In what would have been the brilliant noonday sun, if it had been anywhere else but the dark quarter of Urmlaspyr, Aleksei sat on his palette, tensing and releasing each muscle. Udala was busying herself in the mostly-completed kitchen on his right, and on his left, Amilie sat at a tatty round table with Darelove and Fairwillow. Snakesoul, who seemed to never speak, leaned on one of the new beams that would soon support a wall and a front door, looking out into the seemingly endless maze of torchlit backstreets.
" 'Dark Elf brews strong poison- nearly immediate kill. Burned through two abduction teams and a messenger from Nedstra. Mentioned him to Greycastle's apprentice, haven't heard back.' And a few days later, 'Elf is with his own below; should get him from Nedstra tomorrow or day after. Took in new batch; one clearly too old. Won't be able to get much juice out of her before the end-' "
"This is disrespectful way to speak of elder," Aleksei sighed. " 'One who is not respecting his elders shall not live to see the age they ridicule,' this is old teaching of my father's land."
Greenstar, who had previously been laying on the bare floor next to Aleksei's palette, rolled over and wordlessly took the Dragonborn's half green-scaled hand up into his own. After a brief glance to check if the Elf were going to do something strange with it, Aleksei left him alone.
"There's wisdom in that. Many cultures have similar maxims." Amilie allowed her slender fingers to flit through a few pages before stopping to read again. " 'Will continue to torture the witch. Same dreams as Dresan's camp; vivid, complains of girl crying from the stone. Need to get as much as possible before the creature dies.' So, what did they do to you?"
"What didn't they do is a better question," Fairwillow sighed. "Just ask Aleksei how I looked when he saw me first. But it had seemed as though it were more for entertainment than for information- the Stingers weren't very well organized. There was never a clear leader, only a person or two who seemed less crazy than the rest every now and again. When I was taken, that one person was Perry."
"You met the guy, or heard of him?" Amilie asked, an eyebrow arched high. "Did anyone see you go?
"Yes, got brought right to him right away. And as for anyone seeing me go- actually, a guard muttered something about how we 'gypsies' are going to make havoc in the marketplace- as though we were going to run into the center of town and rob everyone blind," Fairwillow shrugged. "I didn't think too much of it at the time. Plenty of people complain when we show up, and use worse slurs than that, to boot. Of course, some of us really do steal or lie to get by, although Deadriver is doing his best to make that unnecessary."
"He who deals with the immovable mountains with a nature that bends like water is wise," Greenstar muttered, almost talking to Aleksei's hand. "You can blame experience, but if that's so, then your mother passed it to you in the womb, for you are the son of her heart."
Aleksei looked at Greenstar for a few moments, noting the intensity with which the Elf was poring over his hand. "Much of that is having scars, little brother," he suggested calmly.
"That's well said, big papa. We all got our share, on the inside," Greenstar replied. "Scars scare most folk- they're good for keeping namby-pambies who would wind up doing you wrong at a healthy distance. But they won't hide you from everyone. You know that."
"Funny they would look for this out-of-the-blue Drow before tapping Arlwynna," Amilie mused. "She's the best apothecary- and poisoner- Urmlaspyr has to offer. She's practically a savant- and prices fair. Just about every weed I've got passed through her hands first, and she's taught me to substitute things safely, when I didn't have enough gold for what I really needed."
"Perhaps this Arlwynna was too tough to capture," Darelove suggested with a shrug. "If she's the only good apothecary, people would notice her missing."
"Or maybe she was elsewhere- she's wont to go to Cormyr or to the Dalelands for trade," Amilie nodded, flipping through a few more pages. "Oh, wait- no- the Phoenix had her? The Stingers made note of a Phoenix capture- I don't get it."
"I don't even know what the Phoenix are," Udala snorted, trundling over with a bowl of stew and sitting it on the table. "But I guess everyone else here does?"
"They must be a mage's guild of some sort. The Stingers were constantly chatting about how I was going to get kicked over to them, because I'm a magic worker," Fairwillow sighed. "But they seemed to have trouble either contacting the person in charge over there or getting them to do anything about me. You know how mages are always in their scrolls and records and books."
"So they must have had trouble getting Arlwynna away from them, as well," Amilie concluded, closing one log book and going back to another. "Which leads them to ask the Greycastle witch for this poison-making Drow."
"Bahlzair," Aleksei supplied, laying back on his palette and closing his eye. "But it is foolish to think that anyone is being in charge of him for long. If this Greycastle is sending him to Stingers, I would be having no one left to fight but him when I am arriving."
"He's with other Drow, apparently," Udala shrugged, returning with a plate of bread. "If there are any females in there, he'll get whipped into shape- literally."
"No, Bahlzair is not like this. He is beyond Drow," Aleksei sighed. "His blood is bitter; peace and docility are strange to him. There will be nothing left of this Nedstra, whoever she is."
