“Oh, for Christ’s fucking sake” Eoin mutters under his breath, maybe the girl had the right of it after all, maybe it would be easier just to leave them to it . Except he bloody can’t. And in that case, eventually you just have to stop wandering in circles, and pick a direction. Eoin, carefully sets aside his tools and turns to the beardless dwarf.
“You do what Fate says, right? Let’s ask Fate.” Eoin fishes out a coin “Heads; you sneak. Stay out of sight, and slink onto the boat we get on without anyone seeing you. And let us deal with what the captain thinks about that, probably by just paying a little bit extra for him to shut up about it.”
He shows Sasha the other side of the coin, to show it wasn’t a trick coin.
“Tails, you wander past every gossipy bumpkin at the post. And if the girl’s admiring guardsmen ever turn up again, or the goblin’s elven assassins show up; then you walk straight up to them and tell your tale of “self-defence” since you have nothing to hide.”
He deftly walks the coin down his fingers, before flipping it up into the air. He catches it and claps it on to the back of his left hand. “Oh look at that, heads,” he says lifting his right hand off, without even looking at the coin resting heads-side up on his hand. He does look levelly at Sasha. " Whelp, Fate has spoken."
Sasha glares at Eoin because that’s not how Fate works. Unless, of course, it is. He still can’t remember if there was a fifth stone or if he misread it. That was the problem with Fate, you were never sure if something was fated to happen at the time. It was only with hindsight you could say This was Fated but That was not.
It didn’t help that he’d been far above ground for some time now, away from the reassuring presence of a million tonnes of rock above his head. And now they wanted to take a boat?! He’s seen them, floating on water completely cut off from the Earth. How were you supposed to maintain your connection with the Eternal when the ground was no longer beneath your boots? What if the Eternal forgot you while you were gone? Would you be cut off forever? Or would you have to teach it who you were again?
He breaks contact with Eoin, looking down and to the side. He flicks his cloak’s hood up and over, shielding his face from scrutiny.
“I will guard the Heathen and I will be unobtrusive if I can.”
After pulling at some grass, the horse snuffles and stomps, getting a bit restless. “Aye” Ranar nods. Clearing his throat and stepping forward, he speaks quietly.
“Ah, eh. Eck. Ahem.” Taking a deep breath and focusing his eyes in the distance. “While we stand here in the open, in plain view out to the horizon, there may be dangerous forces searching for us.” A glance first at Thwip, then at Hayu. “More than one, surely.” Glancing uncertainly at Eoin and Sasha. “Possibly more that we’re not all aware of yet.”
“Perhaps to be moving while the trading post still looks quiet, stealth or no. Tho disguise is a good idea, may be best to work out the details on the boat. If the group being sought enters a boat here, and a different group sets ashore there?”
Deciding to release the horse for the sake of simplicity, the party sidles into the trading post via the riverbank. A pair of ships are tied up at the docks; a quick investigation by Eoin reveals that one of them is willing to carry you downriver.
It’s about a four day trip from here to Hadaton; including rations, the initial asking price is $400/head. Eoin argues them down to $300 each.
[Note: neither Eoin nor Sasha have that much cash on hand, although the party collectively has sufficient funds for everyone]
Ranar and Thwip quickly raid their purses to cover the passage; arguments over exactly who is paying for what can be settled en-route.
As the ship moves downstream, you are shown to quarters below decks that resemble what you had on leaving Tredroy: just a few hammocks slung amongst the cargo.
Thwip stows his rifle and bags and sinks into a hammock. His body and mind are worn yet he feels that he is unable to sleep. This is untrue as he’ll soon find out.
He tries to recall the events in vault but all he can bring to the fore of his mind are flashes of the unmoving bodies of Nic, Jabril, Blue Hawk, and Lord Aronn as he and Ranar laid them out for their final rest. He cannot remember their faces too clearly yet the faces of the elven assassins are seared upon his mind.
– I have been horrible to these three strangers from my pain. I’m also working under the assumption Ranar will follow me into the teeth of whoever felt confident enough to kill an elf lord. I must try to speak to them using rational logic. –
Unaware he is mumbling as he speaks due to the exhaustion taking him, “Wi were employedt by Lordt Arinn, an elf wit great magikal powers. Wi were killedt by elves tat also hadt great magiks. I need t’ library tat has… scrolls about t’ happenins off t’ elfes… and… Banestorm history meebe too… mi arm really hurts and meebe I shouldt see a holy… and sell t’ weapins t’ finance us… meebe give you some… t’ help… dangerous… please…”
Thwip vanishes into a deep pool of endless terror. Claws rend his flesh while his body remains frozen. Far away people cry out his name for help yet he cannot help even himself.
