Session Fifty-Eight - August 16, 2008

[Matt]

Halane 2, 731

Dawn found the party at Varayne Manor. Sir Ewen awoke in the master’s bedroom, it having been vacated by Lady Afaewyn. After attending to morning ablutions and dressing in freshly cleaned clothes, the knight went down to breakfast.

Sir Baris was busily munching on some fine eggs and ham, and was almost giddy at the thought of all the treasure the party had recently acquired. When everyone had gathered, talk turned to divvying up the loot. All in all, the party had liberated or found three bags of silver coin, each with 240d, a fine dagger of chased blackened steel, four gold plated candle sticks (in need of cleaning), four gold rings of four different sizes, and a small gold choker set with three garnets (two smaller and one slightly larger). The party had also acquired a scroll of spells and of course the Sword of Calsten, these items claimed by Kaelyn and Ewen respectively. The treasure was brought forth and set on the table, so that the party might admire it.

Imarë suggested a straight division of the silver, pointlessly noting that the dwarf was not present to complain about it, and the party agreed. The full division of the rest of the loot would wait until everything was liquidated.

The party tried to estimate the value of the treasure that was not coinage. Cekiya took the dagger, looking at it more closely. Alas, it was just a simple dagger, containing no jewels or fine script work. She estimated it was worth at most three shillings. It was not valueless, however. ‘This will be good for cutting people,’ she thought. Imarë examined the small gold-plated candlesticks, estimating their value (if cleaned) at ninety pence each. The elf could not estimate the value of the choker by itself, and so compared the choker to some of her own jewelry. She inferred that the choker was worth between 8,000 and 18,000d, but was probably worth about 12,000. Ewen suggested that the choker be sold at Tashal and the proceeds divided equally among the party. Imarë examined the rings, but could not guess their value. She did notice that the rings got gradually larger, however. Ewen turned his attention to the rings, and noticed that the third largest ring was the same size as a ring given to him by Arren II, which was worth 500d. From this bit of knowledge he deduced that the four rings ranged in value from 400 to 600d.

Finally, the party turned their attention to the Sword of Calsten. It was suggested that the sword could be presented to Neph in return for money or land in the hopes of creating some chaos in Kaldor. The elf was not enamored with this idea, however. “I suggest the only way we present the sword to Neph is edge first!” she said. Ewen suggested that instead of turning the sword over to Neph, the party turn it over to the King. After some discussion, it was decided this course of action would not be profitable, and the idea was rejected.

As the party finished the meal and sipped on ale and wine, discussion turned to other matters. They spoke of Lady Cheselyne’s tenuous claim to the throne, and Osel’s royal hopes. Kaelyn suggested playing Neph and Osel off each other, hinting to each that the party had the sword. If all went well, a baronial war could be set off, creating just the kind of chaos the party was after. Imarë found this line of discussion productive, and suggested that the best thing to do with the sword would be to sow chaos, rather than to enhance the party’s own power.

Ewen suggested another method of using the sword to sow discord. The knight thought he could present the sword to Thilisa, in the hopes of enhancing their son’s birthright and claim to the throne. However, the party was unsure Thilisa would be amenable to this plan, as it would surely lead to rebellion and civil war.

After all they had gone through to recover the legendary Sword of Calsten, the party clearly had no idea what to do with it now that they finally had it. After much discussion the party decided that once they returned the Tashal they would store the sword with Rahel and wait until they learned more about the current political situation (they had been gone for over a month, after all) or a better course of action presented itself.

“Before we do anything else, we need to resolve the Kryste and Merren dilemma,” Imarë suggested. The party discussed this subject at length, and it was decided that although it was a longshot, Imarë would keep a watch on the road for Kryste.

Later that day, Lady Afaewyn reported to Sir Ewen of the state of the manor. She mentioned that Pesera’s journeyman had come by to do the initial assessment of the potential harvest. Afaewyn gently chided Ewen for having been so easily taken advantage of. She had managed to renegotiate the deal, and they agreed to take £30 this year, and twenty percent next year.

After meeting with Lady Afaewyn, Ewen inspected the company of Thardans who were now at the manor. All carried short swords and round shields. Four carried long bows, while fourteen carried spears. The men all wore leather tunics, leggings and a mail byrnie, and most had a plate half helm.

