16th of Gozran, 4708 AR - The adventure begins.
Each day is different. Korvosa has grown louder by each passing day in the last couple of weeks, yet the taste of the air today is laden with tension. Yesterday has gained the name of Bloody Oathday, named after the bloodshed that spilled out on the streets. And any mention of the Royal King Eodred II, or Queen Ileosa, incites some response. Yet after the uprising yesterday, today is quiet...
This morning has been rough on the temple. There was a large upstart at several taverns last night: while the details of the fight eludes you, your early morning duties involved tending to six corpses and seventeen injured men and women. After separating several of the injured, who attacked each other when remarks of the Queen were uttered, you retreated to find some peace and quiet.
The altar room is empty. As you approach Pharasma's altar to pray, you find a card lying on top, between the already lit candles. Curious, you turn it around, and find a message...
in Korvosa, the institution that is the temple of Desna is one of the more prominent buildings in the city - and the priests have been grateful to have you staying with them since you arrived.. After breaking your fast and preparing for today's endeavours, you heard rumours of a big brawl that had happened last night, and that over thirty people had died. Thinking that today could be more dangerous than the last couple of days, you return to fetch your arms and shield - only to find a card lying next to them. Curious, you turn it around, to read a message...
The bar brawl that occurred in the inn where you were staying last night was gruesome, and the barkeep was quick to get you off the stage after your performance. Told to bar the door just to be safe, you took no chances and spent the night listening to screams and arguments, of King Eodred's sudden illness and Queen Ileosa's treacherous nature. While it never seemed to stop, sleep overcame you after a long while.
When you wake up the inn is quiet. As you walk down to where the brawl had begun, you find that a blood bath had indeed occurred last night - the barkeep is being interrogated by some of the city guards. When they spot you, you are asked to return to your room - your innocence vouched for by the barkeep. When you return, you find a card laying on top of your belongings. And on the back is a message...
Bar brawls occurred daily at the tavern you were staying at, yet last night's fight had been brutal - and even though you scare off most people with your muscles, they were almost intent on getting you involved. You retreated to your room before the first murder happened - even with your skill at arms, going out to quench them would have been a death wish. As the night went by, quiet eventually washed over the city, and you found sleep at last.
You wake up to somebody bellowing outside your door; by the sound of it, it is the establishment's owner. As you open to answer it, he informs you that he has to close down the tavern for a while - so the guards can investigate. Asked to leave, you start to pack your belongings - only to find a card on top of your shield. On the back of it is a message...
You were out yesterday in the streets of Korvosa, following a lead that somebody had given you on Gaedren's whereabouts - a lead that had proven to be false. Returning to the temple of Desna, you found your way was blocked by a bar brawl that had gotten out on the streets - one that was violent and bloody. Trying to make your way through, you were attacked and viciously harmed. Despite retaliating, the violence only grew as the day succumbed into the deepest night, and you fled. The wound you suffered, however, took its toll. As you advanced the stairs up to the temple, you collapsed.
You wake up under the care of the high priest of the temple, whose healing magics has closed the wound; he is sad when he tells you he cannot do much more, having to spare his energies to tend to all the other ones who are injured. He leaves in a hurry, and asks you to rest for the day.
After he departs, a breeze is carried in from the window above your bed. Something else flutters in too - landing on your stomach, it is a card - and behind it reads a message...
I read the card several times, attempting to decipher it's meaning.
The is distraction in the streets everywhere. One has only to mention the queen to incite a riot and cover their traces...
Have I not been careful enough? Have they tracked me even here? The fight last night, how is it related?
I shake my head and frown, touch the braids in my hair and bend and make an exhaustive study of the bedding for stray hairs. I grab up all that I can see. There are several reasons why I expend the effort to wear my hair this way, the least of which is the appropriate frame to my attractive face.
Others like me? It is worth investigating...
I check my purse. 5 gold pieces, should be more than enough to keep me week, even more, if I am careful
First order of business is making sure that it is indeed safe to leave the tavern. I go down to the bar and make a showing to the guard to answer their questions to the best of my ability, that "yes, I heard sounds of struggle last night," but "no, I did not think it prudent to interfere." I will be my typically charming self and ask if there have been any other incidents reported, or any areas to avoid traveling to for the day.
"I am a woman on my own, and struggling to earn an honest living, I would very much like to avoid any mishaps."
If it is safe to be about, I will use my knowledge of the area to discern the direction of Lancet Street, and if there are any safe places to hide to observe any persons going in and out for a time.
Chavakala bends down to reach for the card. Her bright red bangs spill over her eyes, but looking through them, the card is clear.
"The Unicorn..." she breathes.
Her mind spins back over past memories. How often has this card turned up in her Harrow readings? So many that The Unicorn was her choice for her very first tattoo when she was 12. From distant memories of she and her sister Zalinsa learning Harrow with their aunt in the back of a caravan wagon to the reading she did for herself the day Zalinsa died. This card has appeared in so many readings that she thinks of it representing herself.
