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Reality Fault

Temples and Taverns

Her light has already driven the shadows from the Cragside streets, chasing them into their secluded alleyway dens. As Roxanna, Brisa, Benedict, and Trystan take their leave of the Horse and Hart, they push past the last of the new guests' arrival bustle. Outside a string of horses calmly waits, each bearing the gray dandelion horsemark. Gatewards down the street there seems to be a growing disturbance. Figures mill in sharp patterns, and occasionally there is a flash of sunlight reflecting off of polished steel. But westwards towards the collection of Imperial temples it is quite a different scene...

Brisa smiles, admiring the horses and giving a gentle pat on the rump to the last one as she passes by.

Benedict glances now and then towards the Gate as they make their way to the Temple quarter, a frown furrowing his forehead. "I wonder what's going on over there. It looks like a lot of soldiers..."

Roxanna says, "Probably the arrivals herself was talking about."

Brisa says, "Arrivals?"

Benedict says, "Arrivals? The 'Wild Horde'? I thought we already met them?""

"Bread and cheese, sweet cakes to please!" The street sellers call out, snaring their first morning's customers as they finish setting up their carts and stalls. They tumble out in a chaotic pattern in front of the tall merchant barn, from whose hollows comes the bright noises of even further commercial bickering. As the town well is passed, all are given the most astounded looks -- Brisa dark stares as goodwives turn their daughters away, Roxanna an unbelieving stare and then a true and honest smile. A scratch of head and a chuckle, as the goodwives turn their daughters back to point at Benedict. Indeed, the only one who doesn't attract attention is Trystan, although it is he who seems uncomfortable in the midst of such crowds...

Roxanna says, "We've met the first batch, I thought."

Brisa grins quietly, "Maybe it's the local guard, aching for trouble."

Roxanna says, "Likely, I'm afraid."

Benedict blinks and sighs. "Or the local guard, finding it."

Brisa walks quietly with Roxanna, looking around with interest, smiling faintly at those that stare... she laughs softly at Benedict's comment, "Well, they do say pride goeth before a fall!"

Benedict just frowns. "We should have gone to the Temple as soon as we found him..."

Brisa says, "It was night, Benedict, and there were murderers afoot. Anyway... don't forget, all, to be alert and cautious today, da? Don't wander off alone, please... and we can meet together after you've both made your temple meetings, and have lunch. Sound like a plan?"

Roxanna says, "In the middle of the night? They wouldn't have been all that eager to open up, and there was nothing we could have done."

Brisa nods calmly, "As always, the dama Roxanna speaks truth."

Benedict nods slowly, and sighs. "You're both right. I just hope the Judge understands that."

Turn the corner, and the end of the street can be seen. The Donjon at its end, the tall stone temple to Lord Rames the Protector diagonally to the left. Across is a battered building painted in dull whites, and between is a small well. A pair of lads in red and white draw water from the little well, still far down the street as Brisa and Roxanne notice their own particular... shadow.

Behind the four travelers three townsfolk seem to be slowly following them up the street. One is a short, fat, and very round little man, another is like a walking reed. The last is a wearing a long half circle cloak stained in grays and blacks.

Benedict lets out a breath, and nods to the temple . "Well, here we are..." He looks rather unhappily at the Donjon; he hopes that he won't be put up there for a time, so to speak...

Brisa beams and waves to Benedict cheerfully, "Well, off you go!" She waits, making sure he gets into the temple safely... and then very quietly murmurs to her companion, "Roxanna... don't turn and stare, please, but we have three men following us. One looks like a little piglet, one like a crane, and one's in a long cloak... just so you know, all right?" Then she smiles more obviously, gesturing to the temple across the road, "After you, dama!"

Roxanna nods, streetwise enough from her time in the Alley not to immediately look. She stops at the well, turning far enough to catch a glimpse while drinking. "Interesting. Group one or two, do you think?"

Brisa smiles and shakes her head, "Unfortunately they've not been kind enough to label themselves... I'd guess off the top of my head... umm... group one. They've got no hostages, after all."

The two at the well look up from their tasks as Benedict passes them by. Their greeting is friendly but a bit reserved and quiet, little more than a simple, "Good Morning, Brother." Beyond, the stairs to the Justice's hall are cold, solid stone, washed white beneath the donjon's bulk by the morning light. The door is open as Benedict slips inside.

Benedict inclines his head to the two, murmuring a good morning to them. He takes in a breath at the doorway before entering. "Hastur, you tell us to go looking for truth, and to have the courage to face it," he murmurs. "I could use some courage right about now..." He begins to head into the Temple...

The hall is small, and quite different from the courts of Talantal. No fine marble, patterned tiles, and tapestries here. Highgaard pragmatic it is, gray rock, time-polished woods, the light sifting in through rugged, diamond-paned windows the only touch of extravagance. The court is far from bustling. Indeed, there is only a pair of clerks scribbling at two wooden desks, and the Judge's bench stands empty. However, before it stands two men. One is like a bull dressed in white and red, his scarlet surcoat trimmed with gold. He stands next to another whose robes match Benedict's. With a wave of his hand and a curt set of words, the Judge dismisses the Knight. "Make sure Konrad knows, Angus. Things never go well when that one is in town."

    Dark blue fits the stern Imperial Justice, in robes cut fine and sharp. He walks with an imposing pace, sure and deliberate, and always in the knowledge of being on the most proper side of the law. He is an elder statesman, with hair of gray shocked with streaks of white and a sturdy build well weathered against even the coldest mountain storm season night. His speech is intense and clipped, his gaze sharp, as if perhaps he could read the truth from one's very soul.

With a sharp, disciplined nod, the Knight turns. He doesn't even acknowledge Benedict as his long strides take him outside.

Benedict looks around quietly, keeping a tight check on his worry. He makes a note, like a good Eye of Hastur, of the... rather interesting comment the Judge made to the Knight of Rames. He bristles but only a little at the complete lack of acknowledgement, but then shakes it off. Knights always are a dour lot. He walks, humbly but not timidly, into the court.

The Judge turns. He takes a step, then stops. As he does, he crosses his arms and snorts, "Well, well. You make it two. What news will be the third side of the rune this morning. Who are you, lad?"

Benedict blinks at the unfamiliar metaphor. It's doubtless something his Master has said but for now, of course, he can't think of it. "Ah. Brother Benedict, er, Judge, Eye of Hastur out of Talantal. My Master is Brother Hieronymous of the Temple there."

The Judge just nods, "That would either make you Anton, Claudius, or Benedict. I hope the good Brother is well and that his sight remains true. What news then do you bring me. And I am Judge Hawthorne, eldest of our small Imperial... outpost."

Benedict blinks, and smiles, nodding. "Yes, he is, Sir, and his sight was... as sharp as ever," this last a bit wryly, "-when I parted company with him."

Hawthorne says, "Parted company? Are you bearing news or on an errand for your Master?"