Rolloch of Keene was the captain of the unit, and he carried a longbow, a bastard sword instead of a shortsword, and wore a three quarter helm. There were two sergeants, the senior of whom was referred to as the “company sergeant.” The company sergeant, one Potelc of Lirrer, carried a round shield, shortsword, longbow and dagger. He was noted for his great strength and brawling skills. The lower ranking sergeant, Denyl of Shrew, was armed identically to the senior sergeant. Denyl was said to be the best bowman in the company.

The unit was once part of the III Legion, and the men had fought together for a long time. The men were part of the third when it was defeated in battle by the then Earl of Selvos. They originally hailed from two separate units, and were combined into a new unit when they were separated. Eventually, they found themselves as a detached unit, and they ended up in Kaldor. Kaelyn and Ewen noticed that the legion patch was recently missing from the men’s uniforms.

Ewen suggested that the captain or one of the sergeants should become familiar with Tashal in case it became necessary to act within the city. The men could meet Dickon, as well. Imarë was against this idea, because it could blow Dickon’s cover.

Halane 3-12, 731

Having been traveling for quite some time, the party decided to rest at Varayne manor for a spell before returning to the hustle and bustle of the capitol. Imarë went off to the road alone to watch out for Kryste.

On the fifth of Halane, Ewen received a report from the messenger he had dispatched to Tashal to learn of any important developments. Arnys reported that very few people of consequence were left in the city, most having left at some point during Azura to attend to the harvest, Thilisa included among those who left. The Earl of Neph however, remained in Tashal, possibly because he was awaiting Kryste.

The party kept to themselves mostly during their rest. Kaelyn decided to take the opportunity to learn a scrying spell. After studying for six days, on Halane the eighth a whoop of delight was heard throughout the manor. Apparently Kaelyn had successfully learned the scrying spell. In the late afternoon of the eleventh Kaelyn scryed for Neph. For an exciting six minutes, she watched him eat alone. During that time, servants twice brought more food, and once they brought more wine. Meanwhile, Imarë kept up her watch on the road. She saw farmers and pilgrims, but no soldiers or any sign of Kryste. Sir Baris spent the week teaching Quinn military history, tactics and strategy. The knight slept fitfully the night of the twelfth, unsure what awaited him in Tashal. Would he be arrested? How many guards could he kill before they finally took him down? Fifty? A hundred? He only knew one thing: he would never return to a cell.

Halane 13, 731

The party decamped and headed towards Tashal, Captain Rolloch and Sergeant Potelc in tow, Ewen apparently ignoring Imarë’s warnings. After an easy hour of travel, they arrived in the capitol around ten o’clock in the morning and headed straight to Gray House. Sir Baris looked over his shoulder a few times, but no one tried to arrest him.

Tarakh the steward informed Ewen of a message that had arrived for him. The knight found a note from Thilisa on his desk. She had left for Minarsas to help prepare for her sister’s wedding, and she invited him to come there at the beginning of Nuzyael to attend the nuptials.

Kaelyn took some of the silver with her to visit the temple of Save K’nor, still intent on learning how to kill a ghost. Imarë volunteered to sell the choker. Ewen decided to visit Hag Hall, Cekiya accompanying. After picking up his custom axe (comparing it to Havard’s fine dwarf-crafted weapon and sadly finding it coming up short), Sir Baris spent the day outside the city training Quinn.

Kaelyn went to the temple of Save K’nor to inquire about ghosts, in the hopes of finding a way to destroy the annoying Merren. “Surely you know, ghosts are tied to the areas in which they died? They can’t go that far. A hundred miles would be the extreme limit,” one of the priests informed the woman.

Kaelyn gave the temple a donation of 12d. “Could someone from another faith, perhaps a Navite, extend that range?” Kaelyn asked.

“Well, I suppose if the ghost were possessed, the ghost would not be tied to one spot,” the priest responded. “But perhaps the possessing spirit could be separated from the ghost, and if they were two far apart, they would be at war with each other...” The discussion became quite spirited and wandered through various tangents for the rest of the day, with no resolution save that a priest of Save K’nor, Larani, or maybe Peoni would be needed for the exorcism. The priest did come up with enough notes during his ruminations for a new treatise on the properties of ghosts, however.

Meanwhile, Imarë went to the jeweler. “Oh, I remember you,” the master said, and pointed the elf to the journeyman. “Oh, I remember you,” they journeyman said. What do you want now?”