Grasping the card, she can't help but utter the meaning her aunt taught her so many years ago, "What you seek is yours." She turns the card over and reads the back.
"Oh my, Gaedren...could this be THE Gaedren Lamm that worthless delinquent Eugeni named in his dying breath?"
Her mind reels with possibilities. Thoughts of further vengeance for Zalinsa's death. But, what if this is a trap? Who could know so much about me? Is it possible that one of Eugeni's thugs is seeking revenge for him? Well, if so, I'll be ready for them.
Chavakala gathers her morningstar and shield. I mean to find out. If it's a way to Lamm, I'll welcome the gift. And, if it's a trap, I'll take the bastards down and use them to find Lamm.
She heads to find the head priest and see if any of the Desnan priests saw anyone unusual in the temple this morning. Barring that, she will head into the city and start to locate 3 Lancet Street.
** spoiler omitted **...
Pace stares at the message for a moment before a slight frown passes across his face.
Gaedren Lamm....I've been looking for him for days, the slippery little eel. A trap? Or the best lead I've had so far? Either way, I don't really have a choice.He holds the message in his hand while slinging his pack and shield over his shoulders. After another look at the message Pace sets out to find a Harrow reader to give him a specific meaning for the card and then to scout out the location of the meeting.
His mind races as he walks, If it is true that Gaedren took her, then he had better hope she is still among the living. On my life, if she is dead then he will pay THAT price in full.
|
Parneth, his heart beating a little faster under his long blue robes, looks long and hard at the message. He looks up from his prayers and looks around, his face peering from underneath the hood that sits on his proud face, surely the messenger is still around. Yet however hard he looks into the deepest shadows of the side altar he sees no one. His prayers complete, he rises and enters the main body of the cathedral. The still sounds are interrupted by slow incantations to Pharesma from several of the other side altars, each venerating a different aspect of the gatekeeper of deaths journey.
He sees nothing untoward, no evidence of disturbance, nothing unusual, just this card and it's message. His mind in turmoil at the thought that he may find some solace in justice for the deaths of his parent, he once more enters a side chapel, bows his head and seeks guidance.
Taking the card and message, Parneth goes to approach his father benefactor, permission must be sought to pursue this lead, permission from Bishop d'Bear himself. For if this is true, the true relics stolen from the cathedral might also be returned and cathedral's power increased once more. Surely, the Bishop will grant Parneth his request to follow this up and in doing so honor Phaersma by returning 'The Blood Tear of Pharesma's handmaiden.' to its place amongst the holy relics in the cathedral.
Evening approaches and a figure in dark clerical attire leaves the cathedral and the Gray, heading off for a rendezvous to discover the truths behind his parents deaths and Gearden Lamm.'s part in it. Aware that the city has heightened tensions following the death of the king and the ascension of Ileosa to the throne as queen. Parneth does not travel unarmed, the shape of a mace can be seen under his following robes. Although, he fully realises that this might be a trap, with his faith and hope in Pharesma, he knocks on the door, just as the last rays of the sun cause the red sky to darken into night.
I assume that the Bishop grants permission to recover the lost artifact, 'The Blood Tear of Pharesma's handmaiden.' a red gem, a minor artifact as per the background.
As you walk out to the streets today, you find them rather empty. There are folks out walking, but they seem to be busy. You ask several strangers for the location of Lancet Street and the meaning of the card - and eventually you come upon a homely, kind housewife who smiles and taps at the card. "Oh, yeh've got yehrself a coincidence there, young man! Jus' so happens th' yeh'll find Zellara's shop in Lancet Street. She's from Varisia, a fortuneteller, an' she's good. She can tell yeh th' meaning of the card!"
She points to the north-east, right in direction of the Citadel, and she gives you proper directions. Before you can make your way over there, you stumble into Chavakala, seemingly by chance. She seems to be heading the same way...
As you go out of your room to convince the guard you can leave, your explanation and reasoning is interrupted, rather crudely, by the man underneath the full-helmet. "Gaskellini already told us you were innocent. You're free to go, though this place will be off-limits. Best find somewhere else to stay."
After fetching your belongings, you know where Lancet Street is; it's one of the streets west of the Volshyenek Citadel. The streets are almost empty today, even if it's Fireday, a normal workday like all others, which aids you well in getting to the specified location unseen and quietly. You find that there are several people who come and go by the house as the day passes by...
Approaching the head priest, he is confused by your question and offers little help. When you leave the streets, you find them empty, which is odd for Fireday. As you begin your search for Lancet Street, you see a familiar half-elf up ahead talking to a homely woman. Her voice is booming. "Oh, yeh've got yehrself a coincidence there, young man!" she says to Djal. "Jus' so happens th' yeh'll find Zellara's shop in Lancet Street. She's from Varisia, a fortuneteller, an' she's good. She can tell yeh th' meaning of the card!"
You approach as she gives him directions - and you, too. He spots you, and is seemingly looking for the same thing you are.