Any further discussion on the situation is now in Ranar’s sturdy hands.
Noticing Sasha’s apparent anxiety, Ranar stays beside him, calm and quiet as a stone until they’re below. He finds a spot between some crates and sets his gear down, then sits, leaning back against it and gesturing for Sasha to join him. Reaching into a pocket, he pulls out a smooth, flat stone, polished by the river, which he had picked up from the bank on the way into the docks, and hands it to Sasha.
“The land is not far below us. The river’s making it smooth. It’s not our art, but the rivers too are artisans working the stone.”
He pulls out his own carving and rubs it compulsively. To anyone seeing it for the first time, it just looks like a well-worn bit of mottled green crystal with a number of protrusions that look not quite like limbs, head, and tail. After a couple of moments, he starts breathing easier.
He turns to Eoin. “Ye said ye were guardin’ a caravan got hit by raiders? But ye don’t seem to upset about them, and moving on instead of back. What waits in Hadaton for ye?”
And to Hayu. “And you were in no rush to get back home. What is it that you may find ahead?”
Hayu ignores Ranar’s question, instead finding a corner she can crowd into amongst some of the cargo. One good thing about these ships: since money comes from hauling goods and not people, even the spare spaces in the berths have something in them. These people are lucky they’re not in some of the taverns she’s been in where questions like that is asking for a slit throat on the grounds of ‘not minding his own damned business’. At least Eoin seems to have an understanding of basic societal rules.
Seated, she pulls a small book from her pack and a pencil stub. Her own meagre funds were enough to cover passage, but it’s left her significantly less able to deal with any other expenses they might meet on the other side. Ranar and Thwip may cover the cost for Eoin and Sasha but she won’t accept that. Thus, some bookkeeping. On the one side, the funds she still has, and on the other, an itemised list of services rendered (or to be rendered) and their market value . For example, fencing of those weapons. If they think they can just sell something like that in the marketplace to a general seller, they are incurably insane. They’ve got assassins on their tail, and even if the weapons aren’t enchanted for tracking purposes, they’re too damned distinctive to trade to anyone who might remember who sold them. Especially since you idiots were dumb enough to leave part of the set lying around for your enemies to take a long, leisurely look at. And there’s no way the two of them would even know where to start looking for someone to unload them on. She doubts that Sasha would either, and if any of them come with to help, it’ll be over her dead body on account of the fact that they’ll get everybody killed.
Which leaves Eoin. She knows they don’t trust her alone, but they might trust him and she trusts that he’s clever and bent enough not to do or say something stupid. Thwip certainly seems enamoured with him. Maybe she’ll float the idea past him, sometime when they’re out of earshot of the other three and he can propose it to them.
"Should I be? I barely knew them, only signed on as a replacement in Tredoy, " Eoin says as he stows his gear.
“Besides, I only know one of them is dead for sure. The rest bolted, without hesitation or a second thought.” His voice has a slight edge to it as he continues, “Now that, that I’m upset about. And if they’ve made it to Hadaton, I’ll be sure to let them know.”
Eoin picks a hammock, and settles in. “But done is done, and no point dwelling on it 'less you can do something about it”
He leans back into the hammock, softly whistling the tune to “Can’t trust a Trader.” A folk song where a succession of characters tell increasingly bizarre and unlikely tales of how a travelling trader swindled them.
As you approach Hadaton, the architecture on the southern bank becomes noticeably less multicultural and more militarised. The region is not heavily garrisoned today, but the signs of the Cardien War of Independence are still visible.
Coming in sight of Hadaton, you see a walled city of moderately large size; a few hundred thousand people. The ship draws up to the docks, midway along the north wall.
Sasha is off the boat almost as soon as the gangplank hits the dock, his relief at being anchored to the land once more is palpable. Even standing on the wooden jetty he could feel it there, solid, enduring, connected in a way that was impossible floating on the boat.
Down through the wooden posts sunk into the muck.
Down through the earth, through the clay, through the sedimentary rock.
Down, down, down to the Bones of the Earth.
< Thank the gods that is over. I’ll be happy when my fate is mine own again. > he mutters in Dwarvish
Once Sasha has dashed off the boat, Eoin lifts the bundle of weapons the beardless dwarf had carried on and hauls it towards the dock.