Benedict looks uncomfortable, but only for a moment. "Well, Sir, he... made me an Eye of Hastur, and... pointed me in this direction." He doesn't feel comfortable saying much more than that, but plows on, "Unfortunately while I and the persons I was travelling with came to this town last night, we were witness to a most foul incident."

Hawthorne frowns darkly, "A foul incident. Why should I have not known. Please explain."

Benedict sighs softly. "We had traveled far and came in late in the evening, nigh onto the middle of the night. We saw three shadows, movement... one of the shadows moved in an unmistakable way and the third shadow fell. By the time we arrived at the body he was breathing his last."

Hawthorne grumbles, "And you did not immediately bring this to our attention? It is the Knight's duty to protect Our people from the two legged wolves in these pagan lands."

Benedict nods. Here goes... "That was the trouble, Sir. There were still two-legged wolves about that night. And while my companions are capable by far, none of us felt up to taking on the murderers and whatever friends they might have. We felt certain that we were seen. We did what we could to evade them, and decided that in the safety of the light I would bring this to your attention."

Hawthorne shakes his head. "That is of little import. A summoning would have brought either Sir Whitesword or Sir Kenyonsson to the scene, and there is none in Cragside who would stand against a Knight of Rames. But now, alas, you have given those that caused this tragedy time to vanish back into the night. But you are His Eyes. Can you identify him? Tell me of the brigands, a sharp description please. And the fallen gentle. Are you sure he was one of ours? What was his name, what was his trade? Did he have family, and why did the brigands choose to strike him down?"

Benedict shakes his head, sighing. "We saw only shadows, Sir. Shadows which moved unmistakably in the act of violence, but only shadows. I believe one was short and somewhat squat, and the other tall. I realize that that is shallow description, Sir, but I can only say what mine eyes saw." He frowns slightly. "I do not understand what you mean by one of ours, Sir. You are asking if he is a member of our Order?"

Hawthorne says, "Of course not. A member of the Imperial church."

Benedict shakes his head. "I could not tell. Forgive me, Sir, I am not greatly skilled in the ways which make the Eyes so well known."

Hawthorne puts his hands on his hips. "I can see that. Then go. Find him. Who he was. And if he was, notify either of the two Knights. You are His eyes, lad. Use them. If he wasn't..." The Judge lets his words just fall away.

Benedict nods quickly with the Judge's words, albeit frowning slightly. "I will do the best I can with Hastur's gifts. But... what if he was not a member of the Imperial church?

Hawthorne looks back and just shrugs. "Pagans die all the time."

Benedict just blinks. "I... see." Well... he wanted to see what the world was like outside the Temple! I wonder if the Master knew I would find... find this. "I will go to where he fell, Sir, and by Hastur's grace glean who he was and why he was killed." As he parts company with the Judge, Benedict is rather glad he decided to leave the rest of his vow unspoken: "...whether the man was Imperial or not!

As Benedict steps away, he leaves his three companions standing near the well. Roxanna's first steps are towards the well, set across from the sturdy church of Lord Rames the Protector. There she does attract attention. The two finely dressed lads take not one, but two looks at her, the first almost dropping his bucket back into the well as he quickly attempts to straighten his red and gold surcoat. With a quick panic he offers Roxanna a drink. "For thee, mi'lady." He then turns, offering the water to Brisa, "And for thee, mi'lady?"

His action, however, gains him an immediate cuff on the shoulder by his older companion, "'Allo, ye donnae 'ave to be doin' tha' for 'er."

Roxanna raises an eyebrow at the older lad. "He may not have to, but it's hardly impolite to do so."

Trystan can't hide a warm, chuckling smile.

Brisa smiles and quickly accepts the drink before the other lad manages to spill it all, "My thanks, lad... it would appear both thy gracious courtesy and thyself are commended to the dama I travel with." Her lazy grin at the other lad excludes him, of course.

The elder looks back to Roxanna and just swallows. "Aye, Lady."

Trystan very unobtrusively follows, attempting to appear that he is minding his own business.

Roxanna nods to the two. "Is Lady Maris here at the moment, do you know?"

The elder one speaks again, "Aye, she be where she belongs, in her Hospice there." He nods in the direction of the battered white building.

Roxanna says, "Thank you." She turns and enters the Hospice, looking to Brisa. "Coming along?"

Brisa follows Roxanna into the temple, still smiling quietly to herself.

Trystan follows as well... watching, smiling.

The older squire waits until the three walk on before he turns back to his charge "Ye 'ave 'eard what Sir Angus says. Once they strap on tha' sword they no longer a lady be. Thee an' thine Talesan's farmer ways."

The younger one simply shrugged, picking up both buckets, "She certainly looked like ah lady to me."

"Ye will learn."

    A small portion of the Imperial rectory, the little hospice has been given a moderately spacious room for Lady Mari's work. Clean and bright, large, shuttered, diamond-paned windows offer fresh air and a view to the town's main street. Inside is quite different from the exterior. The walls are perfectly white washed, but what should be an ample space is crowded with beds. Each is different, as if collected from many years worth of sales and donations, and most are filled. Some, sworder types, seem the worst hurt, but even those with but a fever or persistent ache are treated equally here. A small number of women walk through the makeshift ward, sharing a handful of common characteristics. A quiet, friendly voice, a gentle caring touch, and a weary look of one who has never had enough sleep.

A tall lady looks up as the three enter. Her worn face nods, but she returns to her work, a young lad who must have taken an awful fall. For her, the three newcomers came in on their own feet.

Roxanna pointedly nods to a corner for Brisa and Trystan to stay out of the way in, and crosses over to Lady Maris. When she finishes with her current patient, Roxanna asks, "May I be of assistance, milady?"

Brisa is obediently shuffled off into the corner by the scary professional healer-type.

Trystan joins Brisa in a corner, his hands folded politely in front of him, looking on at the scene with great intent.

Brisa looks around thoughtfully... then waits to see if any of the women come near enough to speak to. She and Trys are healthy... strong arms are probably useful here, for however short a time they may visit.

The tired Atteran blinks and looks up, "Oh... oh certainly. Here. The lad was chasing sheep above the Rock and fell. He has two broken bones. I have the worst, the leg, but if you could keep his arm still?" The priestess sighs and wipes her brow with one arm, leaving a streak across her tunic's sleeve. "Oh. I be Maris. And you?"

Roxanna says, "Roxanna, milady. Recently arrived in Highgaard." She goes to work, settling the boy down and keeping his broken arm immobilized until it can be set.

It doesn't take too long to set the bones and with soft words send the lad to sleep. Lady Maris just sits back then, her legs awkwardly splayed. She sighs, pushing back the strands of her pale hair. "Oh. Roxanna. I don't know you, do I? And... and thank you."

Roxanna says, "Not yet, milady. I've only just arrived here."

Maris lets out a long, long breath. "Are you going to be staying long?"

Trystan looks to Roxanna, curious himself as to how long they'll be here.

Roxanna says, "I... really don't know. It depends on where I'm needed, I suppose."