There were a few moments of thoughtful silence, during which Greenstar turned Aleksei's right hand slowly to the left, peering at the space between his first finger and his thumb. "One purpose, all enduring, so indelibly written on your soul that Tiamat, however strong she may be, cannot completely warp it to her will."
"And what is this purpose?" Aleksei asked, nearly indulgently.
Greenstar looked up, noticing that Aleksei was a little more than half-asleep. "The power behind your sword arm- the heaviest part of your name."
"Lyosha, do you trust anyone in the guard?" Amilie asked suddenly. "I'm wondering if Greycastle will try to put some moves on Nithraz- or if she already has him."
Udala poked at Snakesoul, who had been sustaining a silent guard since she had come out of the tunnels. "You can eat the stew, you know. I cooked it, and I'm no good at poisons. You're pale as a sheet of paper anyhow."
"Don't worry about her; she'll go get something if she wants to," Darelove offered, turning her head over her shoulder for a few moments. "I bet she's waiting for danger- or Smokedog- or both, knowing Smokedog."
"Who comes up with these names?" Udala crabbed, making her way back across the room to the mostly-safe cooking spit area.
"There is torturer I am first meeting," Aleksei replied thoughtfully. "He is not good man, but he is honest man. I am not much trusting Trelwynen, who is asking many questions that he is not really wanting answers to. There is Human male who is very young for his rank. He is treating Mishka well, and is writing name I am asking him to after she is destroying the paper in the prison book, even when the male in charge of the book is saying no. There is older male much like him, but he is not from this land."
"MacSairlen," Greenstar supplied easily. "You're concerned about him going after Mishka- bit of conflict of interest, huh, big papa?"
"I don't know a guard by that name," Amilie frowned.
"Me neither," Udala called from across the room.
"He's not from here," Greenstar repeated. "He's from- ah, Cormyr."
"Bert's beard," Amilie protested. "Not a chance. I'm not reporting anything to a Cormite."
"And a year ago, if someone had said you'd be soaked in rum, getting cozy with another female and double-teaming a Dragonborn twice your size, what would you have said?" Darelove smirked.
"They killed my grandmother," Amilie explained bluntly, wiping the smirk right off the stunned female's face.
"Some one of them did, yes, but if Lyosha trusts the man, I doubt he'll put you to the fire," Udala commented. "And if he tried, he probably wouldn't survive the repercussions."
A breathless, slender young Elven male with a staff tucked under his arm puffed his way up to the mouth of the unfinished house. "Gra go deo, Snakesoul- have you seen Smokedog?"
The fair skinned female shook her head, then looked beyond him to the endless darkness of the alleyways.
"Hey, Oakarm, that you?" Fairwillow called, turning around to see the young male. "What do you need?"
"Deadriver sent me for Smokedog because first off, a lost brother used the sigil to mark a teleportation circle, and second off, there's a blood sucker in- oh... no offense, Snakesoul."
The female turned her pallid head, smiled a porcelain fanged smile, and rested a tender, if chilly, hand on the young man's head. The two stayed in that position for a few moments, then returned to their separate worlds.
"Well, is it feral or is it like Snakesoul?" Darelove asked at once. "Big difference."
"Semi-feral," Oakarm replied. "I think Deadriver wants to help him punch through bloodlust and into the acceptance of the other side, but the crew around him's gotta trust him first, and that trust's sliced awful thin for the poor guy. Seems like the old chief and a Shadar Kai girl are the only two that'll stick with him."
"And who's the lost brother?" Fairwillow asked, turning all the way around in her chair. "Son of anybody we still know?"
"Ironfeather," Oakarm answered with a shrug. "I got nothing. Folks dropped out of the family before he was born, but gave him a tribe name and taught him the sigil. Didn't save his friend from getting got, but sure lit up the mole like a Black Pepper pot. Nobody in there trusts the vampire, but everybody's got all the faith in this bad news bitch who's busy cutting the backs of their knees. Took this to show her up."
"What a tribe name- Ironfeather," Amilie echoed. "Might there be a reason behind it?"
"It's in the soul," Darelove nodded. "You gotta feel the soul of the child. Folks name their kids before they come out, so its not like it's a gender thing. It's like, an experience. Name like Ironfeather, this kid's made to handle some tough shit, but he's gonna be calm about it- flexible, I guess."
"He answers to another name too, but I don't remember it," Oakarm shrugged. "Look, if you see Smokedog-"
"Can I help you?" Udala interjected, watching the approach of a strange, sandy haired male.
"Just a messenger, no better than this guy," the male replied, indicating an indignant Oakarm. "Looking for a Voyonov- big blond scaly guy, looks like he's seen his share of fights?"
Aleksei, with a deep sigh, took his hand away from Greenstar, turned around and stood up. "I am Voyonov."