The streets are empty save from the loud complaining of guards who seemingly want a drink - from what you can gather they are all from the Citadel Volshyenek, the guard garrison. Overhearing a little more (by accident, no less) you find that it was a miracle that Korvosa didn't burst into flame from the riot-esque behaviour of its citizens. One of them spots you tuning into them and shoos you away, out into an almost empty street.
As luck would have it, the sign on the house in front of you says, in excessively decorated writing, "Welcome to Zellara's; Varisian Harrower."
When you approach Bishop d'Bear, he seems to question your motives but he has always been kindly to you and he permits your leave to find the Blood Tear. Unsure of where Lancet Street is specifically, you find accidental help from one of the acolytes who heard of your Harrow card - she eagerly tells you of this Harrower, Zellara, who is supposedly good at readings. And her shop is indeed in Lancet Street. This is most likely no coincidence.
You knock on the door...
That helm was rather short with me, I puzzle while I watch. Though extensive when dealing with difficult producers and patrons, my patience is not infinite. I pull a pair of scarves from my bag, one solid purple sash embroidered with bold ribbon roses I wrapped beneath my belly when Emri’s swell pained my back. I could see Eugeni’s thick fingertips tracing the stems while he explored the expanse of my stomach in the evening. He would whisper in his vastly improved Varisian that the color would suit their Emri, she would be magical, like her mother.
”Magical,” I repeat softly, then shake my head. Marilys, the Eldest, had been pleased to take Emri into her care. Even her daughter, Renata, a crone in her own right had spared me her nigh toothless grin at the prospect, a rare sight. Emri, my girl, some day you will understand, it was almost a prayer, now. Your mother and father love you very much.
I wrap the scarf around my scalp, tie it, and begin threading it through the system of braids and bind and knot them together so that they only trail a few inches down my neck. My father’s apprentice had been so patient in teaching me the way of it when I, too, was learning in his shop. Between the heat of the forge and the detail involved in creating the cast, there was no room for hesitance or error. Jewelry was more than ornamentation, it was art. My act of creation was an act of love, physical communication with Shelyn in thanks for Her many gifts. Art, beauty, love…
My fingers found their way around the orange scarf blindly, the needle descending, placing another line of turquoise thread in the pattern. Turquoise? I suppose I have been neglecting myself lately. The weight I had gained with Emri, the weight that Tauni had lost her battle to lose, came off so easily. I eat without appetite, when I find the time.
The streets are empty, still, I note as the sun shifts in the sky. It is Fireday, laborers should be receiving their pay, and bringing home goods, yet it is still. The violence? Is it keeping people in their homes? How long can it last before the city begins to slow? Why aren’t the guard maintaining the peace? Who profits from a populace too frightened to maintain the economy?
The speed of my thoughts is interrupted by an unintentional prick of my finger with the needle. ”Ouch!” I hiss almost on reflex, and then remember my task. I look at the pattern I am embroidering, there is no real coherence that I can see. Forgiveness, Lady, I remain beside myself, I beg of Shelyn, and pack the kit away. Looking out, I see that the color of the sky is changing, the quality of the light deepening to that particular shade of gold my father took such great pains to emulate in his work.
Pace looks back at the guards in the tavern with a little irritation and rolls his shoulders slightly. He sighs softly as he looks back to the street and notices the elaborate sign. A smile returns to his face as he walks up to the door and knocks, waiting patiently.
Fate AND fortune must be on my side this day.
Chavakala beams as she recognizes Djal, thinking, "What a lucky event. If this is a trap, perhaps Djal and I can turn the tables."
She greets Djal, "In spite of the darkness that haunted Korvosa last night, Desna sees fit to bless my travel today. It is good to see you again Djal."
Then, drawing closer, she sees the signs of his injuries and the meaning of his words becomes more clear. "By the stars and moon, what has happened to you Djal!?! You required the care of Iozif? Perhaps that helps to explain his confusion this morning."
"And, what do you wish to know about Harrow cards? I learned their secrets at my aunt's knee when I was but a wee lass."
Chavakala inspects the card proffered by Djal. A seriousness passes over her features.
"Djal, this card is The Big Sky. It depicts a momentous occasion in which the slaves of a nation are freed. Look how the rays of the sun herald the coming of a new day. They have been released from hopelessness into a future full of promise. If this card was revealed as a true match in a reading for you, I would tell you that you are soon to be freed from a terrible bondage that has been holding you back, that great change is ahead of you, but a great change that leads to a glorious future."
She gazes directly into Djal's eyes. "But, tell me more Djal. Was there a further message? Deciding in the moment that she needs to trust him she says, "I overheard the woman telling you something about Lancet Street. I too received a Harrow card today telling me to go to Lancet Street. This seems too strong a coincidence not to be linked."
You see a man knocking on the door to the house you've been watching; the door opens, though nobody is inside. From what you can tell, the door was never locked - and the man does not appear hostile, or affiliated to Gaedren Lamm. He enters the house.
The day passes by, when you eventually see another man approach the house - one whose face you recognise as the priest who lead the resting of your deceased husband.
