“Well now, let me see”.
There is a long pause while Olaf takes a deep draught of Lilina’s finest, the cost to loosen his tongue. He nods his approval at the wine and gestures his thanks to the small group before him. Two of the other three at the table seem uncomfortable in these surroundings and the youngest repeatedly glances around the room. Clearly the young Lhankor Mhy initiate is not at ease with the company Loud Lilina’s offers. The second and oldest of the three is a tall, white-bearded and grey-robed priest, whose craggy features cannot hide his impatience. The third is tall, well built and clad in scarred black leather from neck to toe. His cold gaze is hard to hold and his hands are never far from his dagger. He fits right in here.
Olaf pauses and is about to take another gulp when the Priest cuts in sharply “Mr Olaf, we have come a very long way and from what we have gathered so far, there is still a long way to go. We were told that you were the best person to speak to. We were told that if someone in Pavis was worth noticing, you’d have noticed. Now, if that information is not accurate, please say as much. We’ll bid you good day, take our coin and be on our way. Time is of the essence”.
“Alright, alright” says Olaf “keep ya whiskers on”. The Priest makes to stand but Olaf quickly takes his arm, fear of an easy payday disappearing fast. “Yes, yes I remembers ‘em; hard to forget. Can I describe them you asks? Well yes, I can. They were an unusual bunch to be sure, an that’s saying somefink wiv all the adventurers and like passing through this ol’ outpost.
Fing is you see, most what is around ‘ere are simply trying to scrape together a few coins for their next bevvy. At best they’re hoping to land some bit of booty from some damn stupid visit to The Rubble. You won’t catch me riskin’ me skin for such nonsense”.
“So, what was unusual about this group?” asks the young initiate.
“Well, if you was to ask me such a fing, I would av to say that they was in no ‘urry. I mean, clearly they weren’t the type to be settling down and openin’ up in the market, if you takes my meanin’.
“I’m not sure I do” adds the Priest.
“They, had, purpose” says Olaf, pausing between each word for dramatic effect, then continuing “hung around here for a year or more they did. Sure, they took the odd jobs ‘ere an there; dabbling in a bit of treasure untin’ in the Rubble; the odd heavies job. Who knows? Everyone’s got to earn a crust”.
The old Priest turns to the young initiate “I think we are wasting our time here. This doesn’t sound like them at all”.
“What do you mean my Lord?” asks the initiate, a short red haired, plain-looking and somewhat androgynous girl in her late teens.
“Think on it Elissa; from the beginning of this journey we have flitted here and there like bees collecting pollen. Never do they stay more than a few days in any place. Even in Whitewall, where they could have sought refuge and rested awhile. Even then within a few days they were off. Some by the ancient tunnels no less! Why the sudden stop?”
Olaf uses the break in anything relating to him as a chance to wet his whistle. Gulping down the last sweet drops he exhales loudly and sets his mug down on the table, a little harder than he means. The two Lhankor Mhy jump at the sudden crack. The black garbed man doesn’t twitch.
The Priest continues “Did they reside here, at this Inn?”
“Don’t be silly” answers Olaf “wouldn’t get much of a kip upstairs ‘ere would they? This place can get quite rowdy of an evenin’ ya know”.
“Then where?” the initiate chips in.
Olaf pauses for a moment, rolling his eyes. “ard to fink; it’s so hot and dry today” he tries his luck. With a sigh the Priest gestures for another drink to be brought over. “Much obliged your Worship, much obliged”
“Well?” says Elissa, bristling.
“Sharpsword” says Olaf casually “They stays, at the estate of, Garrath Sharpsword”.
There is stunned silence at the table as what little colour remains in the priest’s face drains away.
The initiate Elissa, half choking on this new knowledge puts voice to the questions whirling in her mind. “Sharpsword….they stayed with Sharpsword?! Starbrow’s heir…….the ring of …… they wouldn’t have stood a..…….but the seven…….. that would lead them to..…”
“Enough Elissa!” snaps the Priest “Hold you tongue”.
Lalina comes over and places another mug on the table before Olaf. With a muttered “Jammy sod” she turns and ambles back to the bar.
The Priest leans forward “Describe them” he asks, leaning in on Olaf with screwed up eyes.
“Well” Olaf begins and starts to lift his mug for a quick swig when he catches a look in the eyes of the man in black. Sensing his waning patience he thinks better of it and places the mug back on the table.
“One of ‘em is clearly a military type” he recalls “an clearly seen a lot of action by the looks of them scars all over his arms and legs. Wrapped up too tight for my liking; quick with the blade an all. I’ve never seen quicker. Boy, he could ‘andle himself if I’m any judge. You could tell it just by looking at ‘im. Not that you’d want him to catch you looking mind; always a dark mood on that one. Never buys us a drink neever. And, rumour has it he was in wiv trolls. Spoke the tongue an’ everyfink by what I hears. ‘Never trust a friend of trolls’ is what my ol’ pappy used to say – may the Red Moon have mercy on him”.
The Priest and the initiate exchange a knowing glance.
Again Olaf reaches for the mug and again a look tells him to reconsider.
“Please go on” says the Priest.
“There was a tribal fella too, y’know, like the herders and plains folk. But this one was not like any from ‘round ‘ere; came from far away if my guess is right and a shaman type t’boot; all speakin with the spirits an that” Olaf makes what he thinks is a spooky gesture by wiggling his fingers and rolling his head from side to side. The mimicary does not impress.
