At first glance, it was a picturesque Urmlaspyr morning. The birds chirped merrily, the buzzing insects busily pestered the tired, but patient horses, merchants called out to passers by, children and thieves dodged and played in the shadows, the air was crisp, not yet made pestilent by the day's catch sitting in the open air of the market, in the distance, the cool waters of the sea eagerly embraced more of the shore...
...and, a not-so-innocent cart driver was getting shaken down by a former military man.
"Fifty eight, fifty nine, sixty- there, satisfied?" the grizzled caravan leader asked the hooded figure who sat cross legged before him. Between the two sat a pair of scales small enough to be tucked into a messenger's bag.
The figure lifted his orange ringed, blue-green eyes from the balanced scales to meet the half-frightened gaze of the caravan leader. The deep, acid-green spellscars around his eyes burned brightly. "It weighs perfectly; much appreciated," he said in a blood-curdling dual tone. "Rafa?"
The tan-skinned, muscular man, who had been holding the cart driver about six inches off the ground with both hands, put the slight figure down brusquely, pushing him a few inches away from himself with a clean right elbow to the chest. As painful as it was, the cart driver knew in his heart of hearts that the distancing blow could have been much worse if the man had actually put real force behind it. He had no time to comment, however, before his boss, the caravan leader, grabbed him by the back of his clothing and dragged him away from the trio of terror that they'd just dropped off about a quarter mile into the city limits.
"I dunno why you let them-"
The caravan leader all but snarled his response. "I didn't let them do anything, you idiot; you provoked that by pretending we weren't gonna pay!"
"Well, we didn't have to-" the driver yelped.
"I don't stiff nobody, Gerek; nobody!" the caravan leader interrupted. "Though at this rate, I might start with you."
Delicate ebony black fingers reached up to pull a heavy priestess hood back, revealing glossy hair and piercing red eyes. "That was a concerning display, gentlemen. It seemed to me that you enjoyed every second of scaring those two men half to death."
The sicky green cast around the group accountant's eyes faded as he looked up at their Drow leader. "I... can't say I didn't," he admitted sheepishly.
Rafa smirked wickedly. "Atta boy, Percy," he encouraged. "Takes a certain amount of dedication, letting the spellscars light up like that, knowing that they'll hurt."
Percy scoffed as he tucked the gold pieces and the small scale away into his various purses and packs. "They always ache. Preparing a spell isn't comfortable, and casting it's really agonizing. But I'm getting used to it. And they weren't listening to you, Kim, so-"
"So it was time to show them that one of us was gonna get that coin out of 'em," Rafa finished firmly. "Only too bad for them that they didn't simply let it be the lovely lady."
"It's not the practical points of the matter, gentlemen," Kim sighed, inwardly admitting that this battle against bad behaviour was going to be lost. "It's the gusto that went into getting the two of them right scared of the pair of you. What if we meet them in future?"
Neither man offered an excuse or an argument. With a huff, the Drow woman fussed with the pouches slung about her hips. As she poked and sifted through them, Percy gathered up all the coin and adjusted the figures in his mind to suit the income.
"A hundred fifty two gold, twenty three silver, and fifty copper," he pronounced. "So, we can maybe have two different tavern rooms, instead of sharing the one, for once. Unless we plan to stay a long while, in which case, we'd better keep sharing."
"We're not low on any reagents, potions, or other materials," Kim added. "I believe I've heard enough about the Bone College to find it just by following this street, but it'll take some asking around to find a reasonably priced tavern. Shall we find a messenger or a guard?"
"Seems the guard's found us," Percy groaned quietly.
"Gotta wonder what Cormyr's dragon is doing this far away from home these days," Rafa muttered under his breath, having caught sight of the proud emblem that haunted his sober nightmares.
Kim looked up from her ingredient pouches and smiled just in time to catch the eye of the patrolling guard, who removed her helmet before returning the smile. "Welcome to Urmlaspyr," she said warmly. "I'm Blade Zoelan, part of Swordcaptain MacSairlen's crew. You all seem freshly dropped off here; might you be in want of direction?"
"Pardon me, but swordcaptains and blades aren't native to this city, are they?" Kim asked, as though she had no idea of the answer.
"You're quite right," Blade Zoelan replied, stiffening just a bit. "We're not. But for the most part, we blend right in; I know my way around the area, and can help you out. Just tell me where you'd like to go."
Kim cast a glance to Rafa, who had crossed his arms firmly in front of his chest. Whether the intention was to protect himself or calm himself, the visual result was the same- stone hard muscles on display, to match the distant, cold glare. The Drow woman pressed her lips together, considering how far away the market sounded from where they were.
Zoelan finally leveled a question directly at the man who was looking at her so bitterly. "Something the matter?"
Rafa scoffed. "Not with you, no. I... have history, let's say, with the Dragons."
His clipped reply still had just enough of Moonever's lilt to raise Zoelan's dark, thin eyebrow. "A fellow Cormyrean, from the sound of you," she commented cautiously. "I could hope your past run-ins with the Dragons were good, but... the way you said what you did... doesn't leave a lot of room for that."
"Nope," Rafa said, the single word falling heavy and hard as a brick.
