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Turn 166.0: Talking Over Warm Drinks

Posted: 11/18/01

            Hannibal's heart reaches out to the mother and her children.  How the events unfolding would affect them was uncertain but it certainly would not be good.  These people only wanted a peaceful life, so different than the wishes of the likes of Wade and Paros.

            Hannibal nods to the woman as she looks in his direction but says nothing.  He had goosebumps all of a sudden as he realized that he was on the right path and that, with luck, it would be Rinder's Six that would change the fates of these people for the better.

            El watches as the soldier saunters up to the Six.  "He looks harmless...but that doesn't mean anything."  At least he was human.  If he'd been drow...a surge of bile rises in El's chest, fear followed quickly by angry.  If he'd been drow, he would have already been dead.  He suddenly recalled the words of his father, one of the few times he had been allowed to remain in the council chambers, "the Fakirath cannot be allowed to live.  They pollute the very earth with their evil.  It is okay for a human to be evil, humans can always choose.  When an elf chooses...he makes that choice forever.  When the chosen ones fall, his skin changes as he falls from the light--as if the light itself cannot exist within him any longer.  His hair grows white and brittle, like death.  The Fakirath must always be dealt with first.  The elven people must do so for the world, for it is our fault they have fallen."

            With those words he had damned an entire colony of drow.  The armies had marched that spring, leaving the shining city with bright streamers and glowing armor and two years later, returned cold and dull.  The dimming would begin nearly a score later.  In the spring.  Elloharin had not been allowed to join the fighting, though he was old enough to have gone.  His father, Jibral al-fabari Hagar, the great councilman would not risk his son.  At least that is what he had told Elloharin.

            The real reason, El suspected, was that he was ashamed of his son's deformity.  So ashamed that he must be hidden.

            El awakes in the midst of the soldier's conversation, rubbing his head slightly.  Jibral al-fabari Hagar, when had he last remembered the name of his father?

            Emma leans closer to Hannibal's mount and murmurs, "Let's avoid trouble if we can.  We'll just say we're travelers, headed south.  But we need a map if we're ever going to make our story believable.  See what you can do about finding us one...and/or some information about what lies ahead."

            Hannibal steers his horse a little farther away from the main group, simply intending to make room.  He leans forward in his saddle and waits patiently to see what the guard does.  He does keep an eye on the other four guards as well, figuring that if anything was to happen they would reveal it more readily than the other would.

            With that, Emma pulls her scarf closer around her neck to ward off the chill wind and the even colder metal of her new breastplate.  It felt odd to no longer display the symbol of Anhur upon her chest, but her outfit would hopefully see them through to their destination more easily.  She had changed her tabard and under-tunic for a bright yellow one instead, picking it up before leaving Jilten.  It depicted a very generic sword with black flames, a common enough standard in any society.  She had decided to change her hairstyle, as well, wearing it unbraided and loose about her shoulders.       Hopefully, it might help to disguise her appearance a little as well.

            Finally, she intentionally steers her horse in the direction of the oncoming soldier.  Adopting an expression of cold weariness, and happiness at discovering a warm place to rest, the priestess smiles at him.  "Hello," she says, "Is that a tavern or inn by any chance?  Our horses are tired and our bones are thoroughly chilled.  We could use something warm to drink."

            The solder rests a hand on the hilt of his sword, sheathed at his hip.  He looks up at Emma as she asks her question, and before he answers his eyes dart about to the others.  Finally, he does answer.  "Indeed, that there is the town's tavern where you can get something warm to soothe you from your journey."  As he finishes, he glances quickly back to his comrades, who still sit on the steps of the town's only stone building.

            "With many thanks," Emma says, nodding her head slightly.  Then, to the rest of Rinder's Six, she instructs, "come..."

            The soldier stands in his place as he watches the party slowly ride toward the tavern's building.  The young stableboy greets them just outside, offering to stable their horses.  After dismounting, the group heads inside.  As soon as they head in the door, the group splits.

            Hannibal and Storm head immediately for the two lowest-looking types, hoping to cull some information from "the street."  Emma heads directly to the bar, along with Skandor and Crayne.  Meanwhile, El and Canter take a seat at an empty table, watching over the room.

 

            "These taken?" Hannibal asks with a slight edge to his voice as he approaches a table of slightly-dirty, bearded men.  He motions to two seats at the round table, and notices the goblets sitting in front of each of the other three men already seated.

            "Nah, you c'n have 'em," one of the men replies.  "Fer you and the dwarf.  You new in town?"

            "That's right," Hannibal replies, taking a seat.  Storm sits down next to him, keeping quiet but alert.

            "Well you picked a hell of a time to arrive.  With winter here and the war on.  There ain't much 'round here.  I'm Reaser."