The door opens when you knock - though nobody is inside. It was never truly closed - you peer in to see the cozy chamber within; this small home is filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The haze comes from several sticks of incense smouldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke itself seems to soften edges and gives the room a dream-like feel. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling men’s hearts, another showing a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain. A third tapestry on the far wall depicts a tall hooded figure shrouded in mist, a flaming sword held in a skeletal hand. Several brightly-colored rugs cover the floor, but the room’s only furnishings are a wooden table covered by a bright red throwcloth and several elegant tall-backed chairs. A basket covered by blue cloth sits under the table. On the table, you find a note underneath a stone paperweight.
What felicity, I sigh as I recognize the visage of the kindly priest of Pharasma. Yes, Lady, I have shamed myself in overlooking the significance of the card. Thank you for sending your servant to attend me, I pray.
I recall the man, now. His parent’s death was the result of counterfeit relics. My heart ached to aide him in his search, but I recognized then that a figure with the gall to plunder a holy place, much less pilfer its magical items was beyond my pedestrian ability to track to his source with any hope of a favorable outcome. Marilys is no substitute for a mother, and Tauni’s children are wild…
Still… I ponder, my mind turning once again to its evaluation of the empty streets, the violence, and the closed tavern. I shake my head again, and recall my father’s training. No time for hesitance!
Securing my pack on my shoulders, I slip down the street and enter the house.
”Good evening to you, Sir,” I greet the stranger brightly, ”and you, Brother,” I add, approaching the priest with a warm smile. ”It is a pleasure to meet you again, though in no less trying circumstances, I am afraid.”
|
|
Parneth turns and looks at the new arrival, he looks into her eyes as she smiles at him, after a moment his eyes flicker in recognition. "Why, I remember you, though please excuse me for your name escapes me now. But yes, I remember your lose brought you to us in the Gray. If my memory serves me, you husband has journeyed to Pharasma and thence to peace. Yet, if you have been invited here by the Harrow, then we might share a common interest the villain, a thief and more. Though first, if there is anything I can do to ease the pain of grieving, I am yours to command, I am Parneth, attendant of Pharasma."
The priest bows his head to Iolana as he finishes his speech and smiles back, before turning to the man, "Are there more? Umm, sorry what do we call you? Do you too seek redress for the wrongs of Gaedren Lamm?"
My eyes widen when the priest so bluntly announces our shared objective to the stranger. Lady, but your servant is direct!
Ah, your sweet providence that he does not recall my name! Bless you, Lady, for your many gifts this day! I will see that he does not come to much harm.
I incline my head in a courteous bow to the priest, and take a brief survey of the room, keeping the stranger just within my focus at all times.
Pace turns from the tapestry as the others enter. When Iolana greets him, Pace bows and begins to introduce himself. Greetings to you my lady, I am.... After Parneth comes in Pace opens his mouth for a moment, but hesitates as a confused look crosses his face. Uhhhhh...I think you have me confused for the one who apparently invited us all here.
I stifle a smile behind my hand as the stranger rounds on the priest with a look like an infant discovering its feet for the first time.
"So it would seem," I answer directly. "I gather that if we are patient, our host will introduce him or herself shortly."
I approach so that I place myself at a careful distance between the priest and the stranger. "Hello, again," I start and offer a calm, disarming smile. "It was rude of us to interrupt, wasn't it? I am Iolana, a craftswoman by trade, and formerly a merchant by design. And you, sir?"
Chavakala steps lightly along the street with Djal. Upon hearing his question about the card, she replies "No, my card was not The Big Sky. The card I found was The Unicorn."
She opens her belt pouch and pulls out the card. She points to the pear impaled on the unicorn's horn.
"See how The Unicorn offers up this succulent fruit on it's horn? This represents something or someone that is sought by the subject of the Harrow reading and means that it will be theirs. I have seen this card in my own readings many times. So many that I almost feel the card represents me."
Arriving at Lancet Street, she takes a long look up and down the street.
"So, what do you think Djal. Shall we head for the address?"
The cozy chamber within this small home is filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The haze comes from several sticks of incense smouldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke itself seems to soften edges and gives the room a dream-like feel. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling men’s hearts, another showing a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain. A third tapestry on the far wall depicts a tall hooded figure shrouded in mist, a flaming sword held in a skeletal hand. Several brightly-colored rugs cover the floor, but the room’s only furnishings are a wooden table covered by a bright red throwcloth and several elegant tall-backed chairs. A basket covered by blue cloth sits under the table. On the surface of the table, you find a note underneath a stone paperweight.
Arriving in Lancet Street, you find the right house right away - the lady's directions were spot on. Waiting for the hour, the day seems to have passed a lot quicker than you would have liked, yet it offers result. Djal easily spots three different people entering the house - one man armed with a crossbow and shield; one clad in heavy robes, a priest, no doubt; and a beautiful woman with elaborate braids. None of them strike you as affiliated with Gaedren Lamm either.