"I think we'll manage on our own, Blade Zoelan," Kim stated kindly, but firmly. "We appreciate your offer, though."
"Well, let me at least advise you that you'll have to let one of the local officers know who you are and what you do," Zoelan counseled. "If you go down toward the docks from here, you'll hit the Eastern Quarter, which you don't want. Go up toward the market, this way, and either you'll run into one of the newly minted border guards or you'll find a strolling officer."
"Many thanks," Kim said, nodding.
"Quite welcome- see you all around!" Zoelan smiled brightly, despite the smile being a bit forced.
All three party members watched her as she left.
"I don't like that Cormyr is keeping such close tabs on what's supposed to be a free city," Rafa began in a low tone. "They 'blend in'? Bullshit. And if I lived here, I'd like that even less."
"It's not likeable, but that it's up-front is a good sign," Kim muttered. She made the tiniest of movements away from her two companions, and they began striding with her immediately, as though the three of them had always been together. " 'Freed' Daerlun is just as occupied, believe me."
"It's not a good sign, because it's not just neighborly concern," Rafa frowned. "Occupation is a step away from colonization. I wonder what she thinks is so wrong about the Eastern Quarter."
"I wonder why she didn't call it the 'dark' quarter, like everyone else," Percy finally spoke up. "If Swordcaptain MacSairlen's contingent is supposed to be 'blending in,' which I suddenly find myself hoping they never successfully do, they're going to have to not sound like foreigners."
"Ayah-eh?" Rafa smiled grimly.
"It's not so stark until you do that," Kim chuckled. "Besides, we are foreign, and there's no need for us to pretend otherwise. How MacSairlen and his troops get on with their assignment here is their own business."
"Speaking of business, I wonder how we go about setting up work here," Percy commented. "I haven't heard too much more tell about this place than what I told you- it mainly consists in what to avoid."
"Oh?" Kim asked.
"Well, most of it seemed either silly, or very rude," Percy continued, quieting his voice a bit. "It only makes sense to avoid side street herb peddlers, and to be careful in or around the Bone College, but... Shadar-kai? As an entire race? The 'phoenix'? I don't even know if they mean an actual animal or some kind of group that calls itself by the animal's name. By the time I'd gotten to that point in the conversation- these were a series of conversations between myself and one of the scar pilgrims- I'd sort of half mentally checked out."
"Well, there's the market," Kim noted as the three crested a small hill looking down the cobbled street to the hip-high stone walls around the collection of sellers. "Anything specific to be aware of here?"
"Like I said, side street herb peddlers," Percy repeated dutifully, with no hint of attitude. "I remember there being a 'dark quarter tax,' but I'm not sure when, where, or even if it applies."
"It doesn't sound like the sort of thing we should ask about, either," Rafa added.
"I'm sure there's a gentle way to breech the subject," Kim sighed, despite not truly even believing that herself. "Ah, that Elven friend has splint mail and a official look about them- Rafa, let's see if they respond to you better than they might to me."
Rafa made a face at Kim's backhanded way of addressing her concern about Drow and surface Elf interactions, but trotted the short distance between herself and Percy to get the Elf's attention. Upon arrival, Rafa noted that the person was shorter than he had expected, and that their ears weren't quite as slender at the top as a full blooded Elf's might be.
"Say, friend?" Rafa said, stepping to the person's side easily.
"Hmm? Oh, hello!" the person replied, quickly turning to give the dark-eyed stranger their full attention. "I'm Guard Siroghail, Urmlaspyr Outer Guard; what can I do for you?"
"I'm Rafael, and those two over there are some friends of mine," Rafa replied, shifting his head just slightly to indicate Kim and Percy. "We've just gotten dropped off here, and were wondering if you could help us out?"
"Do you need coin, prayer, or directions?" Siroghail smiled genuinely. "I'm only allowed to give two out of the three, but I've got a few fivestars to me, and won't say anything if you don't."
Rafa felt a warm ray of confidence, and returned the smile as he motioned for Kim and Percy to come over. "Just directions, ser. Where can we find beds that are clean and cheap at the same time?"
Siroghail laughed, a thick, but cute sound reminiscent of the skipping of a stone across a brook. "Well, you won't find them in the Temple District, I'll tell you that. The Patched Petticoat, back in the Dark Quarter, does alright. Petey's Peppered Pots is cheaper, but certainly not cleaner, and I see you've got more female company than you could land over there already."
Kim and Percy looked at each other, and knew instantly that Percy had been taken for a woman. Rafa remained either blissfully unaware or knowingly silent, because he didn't make any corrections.
"If you get to the Petticoat and don't like the look of the place, you can always go to the Bonny Dale; that's near the docks. The Petticoat's owner is half Drow, so you might even feel comfortable. The food is from Dhast and the Underdark, from what I'm told, but since I've never been to either place, I can't tell you whether or not that's actually true. The Dale's menu and lodging accommodations are so similar to Le Lune Silvestre, up in the Elven Quarter, that if you closed your eyes and put a perfumed cloth to your nose, it'd seem exactly the same. And neither place charges you extra for being Human." Siroghail nodded emphatically, so that the neck of their armor actually creaked a bit at the movement. "I probably look Elven enough to you, but not to the Silvestre waitstaff- I know for sure that they charge Humans extra."