            "Mouser," Hannibal replies, using his older cover.  He reaches across the table to shake Reaser's grubby hand.

            "Where you arrivin' from, Mouser?" Reaser asks.  The other two at the table listen attentively, sipping from their goblets occasionally.

            "Uh...west of here, long the road.  It's tough travelin' this time of year..." Hannibal replies.

            "That's fer sure," one of the others grumbles.

            "Don' mind him," Reaser says, "he's just grumpy he can't bring his timber north..."

            "North?" Hannibal asks, intrigued.

            "Yeah, he's a timber trader, ain't that right?" he pats the grumpy timber trader on the shoulder, "but the Baron's troops've got the roads blocked, and it ain't like you can lead a small wagon train across the wilderness.  So what's a man ta do with three wagons of timber an' no buyer?"

            "Tough deal..." Hannibal says, feigning sympathy.  "They got the roads up there blocked, eh?"

            "Yeah," Reaser growls.  "They say they're tryin' ta keep the Rinder army out.  Like they're gonna just march down the road to Cahren.  Ha!  The Rinder army don' need the roads, anyhow.  And with all them Orcs runnin' 'round up there, they wouldn't get very far anyway."

            "So what're you sayin'?" the third man asks.

            "What I'm sayin' is," Reaser explains, motioning with his hands.  "I don' think the Baron's tryin' to keep Rinder from comin' down here.  I think..." he lowers his voice almost to a whisper, "I think they're tryin' to keep traders like us from going up *there*."

            "Why would they do that?" Hannibal asks.

            "What, were ya born last night, Mouser?  There's a war on!  We can't be tradin' with the enemy, or at least that's what the Baron'll have ya thinkin'!  Besides, with wagon trains headin' north all regular like they used to, it'd be real easy to sneak stuff in or out of Caerloon..."  There's a moment of silence.  "...Not that I would know anythin' 'bout that..."

 

            Sitting down on a bar stool with a sigh, Emma leans forward and catches the bartender's attention.  "Something warm, please," she requests.

            "Make it three," Skandor adds.

            A moment later the bartender returns with three steaming drinks.  "Spicy cider," he announces.  "Local specialty.  That's twelve coppers."

            Crayne slides some coins onto the bar.  As he lifts his hand, the bartender (and Emma and Skandor) can see three shiny silver coins.  Crayne's eyes remain fixed on the bartender.  "How's business lately?  A lot of Caerloon soldiers coming through?"

            The bartender swallows hard, then narrows his eyes.  "Depends who wants to know."

            Crayne raises his eyebrows, looking to Emma and Skandor.  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you..." he says, trying to be sly.

            The bartender takes the three silver coins.  "You don't tell me; I don't tell you."  And with that he walks away, farther down the bar to wait on some other patrons.

            "Nice try, Crayne," Skandor says quietly.  Then he turns to Emma.  "Want to try your charming approach?"

            Emma nods, and then gulps down the last of her cider.  "Barkeep!  Another round of your excellent local cider, please!"

            The bartender nods, and a moment later returns with three new, steaming mugs.  As he places one down in front of Emma, she reaches out, placing her hand upon his to keep him there for a moment.

            "I hope my friend didn't startle you, good sir.  We are merely passing through, and have heard much talk about soldiers in the area."

            The barkeep looks to Emma, and after a moment removes his hand from under hers, leaving her with only her warm mug to clutch.  "There've been some.  More than usual.  And some types that don't look like your regular foot-soldier.  Smarter, asking questions.  Kind of like you, but they don't talk like you do...they sound like they're from farther south, Cahren or Brinden."

            Skandor sips his mug, looking to Crayne with a slight smile as the bartender begins to supply some information.

            "Asking questions?  What kind of questions?" Emma asks, smiling.

            "Asking if anyone else has been in here, asking questions," the bartender replies, he himself smiling.  "Anyone talking like they're from up north."

            Crayne's chest tightens as he hears the bartender's words.  'The Baron's men are sharp,' he thinks to himself, 'and on the lookout for us!'

            Emma suddenly feels concerned, too, but realizes it's too late now, so she might as well keep asking.  "And, has anyone else been here, asking questions, talking like they're from the north?"

            The bartender looks around the room, then back to Crayne, Skandor, and finally Emma.  "Only you folks."

            Emma looks askance to Skandor, and then decides to change the subject.  "Like I said, we were just passing through, on our way to...Brinden..." she just barely gets the word out without sounding too much like she was scrambling for something to say "...but I'm afraid our map was soiled and destroyed in a blizzard a few days ago.  You wouldn't be able to get us a newer one, would you?"

            "Perhaps, but it will cost you, my lady," the bartender replies.

            "How much?" Crayne asks.

            The bartender keeps his eyes on Emma, but answers Crayne.  "Two golders.  Plus your drinks.  That's a total of five golders."  He smiles widely.