“Selling,” Imarë said, and handed the man the choker.

“It looks like it has been manhandled,” the journeyman said, looking significantly at Imarë. He went off, returning twenty or so minutes. He informed Imarë that one Herra of Jariel would purchase the choker for £36. Imarë considered haggling, and suggested a price of ten.

“Ten pounds? Certainly,” the journeyman said.

“No, ten thousand. Pence.” Imarë corrected, smiling.

The journeyman balked. Imarë relented and said that she would discuss the price of thirty-six pounds with her compatriots.

“As long as you’re here, I thought these two earrings would be perfect for you,” the journeyman said, pointing to a set of fine earrings inset with green emeralds. Inspecting the earrings, Imarë guessed they were worth around £9.

“They are a bargain at £12, 10s,” the journeyman said, smiling ingratiatingly.

“I’m going to hold off until I discuss the choker with my friends,” Imarë said, declining the offer.

“I suppose, since you put it that way, we could knock off,” the man paused, thinking, “a pound?”

The elf replied that she would not act until she discussed the matter with her friends.

“This deal only stands today,” the journeyman said, but Imarë did not bite.

Meanwhile, Ewen made his way to Hag Hall. He had a wonderful reunion with Rahel, and she agreed to keep the Sword of Calsten safe. Cekiya was banished to the kitchen to eat while Rahel showed Ewen a new book she had in her bedchamber. Some time later, Ewen remembered that the party had asked him to get some information from Rahel. The knight learned that no one had heard of any warrant for Sir Baris, and that the King and Queen had departed for Olokand. Dickon was dispatched to Gray House to meet Captain Rolloch and Sergeant Potelc. When Imarë returned to Gray House, she found the three men drinking in the hall recounting old battles.

By late in the evening, everyone had returned to Gray House, even a slightly tired Sir Ewen. Dickon, Rolloch and Potelc were not in evidence, Tarakh informing Ewen that Dickon had taken the other two on a “drinking tour of Tashal.”

Halane 14, 731

In the morning, Sirs Ewen and Baris discussed what to do with Taum. By the end of breakfast, Ewen had formed a plan that involved erasing the prisoner Taum’s memory and then putting in him the desire to go around bars bragging about how he knew some information about “what happened down south in Burzyn” and that he was going to get paid a lot for it. The party would then watch him to see who came after the poor sap. After much discussion, the party agreed to this plan.

Then Imarë brought up the offer for the choker. The party wanted more than was offered, and it was decided that Kaelyn would borrow one of Imarë’s dresses and try to sell the choker to the jeweler Jolath of Asane. At first, Kaelyn was going to take one of her own dresses, a fine blue homespun dress, but she liked Imarë’s more, and it was hoped that when dressed in such finery, she would be unlikely to be mistaken for a thief attempting to launder her ill-gotten goods.

Later that day, Rahel wiped Taum’s mind. “Wherever he is released, however, it must be far from here.” It was decided that Taum was to be released outside of the Seven Stars.

Sir Ewen decided to visit the College of Heralds to learn more about the late Sir Jorn, in the hopes of discovering a connection to Neph that would explain the man’s actions. At the College, the Sir Ewen met with Sir Rohn of Sarlis, chief herald of Kaldor.

“Sir Ewen, you return,” Sir Rohn greeted Sir Ewen.

“Always a pleasure,” Ewen replied.

“I have missed you these past weeks, it has been quiet.”

“I have been out of town, and I thought I would look in.”

The herald smiled. “Oh, and here I was, worrying what I was going to do with the day.”

“Did assistance ever arrive from the good Lord Graver?” Ewen inquired, referring to questions Sir Rohn had had about Ewen’s lineage.

“Now that you mention it, it did.” The herald paused. “It raised more questions than it answered, of course. I have since given up on discerning whether or not you ever had parents. You hatched from a egg sprung from the ground, as far as I know.” He chuckled. “I have written down the names that Sir Graver sent. It is even possible that they existed.”

“I will be happy to confirm anything that is in question,” Ewen supplied.

“Could you indeed confirm anything that Lord Graver has told me? I would find that most unexpected, even refreshing.”

Ewen coughed. “Well, of course one cannot ever be sure about what happened before one’s birth,” said the knight, backpedaling.