"They should be ashamed of themselves, but the sort of people who would even think to do that wouldn't be, so that's that," Kim commented, rolling her eyes. "We'll do as you suggest- head for the Petticoat first, but over to the Dale if we want to live it up a bit, possibly with some sailors for company. By any chance do you know where we might register who we are and our business?"
"Oh, any border guard'll do it," Siroghail replied with a shrug. "Just so happens I was on my way back home from duty. I'll walk you back and let Charen help you."
The off-duty guard turned their back to the group and began moving away. With a shared quiet look, the three left behind agreed that this was a safe person to be following, and began to do just that.
Siroghail seemed not to have minded the pause, and tossed a question behind themself as if they expected at least one of the three to be right behind them. "So where have you come from?"
"Daerlun," Kim stated evenly. "We all met there and decided to travel and work together from there on."
"Ah, are you all mercenaries?" Siroghail said warmly. "I figured you might be, ser, but I'm not accustomed to there being more mages in a merc group than fighters."
Rafa chuckled in spite of himself. "There used to be more fighters."
"No there didn't," Kim corrected. "You're the only one we've ever had. But Ser Siroghail is certainly right in that it would have been extremely difficult to get on without you."
Rafa looked over at Kim, whose face absolutely had no trace of any emotion but assured calm. As if to reassure Rafa, Percy wordlessly nodded, and even though half his face was covered by his hood, the washed out soldier could still sense his firm agreement.
"I've seen a few blends of fighting mages at the bitter end of the tussle with Sembia," Siroghail said thoughtfully. "Most of them didn't make it back. The few that did, didn't stay here. Urmlaspyr has a tolerance for magic, but you can't confuse it with trust."
"Many places are like that," Kim commented. "I know more about Sembia than this place or Cormyr, I'm afraid- enough to know that the hesitation to trust magic users is very understandable."
"That'll do you," Siroghail sighed. "I'm glad you made it here in one piece. The Semmites had been a pain, and were getting worse, until our current high captain took over. He couldn't have come to power a moment too soon. As I hear it, Cormyr was so sure we were going to be taken back by Sembia that they originally suggested their Swordcaptain MacSairlen as high captain of our guard."
"That's utter insanity," Rafa sliced before Kim could get a word out. "A swordcaptain is in charge of ten or twelve blades, but unless I'm much mistaken, your high captain commands the entirety of your country's military might. It's rude and prideful, nevermind entirely idiotic, to attempt to slide an inexperienced commander into a post he wouldn't be considered fit to hold in his own country, let alone a foreign land."
Siroghail looked back at Rafa for a moment as though sizing him up. "I certainly appreciate that you can see that so clearly. Our last high captain was nearly useless, but we sorted the matter out on our own. No offense, but we fought and negotiated openly for our independence, and don't deserve to now be hoodwinked out of being a separate, sovereign state. Now, here were are- say, Char!"
Charen, who couldn't be seen in the handsomely built wooden watch post, clattered down and out of it as quickly as a rodent. "Forget something?" she asked affably. She was a head taller than Siroghail, able to look Rafa in the face, and as sunburned and throat parched as one would expect from someone exposed to wind and sun all day.
"No, brought you a small merc group to check in," Siroghail replied. "Said they were dropped off here."
"Probably by one of the carts Wellie didn't check. I'm telling Ser Sadist this time; that idiot deserves to be hung upside down a while," Charen complained, too annoyed to pretend otherwise in front of strangers.
"For my taste, you could've told him right away, you know that," Siroghail replied with a shrug. "It's you with all the 'no snitching' talk. Anyway, I'm back off home. Good to meet you- eh, what were your names again?"
"Wait, wait, let me get the logbook so they don't have to repeat themselves," Charen said, huffing her way quickly back up the stairs to the lookout post. Rafa could just barely hear the low tones of a conversation, as though Charen were sharing her shift with someone, and in a few moments, the raven haired guardswoman hustled back down with a book and a fresh bit of charcoal in hand. "Alright- full names, occupation, mage or non-mage, and places of origin, please."
"I'm Khalinath'rel xund Z'lvrae Mizryn of House Xalyth- I can spell that, if you like- but Kim Xalyth might be easier for you," Kim answered. "I'm a cleric in service to Ellistraee, originally from Ched Nasad."
"Oh gods, I'll need all of those names spelled, I'm afraid, including the saint or goddess's," Charen admitted sheepishly.
"She's a goddess- here, hand it to me," Siroghail smirked. "I hope you won't be offended, Miss Kim, but that's part of the reason I figured I ought to come with you. Surface Elf names are nothing compared to the titles you all confer on each other downstairs!"
"Absolutely no offense at all taken," Kim said, brushing at imaginary fly away strands of hair in a show of nerves recently made uncommon.
Rafa squinted just slightly, trying to remember the last time he'd seen her so flustered.
"There, easy enough- right?" Siroghail enthused after a few quiet moments, turning the log book around so that Kim could check their work.
"Perfect," Kim agreed quietly, but with a genuine smile. Her softened volume didn't quite cover up a slight warble to her tone, but it did make it far more difficult to catch.