            "Five gold pieces!" Crayne stammers, nearly falling out of his chair.  "But before the drinks were only four co--"

            The bartender stops Crayne mid-breath, holding up his hand.  He inhales deeply, standing straight and tall and placing both hands in front of him on the bar.  "You don't want me to send my stableboy to those soldiers outside and tell them three northern-speaking folks had come in asking questions...do you?"    There is a moment of silence.  "Hey, in times like these, each man's gotta lookout for himself."

            "Pay him," Emma says to Crayne.

            Reluctantly, Crayne reaches into his pocket and pulls out five gold pieces, placing them on the bar.  "It had better be a really good map," he grumbles.

            Still smiling, the bartender takes the coins, saying, "I'll be back in a minute."

 

            Canter and El had been watching the exchange at the bar, and see the coins pass to the batender.  He then whistles through a door behind the bar, and seconds later the stableboy appears.  He whispers something in the boy's ear, and then the boy takes off, running out the back.

            El looks to Canter, saying, "One of us ought follow him, make sure he doesn't cause any trouble."

            Canter nods in agreement.

            "I'll do it," El says, tightening the hood, still around his head, hiding his elven features.  He steps outside to see the boy run up the steps of the stone building and inside.  For a moment, he is concerned that maybe the bartender had ratted on them, but two minutes later the boy comes running out, kicking snow up with each step.  In his hand is a rolled up piece of parchment.

            Breathing a sigh of relief, El heads back inside.

 

            The bartender brings the rolled up parchment to Emma, Skandor, and Crayne.  "Here you go.  Safe journey to you.  Stay warm."

            With a nod and a "thank you," the three leave the bar, walking toward the door.  Skandor catches Canter's eye, who nudges El.  El rises and brushes past Hannibal and Storm's table, relaying the signal.  Moments later they are all outside.

            "Before retrieving the horses," Canter says, "let's take a look at that map."

            Skandor unrolls it, and all gather around to take a look.  It is a much better map of Caerloon than any had seen before, detailing the main roads and cities from the Rinder border all the way south to the Cahrendhur Ocean.

            "While you boys look that over, I'm just going to grab a loaf of bread before the baker closes," Emma says, pulling her coat tight over her shoulders and walking through the snow across the street.  Soon she is inside and making pleasantries with the baker and his wife.

            Meanwhile outside, the men continue to look over the map.  "Well done, Crayne, Skandor," Hannibal says, reading over some of the writing.  "How much did you pay for it?"

            "Five gold pieces," Crayne scowls.

            "High price," Canter says, a little shocked.

            "I hope it was worth it," a new voice sounds.  Everybody looks up to see a man standing there, about six feet tall.  He is dressed warmly, with the standard of Caerloon proudly displayed on his tunic.  Behind him stand two of the soldiers who had been sitting on the steps before, each has a sword sheathed at their hip and a crossbow in hand.

            The man in front, probably an officer, steps forward and holds out his open hands.  "Do not be alarmed.  If you cooperate, there will be no trouble.  I simply mean to ask you all a few questions before you are on your way..."

 

            "Thank you kindly," Emma says, smiling the baker and his wife, taking one last full breath with the scent of warm, freshly baked bread wafting through the air.  She places her new loaf in her bag and then turns to the door, just as she opens it, she sees the three men standing before the rest of Rinder's Six.  She immediately notices the two with crossbows, as well as Storm, who is slowly and covertly reaching to draw two daggers and cuff them.

            Reacting instantly, she takes a step back, hiding behind the doorframe.  "No time to enjoy this while it's still warm, I guess," she says quietly to herself and closing her back with the loaf inside.

 

            "A few questions?" Crayne asks the officer.  Behind the highbrow, and using Crayne's impressive frame to block his actions, Canter rolls up the map and hides it in his shirt.  Of course, if the soldiers had seen them with the map just a few seconds earlier, then there'd be no point to hiding it, but for the moment it seemed the sensible thing to do.  "Regarding what exactly?"

            "Why don't we step inside where it's warmer?" the officer asks.

            There is a tense moment as nobody moves.  Hannibal's eyes dart around searching desperately for any sign of Emma.  He doesn't see her.

            El, meanwhile, sees the stableboy, standing in the side door of the tavern, watching the scene.

            "Come with me now, and this is easy," the officer says, sounding a bit more insistent.  "Look for trouble and you will find it.  Let's go."

1.  ACTIONS?!

 

As noted, the entire party--EXCEPT EMMA--is standing together in front of this officer and two guards.  Emma is hiding in the doorway of the baker's shop, across the street.  She can see the whole scene, but those in the party cannot see Emma from their respective positions.

 

2.  The map: You will find a copy of the map of Caerloon by clicking on this link: Map of Caerloon.

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