“You’ll be wanting a place to set up shop first, I imagine,” he says to Thwip as he passes by “Lucky for you, I think I know just the place. Assuming you’re not too picky?” Eoin carefully walks down the gangplank, moving a little more awkwardly than usual thanks to the ungainly bundle. He stops to wait for the others next to Sasha, who he notices looks relieved. And like he’s trying to plant himself as firmly as possible on the jetty.
“I’d skip the wine, it’s horse piss and vinegar,” he continues to the group. “But the beer’s good, the coffee’s passable and the stew’s…well, stew is stew. Main thing is the rooms are cheap.”
“Then there’s the Islamic Ghetto. Good hashish, very good coffee…not much alcohol. I know a guy who could point us to somewhere good there too.”
Ha! As if cheap will be cheap enough. No matter. She’s slept rough before and frankly, she’s gotten a little tired of listening to people talk in their sleep. At the same time, she’s intrigued. Eoin seems to have some deep contacts in this town: she’d assumed the first couple of days would be spent listening to rumours to even get close to a buyer, but he so casually mentioned that he might already know people who know people – people like that could be useful. An innocuous central meeting place wouldn’t be bad, providing they don’t expect her to stay there.
So might an extra bolthole or two. She could do some scouting, find the best places where people won’t ask too many questions when motley crew shows up in a hurry, and won’t be too eager to help the guard. Or, in a pinch, who might be willing to help a motley crew get the hell out of town if it gets too hot and aboveboard options aren’t safe. Most cons fail because people forget about the blow: disengaging and getting away safe.
She also needs to make up some lost funds. And while Eoin’s contact might be willing to take the weapons off their hands there’s no guarantee they’ll be willing to take on other unattended trifles. There’s a vibe about Eoin that says he’s more than just your common, slightly bent mercenary. The fact that he seems to have helpful contacts here, in spite of not being a local is case in point. She’ll be keeping an eye on him, for sure. He could be useful, and he could be dangerous.
As for the others… She’s not entirely sure that they should be wandering around unsupervised, but she can only be in so many places at once. They’re just so honest and trusting, not a good combination when you’ve got assassins on your trail.
Ranar steps down the gangplank onto the dock and like Sasha, takes a moment to ground himself and regain his balance. But gazing up and around at the city, he doesn’t look as relieved as Sasha. So many people. He shudders and then steels himself. At least encounters in the cities have always given him direction and purpose. Even if that does eventually lead him back to a city.
“Aye, if ye know a good place to camp, then let’s stake a claim. But then we’ve got b-b-business.”
Business we can hopefully get done before we have to flee the city, he thinks, looking over the crew and chuckling quietly.
– Smoke. Hopefully we haven’t stumbled into some sort of trouble before we’ve had a chance to march boldly into trouble.–
Thwip listens to the others before making his suggestion.
“Ifin this place hass a healer tat kin fix mi arm…” He adds in sotto voce “…tat doesn’t ask questions…” Thwip clears his throat to cover for it, “Ten I tink we should go tere. I can’t defendt miself in tis state.”
– No reaction from any of the guards. Good. I hope they’re not like the watch in Meglos. ‘Ere now. Wots all dis den?’ for even looking at them sideways. Ugh.–
He waits for either confirmation or disappointing news before continuing to lay out his plan, for he may not need to.
“I agree,” Hayu says, trying to shoot a significant look at Eoin. She’d step on his foot if she were wearing boots and his weren’t quite so sturdy. “A bit of rest would be a good thing.” More like a bit of leaving the three of them to rest and getting the job done right. If Eoin’s even halfway smart, he’ll realise that showing up to a meet with these three is just asking to get burned.
Speaking of which… That smoke isn’t the usual city smoke smell. Something big went down here very recently, which means people are going to be jumpier than usual. Even more reason to hurry up and get off these docks instead of standing around gabbing. Hayu has always been a believer in security through obscurity, and these clowns are anything but. They couldn’t blend in at a circus.
Unfortunately, she has a bad feeling that Thwip still thinks he’s in charge. Yet another reason to find her own sleeping arrangements: with any luck, when the inevitable happens, she’ll have a headstart and be outside the splatter zone.
“Aye, as the Thief said, a rest would be good. Let us find a place to be secure and plan for we have many things to do here. A cellar would be for my preferences, if that can be arranged?”