Percy looked unmoved, and Rafa, deciding to take his example, decided firmly that he'd have to take closer note of what kinds of interpersonal interactions put Kim off her natural calm.
"And you, ser?" Charen asked, looking up at Percy- or rather, at what of Percy's face that she could see.
"Percival MacDugal. I'm a scribe. From... um... Furthinghome."
Charen raised a caramel colored eyebrow at the hooded mage. "Even if that came with two solid Cormite lions, it wouldn't buy a swallow of mead."
"C'mon now," Siroghail counseled, almost as much for Charen as for Percy. "Whatever trouble's behind you is just that- behind you. No need to go making new problems for yourself by being shifty, is there?"
"No, that's just how he always sounds," Rafa cut in immediately. "But he's no slouch in a dust up."
"Aha-ha, a 'dust up,' oh, you've got country Cormite written all over you- we'll get to you in a second," Siroghail smiled, not without a strange hint of gratitude in their beautiful green eyes. "Right now, Ser MacDugal- and I've got to say, that sounds a little Corm-y itself-"
"No, I'm Aglarondan," Percy corrected firmly. "My mother always told me that her family was from Hlath. I don't know where my father's family was from- some warm southern coastal city, I imagine, but... he never talked about it. Both my mother and her mother were druids. Grem-grem hated the city, so not long after marrying her, Grebba moved the family to Dhast, which Mama said he only discovered was an awful mistake after he'd sold what he owned to get them there. My father was a sailor, but an unusually learned one, and he swept Mama away to Furthinghome with a witty charm to best any landed lord's- her words, not mine. I was the only one of her children with magic, and unfortunately, it was arcane, not natural, like hers. She trusted wizards and their diverse organizations about as much as they trusted her, so father suggested that I go to a temple. Of course, priests use divine magic, so it was no use trying to learn to cast with them, but I did learn multiple languages. Father apprenticed me out to a scribe who maintained books for a ship that belonged to a friend of his, but we found out quickly that I get very seasick. I got left at the next port, alone. I managed to arrange to get back to Hlath, but... when I got there, it... wasn't..."
"And so you went to Ormpetarr..." Kim encouraged quietly.
"Right," Percy breathed. "And spent all my time learning what could have happened. Sent my mother the bad news, along with as much information as I could fit on paper. Helped pilgrims to go and come back safely, in order to make enough coin to sustain myself, until... until I..."
"Received your own scar," Kim said, her voice again soothing and calm.
"Sole survivor of that pilgrimage, and almost didn't make it myself- a merchant caravan found me filthy, almost dead of exposure and thirst, chattering to myself, crawling back to the city as though I'd forgotten that I could walk. I had all my scrolls and materials, miraculously enough, but no food or water, and they only discovered... what had happened... after they could get the caked sand off my face. Spent years recovering, piecing together the languages I remembered, learning others, relearning how to use arcane magic, and occasionally studying other matters to keep my mind off how difficult relearning magic was. I suppose you could say I'm just getting back to finishing my apprenticeship now, although I'm far older than I should be for that. Still a little weak."
"No you're not," Rafa huffed quietly.
"We haven't been close enough to plagued land for you to see it," Percy nearly whispered. "But I can feel the difference."
For nearly an entire minute, every one fell silent.
"Percival MacDugal, apprentice- no. Scri- mmnnff, nope. Doesn't seem right... journeyman scribe and mage, of Furthinghome. There," Charen finally intoned, busily writing as she did. "There's an 'a' in the 'Mac,' right?"
"Right," Percy agreed. "And there's a 'U'- one long 'U', no 'O' anywhere. Thanks for asking."
"There's a few folks in the Bone College who also know a thing or two about the Spellplague," Siroghail suggested. "One of them, Master Semnemac, is old enough to even remember it."
"Semnemac is mad as a march hare," Charen shot back, looking at Siroghail incredulously. "Why don't you send him to Master Aric, who's at least safe?"
"Master Semnemac is only slightly further cracked than Ser Sadist, and they each do what they need to well enough," Siroghail said firmly.
"Actually, madness is one of the side effects of the Spellplague in arcane magisters," Percy noted. "If Master Semnemac was practicing at the time of the Spellplague, it's more than possible that he understands my situation completely, even if it takes me some time to make whatever he has to say on the matter clear and simple enough for my mind to understand it."
"I have no idea when the man went mad, or why, just that now he is," Charen said, with a bit of a shudder. "Please be careful when dealing with him. He's as like to attack you as to do any help on you."
Percy smiled and chuckled softly. "Trust me, like I said, I did extensive study on the spellplague and its effects. Think of Master Semnemac's mind like... like a fortress, with extensive adornments, in the middle of a wide grassy field. Now, imagine that lightning struck the ground in various places- ten or twelve places at once, let's say, and that many of those places caught fire. For all that the owner of the fortress could do, which wasn't much, the fortress is very badly damaged, some parts of the ground are scorched beyond repair, and some of the adornments are now awful eyesores, reminders of the terrible storm that remain, long after the storm has passed. If the man still knows himself as himself, and can still command magic reasonably well, which I assume he can, by your use of his title, his mental fortress is still standing, no matter how battered and brutalized it's been. My fortress, if you will, was just about decimated. I spent years rebuilding everything I had ever been to that point. It was awful. It was painful. And in places, I'm still... under construction, let's say. I'd very much like to meet a man who is in similar circumstances, however unstable he may seem to be."
