Chapter One - "The Letter"

[AnaMirl Goodwill]

Ana‘Mirl had just put her apron away and was about to go out in to the tavern room to have a look at a green bird and pink hat, when she heard Altario, one of her well liked guest shout.

"Ana.  Ana!  I wish to settle my affairs tonight.  I'll be leaving by morning."

What, so suddenly? What might be the reason, I will miss him, it is nice to have somebody around for some time, not only for one night. Lori will miss him too.

She was just through the door, when he continued:

 "Ana, have you ever heard of the 'Beauty of the South'?"

Ana was a bit startled. Why did he ask such a common question? Did he not know, that Strata was known as the „Beauty of the South“ in the whole of Santharia? Well, he was from faaar up in the North which was much farther away than the void in Aeruillin, so his lacking knowledge might be forgiven. But then, who would ask for a „Beauty of the South“ and think at a town?

Ana‘Mirl was not longer informed about all the gossip which run high in certain circles in Strata, but did not one of her customers speak of certain kind of woman in a seaside tavern who was said to be extremely beautiful? From Shan'Thai and known as the "Southern Beauty"? She  would surely not talk openly about that woman. Shrugging her shoulders she answered.

„Hello Altario, why are you leaving so quickly? I'll bring you your bill up to your room later, as soon as I have written all together. But to your question: Well, Strata itself is the called the „Beauty of the South“, but I doubt, that this is what you want to know. Tell me, what is it that you are looking for? Who told you to look for the „Beauty of the South“?

[Damien Scar]

The shadows deepened in Damien's room as the sun slowly made its trek across the sky. The heat that he had felt just hours ago melted away to a cool sea breeze that carried along the sounds and voices of peoples of many languages, but the language of sailors heading for the nearest tavern, was unmistakable all over the world; it was filled with laughter, and raunchy jokes about bow legged women, and how thirsty they were.

Damien had heard those voices many a time and as he lay on his cot he wanted to join them, so badly. The intense desire to just get up, find some clothes and go get a drink made him shake, or so he thought, it was the opposite of course as his body was being slowly purged of the alcohol that he had consumed and his body depended now depended upon, but he did not know that. All he knew was that he wanted a drink.

The medicine that Y'riss had given him was slowly working and when he tried to rise up from his cot he found out he could not, at least not without some difficulty, as the medicine seemed to weaken his muscles. He forced himself to sit. The room spun, but he forced himself to ignore it. His hands shook, as he poured himself some water and he spilled some as he tried to drink.

His anger rose and he threw the cup against the wall. He forced himself to stand, and had to quickly put his hand against the wall next to his bed, as he almost fell. Again, it was his indomitable will, that forced his body to move, the sheet falling off his nude body, until he was standing in front of his trunk.

He bent down to retrieve the trunk and suddenly he crashed down onto the floor. He heard voices from outside the room and then the door opened and Y'riss along with another woman emerged into his sight.  The oil lamp light from the hallway, behind them showed only their silowette. Damien heard gasps coming from both of the women as he looked up at them grinning crazily.

One of the women turned, and yelled for more help, and more women came in. Soon Damien could feel many hands pulling at his arms and legs trying to lift him. Finally with much exertion they put Damien back in his cot, covered him up and then left, all except Y'riss.

Damien looked up into her dark black eyes as she glared down at him. "I thought I told you to lie still! Do we need to tie you down?" She asked, not expecting an answer.

Damien smiled wickedly. "Well, there was a woman who I did alllow..."

"I do not need to hear of your sordid escapades," Y'riss said interrupting him. "Now, lie down, and get your rest."

"I need a drink. Can't you see my hands shaking. Do you not even have any sacrificial wine you could give me?" Damien asked.

Y'riss stared at Damien for a few moments. I told you before, we sisters...

"Do not recommend any alcohol until I have improved..."Damien finished, as he sighed, and turned his body toward the wall.

He heard Y'riss finally leave the room and he turned to lie upon his back. He threw his left arm up and under his head as he stared at the shadows the oil lamp in his room threw on the ceiling.

He was drifting off to sleep, when he heard the most beautiful voice he had ever heard wafting through the night air caressing his ears, like a purr of a kitten, soothing his troubled mind and shaking body, as the light touch of a lover after the lovemaking had ended. "I need to find that voice," he mumbled as he fell asleep.