Pace smiles warmly at Iolana There was no interruption, since all I was doing was waiting for more company. As I was saying before, I am Pace Gambol, bodyguard and hired sword. His smile turns into a boyish grin as he adds, I am currently unemployed though, in case you know anyone whose body needs guarding.
Before Iolana can respond, Pace turns slightly to Parneth and adds No need apologize for a simple mistake, sir. I suspect I am brought here for reasons similar to yours, since the message I received intimated that I would meet similar minded folks. That message is all the contact I have had with our host to this point.
Pace's eyes return to Iolana's for a moment before he moves to pull out a chair for her, Should we all be seated while we wait?
I chuckle softly at Pace's good humor, and approach the offered chair. I read the note on the table, and consider how the handwriting matches that on the back of the card, but do not produce mine, preferring to stay that particular hand until I am sure that it has something more to do with our position. I duck down beside the chair and extract the basket from underneath the table, and any drink, lift it and set it on top, then pull up the towel and take a piece or roll of bread, smell it, then break it in two and set it down on the table in front of me. It is the first morsel of food I have seen all day.
I tear off a small bite of bread and consume it while I consider the position the three of us have found ourselves in. Taken with the emptiness of the streets... to give in to fear ourselves would be the worst of the available options.
"Sir, er Mister Gambol, Brother Parneth," I begin courteously, "I do believe that our host is expecting more guests. Likely, they are none too different than ourselves, and considering the hour, close without. If this is some manner of plot to bring us to harm," I pause to allow the gentlemen to appreciate my suggestion, then tear off another small bite of bread to insinuate that I do not believe that it is , "then I, for one, would much prefer to meet the challenge with some manner of preparation."
I eat the next bite of bread, then decorously brush crumbs from my lips and attend my person as well as I ought, tugging at any noticeable wrinkles and picking away any terrible pieces of dust or filth. I pull my backpack off and set it besides the place I have now claimed to further give the impression of disarming myself, and appearing welcoming.
"Pray, pardon me, gentlemen, but it is not often my patience exceeds my inability to act," I say, cross the room and open the door.
I step out into the street and peer at the quality of the light to judge the time, and then towards the direction I were hiding earlier, and elsewise, to discern if there is anyone hiding near by, perhaps, afraid like I am. . I keep my demeanor calm and poised, and after a few idle moments begin humming a sweet tune.
Chavakala turns to Djal and whispers, "What a motley group. None of them appear to be the skum that I've heard Lamm associates with. The card did say 'others like you' and you're only one other. What do you say we check it out and see who is gathering us?"
While waiting for Djal's response, Chavakala sings a brief song to herself, gesturing with her hands. Djal sees a shadowy wisp coalesce and then pass into Chavakala.
"Do not worry, tis but a spell to assist with any confrontations."
Chavakala eyes the woman and feels a sudden shock of recognition, "Iolana, I haven't seen you in years. But, what are these dark times my friend Djal here speaks of? Don't tell me you too have been injured by this Gaedren Lamm. Did you too receive a Harrow card? Or, are you the one calling us together?"
Lady? my mind mocks inwardly, but for a decade of managing my husband's affairs with less congenial patrons and clients have steeled my friendly and obliging demeanor.
My eyes flash in recognition of the man-hunter. Darker times, indeed. Still, should we need to make a hasty retreat, he is likely far more knowledgeable about the terrain. And the girl...
"Salutations, Djal, Chavakala," I pause to make a quick evaluation of the girl. Young and pretty, to be sure, and a distant cousin? Might I have seen her face before? Likely, I have seen so many faces...
"No, this is not my home. Two others are already within, waiting on the return of our host. Might you please come inside? I had thought that we might introduce ourselves before he or she arrives."
The information could make a difference, I hope to convey through my words.
I round on the girl with eyes widened slightly by surprise. Young, to be sure. Likely I have seen more faces than she has-
"Please, come inside. We can discuss this further with the others. I am certain we should all like to clear up this confusion." I say, and open the door and lead the two inside.
"Gentlemen! What felicity! See here, my siren song has attracted these two confused sailors," I jest lightly, "who also seem to wait on our host's arrival. Djal," I pause to point, "and Chavakala, meet Brother Parneth of the cathedral, and Mister Gambol, blade for hire."
I step into the center of the room, then cross and assume the seat that Pace offered me earlier. "Come now, all. Please, sit, and let's become acquainted in a merry fashion. My Lady knows that few things are quite so tedious as waiting on her favor in silence. And easy conversation is an art form in which I am quite accomplished."
|
|
As Iolana enters the room with another two, Parneth is just completing a prayer to the gods, seeking them to bless the food, left for us to enjoy. His clerical black and blue robes swish as he turns to face the newcomers, showing a pattern of scarab beetles, in gold and silver running down the collar. "I was about to eat, join me, you are friends of Iolana, then you are mine. And Iolana, who is 'my Lady' you speak of, do I know her?"