Charen nodded in quiet understanding. "Alright, I get it. I can't say I understand it, but... I trust people like you, with smarts. I wish you the best of luck. With him, and with your own... repairs, I guess."
"I wonder if that explains Master Ranclyffe as well?" Siroghail wondered aloud.
"I don't think she's that old," Charen disagreed. "Master Semnemac is an Elf, or of Elven blood, or something, but Master Ranclyffe is very Human."
"No, Master Semnemac's a Halfling," Siroghail corrected. "You'd think he wouldn't live as long as he has, but... well anyway. You'll see him soon enough; ask him yourself how he's managed to look so good for being over a hundred years old, but not Elven."
Percy gave another series of small laughs, and Rafa busied himself trying to ensure that he committed the spellscarred mage's entire story to memory. It seemed clear to him somehow that Kim already had.
"Alright, last but not least, the bumpkin from somewhere in Cormyr," Charen sighed, preparing herself and her charcoal.
"And don't run her over with your dialect just because," Kim admonished playfully, reaching across Percy to give Rafa's arm a bit of a push.
"Ugh, I'm misused!" Rafa complained jokingly.
"Right, ser, we'll take a statement for your case before the Council shortly, now come on, before the sun goes down," Charen teased.
"Rafael Unessmus of Moonever. Nothing special about my family or its name, and no mages. Farmers, fishers, hunters, stitchers, and weavers, as far back as to the beginning of the world," Rafa smiled.
"You're almost as bad of a liar as that one, although you're quicker at it," Siroghail laughed freely. "You're not made for spellcasting, so that I believe, but c'mon now, give us the truth of what you do actually do."
"Alright, then I'm a bully and a thief," Rafa shrugged. "As a child, I did it for fun. For a time, I did it professionally on behalf of Cormyr, and now I'm doing it for these two kindly souls. But as much as anybody wants to pretty the matter up, I'm a bully and a thief, and will be 'til I'm dead."
"Oh, Rafa!" Kim exclaimed. "You've got to think better of yourself than that!"
"Well, we know who's keeping you from plying the latter half of your trade," Charen said warmly, beginning to scribble in the logbook. "Spell your family name for me?"
"U-N-E, two S, M-U, one S," Rafa answered dutifully, clearly having done so the length of his life.
Well done for a man who reads only out of prayer books, Kim thought with a smirk. And I wonder if that claim itself wasn't a well-practiced lie.
"I'll call you a freelance mercenary- Ser Sadist will likely want to have a look at you, but he's not one for forced service, so don't worry about being shoved into the guard against your will just because you can swing a blade and not hurt yourself in the act," Charen explained as she continued writing. "You ask me, he just likes to know his possible enemies, which, I have to hand it to him, makes him a little smarter than Nithraz."
"He's a lot smarter than Nithraz was, and not just for that," Siroghail scoffed. "Anyway, since you're in the books as a merc, you can wear your weapon openly, and don't worry about peacebonding. You just have to solemnly swear not to take up arms against the guard."
"Well, what if the guard's getting unfriendly? I can't defend myself?" Rafa asked seriously.
"Technically, you're supposed to file a complaint, but thwack them in the head anyhow," Charen replied simply.
"I'll explain," Siroghail smiled, seeing the various shades of confusion on the newcomers' faces. "A lot of bad business was going on in the Dark Quarter- truly disgusting stuff, and about half of it done by sworn and sealed city guards. The entire quarter revolted. Not sure how it started, but it ended with more than thirty good soldiers dead in their own city. It's been a fight to get the quarter reintegrated with the rest of the city since, and one of the terms was that no one would form a militia against the city guard. Well, Lady Faera and Ser Sadist took that part of the agreement to task before the ink could dry, and if they manage to get Master Ranclyffe to support them before Lord Erantun and Lady Jindranae, it's likely that at least Jindranae will capitulate."
"You and your history and politics lessons- as if they care! Look, Ser Unessmus, in the meantime, if a guard gets unfriendly, thwack the bastard on the head and be jailed for it," Charen counseled. "You ought to be safe there until you can present your case fairly and have your name cleared. Now if you thwack them and they try to do anything other than just jail you, do whatever you have to, to get away. That's what I've been telling everyone. It'll take Ser Sadist years to root all the idiots out of our outfit; you'll be doing him a favour signaling out another."
"Understood," Rafa agreed. "I shall prepare myself to dole out head thwackings appropriately."
"Excuse me, but who is Ser Sadist and why does he have such an... unusual nickname?" Kim asked carefully.
The two guards laughed for a moment.
"Ah, whoops," Siroghail said when they could manage to stop cackling. "As you can see, we don't think about it much. High Captain Pohatkon Sakoda, that's his proper name and title. But it's a mouthful, and you'll sooner hear Ser Sadist than even High Captain Sakoda. Before he was promoted to High Captain, he was in charge of the dungeons- and he was very good at his job. He takes no offense to the nickname- some of the outer guards even think he started it himself, but I don't think that's true. To me, he seems like the sort who goes to office, gets his job done, and then goes straight home; no opportunity to warm tavern stools or wag the chin with the sort to spin up street names."