Maris nods quietly, drawing her feet into a more comfortable position. "Your friends? Do you need a place to stay? While I don't have much, I'm sure if I ask the Knights must find something."

Trystan smiles softly at Maris' kind words.

Roxanna says, "Well, we were staying at the Horse and Hart, but they're a bit... overbooked at the moment. A pallet somewhere would be fine." She continues making the rounds with Lady Maris, handling some of the simpler cases to help if needed.

Brisa will quietly murmur to Roxanna, "The dama need not put herself out with the Knights for me, Roxanna. I'd prefer not to cause any trouble to the Ladies of Mercy. But if you could ask the Dama Maris if she knows of any missing young girls, I'd be grateful?"

Roxanna nods to Brisa..."Not here..."

Trystan sighs a gentle sigh, watching the two work...

Maris slowly stands and quietly checks on the other patients. She pauses here and there, continuing their conversation as she does. "Oh, David is a good man. Not as fancy as the other two taverns, but much more safe and proper for a lady. If you could spare some time here while you are here, I'd appreciate it... and more than a pallet. If I asked, I'm sure we could make Squire Derrik sleep in the stables." She stops then, turning. "A missing girl? Not I. I haven't heard of such. Could there be?" Maris crosses her arms, honestly concerned. "Why would you think that?"

Roxanna says, "A long story, milady, and not fit for public consumption... do you have a place where we could speak privately?"

Brisa gives Roxanna an apologetic look... and remains discreetly silent, deferring to Rox.

Maris brushes back a stray hair. "I would guess..." She looks over her charges, "Come... this way."

Roxanna follows, motioning Brisa to come along. Brisa nods and paces quietly along behind Roxanna.

The tired priestess leads the way to a small room near the back of the hospice. It is a nice room, a simple room, a spartan room. A well made bed, a chair, a desk. Upon the desk are several large scrolls and a wide collection of pottery jars. The jars are labeled in all sort of interesting manners, "warm fuzzies," "heartfelt wishes," "quiet dreams," and so on.

Maris sits quietly on the edge of the bed, folding her skirt beneath her. "Yes?" Brisa closes the door quietly behind them all and leans against it, out of the way.

Roxanna says, "My companions and I arrived late yesterday. Last night we witnessed a murder -- unfortunately all we could do was chase the killers away from the body. Since then we have been sent two messages -- one to bring an item from the body and be paid for it, the other to take that same item and trade it for, quote, 'the girl', unquote. But we know of no missing women. 'Tis a most curious thing."

Letting out a long breath, a long sigh, Lady Maris frowns and runs her fingers through her thin hair. "Mercantile politics. That is what it sounds like. Those who scheme in the shadow of the guildhall and the merchant barn. Last night? If there is... or was a missing girl, if it happened last night, her loss might not be noticed for a while, correct?"

Roxanna says, "One would think that they would try for someone we would miss, though. Else it's not much of a threat. And..." She looks at Brisa. "I don't think it's normal merchant politics." Brisa shrugs her incomprehension of whatever motivated the murder.

Maris nods, and considers. "What is this item you found?"

Brisa lets Roxanna field this one.

Roxanna says, "The... item... in question..." She looks to Brisa again. "Appears to be a magical key of some kind."

Brisa nods quietly... being out of her depth here, she'll let Roxanna do the talking.

Maris asks a simple question. "What does the key unlock?"

Roxanna says, "No idea. It's made of darksteel, with silver tracery."

Maris blinks quietly, "That's very unusual. There are not many folks with that kind of affluence in town. I would wonder what the key unlocks?"

Brisa says, "I would also, dama, but I am not willing to trade that knowledge for someone's life."

Maris says, "Just remember. Someone who holds a girl for this key, they do not sound like ones I would trust to hold to their word."

Brisa nods quietly, "That... is another problem we must consider. But I do not even know how to begin figuring out what the key might unlock."

Roxanna says, "Benedict is presumably informing the temple of Hastur of the incident, but we were hoping you could keep an ear to the ground, as it were."

Maris looks up and shakes her head. "Judge Hawthorne and Father Perrin are fine men. But their vision is very limited. And they will not help your friend, Roxanna. As for beginning to look for what secrets the key might hold... if it's enchanted in nature, there is Jamison in the merchants' barn, otherwise Samara Kelleni runs a handful of warehouses, Master Jeremysson of the Mercantile Guild, or even David down at the Horse and Hart...but the closer you get to the merchants... the closer you might be stepping into the very dragon's jaws. Be careful. Sir Kenyonsson swears that not all who wear the punched penny in Cragside are merchants."

Roxanna grins sardonically. "Sounds like home, it does."

Maris looks to Roxanna, "Like home? Talantal?

Roxanna says, "Trundle-on-the-Hill." She sighs... "I was nearly the last Atteran there... Lady Alicia ordered me to leave before it was too late."

Maris blinks and takes in a sharp breath. "Oh. My. You are far from home. Cragside aspires to the markets of the Imperial City, Roxanna. That should give you a feel for the blizzard into which you just wandered."

Brisa murmurs quietly, "I... hate to bear ill news, but we were shadowed here... might I suggest the Dama Maris um... perhaps warn her assistants to caution?"

Roxanna grins at Brisa. "That's why I told Trystan to wait outside."

Brisa nods... good move, that.

Maris says, "One night, you must tell me of your Lady Alicia."

Brisa eyes the tired lady thoughtfully, and wonders if she ever has nights off...

Roxanna says, "What I know, I will gladly share with you, milady."

Maris nods quietly, "I shall keep my ears and eyes open. For both missing keys and little girls."

Roxanna says, "Ah... the key." She looks at Brisa again.

Brisa blinks, her attention snared away from her thoughts, and gives Roxanna an inquiring gaze?

Roxanna says, "I think it would be more useful to find out who wants it."

Brisa smiles wryly, "That also I am not sure how to proceed on... without someone being alerted, or harmed."

Maris says, "Does it start by finding out who it was who died?"

Brisa says, "Probably so, dama." She sighs softly and smiles again, glancing at Roxanna, "Do you wish to stay here? I can go do some searching on my own... but I would greatly appreciate it if you did not walk home alone tonight?"

Roxanna nods. "Here is where my place is, Brisa, as long as I stay in Cragside. Have my things sent over, if you would?"

Brisa says, "Certainly." She bows politely to the tired lady, "Her peace to you, dama. Excuse me, please."

Maris shakes her head, "Actually, if there is a missing girl, you place is to help her."

Roxanna nods, accepting the correction. "True, milady. But I need to find out if there is one, first."

Maris smiles quietly, "Then go and find out. While you are young, you must do what you will regret not doing when older."

Brisa grins suddenly as that comment resonates with her.

Roxanna bows. "As you wish, Lady Maris. But if you need my help here, please send word to the Horse and Hart."

Maris nods, "I know David well. And I will be here if you have need of me."