All this while his hands have been turning over a bread roll, which he breaks and moves towards his smiling face, then eating slowly and deliberately. With his mouth a little full he asks "So what is your connection to Gaedrun Lamm?" he mumbles as bread crusts escape from the side of his mouth falling on the floor as he speaks. "Hmm, oh..."
I laugh almost despite myself at the priest's awkward display. How long now has it been since I watched a man eat? I find myself wondering, and disarm myself further with a genuine smile.
"Pray pardon me, Brother. It was one of my many tributes to my patron, the Lady Shelyn," I explain for his benefit, and that of the others, as well. "I like to feel my craft is a personal communication and adoration of Her," I continue, and flush slightly.
Almost fifteen years ago, now, I spoke those words to Eugeni when he asked...
I take a deep breath and tear another morsel of food off my bread as well, and delicately brush the crumbs into a small, and relatively neat pile.
"Since I recognize three of you from previous encounters, I suppose that I will start. As Brother Parneth," I incline my head in a bow to the priest , "and I have already said previously, I am Iolana. I am a craftswoman by trade, but my profession was more akin to an administrator, of sorts. I managed and facilitated my... my husband's interests in the export trade. Mostly textiles and associated raw materials, some clothing, accessories and small hand crafts, and what little jewelry there was to barter.
"What brings me here today," I continue, and inhale sharply to allow for a pause,"I gather what has brought each of us here today besides the cards was indeed a loss incurred at the hands of Gaedrun Lamm, although I do not believe that any of us truly believes that that is the sole cause for our presence here."
I look to Djal. "Honor, indeed, Djal," I mistake him intentionally, cross my legs and lean foreword in my chair slightly to accentuate my point. "There is something extremely unsettling occurring at this moment. Something... forgive me, my mind races ahead and I forget myself, so little use has it seen as of late. Djal, might you elaborate? And if you have experienced any violence recently, I would very much appreciate learning the particulars."
After rising for the newcomers and assessing the likelihood that they were there to kill him, Pace sits back down and pulls out some of the bread. He watches the verbal wranglings for a while before becoming engrossed in the tapestry on the wall across the table from himself. After a few more enigmatic comments from the others he quietly says At some point you either got to trust someone is not an enemy or hit them with something hard or pointy.
The cozy chamber within this small home is filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The haze comes from several sticks of incense smouldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke itself seems to soften edges and gives the room a dream-like feel. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling men’s hearts, another showing a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain. A third tapestry on the far wall depicts a tall hooded figure shrouded in mist, a flaming sword held in a skeletal hand. Several brightly-colored rugs cover the floor, but the room’s only furnishings are a wooden table covered by a bright red throwcloth and several elegant tall-backed chairs. A basket covered by blue cloth sits under the table. On the surface of the table, you find a note underneath a stone paperweight.
As you get to talking with one another, you are interrupted by a soft knock upon the front door. In enters a fair lady, middle-aged and with flattering features; she is dressed in plain clothes and a kerchief is tying up her dark hair. She smiles at all of you. "You've arrived. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zellara; I see you have made yourselves comfortable by my table. I am pleased."
She allows you all to introduce yourselves before she settles down at the rear end of the table; her usual place by the looks of it. She produces a deck of cards from her sleeves - all the same size of your own cards. She starts to shuffle and fold them - they float and dance, her expertise is clear. This is the lady. She begins to speak in a soft, yet clear voice.
"Thank you for coming, my friends, and for putting up with my unconventional method of contacting you. I have reason to remain hidden, you see — a terrible man would see great harm done to me if he knew I was reaching out for help. This is a man you know, for he has done something terrible to each of you as well. I speak, of course, of Gaedren Lamm, a man whose cruelty and capacity to destroy the lives of those he touches are matched only by his gift for avoiding reprisal."
"You see, a year ago, his thieves stole this, my Harrow deck, from me. It is important to me, an heirloom passed down through a dozen generations, and also my sole means of support. When pickpockets stole it, my son, Eran, tracked them down. The thieves were in the employ of Gaedren Lamm, and in reward for finding them, Gaedren murdered my son."
"I sought help from the Guard, but they turned me away. And so I asked around. I paid bribes. I consulted my Harrow deck for advice. And recently, I was rewarded — I found out where Gaedren dwells. He can be found in an old fishery north of here at Westpier 17, where he trains his abducted children to be pickpockets and counts his stolen treasures."
"I need your help. I cannot hope to face this man on my own, and the Guard moves so slowly that if I were to go to them, Gaedren would certainly know of their coming well in advance. Even if they did arrest him — what guarantee would I have he would be punished? This criminal has evaded the law for decades! But you know of these frustrations as well, for word on the street has it that Gaedren has wronged each of you, too."
"Here we are. It is time for him to pay."
Chavakala listens intently to Zellara's words, watching her every expression and gesture.
Another terrible tale. Just how many has Lamm harmed?
"Zellara, you are correct about this Gaedren Lamm. I would very much like to bring him and his gang to justice. And, to learn about any greater power he serves. What can you tell us about his gang and details of the location?"
Pace listens quietly also studying Zellara.