"And that's you hopped up into that Elven gabble, 'wag the chin,' as if anybody's supposed to understand," Charen complained immediately. "They're right about just about everything else, though. And mark, Ser Sadist has done a lot for this city- Siroghail couldn't have joined up at all, just a few months ago, on account of being abber- aheh- wait, what do we call you properly now?"
Siroghail shrugged casually. "Abberant's fine with me; ask some young thing what the new terms are."
Kim and Percy's eyes both went glassy for a second, but Rafa, who had no idea of what the term meant in any context, simply kept quiet.
"Anyway, that's all of them in the book," Charen confirmed, very conscious of the sudden silence. "I didn't bring the setting powder, so I'll have to walk it back upstairs just like this. Good to meet you all, and best of blessings on your adventures around here."
"Don't put the charcoal in the binding, or we'll be hung upside down for sure," Siroghail called after their departing compatriot.
"Dry up, midd'n," Charen growled back playfully, nearly a quarter of the way up the stairs back already.
"Now, there, that's a fine example of Dark Quarter hospitality, talking to a respectable person like that," Siroghail grinned. "Say, you can go ahead and wear your weapon, Ser Unessmus."
"Just Rafael, or Rafa, is fine. And I actually need to buy a new one," Rafa responded as the group stood looking after Charen.
"Oh! Well, you'll wind up closer to Ser- ahah!- to High Captain Sakoda, rather, than you may have planned." Siroghail began walking away as they spoke, and the group followed them after a step or two. "The city's foremost forgemaster is Lord Erantun himself; Arnsvold Erantun. You'd think he'd charge a mint for his work, but he nearly undercuts the sellers in the market, who get their goods from gods-know-where. He works out of the Council's manse when they're not actively taking cases or solving other types of political knot ups."
"And it's perfectly acceptable that a ruler should put their hands to such craftwork?" Kim asked meekly, genuinely confused.
Siroghail flapped a hand at the Drow woman as though she were a dear friend who had just told a silly joke. "Oh, absolutely; all of the folks seated on the Council have a trade. Lady Jindranae's an enchanter, except don't expect her to work with weapons; she hates them. Lady Mimsa tries to write spells, but she's really a seamstress; Master Ranclyffe and a gaggle of apprentices do her spell writing work for her. It's expensive, but that's because Master Ranclyffe is the best mage in the city, hands down. She has a right to be as mean as she is, since as I hear it from the inner guard, she has to do her job as court mage and about half of everyone else's too. Some people go to the Phoenix instead, if they're stupid, or the Bone College, if they're really stupid. Master Aric, being a retired warlock, can do it, but a person would have to go down into the catacombs to find him."
"So such a person would be fantastically stupid," Rafa interjected off handedly.
"You said it. Now, Lady Faera went from being one of the charmers on sale to being the owner of a brand new charm house- can't think of the name of it at the moment." Siroghail smiled at Percy's immediate blush. "So you're the only one of the three of you who knows what a charm house is?"
"No," Rafa volleyed. "He's just the only one embarrassed by it."
"Well, when the Merchant Council made a seat for the Dark Quarter, the residents voted to put Faera in it, despite her being a charmer. To top that, she's the sort of charmer who'll proudly broker either end of the deal, if you take my meaning. It's many a woman smiles just a bit too broadly at the mention of her name."
"And do they call her aberrant too?" Kim asked.
"I've heard it said, yes," Siroghail sighed. "It's a shame, really. Like I said, I don't mind the term, but for her... it doesn't really fit. Seems too crude."
"It's entirely incorrect," Percy finally cut in. "Aberrations are creatures from other planes, or who have been monstrously altered by otherplanar beings, and... well, pardon me if I'm wrong, but... I don't sense any trace of such activity in you, at least."
"I couldn't tell you who started doing it first, but someone started using the word to describe anyone who didn't sit neatly in the male-or-female, husband-and-wife cart," Siroghail explained simply. "Faera is quite the woman, but can either lead or be led at the dance, if you catch my meaning. I haven't managed to get on the cart whatsoever, male, female, leader, follower, or else, so 'aberration' fits me just as fine as 'undecided mess of a half-breed' does."
"That's called 'dacreeden,' " Rafa piped up. "In Moonever, anyway. And, it only goes for being able to dance with either partner, to take your illustration. If you can't say whether you're male or female, I don't know what that's called. You're the first I've met."
"That's precious; I like it," Siroghail smiled coyly. "Say it again, Rafa."
Kim and Percy both stole glances at Rafa's tan cheeks heating up.
"Dacreeden," he repeated, his voice suddenly rounder and deeper than either of them had ever heard it sound, heavy and warm like glass just pulled from flame. Percy felt his own cheeks flush again, and Kim had to hide her smile behind a delicate ebony hand.
"Quite nice. And, the slightest hint of Elven influence, I'd wager. I wonder how many repetitions it would take to have that catch on around here," Siroghail commented, Rafa and Percy's reactions not lost on them. "We're slow, we Urmlaspyr folk, mired as we are in some of Sembia's filthy turns, but once something's stuck, well... it's Very. Firmly. Stuck."
