up there in the morning."
"We'll be along. There's stew for ten, and time for another conversation. Or two.", Gristav says, looking away from Samaritha only an instant, and that only to look back at her, punctuating, "I said, I had a confession to make. But if you need to catch up on your reading?"
"Actually," Samaritha gets to her feet to follow Tendal, "I could do with dinner. I've barely had a quick bite since breakfast. And it is my last night here." She waits a moment to see if Gristav will follow.
Kneeling beside the seated Samaritha, Gristav guessed, experimentally empathetically, "Sam. You were close? He was the one who understood you? But... weren't you, about to go..?"
"Only up to Windward!" she protests. "I'd still be in Riddleport. But he told me he didn't intend to stay. When the cards told him it was time to move on, he'd go back to the road. He didn't want to ... mislead me. But I didn't think it would be so soon."
"Gone? What do you mean, 'gone?'" Tendal demands, pushing past Gristav into the room and looking around as if expecting to find the Harrower hiding somewhere within. "He's been paid through Sunday."
"He's still on Mr. Vankaskerkin's business," Samaritha retorts sharply, defending Malkith with a vehemence she'd never muster on her own behalf. She hands the creased sheet of parchment over to Tendal. As the wizard turns his attention to the letter with a frown, Gristav sees Samaritha slip a second folded packet into the pocket of her robes.
The door, not quite closed, swings gently open at his knock to reveal Samaritha sitting in the chair at the end of the neatly-made bed, a sheet of parchment in her hand and her face streaked with tears. "Malkith's gone," she explains simply.
Samaritha colors awkwardly, left alone in the kitchen with Gristav and the newcomer gnome. "Yes, well ... I think you'll understand why things would be ... more pleasant for everyone concerned if you're not seen up in Windward. You'd certainly be unwelcome to Mistress Bromathan ... and it would make things very uncomfortable for me." She keeps her eyes on the floor, where her toes trace nervous circles. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to find Malkith." She hurries toward the swinging doors, leaving Gristav a wide berth. Piccolo turns an inquisitive eyebrow to the bearded half-elf.