Brisa opens the door, gives her habitual cautious glance outside... then holds it for the two ladies to leave if they wish.

Roxanna waits for the Priestess, out of deference.

Lady Maris escorts the two back to her hospice. And while she returns to her work, Trystan joins Brisa and Roxanna, taking their leave. As the three step back onto Cragside's main street, they become four, meeting Benedict as he is shooed from the Justice's hall... Brisa grins at Benedict and waves him over.

Roxanna says, "Not too bad, I think. How'd your meeting go, Benedict?"

Brisa says cheerfully, "Not bad at all! So, anybody hungry for lunch?" She eyes the street sellers thoughtfully... then grins and decides to wait for David's... probably tastier there anyways!

Benedict looks, for the most part, a little hurt as he comes over. "It went all right, I think," he says softly. "I just... rrrr... I've been asked to find the identity of the body we found..."

Brisa eyes Benedict, then says more gently, "You all right, lad?"

Roxanna smiles encouragingly at Benedict. "Well, remember what Lady Maris said about her colleagues, Brisa."

Benedict rubs his eyes, sighing. "I'm afraid not, Brisa. I'm starting to wonder if my Master knew something I didn't when he made me an Eye of Hastur..."

Roxanna giggles. "Well, if he didn't, he wouldn't be your Master, now would he?"

Benedict glances to Roxanna, arching an eyebrow. "I missed something?"

Brisa tilts her head thoughtfully at Benedict... then gives him a quick, one-armed hug, "It's all right, Benny... nothing a nice meat pie won't help fix, and then we can all go find out who this poor murdered lad was, eh?"

Roxanna says, "First things first. Lunch, then Benedict can do his little learning-trick where we left the body, methinks."

Brisa says, "Learning trick?"

Benedict blinks in surprise at the embrace, then smiles quietly. Oh, yes, he is starting to suspect the good Master of anticipating these quandaries he's seeing. "Thanks, Brisa. That sounds like a good idea." He glances at the Temple, and sighs. "They're certainly in no rush..."

Roxanna says, "That was Lady Maris' estimate, as well. We're mostly on our own, here."

Brisa says, "Well, they may be in no rush... but our um... prospective traders certainly are. So yes, lunch first... then some nosing about, da?"

Benedict nods...

    The commons hall of the Horse and Hart is a close and comfortable place, formed in softly aged gray wood planking and framed by a sturdy heavy timber structure. In itself, it is a simple room with a scattering of tables and benches around its perimeter. Central, in a single loop of polished woodwork is the bar itself, encircling a friendly collection of beer kegs and sparkling crystal bottles. At the far end of the commons is a large stone fireplace, its hearth crackling and warmly ablaze. Set within is a large black iron kettle, within which simmers a thick stew, its aroma deliciously flavoring the tavern air. Beyond are a set of doors. One obviously leads to the tavern kitchen and perhaps the others to rooms for let.

Lunchtime at the Horse and Hart, especially today, is a crowded affair. The commons is full, the re-supplying mercenary troop taking up most of the tables, leaving naught but a handful of tight spaces at the circular bar. The Captain is there, still seeming out of place amidst all these soldiers. Raphael sits upon the hearth, slowly tuning a guitar... and the brown haired sworder they saw first is in close conversation with the Horde's vibrant red head. The mercenaries do make room when the four enter, allowing them to steal a place at the bar. David sets a row of mugs before them, "Stew, or bread and cheese for a midday meal?"

Brisa says, "Stew, please... it may be a while 'til dinner."

Benedict ers, "Bread and cheese, for me, please..."

David calls out to one of his helpers. She clatters open the big black pot in the hearth, to ladle out a bowl of hot stew. Real stew. Thick stew. Not Tommy's Tavern stew. Weaving past the sworders, she sets the bowl in front of Brisa.

Roxanna says, "Stew for me, I think...that looks delicious."

Brisa nods a polite thank you to the tavern woman, and folds her hands together for a moment over the stew... then beams and tucks in with a will!

David leans over and slides a plate down to Benedict. As he does, one of the mercenaries snares a last piece of cheese before the plate is out of reach. For Roxanna a second bowl of strew is retrieved, a nice warm meal upon this cold harvest afternoon.

Benedict blinks as the cheese disappears off of the plate, but decides not to make a big thing of it. He digs into the bread and... bread.

Brisa snares a piece of bread for herself too, actually... once her hunger is somewhat slaked she curiously asks David, "So, any news about missing girls?"

David pauses in his work and shakes his head. "I'm not sure. Barry was around this morning, looking for a friend he was supposed to meet, Colin of Whitewater Manor. They had an appointment this morning, but he thinks he figured the wrong tavern. Sometimes Colin has his daughter with him. A headstrong lass, thinks she is going to be a guild merchant like he is."

Brisa looks up, "Guild merchant? Say more, please?"

David waves to Trystan and slips him a plate of bread and cheese. David nods upstreet, "The Mercantile Association. The Merchant's Guild. Marrennenn's folk."

Brisa murmurs softly, "A... haa..." She chews thoughtfully on her bread for a moment, then glances at the others, "What do you think? Should we try meeting this Colin Guild Master?"

Roxanna sneaks a piece of cheese to go with her stew. "Hmmm... a missing merchant with a daughter. We're getting warmer, maybe..."

Brisa says, "Oh! Also, has news of a death or a murder gotten out, David? Of a young man?"

Brisa grins quietly to herself, watching cheese disappear off of poor Benedict's plate... she curbs her urge to teasingly grab some herself, considering the consternation on Benny's face!

David starts, looking back to Brisa, "No, Jeremy Jeremysson is the guildmaster here... Colin is just a small shipper out of Whitewater... and a murder? No? Not that I've heard. Though you might ask the guard."

Brisa looks puzzled, "Wait, I thought you said Colin had a daughter, who thought she was going to be a guild master like him?"

Roxanna says, "Guild merchant, Brisa. Not guild master."

David says, "A guild merchant, like him. But she cannae, bein' a lassie an' all."

Benedict frowns slightly as he digs into his bread, managing to find a stray piece of cheese and welcome it to his lunch plate. "Maybe we won't ask the guard," he murmurs slightly, more to himself than anyone.

Brisa looks like she's trying not to laugh at the comment about not being able to be something due to one's sex... instead she just says politely, "Ah, of course, Roxanna, thank you."

Roxanna grins at Brisa. "Ah, yes... but merchants have to deal with people. Much more sensitive to the ordinary proprieties."

Brisa grins at Roxanna and just manages to remain politely silent! ...then smiles at Benedict, and murmurs quietly, "Would you like to dip your bread? I have plenty of stew if so?"

Benedict blinks to Brisa. "Ahh... oh, no, thank you, Brisa. I'm almost full as it is..."

Trystan quietly nibbles his cheese, then dabs at the corners of his mouth.

Brisa says, "Still... this Colin Marrennennsman might be worth looking up, da? After Benedict checks to see who our unfortunate was?"