Rafa cleared his throat entirely unnecessarily, and it took every drop of Kim's willpower not to giggle like a girl much her junior. Percy bit his lips, furious with himself for the surge of warmth at the bottom of his belly.
I've done this before, he reasoned with himself. Dan was... and I... I can't keep doing this. Rafa's a bully. He called himself a bully. Mama always said, 'When people tell you who they are, believe them.' Believe him, you idiot. He's a bully and a thief. Believe him, believe him, believe him.
"Is there a separate Moonever word for a man who would like a husband or a woman who would like a wife?" Siroghail continued, winding their way down toward the market as though absolutely nothing were the matter.
Rafa brushed the back of his childhood, mentally running with his friends, picking pockets, pulling pigtails, tipping cows, and kicking chickens. What a delinquent I wa- hah. Am.
"Not that I can remember," he lied, deciding to simply stop jogging down memory lane altogether. He studiously ignored Kim's inquisitive gaze.
"Well, when it comes to you," Siroghail soothed, just as deftly as the Drow cleric could have done, "I hope I'm the first to know."
Rafa managed a chuckle, but was clearly elsewhere in his mind. Kim turned her attentions to the wide market before them, as the sounds of sellers, children, cart wheels, and various animals assaulted her ears. Percy was simply glad that subject was dropped, however abruptly or ungraciously.
"Now, my home is in the other direction, but I'll at least point you toward both the Bone College and the Council Manse. Neither are hard to find, as they're on higher ground. There, see that fountain over there? The building just beyond it is the Bone College. Up there, admittedly this is harder to see from here, there's a courtyard, see it?"
"Well, I see the fort," Rafa said offhandedly.
"Ha, yes, that 'fort' is the Council Manse," Siroghail laughed.
"What?" Rafa asked incredulously. "I thought that was a garrison, or the beginnings of a fortress, not the-"
"Years ago, it was," Siroghail supplied easily. "I can't remember whether Cormites or Semmites built it, but it used to be just a fort, yes, in its first days. The outside looks quite the same, but once you get in, you'll know the difference. Or, if you're used to grander seats of power, at least don't show it."
And Rafa shut right up, duly cowed.
"Thank you for everything," Kim smiled gratefully. "I hope you'll count us as acquaintances, and let us invite you to a mug or two."
"So carefully formal! I can see why the three of you need each other," Siroghail smiled. "I tell you what. I'll go home and wash up, and take a nap. I'm back on duty tonight, you see, so I'd better get some rest in. That ought to give you some time to buy the necessaries and decide on a place to stay. When I wake back up, I'll poke in to both inns and see where you've landed. I'll call you for a mead to warm my bones up, then head on out to the post for the night while you all sleep safely. Sound good?"
"It does," Kim nodded. "And thank you again. Rafa, Percy, let's head toward the manse first, shall we?"
"No good heading all the way up there without taking a browse around the stalls first, to get a feel for the pricing and how to haggle politely," Rafa suggested.
"You mean how to intimidate people into lowering their prices without completely scaring the waste water out of them?" Kim laughed freely, beginning to move toward the waist-high half-walls that separated the market from the street.
"Wait, you," Siroghail said quietly, pinching a bit of Percy's hood. It pulled back just enough for the off-duty soldier to finally see some of the spellscarring and his eyes. However, they didn't jump at the sight. "Percival?"
"Or just Percy, yes," Percy answered uncertainly, surprised and a bit unnerved at the attention.
"I didn't want to say this in front of your friends, but... people like us... we're supposed to be tested by Master Ranclyffe as soon as possible, now."
"Tested for what?" Percy asked, utterly terrified at once. "I'm not mad or- well, the illness I do have isn't contagious."
"It's largely for show- you go in, Master Ranclyffe asks you a few questions and declares you safe to be around, and the idiot populace is compelled to leave you alone about being as you are, on pain of being jailed for harassment. And you are quite clearly who you are, so I'm telling you this for your safety. Your scent is riding high on the wind for someone who isn't fully aware that he needs to protect you- or himself- from hateful fools, of which this city has no shortage. Your sweetie could stumble into many a fight without even knowing why," Siroghail smiled, that same coyness washing over Percy like the gentle rush of warm river water over one's toes. "Or, to take up your metaphor... a few of the lamps in his fortress are dark. If for no other reason than your protection, you ought to have a go at lighting them."
"I... don't know that I... can do that," Percy began uncertainly, entirely embarrassed at being called out and speaking so frankly of someone else's interests.
"Ah, are few of your lamps out, too?" Siroghail chuckled. "If you can stand to stay up a night or two, you might come find me on duty. I won't keep you long, but I dare say you could use as much reconstruction help from me as you seek from Master Semnemac. And here's a research project for you- you find out what that word is. Get him to tell you, and in the process, you may have him."
Percy felt himself flush, and almost shrunk into himself, but Siroghail took firm hold of his shoulders, sending a shockwave of pain jolting through his being.
"Don't! Do that," he breathed, absorbing the discomfort poorly. "Sorry, it's... I..."
"That 'sorry' should come from me, not you," Siroghail frowned, instantly pulling back. "And I am sorry. Go ahead and catch up to your friends before they wonder, but, I hope you'll take me up on what I've offered."