“Sir Ewen, before I met you, I was sure that people all had one father, and one mother. I have built my life upon this certainty, but having now met you, I find it called into question. You have somewhere between zero and five fathers, and at least two mothers. You are truly an enigma. Perhaps you were sired by the gods.”

“I’m sure you will find me a man too humble to ascribe to that hypothesis,” Sir Ewen said with a small smile.

“Your humility is almost pathological.”

“I was hoping you could help me with a matter somewhat less murky,” Ewen said, trying to turn the conversation away from his questionable parentage.

“That would truly be refreshing.” The herald was apparently in search of refreshment.

“I am hoping to learn the parentage of a knight named Sir Jorn.”

Sir Rohn rattled off several surnames, one of which was Skally, a name Ewen recognized. “Are sure you want to know this, Sir Ewen?” the herald asked. “A man like you being interested in another man’s parentage is at least a little funny.”

“I don’t see anything funny about it,” Ewen said sharply. “I wish to leave word and condolences with his family.”

“Your condolences?” asked Sir Rohn. “Do you mean to say he is deceased?”

“Yes, he, uh, died suddenly.” Sir Ewen wisely declined to add that he himself was the cause of the man’s sudden death.

“I should say so,” said Sir Rohn. “One moment.” The herald left Sir Ewen to search for some documents, and shortly returned with a scroll in his hand. Taking a small ink case from his belt and a small pen from the table, he scribbled something on the scroll and then asked Ewen “What was the date?” Ewen supplied the herald with this information. Sir Rohn entered the date of Sir Jorn’s death, and said it was “Witnessed Sir Ewen of Ravinargh.” Sir Rohn paused, and looked up at Sir Ewen. “Where did this happen?”

“Burzyn,” Ewen replied.

“Cause of death? Violent or otherwise?”

“Otherwise - it appeared to be a heart attack.”

“Were there others present?” Rohn asked.

“Some retainers; one was named Gwyn something or other.”

“That’s alright, I know Gwyn,” Sir Rohn said. “Sir Jorn is from Dalmelin.”

“A subject of my lord the Earl of Balim, then?” Ewen asked.

“Oh, no no no,” Rohn corrected. “Dalmelin is subinfeudated to Krettel, the Delwarne family, who are vassals of the King through Querina. His brother is Sir Waesle - no jokes.” Sir Ewen bit his tongue. “Some of his friends have tried to get him to change the name,” Rohn continued, “but Waesle he was born, and Waesle he will die. He inherited the manor from his father, also Sir Waesle.”

“Well, I appreciate the information, which will assist me in addressing the letter …”

“Oh, wait,” the herald interrupted. “You asked where Jorn was from. But he did not live in Dalmelin. He has a wife, no children.” The herald gave Ewen the appropriate information about Jorn’s wife.

Sir Ewen thanked the herald and took his leave. “Sir Jorn, dead,” Rohn said to no one in particular. “Whatever was he doing in Burzyn, I wonder?”

***

While Sir Ewen was busy at the College of Heralds, Kaelyn was getting dressed up for her meeting with the jeweler, Jolath of Asane. Once she was properly attired and looked rather ladylike, Kaelyn made her way to the jewelers shop. “I am here to get this appraised,” Kaelyn said, handing the Jolath the choker.

The jeweler admired the necklace. “Very nice, very nice, such fine work. And you wish to sell this?”

“I do not know what my lord’s intentions are,” Kaelyn replied.

Jolath spent a short time inspecting the choker. “It is worth £38,” he finally said. “I could give you thirty-five for it.”

Kaelyn thanked the man and began to leave.

“Do come again,” Jolath said. “We service all the lords of Kaldor.”

After Kaelyn informed Sir Ewen of Jolath’s price, the knight decided to sell the choker to Jolath, even though the offer was less that than that offered the day before by the journeyman of the other jeweler. Kaelyn returned to Jolath, and informed him that her lord appreciated his honesty, and sold the choker, receiving £35.

Late in the afternoon, the party returned to the subject of dividing loot, the necklace having been sold. While handling the jewelry, Imarë noticed that the ring Sir Ewen received from the king was twice as heavy as three of the four recently acquired rings combined. Assuming the four rings were worth 2,000d, the total value of the treasure, not including the candlesticks, was 11,080d, leaving 2,218d for each party member. Kaelyn decided that she wanted to become Sir Ewen’s vassal, and she would take the scroll as her share, with Ewen providing for her needs henceforth. That meant the money was only divided four ways between Sirs Ewen and Baris, Imarë, and Cekiya, netting them 2,773d each.