Roxanna says, "Sounds like a plan."

Brisa looks curiously at her companions, "By the way... do any of you know any magics that can aid in identifying things?"

Benedict blinks to Brisa. Doesn't she know...? "Er... yes, actually, Brisa."

Roxanna says, "What I wanted to know... does it work on locations, as well as objects?"

Trystan ponders, looking at his companions... "Identifying what?

Brisa eyes Trystan amusedly, and doesn't mention what precisely in public, "Just... things. People."

Benedict says, "Locations...? I don't know, Brisa. It... it might, but I'm not terribly familiar with the theurgy behind the thaumaturgy..."

Brisa nods, "All right... um. Why don't we check our luggage for anything we might want to take with us, then go searching? Since we should probably stick together...?"

Trystan hms... nodding.

Roxanna says, "Might as well."

Brisa will polish the stew bowl clean with her piece of bread, eat it up, then contentedly lick her fingers. She looks up afterwards, "Well! I'm ready if you all are... shall we?"

Benedict nods, and heads outside with the others.

Brisa heads out to the barn with everyone... it's there, when they're sure they're alone, that she'll produce the key and ask Benedict to see if he can figure out what it does.

Trystan follows, coming back from being lost in thought.

Brisa makes sure they're all together and in private before she produces the key and hands it to Benedict, "So... can you tell anything about what it does, Benny?"

Actually the barn loft is a comfortable private space, with one bed and a comfortable floor. Obviously a stable hand probably uses this place as his own residence when the tavern is less crowded. The comings and goings of the stable, however, are easily overheard, adding a strange bit of atmosphere to the accommodations. Their gear is neatly stacked and arranged, as if moved with care.

Benedict blinks, and looks at the key, frowning. "I... I can try, Brisa. I don't see why Hastur wouldn't hear my prayer for his help..."

Trystan is very curious about Benedict's ability, and though not making himself obtrusive, busies himself about Benedict to watch. He peers over, watching Benedict work...

Benedict closes his eyes, holding on to the key. "Lord Hastur," he murmurs softly, "Knower of All, the Wise and Just One, Bringer of Light and Revealer of Truths, grant unto me the knowledge we seek, for our need is great and the truth is hidden from us. Grant to us the knowledge locked within this object that we might see and learn and know and act upon it..."

Trystan tilts his head, smiling, listening to Benedict work his spell.

Benedict holds the key in his hand, looking at it intently. A moment passes, a heartbeat, as his breath comes almost to a stop.

Trystan mms a quiet, non-intrusive, non-verbal question.

Brisa waits silently for Benny to finish.

Benedict stares at the key as, for him, all time seems to stop, not even noticing that he's no longer breathing. After a few moments, however, he takes a gasp of air and blinks, his eyesight clearing. "Gaah... haaaaah... ahhhh..."

Trystan looks up from the key to his companions, then back to the key.

Brisa gently takes Benedict's hands in both her own, holding firm, "Breath, Benny... take it slow..."

Benedict manages to remember how to breathe and not be a key, nodding shakily to Brisa. "Right... right... breathe... in... out... not darksteel... right..." He takes in a heavy breath, and raises a hand to his forehead. "Ahhh... all right... oh my... all right... I'm... I'm all right..."

Brisa gently takes the key out of Benedict's hand, continuing to hold him anchoringly with the other hand, "You're Benedict... not darksteel, no. Can you talk now?"

Roxanna says, "That was downright weird..."

Trystan whispers softly, "...what is it?"

Brisa nods to Trystan, "Can you hand him my canteen, so he can have a drink?"

Trystan jumps to the task, quickly fetching the canteen.

Benedict nods slowly, letting out a breath. "Yeah.. yeah, I'm... Benedict. Urrrgh... blast... my Master never told me that could happen...!"

Trystan says, "Here... should I get some wine too? I can run inside and grab some if you think he needs it..." He poises on the brink of movement.

Brisa says, "Nooo... not unless he asks for it. Let's not cloud his head just now."

Trystan nods softly to Brisa.

Benedict accepts the canteen gratefully. "Thanks... thanks, Trystan... urrf..." He takes a few small sips of water, taking slow, deep breaths, and in general recovering from the incident.

Trystan whispers quietly... "What?... what could happen?

Brisa says, "All right, Benny... feeling better? Tell us when you're ready, all right?"

Stray bits of conversation slip up from the stables, like fragments of a mirror. "...cor, Fred. How come you take the apple from everyone else and then choose to nip me... Krysta's icy hell, you'd think we wouldn't have to worry about that here... it's too quiet... and Kori's chuckling ... so we keep a watch... yah, one looked more like a fat pumpkin than a person... you needed new clothes anyway..."

Benedict nods, and takes in a breath. "It... it's a key to a door, I think it's the door to a warehouse. Someone locked a warehouse, gave the key to the man who was killed. The man was running not only to evade pursuit, but also to hide the location of the warehouse. I... then he was accosted, something happened, I felt Brisa pick me... pick the key up... and that was it."

Brisa's head comes up at the snatches of conversation... she blinks, refocusing on Benedict, then nods, "Can you find the warehouse again?"

Benedict shakes his head, sighing. "I don't think so. I'd recognize it if I saw it, but... I can't determine where. I was only a key...

Trystan blinks... musing softly as if... "...what happens if the warehouse is found?..."

Roxanna nods at Brisa. "Pumpkin-person? You catch that one?"

Brisa nods grimly to Roxanna and whispers, "Yes... but I don't want to fog Benedict's concentration right now. Still..." her grin is almost malicious, " -now we know just who to ask to um... intercept them for a bit!" She adds to Benedict, "Could you see the streets that were taken?"

Benedict says, "No, I couldn't. I'm sorry."

Brisa nods thoughtfully, "All right... were there other warehouses around as well? What was the neighborhood like?"

Trystan kneels by Benedict, "Did you... feel... anything more? Any places... any times? Was it day or night that the key was given? ...did you feel how the person felt as he gave the key? Or... received the key?"

Benedict says, "Gray... lots of gray buildings. Or may be the warehouse itself was gray. Stone? And it was late, late at night." He taps his chin. "The person who locked the warehouse was a lady, and she gave the key to the man."

Brisa raises an interested eyebrow, "Would you recognize her?"

Benedict shakes his head, "I only really felt what the key felt, Trystan, and some certain impressions. Other than that..."

Trystan says, "...can you feel how it felt to be given? Was it in haste? Was it in relief...?"

Brisa grins, "Slow down, Trys... let him try to remember the woman too, as well as all your questions!"

Trystan nods softy to Brisa... swallowing softly...

Benedict lets out his breath, and shakes his head, "I'm sorry, that's all I remember..."

Roxanna says, "It's a start. We can wander around the town, look for such a place."

Brisa nods, "All right, don't worry Benny." She grins, "You did great! We know a lot more than we did before! So..." she tilts her head thoughtfully at Benedict, "Do you feel up to going to where the young man died?"