"Great," the male smiled openly, reaching into a worn cloth sack. "Here's for you, from the Dragon Coast, apparently," he began, pulling out a tattered note. "And this is complements of my employer. No tip needed, eh, mate?"
Aleksei looked at the small potion vial strangely, but took both that and the note from the waiting hands of the messenger. "Bol'shoye spacibo."
"Thank you very much," Fairwillow immediately translated without thinking.
"Oh, I know," the messenger grinned, already turning to leave. "And pazhalusta."
"Unbelievable," Amilie noted, putting the log book down at last and looking at Aleksei. "I've literally never heard anyone else speak your language until today, and now here are two that do."
"I'm using a spell," Fairwillow admitted. "But that man-"
"Isn't," Greenstar finished. "I didn't sense any razzle dazzle from him."
"Well, that's not your everyday messenger," Udala huffed, hustling back from the far side of the room to get a look at the rapidly disappearing male. "Most folks I know toting other people's scribble around can hardly speak Common, let alone anything as far-fetched as Draconic."
"Northern Arkhosian dialect, to be precise," Fairwillow mused. "May I see the vial?"
Aleksei ambled over, grateful to be able to walk without any difficulty, and handed the vial to the slender female while handing the note to Amilie, who opened it at once.
"Hmm- do you know an Ymilsano?"
"Perhaps," Aleksei shrugged. "It is many people I am meeting whose names I do not know."
"Well, this fine gent writes like a high born aristocrat. He says- 'Esteemed compatriot- my apologies for the hasty departure. While the cargo was recognized, I was not, and I found myself attacked. To preserve the lives and livelihoods of the men who could not be convinced that they were not my crew, I ordered the cargo reloaded, and we left that very night. Though I did not know it at the time, I am now most certain that we were followed. Some other ship crossed our path before sunrise, and was attacked- we turned around to come to their aid, as there is strength in numbers, and I thought it most cruel to allow others to die without taking action. When the powder cleared and the day dawned, I realized that we had defended a true pirate ship, and destroyed the ship flying the Urmlaspyr banner. Upon inspection, my men and I found that not a single seaman aboard the thing wore the colors of the land; I am consoled by our ignorance, but not pardoned. Fortune has truly desired to make a pirate of me; I shall fight it no longer, but instead strive to raise the mental and martial quality of the men who follow me as though they'd known me all their lives. The poison was sold to the pirates we defended, which made us sudden, but strong allies. The captain invited me to his private quarters and spoke frankly with me concerning Urmlaspyr, and his words have sparked this letter. I hereby earnestly pray you to leave that place, and upon doing so, send word to Marsember at your earliest convenience. I cannot enter detail, but I must tell you that wicked things are afoot in that land, and I would preserve you against finding your way into the guard, as I fear you may naturally do, given your affinity to fighting and your bent to protect those weaker than yourself. I write to you as a comrade at arms; as you defended my life, I feel I should do no less. You are an honorable creature. Therefore, wash your clothes and your whole being when you leave that place, that not even the dust of it should settle upon you. Neither let the shadow of my tale stretch long over your mind; let your memory of me sink quietly into silent seas, that your honor be not stained. With highest reguard, Ymilsano.' Goddess, I wonder what that pirate told him."
"You see?" Greenstar smiled, self-satisfied, as he lay back down on the ground. "Doesn't take a mage to taste your aura. Evil may have been etched into your heart, but it won't seep into your blood- unless you stand by and let it."
"Would you stop it?" Amilie spat at last. "Tell him to stop that, please? There's not a shred of evil in him, and I won't-"
"Your goddess is smart," Greenstar soothed, popping a mushroom into his mouth and splitting it in half between his teeth. "She saw the seed of love in a heart iced over, and put her hands over your eyes. Let it melt, mama. What you don't see is still there, but you don't have to fight it. Yeah, mama, take the warmer way down."
"This is a literacy potion," Fairwillow said calmly, putting it down on the other side of the luke warm stew bowl. "So either Captain Ymilsano knew that his 'esteemed' reader could not, in fact, read, or that messenger was a little bit more than he appeared to be. Greenstar? Little help?"
"Huh?" Greenstar managed, having swallowed one half of the mushroom whole. "Oh, the sandy blond? He's got a good mama, sure does. Takes care of all the kids in her playground. Can't get a read on him; just see her. And that's how she likes it, all eyes on her, yes, sir. Ain't bad to look at, neither."
"A messenger with a warding spell? I don't like it," Darelove frowned. "But what are we going to do with these log books?"
"Udalka is right," Aleksei counseled, laying a hand on Amilie's shoulder. "I am much trusting MacSairlen, but if he is doing something harmful, I will do whatever I must to stop him. There will not be burning, or hanging or stoning."
Amilie pursed her lips, leaned back, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I- can't believe I'm about to trust a Cormite, but- MacSairlen it is. I'm not from here- and you're not, either. Maybe right now, that's a good thing."
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