When she mentions making Lamm pay his eyes light up and a grim smile appears on his face. His earlier words echo in his ears, if she is dead then he will pay THAT price in full.
I tap my fingertips lightly on the table, considering our position, and regard the girl, Chavakala for a moment, assessing, then flick to the hired blade, Mister Gambol.
It has become clear. I smother a sigh. Was there ever a moment when I- I bite my lower lip softly. Eugeni rebuffed my attentions frequently when I were budding. It was not the shyness of an elder man rebuking the affections of a young girl. That came later, and was adorable, too.
I consider our hostess. Her loss and grief mirrors my own. Still, this is highly irregular. Djal and I, granted independently have also tracked this man, and found so little. Zellara, herself...
The bribes! What desperation, lady! Any persons willing to pass on information for a price are extremely likely to sell yours as well.
"Excuse me, Mistress Zellara, Chavakala. While I sympathize with your loss, and your enthusiasm to see justice done," I incline my head to Djal briefly, "We must maintain an appropriate amount of caution. I know that I, myself, and Mister Djal have tracked this Lamm as well to no avail. It seems highly suspect to me that he should be found at this time."
I pause and consider each occupant of the table. "It is clear to me now that each of us has been injured by this man, but we must keep our wits about us. Some of us have tried and failed to find any trace of him at all. Our hostess, as well, has gone to great efforts to purchase this information. The question we must ask ourselves before we proceed is who benefits from us learning his location?
"I argue that Lamm has either outlived his usefulness to his handlers, or is being put on a manner of trial to determine his abilities to proceed with their plots. In either case, he is likely to be desperate. We must remain calm and assess what qualities and skills each of us possess to oppose, much less meet Lamm in the field."
I slide foreword in my chair, my posture perfect and regard Chavakala. "If I may address your question, cousin, the probability that we will learn what power directly influences Lamm is extremely low," I state, and pray that my message is not misinterpreted.
And should this fail- I consider Mister Gambol. He is cordial enough, and seems to appreciate a fair face...
Pace looks down at the table seriously as he speaks. I suppose my abilities are clear enough, at least those that pertain to this situation as I have a variety of other talents. A grin plays across his face momentarily before Pace continues on more gravely. We may not be able ascertain who, or whom, is behind Lamm's success or his now eminent decline, but I do know this: He is a scoundrel, who kidnaps children from their family and puts them to abusive and hurtful uses. A price is to be paid for that and I for one would be happy to be one of the instruments that Fate uses to extract that price. If more is required of me after that task is accomplished, then that is to be considered then.
Pace's color rises a bit after this speech, but he looks up and smiles at those at the table to cover his embarrassment.
"Well met, Mister Gambol," I encourage warmly, hoping to disarm him. Cordial, indeed. "Lest I give the impression that I am unsympathetic to the plight of the children, please allow me to address one glaring point of concern-
"Those of us who have watched children grow," I pause and regard Zellara, by her own admission, also a mother, "are aware that they tend to favor their models. Lamm is a despicable villain. While they may fear him for his cruelty, it is inadvisable to think on them as normal children."
I stop again and consider the occupants of the table for a time, and when I speak again I adopt a hard tone that Eugeni flippantly described as business casual in our rare arguments. "It may come to pass that Lamm will use these children as a shield. Can each of you say that you are prepared for that possibility?"
"Which is not to say that there are not alternatives," I continue quickly, tone lightening. "Knowledge is key. Of the location, of its standard procedures, if such a thing exists, and of Lamm's movements. Obviously to meet Lamm away from the children is the best situation, but if this information has come to us now, we cannot assume that he is not aware that his position is weak, as well."
"Pray, pardon me. It is my way to speak my mind. Sometimes to my detriment," I jest lightly and assume a smile. "We were speaking of abilities that would lend to the task before us - care to say mine were highly prized in my former life, and have lent to a certain amount of pride."
"Suspicious? How so? Yes, he covers his tracks well, but it was no happenstance that I found his current hideout - it was perseverance, strength of will, and, dare I admit, some obsession. Yes, he covers his tracks well. But my searching was, in turn, better."
She smiles at Iolana, as she turns to Chavakala. "I have little information at hand, however. I know Gaedren has taken current residence in the fishery - after the last owner passed away. He has three servants - no doubt will they be there to keep the children working. Yet he draws little attention to the place - after all, he strives to remain quiet."
She lets the card dance between her fingers. "As for why I chose you... I listened to the music of the city, and this deck of mine tells me more than most."
Inured to keeping my manners placid and polite, although I do not agree with Zellara's casual appraisal of the situation, I do not do so openly. I was raised to respect the power of prophecy at Marilys's knee like every other child in the caravan. In my adult life, I have come to the conclusion that prophecy is insufficient to fill a hungry belly, and is an even poorer authority for such a decided opinion.
Several questions of varying relevance and hostility come to mind in that which seems a pregnant silence to follow, each of which I dismiss with little thought to entertain on any level.