Benedict smiles quietly, "Thanks." He grimaces a little. "I... don't know, to be honest..."

Brisa says, "Would you like a hand getting there? Would that help?"

Trystan agrees with Brisa, "You did wonderful, Benedict..."

Benedict lets out a breath, and shakes his head. "I don't think... I don't think Hastur wants his priests doing that too often..."

Roxanna says, "S'okay. We'll take a look, maybe the body will still be there."

Brisa nods and smiles, "It's okay... we don't want you to try to be the pavement where the boy was killed or anything. We just want to see if we can identify who the boy was."

From downstairs comes a short, cursed, "...that couldn't have been him..."

Benedict blinks. "Oooh... I think I need to lie down for a bit..."

Brisa nods, "All right... Benny, why don't you rest for a bit then."

Benedict nods and woozily starts to make his way back to the inn, then realizes it isn't a good place to sleep right now, and so starts looking for a nice pile of hay. Roxanna ends up staying nearby, just in case.


When Trystan and Brisa finally do climb down to the stables, the only folks there are horses... the tavern, however, is still bustling.

Brisa pats Khari affectionately as she passes by... then pauses, looking around in some surprise as it dawns on her... there are a lot of horses here! The Wild Horde is... rich! Brisa grins quietly to herself, "Well look at that, Khari... y'think maybe if we got bored we could find a job with them? Think you'd like a gray star on your neck, under your pretty mane?" She chuckles softly, feeding her little mare a carrot... then smiles at Trystan, "Well! Let's go see who was talking about fat men, eh?"

Trystan chuckles softly to Brisa... "The star wouldn't do her justice... like a pumpkin? You heard that too? I thought it was a bit of fluff caught in my ear... hmmm..."

Brisa pauses and studies Trystan quietly in the barn, smiling faintly, "That's nice of you to say..." She tilts her head thoughtfully, then carefully asks, "Who... do you listen to, if I may ask?"

Trystan blushes softly, but... hesitates... playing... um... for lack of a better word... dumb... "Listen to?" He whispers, "I... I don't understand."

Brisa raises a disbelieving eyebrow at Trystan... then smiles quietly, "I won't push. It's your choice to tell or no." She pauses a moment, giving Trystan a chance to speak if he wants to... or lead on into the inn...?

Trystan clears his throat softly, "I don't know what you mean.. by... listen to."

Brisa nods quietly and turns to head in to the inn. A look of genuine quizzical-ness falls over Trystan as he tries to understand... he quietly follows into the Inn, moving with a softness that is surprising even for a bard.

Entering the commons hall finds it a bit quieter. Lunch is mostly over, David cleaning up behind the bar. Raphael's rough voice seems to be finishing a song, the guitar crying softly in the afternoon. Even the Captain is relaxing, slowly wiping down a dull black sword with an oiled cloth.

Brisa's eyebrows go up... a cold iron sword! She's impressed... but she just comes in quietly and asks David for a drink. She'll lean against the bar, debating with herself as to whom to ask about what she overheard in the barn.

Nodding, the barkeep reaches down below the counter to retrieve a mug. He taps a small keg and pours out a deep amber beer. This he places before Brisa.

Trystan motions politely for the barkeep to pull a pint for him, "Dark... if you have it?"

David says, "That we 'ave." He quickly sets out a second mug, "There ye go, laddie."

Trystan smiles warmly and quickly reaches in a notably empty coin-purse for the copper to pay for the drink, "Thank ye kindly, sir... this... oh, this will hit the spot." He warmly sips the dark ale... his eyes closing at the taste of it. Then, wiping the foam from his upper lip, he observes while leaning against the bar, "It's been a wee-bit... more... um... what's the word for it... um... more intense... since the.. 'others' showed up..."

Brisa drops a penny to pay for hers, watching Trystan thoughtfully... she sips her beer, then sighs, "Mmm... good harvest year, da, David? Nothing like a good drink to bring back the summer..." She sips again, then curiously adds, "So, David... have ye seen three men about here, not of the Horde? One like a pumpkin, one like a crane, one wrapped up in a cloak?" She asks David her question in a conversational tone, so the others in the room can overhear it, then blinks at Trystan, "'Others'?"

Trystan quiets and sips his ale...

David looks back, "Oh? Do ye know them? The fat one, they saw 'im lurking around th' barn, jus' about when someone 'ad th' gall to try an' ransack two o' my rooms. Ruined th' clothes of one of th' soldiers. Jus' after breakfast?"

Brisa nods quietly, and murmurs, "Don't suppose the two rooms were the ones we'd been in?"

David pauses, "Ya know, they were."

Brisa nods a tad grimly, "Guess they're getting desperate. Did the Horde manage to grab any of them? I'd be right interested in what they'd have to say."

Trystan furrows his brows, listening and sipping his ale.

A quiet voice speaks up from across the room, as the Captain turns from her polishing, "No. We are only... human. Who'd expect someone would try and break into our rooms. Well, perhaps my brother, but I know he's far from here."

Trystan wipes the damp left by the ale softly from his lips, listening and glancing to Brisa, then back at the speaker.

Brisa turns to face the captain, and says politely, "I did not intend to imply a lack of humanity, captain... I simply hoped for more information concerning the threatened hostage girl. Believe me, if we'd known this would happen we would have warned you."

Dandelion frowns quietly. "Oh. Those were your rooms. Some one wants something very, very bad to come into my tavern, no?"

Trystan shakes his head, not getting the reference to being 'human'... but adding softly over his stein, "It's... still much a mystery why we've been... targeted for such attention, as it were." He chuckles, shaking his noticeably empty coin purse, "If it's money they're tryin' to find... it's certainly not ours."

Brisa's eyebrows go up a bit, but she simply murmurs, "So it would appear. Er... now that I think of it, you might wish to guard the barn closely?"

Dandelion says, "We are, actually. You saw all the destriers are there, aye? And Duffy's horse."

Trystan shifts his eyebrows over the rim of his mug, watching Brisa quietly.

Brisa says, "Um... well, I suppose as long as a thief can't drop down onto the roof of the barn from another roof, the horses will guard well enough."

Dandelion smiles quietly, "Besides, come night, one of my sisters will be keeping watch there, from the loft, yes?"

Trystan mms quietly, curious.

Brisa nods quietly, "Thank you for your vigilance... and yes, I believe so. Might I ask one last favor? If any of your people noticed the three men, and felt like grabbing them... as I said before, I'd be very interested in speaking with them. It appears the deadline is this midnight... so I'm guessing they'll be sniffing around quite eagerly."

Dandelion returns the nod, "You do know what they call three wild Dayalans under one roof, don't you, Brisa?"

Brisa chuckles softly, "Trouble."

Trystan chuckles brightly, his bardic laugh.

Dandelion laughs out loud, bright and light. "Excactly..."

Trystan smiles, a broad, warm smile, nodding his respect to Dandelion.