The half Elf moved away resolutely, just before Rafa trotted back to Percy.
"Hey, we turned around and you weren't behind us," Rafa panted, his brown eyes reflecting genuine concern. "I heard you yelp. That guy didn't-"
"No, they didn't- well, rather they didn't mean to," Percy sighed. "You know how it is, when people actually... touch me."
A sort of feral energy began gathering itself within Rafa, and Percy laid one of his thin-boned hands gently on one of the washed out soldier's bronze arms.
And there it is; Siroghail is right. He'd have just charged off, and...been my bully. On my behalf. Or... had he begun to become that already...?
"They didn't mean to hurt me. They weren't trying to, and... I can't expect everybody to know that physical contact can hurt. They might have gone away so quickly afterward because they were a little embarrassed. But, they wanted to be... friendly. I'm certain that it wasn't malicious."
Rafa repressed the urge to take Percy's hand in his own, and waited, like a just barely trained hound, until the mage removed his hand by himself.
"Is everything alright?" Kim asked, having made it back within speaking distance.
Percy simply looked at Kim. Rafa, who had grown used to the two seeming to relate to each other as seamlessly and wordlessly as identical twins, turned away and began making his way back toward where Kim was.
Percy broke his gaze with Kim in order to move quickly. He had to get close enough to both of his companions to be heard without speaking with his full voice. "I have to be tested," he spat as soon as he could, deciding against his more suspicious nature to fully embrace the warning he'd been given. "In order to be deemed safe to deal with, I ought to go right to Master Ranclyffe and be tested for... aberration."
"What? Why?" Kim asked, whipping around to face Percy immediately.
"I... it's... look, Guard Siroghail spent half that conversation thinking I was a woman; I'll have to get tested or... or things could... be dangerous. And besides, perhaps the master might also have an answer or two about spellscarring himself." Percy could feel himself panting, as though he'd freshly run a mile. Kim's eyes bored holes through his.
"Master Ranclyffe is a woman; the title ignores male and female," Rafa huffed, dredging his last visit to Urmlaspyr up through the mud, blood, and liquor that separated that time from the current moment. "And I'd be much, much happier if I never saw another Ranclyffe again at all in my life."
Kim stopped staring at Percy to look at Rafa with a glint of suspicion. "Why didn't you say anything before?" she asked carefully, coming close enough to be able to be heard at a tiny whisper, despite the noisy market.
"You don't have to come; no one will wonder about you," Percy soothed, his gut tying itself in a new knot for every word. "People will have too many questions about me. I... don't want... unnecessary fights. We were blessed with the one that brought us to you, but... the gods may not have the same sense of humour twice."
Rafa turned an unmistakably protective gaze down at Percy, who allowed his pain-ringed eyes to meet it. "Remember that bad ingredient?" he asked simply. "Battlemage Ranclyffe cooked that meal. Master Ranclyffe is his daughter."
Kim was mystified, but Percy visibly shivered.
"We'll all go and be tested," Kim decided firmly, turning around and heading uphill for the manse that loomed beyond the courtyard. "I may need it, and I'm interested in Rafa's results. And you know as well as I do, Percy, that language shifts every time someone speaks it. We've got to follow the rules of the game we're playing now, not the ones we've played before."
"I've witnessed and been subjected to Ranclyffe testing before," Rafa admitted. "Back in Suzail. The man being poked and prodded at wasn't sick; he was being used as some sort of metric. My testing is how I got to Daerlun... being trapped and studied, the other half of the experiment. I'm certain of that, now that I'm done deluding myself about the details of the matter."
Karri, the poison platter. Right. And Lishrae, who was at least exactly the meal he'd paid for. How did I forget those names- those women- just that fast? Percy demanded of himself bitterly.
"So let's determine to not be tossed about, split up, and shipped wherever like so much unwanted cargo," Kim counseled. "We'll go, be tested, ask our questions, take whatever Master Ranclyffe says with lots of salt, and get out of there together, or not at all."
"Agreed," Rafa nodded. "I can't imagine the nut falling far from the tree, so I don't want either of you out of my sight while we're with that woman, however mean or good she is."
"Agreed," Percy breathed, trying to steel himself against his racing feelings with the sound of that 'either of you.' I... have it wrong. Of course I do. He's our companion, our heavy, sort of. A bully and thief, for both of us... both...
"Don't worry," Rafa encouraged, thinking that Percy's darkened face had to do with everything else but him. "I have a solid memory of what Battlemage Ranclyffe did to a friend of mine and his... well, he called them his wives. If Master Ranclyffe even comes close to that with us, I'll find a polite way to make her sorry for it."
"Now really, you two, leave the politeness to me," Kim laughed, a few strides ahead of the menfolk. "If you try to take charge of the pleasantries, someone'll find themselves with a twisted nose or a busted lip."
"I'll hold my temper unless it becomes crystal clear that they're hearing you without listening to you," Rafa promised.
But Percy was the one not fully listening, at that moment. Dacreeden. Both. Dacreeden. Which old Elven culture had that concept? And spent sufficient time living close enough to the Humans of Moonever to have their- very likely mangled- word pass into modern day vernacular? Dacreeden. Dacreeden. Dacreeden.
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