Sir Baris, at least, was quite pleased and spent quite some time imagining all the ways he could spend the money. He thought of buying an endless quantity of ale, or even finer weapons, and then thought of the various ways he could invest his money.

Around five o’clock, Cekiya went to stake out the Seven Stars to watch for Taum. The skies were clear, and Cekiya could see the bright almost full moon clearly. The city was foggy, and the bright moonlight created an eerie glow. Once she made her way to the Seven Stars, Cekiya entered but saw no sign of Taum. Nor was there any sign of Potelc, Rolloch or Dickon for that matter, their drinking tour apparently not yet complete. Cekiya noticed there were two pieces of paper tacked up near two tables. One paper was marked “Elf,” the other marked “Dwarf.” There was some graffiti drawn on the wall between the two tables. It depicted a large bearded dwarf on top, only wearing the top half of his armor. The bottom half of the dwarf was rather anatomically correct, if a bit exaggerated. The dwarf was riding a female elf. The talented artist who created this obscene picture clearly believed that the dwarf won the fight all those weeks ago. Apparently the elf did not have such artistically talented fans.

Cekiya got a drink. “Nice graffiti!” she remarked.

“The first few times I cleaned it off, they redrew it,” Dafydd, the barkeep, grunted. “I stopped, because every time they redrew it, it got bigger. In the escalation, I was losing.”

“Oh,” Cekiya replied succinctly.

“It happened over a month ago, but people are still talking about it. If I could find a really skinny chick and a short guy, I could dress ‘em up! I’d hire you, but you’re too small for an elf.”

“I don’t play dress up,” Cekiya said quite happily, but there was a clear threat nonetheless.

“Didn’t say you did, didn’t say you did,” Dafydd said quickly. “What do you do? You’re not here to ply a trade, are ya?”

“No,” Cekiya answered. “I just sell flowers.”

“What kind of flowers?”

“Daisies. I sell daisies.”

“Daisies?” Dafydd said stupidly. “Where the hell do you get daisies around here?”

“That’s why I do okay in the business, because I know where to get them. I love daisies.”


“Do people buy them?” Dafydd asked, apparently not understanding what doing “okay” in the business means.

“People get daisies.”

“Hm. Who knew, maybe I should get myself a couple of daisy girls,” the barkeep said.

“Do you have anything to eat?” Cekiya asked.

“We have some lovely stew,” Dafydd replied. “It’s only three days old. You know, it’s much better after it’s been cooked in awhile.”

“I’ll have some of that,” Cekiya said.

Dafydd went off and came back with a bowl and a large wooden spoon. The “stew” was gray, with some lumps in it.

“Will you have any?” Cekiya asked.

“Oh, I already ate,” Dafydd said a little bit too quickly. “Here, let me refresh that for you,” he said, grabbing Cekiya’s drink.

“Do you have any bread?”

Dafydd returned with some old stale bread.

Cekiya took out one of her daggers and began stabbing the chunks in the stew.

“That’s a mighty sharp blade you have there, little lady,” Dafydd said warily.

Cekiya gave him a big smile. “The better to cut with.”

After she had been eating for awhile, Cekiya asked, “When does it start picking up here?”

“Later, when people start getting off the day’s work.”

“Do you have dicing here?”

“Oh, of course,” Dafydd said.

Around five thirty in the evening, Taum swaggered in. “Drinks for everybody!” he shouted and threw a handful of silver (a measly six pence) onto the bar. Dafydd looked at Taum, picked up the money, and gave Cekiya two ales.

Around that time, people began coming in, each going to either the elf table or the dwarf table.

From the dwarf table, Cekiya heard various snippets of the story. “Hey dwarf! Pass that ale down here!” someone said.

At the elf table, they toasted “To the elf!” before they drank their free ales.

The chant of “Dwarf! Dwarf! Dwarf!” was heard from the dwarf table.

“Hey! None of that tonight!” The barkeep yelled. “You have free ales, and let’s leave it at that.”

“Everybody should be as lucky as I am.” Taum said loud enough for everyone to hear. “That would make the world a better place.”

Someone at the dwarf table pointed out that would make everyone have the same luck, and the great luck would be useless. “Yes it would!” someone else said.

“My fortune is in Burzyn!” Taum said happily.