Brisa grins, "Well... let us hope we're trouble enough to those threatening the girl that she remains unthreatened." She thinks a bit... then nods, "David... do you know if Colin Marrennensman ever turned up? Is there someplace we could meet him, to find out if his daughter is missing?"

The barkeep considers, "I think his friend Barry stays at the Punched Penny Inn.

Trystan sets an empty mug on the counter, satisfied, and watching the discourse between Brisa and the barkeep.

Brisa says, "Is it close? Hmm..." She eyes Trystan, then grins, "Well, if he won't talk to me, I'll have you ask him!"

David looks back, quiet. "It's near the front gate... it's... well..."

Trystan grins broadly, chuckling deep in his throat, "I'll do what I can, m'lady."

Brisa looks back at David inquiringly.

Raphael takes over for David's obvious discomfort, "It's where our Fireball goes when she wants to bait Jvrillians."

Brisa says, "Ah, got it. Then definitely we'll have Trys talk... can't let a little thing like that keep us from a possible damsel in distress, after all." She grins quietly again, putting her mug down, "Ready, Trys?"

Trystan holds up a finger... "Umm... 'Fireball?'"

Brisa says airily, "Just one of my sisters... this way, lad!"

Trystan nodnods, "Ooh... sure..."

Kori perks up from her conversation with Duffy. "Aye. Ye want to make somethin' of it lad?"

Trystan is lead out of the Inn... still wondering... "..if you say so..." He shudders at Kori's question, "No, ma'am..."

Brisa is struggling not to laugh, but loses it when Kori perks up, "No! No, you don't get to whack on my poor friend -- not 'til after he's done talking for us!" She's still giggling to herself as she hastily herds Trystan out!

Trystan stutters and stammers as he is lead out the door.

Brisa takes a bit to quit laughing as they're walking briskly along... but she finally turns to grin broadly at Trystan, "Fireball is Kori's nickname, Trys. She likes picking fights with Jvrillians."

Trystan, once he is safely out of the Inn, slips back into his normal modality of being, "Ohhhh, I see... fine, and... either you or Roxanna are... um... aligned to her?"

Brisa grins a little perplexedly, "Um... aligned? Not sure what you mean there?"

Trystan chuckles a bit self-consciously, scritching at a shoulder blade that seems desperately to need scratching. He thinks... "...viewing things from the same point of view?"

Brisa says, "She's my teacher's former student. Is that what you meant?"

Trystan nodnods... "Oh... oh, that's of what I was wondering... how long did you study with Kori?"

Brisa grins, "Ah. No, I won't be whacking you randomly, nor picking fights with you... she's just er... legendary!" She laughs again, "No, Kori was the student... my teacher's name was Poppy."

The walk down the street in the afternoon is darkly enlightening. The two easily pass the alley where the merchant was killed, and they can see the large collection of mercenaries rattling like loose swords in front of the two taverns. To the left is the sprawling Punched Penny Inn, to the right is Bar and Fire. And as they walk they can feel the eyes on them, for Brisa certainly gains the attention of the lounging Jvrillians. Especially the two who seem to be walking with a newly acquired limp. And in passing each building the two walk past the shadowed passageways, and who knows what dark eyes they might conceal.

Brisa pauses at the alleyway, looking down it, checking to see if the body's gone.

Trystan nodnods... "Oh..." He's trying to place things, and not appearing to have a good time of it. He peers around the corner safely too...

The alleyway is empty, except, perhaps for the hint of footsteps and the swirl of a cloak. Brisa glances sharply down the alley... then frowns and heads firmly on. Trystan follows with silent, stutter-steps.

Brisa hmms thoughtfully as she walks, "How's this, Trystan? We'll go in, you ask for Barry, and if he's there you can ask him how to find Colin?"

Trystan nods, looking around, "...sounds ok... why should I be asking for him... should they ask?"

Brisa says, "You're trying to find Colin... and um... you want to find Colin... uhh... ah! Because you have some stuff you want shipped! How's that?"

Trystan whispers roughly, "Fine... sounds ok with me...

As the two approach, the Jvrillians stir... and as Trystan vanishes into the tavern, he is accompanied by dark and grim Jvrillian commentary. "Which one do you think is the pet..."

Brisa throws a grin over her shoulder at the speaker... then follows Trystan in.

Trystan politely but carefully makes his way to the main area...

    The commons of the Punched Penny is alive with conversation and noise, the finely appointed space providing an excellent atmosphere for mercantile meetings over a bucket of beer. An ample room, it boasts elegant oak flooring rising to a paneled wainscot. Above, all sorts of knick-knacks clutter the walls. Most are banners of sorts of local merchant houses, but some represent other trades, like wagon wheels or the tools of a smithy or carpentry. Tables and chairs fill the main hall, and along the entire left hand side is a long wood bar. Behind the bar are stacked rows of barrels, each tapped for a rich taste of draft ale or beer. A pair of sturdy barkeeps fill one's order, while a triad of younger girls work the crowded floor. In all a friendly place, where the exchange of a few crowns might purchase a bit of lunch, a bit of drink and a fine room for the night.

Trystan sidles up to what passes for a front desk and clears his throat...

Brisa smiles quietly and shakes her head to herself, following... she wonders why he's behaving like he expects to get kicked. Surely that would encourage such behavior?

The bar goes silent as the two enter it. The chatter slowly dies, as more take notice of just who had walked in. Trystan is almost ignored, for while this is a merchant's bar most of the merchants have a guardsman with them. One or two stand as she walks in. The barkeep grumbles, the serving girls shy away. "Take your business elsewhere, bitch. We don't serve your likes here."

Brisa smiles again, more broadly, at the barkeep's words, and looks inquiringly at Trystan.

Trystan looks to Brisa, then back to the person in charge, "We're looking for Collin Marrennennsman... another inn-keep told us that his friend Barry is staying here?" He notes to his lute over his shoulder, "We're a couple of artisans and we need to have some of our work shipped from... here to there, and we've heard he is reliable." Trystan shrugs, looking to the innkeeper/barkeep for validation, "an artist can never let his art go, really, it is always a part of him."

The barkeep grumbles, "I said get out of here." He nods to one of the more rich merchants, who happens to have a couple more guards. They stand, taking a step towards Brisa. Meanwhile he turns, quiet. "Colin Marrennennsson? We don't have a Colin in this town. Just like I never seen a minstrel with enough coin to ship even his own hide."

Brisa grins again, "Trys... don't bother, he's decided to play dumb. Let's go someplace cleaner."

Trystan laughs a bright, warm laugh, "Tha's just 'cause we live our lives to bring happiness to others, entertainment... enjoyment... education..."

Brisa turns and walks out just as calmly as she walked in.

Trystan nodnods to Brisa, and bows low and grandly to the barkeep... "I only hope to have the pleasure to entertain you one day." He follows Brisa proudly out the door, entirely the actor he is.

The retreat doesn't go completely uninterrupted. The two are not a handful of steps from the tavern when the door opens again and a stocky merchant rushes out. He looks both ways, spies Brisa and Trystan, and begins to move towards them with a sharp, determined pace.