“Yep, don’t reckon I’ve never seen a bloke look more out of place and more out of sorts in old mother Pavis in all my days. Stuck out like a Jack-o-bear’s head in a cupboard’ if ya catch me drift. Bloody great turtle shell he carried around wiv him an all, come rain or shine. Used it as a shield as I’ve heard. What nonsense; turtle shell indeed. You’ve never seen such a fing I bet. It’s not right though. Never trust anyone who speaks with thems what has passed over as my ol pappy used to say – may Eiritha keep him”
“There were others?” asks the Priest.
“One of them Stormbulls. We get their lot in and out of ‘ere all the time; only, but this one was a bit different an all”.
“In what way?” asks the initiate calmly.
“Well, this one wasn’t all beer and sweat and axes and fisticuffs like most of them we get. No, quite the opposite in fact; quite gentrified, if ya take me meaning. Mind you he ‘ad a temper on him, and you could never see it coming. All of a sudden like he’d just explode out of nothing. Then ‘ello and watch out. He was some kinda noblemen I ‘eard from out West. Lhankor Mhy knows what he was doing here - begging your pardon and no offence given your graceship” glancing up at the priest.
“You know, I never heard of him pulling a blade; always the bow with that one. Rumour had it he never missed with it either. But you know what rumours is like. People do love to chatter so. ‘Never trust a bowman’; as my ol’ pappy used to say – may Orlanth watch over him. ‘Look ‘em in the eye when you cut ‘em and never trust someone who don’t’ ”
“I believe there was another?” says the Priest, gesturing for Olaf to continue.
“There was!” cries Olaf “There was another! Oh don’t get me wrong, there was uvvers what came and went; but only one more what was tight wiv the uvver free. ‘Tight as trollkin in a barrow’ as my ol’ pappy used to say – Humakt guard over him; I never did get that one, why would trollkin be in a barrow?”
“Mr Olaf” the Priest cuts in “can you please get to the point! Describe the fourth, if, you, would, be, so, kind” he pleads.
“Ok, ok, keep your beard on. The fourth one was a good bloke, nicest of the bunch. Used to come in ‘ere from time to time, have a couple of bevvies, maybe game o’ coin or two, nothing excessive like. He used to help people out just for the good of it, without asking for a single clack in payment so I’ve heard. Can you believe that? Dependable sort of bloke you might say, not the type you’d expect to be knocking about on some half-baked mission for gold or glory or whatever they was up to. Well, that sort of carry on gets noticed in this part of the world, where nuffink comes for nuffink. One night, a couple of likely lads decide to take umbrage wiv his gentle nature. They finks he must be a pushover and a bit soft in the noggin. They lays in wait in the shadows here abouts, ready to relieve him of his hard-earned. Well, I can tell you, nobody tried to mess wiv him after that night. Fairly left one of ‘em in pieces he did and the uvver one so badly busted up as would make it ‘tricky for his old dear to pick him out in a line-up of pigs’ as my ol’ pappy used to say – may the Seven Mothers…..”
“Thank you” says the Priest, cutting in. “This has been, most enlightening.” The Priest stands and the others followed suit, a little scared yet excited as too. He turns to the young initiate, Elissa and murmurs next to her ear “This is it. We have found them. This is where it really began”. Elissa stands aghast and open mouthed.
“And where might they have gone when they left here?” asks the Priest.
“S’far as I hear it, one day Sharpsword comes back after being away for a bit and tells ‘em somefink which puts the willys up ‘em. Now, I don’t know what he told ‘em, and don’t wants to know. You don’t put the willys up their kind to easily, so whatever it was is best kept for them. Anyway, the very next, they all ups and offs. Heads South out of this place apparently, but I hears they’re headed over The Paps way. Anyways, after that I never hears hide nor hair of ‘em again”
Turning to face Olaf the Priest drops a small pouch onto the table “Your help in this matter has been most valuable”. He gestures to the pouch “I trust this will be enough to ensure this conversation will stay between ourselves”.
Olaf picks up the pouch and peers inside. “You can count on old Olaf” he says, tapping his nose “Mums the whatsname”.
For the first time the black-clad warrior speaks “See that we can”. Olaf gulps, his recent confidence evaporating in a cold shiver.
Outside Loud Lilina’s a starless night has fallen. Thunderheads blown in from the South threaten a rare downpour as the three figures hurry through narrow streets. For two of them the aim is to retrieve their horses and escape this pit before the watch can lock the gates for the night. Better to take refuge in the wilds than spend another night in Pavis. The dark clad man paces in front, his long strides leading the way.
On a particularly shabby street he stops, almost causing the priest and his young associate to clatter into him. Turning slowly to face them he seems to fill the murky alleyway.
“What is it?” whispers the Priest.
The voice comes back as if from far away “Some things should remain hidden. Some things are meant to remain unknown.. Some questions should not be asked. You have asked, and now you can go no further”
“What are you b-babbling about?” stammers the priest “let’s get moving”.
Elissa, eyes wide with terror notices them first. Shadows all around them seem to come alive, man shaped things emerging as if from the very darkness itself. As one, the shadows draw long knives.
Loud Lilina’s is buzzing with the usual crowd. Gladwyn crosses the bar and sits down beside Olaf. “What you been up to today Olaf” he asks.
“Nuffink much” smiles Olaf “just been talking about old times with a couple of tourists. Get the drinks in then”.