“What’s in Burzyn?” Cekiya asked.

“More silver than the King has!” Taum said loudly.

Taum had gained the attention of the other tables. Someone at the elf tables said “Wow, that’s pretty good- he hasn’t drunk a drop and he’s sotted.”

“More silver than the King, huh, and we’re supposed to believe you?” Cekiya asked.

“Believe me, my fortune is in Burzyn,” Taum replied.

“How are you going to get your fortune?”

“I’m going to go and get it!”

Is it waiting for you, or are you going to go make it?”

“Oh, it’s being held for me,” Taum said. “One of my men, a knight.”

“A knight is holding your treasures, in Burzyn,” Cekiya said incredulously. “What’s his name?”

“Sir Knight!” Taum said quickly.

“He’s quite knightly.”

“That he is!”

“How did all this silver end up in Burzyn?” Cekiya asked. “It must have belonged to someone at some point!”

“It did!” Taum said. “But now it’s mine!”

The patrons at the other tables began snickering.

“What’s your name there rich man?”

“Taum!” said Taum. “My name is Taum! I’m from Tashal - inside the walls! When I come back from Burzyn, I’m going to own this town! It will all be mine!”

The crowd began to laugh. “Dafydd, give him more ale!” someone said.

“I can’t help but notice that you haven’t had a drink to celebrate this,” Cekiya said.

“You’re right!” Taum said. “Barkeep, I ordered an ale for everyone, and I wanted one too!”

Cekiya made to give Taum one of her ales, but the barkeep stopped her. “Don’t worry, this one’s on me,” he said.

“So when are you heading out to get your silver?” Cekiya asked.

“Tomorrow! Tomorrow’s the day Taum becomes rich!”

Cekiya decided to let the man be. She looked back at the kitchen, catching sight of the cook scratching a large open sore on his arm while he stirred the stew. The woman thought about the stew, made a face and managed to swallow a gag. She got up and sat at the elf table, this vantage giving her a commanding view of the whole room.

After quite some time, two young men strolled in looking a bit like scholars – perhaps from the nearby guild of arcane lore. They looked at the “Elf” and “Dwarf” tables and one said “Gods, remember when you could sit anywhere in this place?” The two began talking about a subject that no one understood. Taum tried to engage these men in conversation about how he was going to be rich, but they simply said “That’s nice” and ignored him.

Cekiya started playing dice. “That’s not how the elf would play it!” said one of Cekiya’s table companions. “I’m not sure you belong here - maybe you belong at the dwarf table,” he spat at the last.

Cekiya glanced over at the newcomers. One of the newcomers wore a tunic that fell to his middle thigh. Cekiya thought she saw the outline of a scabbard below the tunic.

“Barkeep!” one of the newcomers yelled. “Ale!”

Dafydd turned. “I’m sorry, did you yell at me?”

“No, no,” the man said sheepishly. “Ale, please?”

Dafydd scowled and drew some ale, but not enough to fill the glass.

The arcanists pointed out that if Taum wanted to own Tashal, they owned the bridge over the Kald and would sell it to him for a song.

One of the men at the elf table nudged Cekiya. “Hey, you were talking to him,” the man said, referring to Taum. “What, is he nuts? What do you think?”

“Did you see that cat too?” Cekiya replied.

The man got a pale look on his face. “Damn, I knew this wasn’t mutton ...”

“I don’t know.” Cekiya said. “Seems like a good place to hide treasure. Maybe he’s on to something. Where would you hide your treasure?”

The man laughed and slapped Cekiya on the shoulder. “I spend my treasure! I’m lucky to get a tuppence a day! Because I know me job!”

“What is your job?” Cekiya asked.

“I dig ditches,” the ditch digger replied.

“What do you put in your ditches? Your riches? Ooo, that rhymes!”

“Well, actually, I used to dig ditches,” the ditch digger said importantly. “But now I teach other people how to dig ditches. Because I’m an expert ditch digger.”

“Have you ever dug a ditch a hundred feet deep?” Cekiya asked.

“Why would you do that? You’d hit water!” the man said knowingly. “A lot of people don’t know that. Around here, after fifteen feet deep, you hit water.”

“As fascinating as this is …” Cekiya started.

“Oh, honey, I haven’t even started. I could talk about ditches all day long.”

Cekiya noticed the arcanists were talking to Taum. “You might need someone to help you haul back all this silver. Being experienced carters, we could help you with that.”