Brisa chuckles softly... outside she grins quietly at Trystan, "You're kinder than I. Let's go. I'm willing to help those that want help... not arrogant fools." Brisa shifts slightly as she speaks, so she's more between Trys and the approaching merchant though.

Trystan gratefully allows Brisa to take the fore... though he also is on the ready, closely behind Brisa... he whispers to Brisa, "...being a bard is a way of life, luv..."

The merchant speaks, his words rushed but not at all hostile. "Excuse, excuse, you... you mentioned a Colin... might it have been Colin of Whitewater Manor and not Marrennennson?"

Brisa turns to watch the man approach... she nods quietly, "Da... he has a daughter."

Trystan looks to Brisa... "It.. it might be... I heard it was Colin Marrennennson who was the shipper... there are others?"

Brisa smiles at Trystan, "No, you heard me say Colin Marrennennsman, I think." Brisa glances at the merchant and adds politely, "And you are..."

The merchant shakes his head, "No. Not here. Not in Cragside. The barkeep was right. But Colin from Whitewater, he was supposed to meet me this morning. Have you seen him?"

Trystan looks to Brisa...?

Brisa says, "Ah, you must be Barry? No, I'm afraid we haven't. We're trying to find him, to make sure he's all right."

Trystan nodnods, backing up Brisa.

Brisa blinks suddenly as an awful thought occurs to her -- they've killed once already. Would they kill the father to grab the daughter?

Barry nods quietly, "That be me, yes it be. I haven't seen him, though the guards say he did come through, with a load of wagons, last night."

A simple merchant he is, garbed in a decent tunic and finely trimmed surcoat, a handful of purses hanging from his belt. His light hair is thinning, framing a face rugged and worn just a little by the harsh Black Mountain storms. Not a tall fellow, his stocky build betrays a modicum of comfortable success. He carries himself carefully, his pace measured and determined, yet always tempered with a friendly smile.

Brisa nods slowly, "With his daughter, da? They were both all right then?"

Trystan shakes his head, trying to filter the information... "Was he bound for any place in particular? ...do you know what he was carrying? ...and you haven't seen him, right?"

Barry says, "I don't know for sure, but there's a good chance..."

Brisa frowns thoughtfully, "Couldn't be the Punched Penny... or the Bar and Fire. Nor the inns outside of town, nor the Horse and Hart... what other inns are there..."

Barry stops and pauses, his voice dropping. "No. I don't. He had sent me a letter, saying he'd be arriving fast, and had a cargo so valuable it could not be written or spoke about. And that he needed it shipped west as quickly as possible.""

Brisa says, "The merchant barn? The guildhouse? I assume you checked there alread- ahh..." she sighs softly, almost disappointedly, "Then... it must be him..." She's silent for a moment... then says firmly, "Gospodin Barry, will you come please to the Horse and Hart to talk to us? Something is very amiss here... mayhaps we can help each other?"

Trystan narrows his eyes, "What? In this day and age? Entrusted to one man? Are you sure he's on the level?"

Brisa glances at Trystan, "Wait... let's talk in private, Trys, please?"

Barry shakes his head, "I asked Dave, 'e had not seen him. But I... yes, this is something very private."

Trystan nods softly, shyly, realizing his mouth has outrun his mind...

Brisa nods, "Come. We need to discuss this." She heads briskly for the Horse and Hart, then pauses suddenly, turning to Barry, "Do you have a bodyguard? You should... and you should keep that bodyguard close, gospodin."

Trystan follows, trying to imitate Brisa's determined walk, but not doing a very good job of it... realizing it is a loosing battle, he waits for Barry and follows with him.

Barry shakes his head, "I'm just a small time teamster..."

Brisa frowns, then shakes her head, "Can you afford one for a day?"

Barry frowns quietly, "Maybe... I'm not sure."

Brisa sighs ruefully, "Well... you may want to hire one after we've talked, gospodin. Come, we will talk at the inn."

It doesn't take long to return to the Horse and Hart. Barry the merchant follows, his brisk pace easily keeping up with Trystan and Brisa. Inside, David has vanished and one of the Horde is tending the bar.

Trystan whispers to Brisa, none too softly, "Could we protect him? Keep him close? He's the closest lead we have so far..." He watches the reaction of the Horde bartender to their entrance, accompanied by Barry the merchant.

The bartender just nods, his attention more caught upon their rush than on their company.

Brisa smiles a touch grimly at Trystan, "He may not want to be protected by a swordbitch, Trys."

Trystan nodnods to Brisa... "We could make it... 'affordable'..." He chuckles to Brisa, "We could even pretend it is me protecting him!"

Brisa raises an eyebrow at Trystan, but manages not to snort out loud in laughter. She waves to the Hordesman as she enters, "Hai, do you know if David has private rooms where folks can talk?"

Trystan quietly questions Brisa's terminology... wondering what talking would mean to a Horde member.

"Private rooms? None that don't have a sleeping or resting person in them, no. I thought you folks were above the stables?" The temporary barkeep shakes his head.

Brisa nods, "All right, we'll head there, thanks anyways! Oh... any sign of three men, one like a pumpkin, one like a crane, one wrapped up in a cloak?"

Trystan murmurs, mostly in a sub-lingual tone, "...like a pumpkin..."

The sworder shakes his head, "No they've remained out of sight..."

Brisa nods again, "Spacebo then." She turns and heads briskly for the barn.

Barry shakes his head as they rush through the commons, "They talked to you too?"

Brisa glances down at Barry, then shakes her head, "Wait... it's not perfect but it's more private than the inn yard."

Trystan repeats softly as they exit... "...they... talked to you?"

Brisa leads the way up the ladder, after checking the horses to make sure they're all calm. She checks quietly and thoroughly as the other two are clambering up, to be sure that aside from her sleeping companions they're alone here.

The barn is quiet, the horses still. Save for a big lady destrier, which tries to take a bite out of Trystan as they pass... Brisa grins at the destrier's snap... but still yanks Trys out of the way if he's not aware of the lightning-swift strike at his shoulder. Once in the hayloft Brisa turns her bedroll up for Barry to sit on, and sits cross-legged on her saddle, "All right... so what did the cheery threesome have to say to you, gospodin?"

Barry shakes his head, "I think... they said, this morning, that they would have what was theirs but taken from them, and if that meant a merchant or two... or pagan busybodies or even fair ladies would die, that didn't matter."

Trystan turns his bedroll down and finds himself drawn to it like a moth to flame, he tries to hold his eyes open as he listens...

Barry says, "And if I found out anything, they would watch and see."

Brisa nods grimly, her accent thickening with her annoyance, "Nyeh kulturnye... I am thinking you must hire bodyguard now, gospodin. Is not safe for you, now we have spoken... and girl is stolen, we think, and one already for this has died..."




Last modified: 2004-Jan-11 22:09:59

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