"And thus the path is opened," I state very decidedly. "Gaedren Lamm's assistants are not likely to wish to share his fate, violent or no," I quickly add and bow my head in Djal's direction. "I suggest that we gather information on these three figures. Djal, if I recall correctly your skills are best suited to the task of observing and identifying them.
"I should also like to know in what areas the children are like to operate. Though it is likely that they are feral, they are no different than ourselves, victims."
I inhale a long, calming breath, but despite my resolve, feel grief begin to grip my throat. A single glance at Zellara forces a tear of guilt from my eyes, which I make no effort to disguise or dry.She bore and raised her son, only to lose him to the villain. What have I gained by abandoning my own child?
"Too many mothers have lost their children," I say and rise stiffly. "Please, excuse me. Do continue. I simply need to collect myself,"I beg and drift to study the tapestry depicting the angels atop a lonely mountain.
Chavakala listens intently to Zellara, picking through the scant information. Three servants. Plus Lamm. Well, we are five. I like our chances. A wide grin. Especially if we can separate them.
She looks questioningly after Iolana...wondering at her caution and her fragility. Are we not all here to take the fight to Lamm?
Chavakala's gold eyes glow with passion. "Iolana, you're right about too many mothers losing their children. My clan lost one too - my sister. Lamm will pay. And, we're not going to succeed without risk and probably loss. If you want to make plans all night, go see Torag's priests at the Pantheon."
"Have you forgotten your past? You want knowledge of our enemies? Have you forgotten how Harrow sheds light on our journey, like the moon and stars in the night? Zellara. Sister. I am ready to travel under Desna's light. I am ready to find this Lamm. But, before we go, would you be willing to complete a Harrowing?"
I grit my teeth against a sharp response to the girl, my spine tensing. Lost a sister, and so eager to die herself, I seethe. I will not orphan my daughter for this foolish cousin!
A vaguely familiar and altogether embarrassing sensation quells my rage. Shifting uncomfortably, I remove the scarf binding my hair and wrap it around my torso, cinching it tightly around my bust. When will this end? I wonder in desperation. It has been weeks since I left...
I wrap my arms around my chest and continue studying the faces of the angels while the others gather around Zellara. If they believe that prophecy will lead them to triumph over Lamm, who am I to judge? I think disdainfully, then soften. Curse this condition!
Surely, one of them must have heard!
Unaware, I begin singing a lullaby Eugeni translated from Azlanti, the language of his imperious ancestors. Though he warned me that the words lost much of their meaning in the process, the message was clear enough, being enamored of the unknown, and overconfidence leads to folly. It was not my people's past that drew Eugeni to me, nor my charms, but my driven progress towards our collective future. Please, my Lady, let them hear, I pray.
|
|
Listening to the others, Parneth's gaze takes in the tapestries hanging around the room, trying to recognize their meaning and stories. He is especially interested if the tapestries have any religious significance.
Parneth listens quietly as the others speak, "Lady Zellara, may your brother walk in peace and contentment in the life to come. I grieve with you at your lose, as I do all in this room who's loved ones have had their material life force ended by this evil man. It would seem our destiny, chosen by the gods of the good and the dead, through the cards Zellara has drawn, may bring this man before their judgement. If such is our course, then we must trust in the gods to aid us n our assignment. No doubt the gods will expect us to act, though reflection before we do, will help ensure our success." Parneth, rubs his chin as he says these words and continues, "it is right to spend a little time to understand our targets weakness's to exploit them as we can, and his strength's to so we can mitigate their effects. It is time for Pheresma and our gods bring this man before them in this life or the next for them to judge and punish as they see fit."
Zellara nods along as you state your points and views, her cards fluttering betwixt her hands. Her face betrays no contempt, nor ill will - from the worried brow and her solemn smile she seems weary - to some degree desperate. "I know of his servants," she says slowly. "His right-hand is a man called Yargin. A bitter man, with a frightening love for acid and all it entails."
"His slavedriver is called Hookshanks - though I know little of him, apart from him deriving some glee in pushing children around. The last man is a half-orc under the name of Giggles - a brute, and Gaedren's left hand and body-guard. That is all I know."
"Thank you for your kind words, father Parneth." She smiles and looks at you all. "Please do not think that I am sending you to your deaths. Gaedren is a cruel man - yet I earnestly believe your resolve will make you triumph."
The symbolism of the tapestries seem familiar - though in the haze of flowers their interpretations escape you.
As Iolana begins singing, the house is filled with a wonderful melody: one that is driven by the woman's determination. Zellara takes this opportunity to fold the deck, taking advantage of the ambience.
"I would be pleased to perform a Harrowing for you all."
She pulls out nine cards, and with a gesture they scatter across the table. The light dims, and her expression hardens: she puts on the guise of the fortuneteller Zellara. "Please, all of you, draw a card. Let us see what your future entails."
Chavakala relaxes with the start of the familiar ritual, her mind bringing back happy memories of prior Harrowings with her aunt and Zalinsa. She reaches for one of the cards offered by Zellara and draws it out.