Around this time, another arcanist came in and made a beeline for the arcanists at the table. “I have just heard the most fascinating theory on spirit possession!” he said, and continued talking about this wonderful new theory of the Save K’norians for quite some time. Cekiya was caught between one boring conversation and another.

Later in the evening, Taum left. Cekiya followed suit shortly thereafter, and saw Taum puking into the well. The rogue blended into the shadows. After he finished puking, Taum stumbled back into the inn. Peering in through the improperly fitted shutters, Cekiya watched Taum gesture for another ale. Taum began getting apparently drowsy. After awhile, he slumped over the bar, unconscious. Dafydd beckoned to the cook, and they both carried Taum to one of the rooms upstairs.

Around that time, Cekiya walked back in. “Hey, where’s our tall-taler?”

“Who?” Dafydd asked, then understood that Cekiya was referring to Taum. “Oh, him, he passed out and we took him upstairs. If he’s so rich, he can pay me in the morning.” The barkeep began cleaning some glasses. “He kept paying for all those drinks, though. You think I should have looked through his pockets?” He laughed nervously, realizing what he had just said. “Just kidding, I would never do that to a patron.”

“You’re missing him, aren’t you?” Dafydd asked Cekiya, quickly changing the subject away from robbing his customers. “I thought you had better taste than that.”

“Oh, no, he just made me laugh,” Cekiya said.

Around midnight, bored out of her mind, Cekiya returned to Gray House. She traveled through the quiet city night without incident.

Halane 15, 731

When Cekiya arrived for breakfast in the morning she was greeted by Sir Ewen. “So?” the knight asked vaguely.
“Where are the eggs? I want eggs!” Cekiya said.

Ewen told Cekiya to go check up on Taum. The woman went to the market and bought a dead, wilted daisy, which she brought to the Seven Stars.

Dafydd was asleep, but the cook greeted Cekiya. “How are you?”

“I’m okay, how are you?”

The man coughed for a short while, and wiped away some phlegm with his hand. “Just the same.”

“I brought you a daisy.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but that daisy is dead.” The cook grabbed a bowl and spoon. “Do you want some stew? It’s fresh - only 4 days old. Well, I suppose that depends on how you count it. I started some more today - in the same pot. I guess you could say my stew is immortal, like the elf.”

“Where can I find Taum?” Cekiya asked. “I want to give him his daisies.”

The cook gave Cekiya directions to Taum’s room. “How much do you charge for daisies?”

“Three pence.”

“That much?”

“Hey. These daisies used to be fresh.”

“Hm.” The cook’s face lit up as he had a sudden insight. “Just like my stew! It used to be fresh!”

Cekiya went upstairs and knocked on the door to Taum’s room. “Is Taum there?” she asked through the door.

“Taum is dead!” Taum replied. “Ohh, my head!” There was the sound of a man throwing up.

Cekiya returned to Gray House. “He’s alive,” she reported. “He’s puking his guts out right now, waiting for the carters.”

The urchin network was contacted and told to keep an eye on Taum. Later in the day the urchins reported that Taum had left town with a couple of men. They picked up a wagon in Lyryn and headed south.

Kaelyn decided to attempt to once again scry for Neph. She looked significantly at Sir Baris, who wisely decided that he and Quinn would go train outside the city that day, so as to not disturb the woman during her casting. The merest ripple in the water could destroy the spell, and Baris was a heavy walker.

Kaelyn successfully cast her scrying spell. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of her room, she stared down into the waters of her bowl. Slowly the waters stilled and eventually Kaelyn began to see details emerge. She saw the bloated form of Neph, and quickly realized to her dismay that he was not fully clothed. The gross man lay in a large comfortable bed in a large bed chamber in Galopea’s Feast. There was some sort of swaying movement in front of the man, and Kaelyn made out four dancers, their various charms clearly on display. Elsa was not among the dancers. Neph was enjoying himself with his hand and Kaelyn felt her gorge begin to rise. Through the bowl she heard a discreet knock on Neph’s door, and shortly thereafter Mak of Ashel came into view. “I’m sorry my Lord, the kitchen is out of peacock.” Neph looked at him. “Then get me peahen!” he yelled, and laughed.

Kaelyn threw the water out of the bowl and ran out of Gray House screaming “My eyes! My eyes!”