[Rhia]

Rhia felt herself pause at the inn’s entrance. Hanging above the door was a sign with a painted picture of a shoal of fish bearing a pillow. That’s… um… different… Two men took advantage of her motionlessness and brushed past her into the building, talking wearily.Nonetheless, she supposed a moment later after following them through the door, approaching the man behind the counter, it does make sense, in a strange, rather repelling way.

The inn was rather busy. It was after sundown, after all, and travelers were wanting to find a place to rest their head during the moon's reign, and the already-customers were returning for the night. People crowded at the sturdy wooden tables distributed throughout the room, eating the rather bland but wholesome food the inn provided. Rhia shoved through the fellows clustered at the bar to speak with the innkeeper. She set down her two bags –one light, one somewhat heavier– on the floor and gave a cute, innocent, I’m-an-sweet-and-honest-young-customer smile. “Good sir, I don’t suppose ye have a small room fehr one?”

The man, somewhere in his early fifties, looked her over. “Aye, and how long would your stay be?”

“Em, I’m not sure about that. I’d prolly be stayin’ indefinitely.”

He grunted noncommittally, set down the last of the glasses he was wiping, and began to scrub the counter, starting to direct his attention to one of the other potential customers– but not before giving a pointed glance at her meager bags. Rhia could see that he wasn’t convinced that she wouldn’t take off after a week or so and not pay her due, least of all that she would have the means to pay him.

The nineteen-year-old girl gestured to the bag that held her panpipes and lute. “I’m a troubadour. I’ll sing mornin’s and nights here in exchange fehr my stay, no coin payment.”

The innkeeper scratched his unkempt head, then his scruffy grey-brown beard, and nodded thoughtfully at her.

Sensing an opportunity, Rhia continued. “But if I sing any tiyme enbetween that, you pay me in coin by the hour.”

The man was nodding his head more slowly now, but he spoke up in agreement. “All right. Ye can stay fer as long as ye like, providin’ ye stick ter our agreement. The name’s Pagran.”

Rhia rewarded the suspicious fellow with a twinkling smile. He reached under the counter and pulled out a bundle of parchment. She watched rather wistfully as he began to scribble down words. Letters! Words! What knowledge. She felt proud as she recognized a few letters and figures. Not very many, but she treasured the knowledge of it she had like gems.

“Ye can take yer mount te the stables and have ther stableboy give it a stall and feed,” came a string of gruff words from the innkeeper’s head bent over his writing.

Rhia coughed in embarrassment. She’d already done this before she entered the inn. “Er- Sir, I’ve done this alrahdy.”

Pagran gave her a sharp look and she flushed. Well, there goes what little trust he had in me…

Rhia abruptly changed what little subject there was. “I, er… Say, what’s all the racket i[ there?” She jerked her head at the general direction of the staircase.

Pagran shook his head distastefully. “Some of meh workin' girls ‘ave taken in a sailor fella. Dunno why- Baveras knows I tried ter talk 'em out of it, but therr's no convincin' their minds about 'im. Right disturbance he is too. Makin’ all kinds a noise. ‘Oo knows what ‘is problem is, but the sooner ‘e’s gone the sooner I c’n get some shuteye.”

Rhia made the usual appreciative noises. “Mister, uh, Pagran, when would ye like me te begin the job?”

The man gave her a steely glare before moving on to his next customer. “Now.”

So Rhia put her bags in her assigned room, then played her panpipes and sang with her lute while more customers trickled in. Her fingers danced across the lute’s strings drowsily. She was feeling drowsy, for Pagran had allowed her to sing by the fire, and the warmth was affecting her. Oldana was right, she reflected groggily as her voice wafted through the building, drifting through the ceiling beams, floating over the noise of the people. So far it seemed to be a good inn to work in.

[grallen gast]

“See you later!”

Grallen scowled as the child slipped away, and then snarled to herself for letting the opportunity slip past. The raucous imitation of the girl’s voice by some kind of bird had confirmed her suspicions that the kid knew how things worked here, and moreover was considerably more loquacious than most adults she talked to. She snarled again, but halfway the sound caught in her throat as an uncomfortable cold feeling slithered down her back.

Damn! I thought I’d got him to stop doing that!

Gingerly but quickly, and with ill-concealed irritation, she stood up and shrugged her coat onto the stool, then awkwardly reached round and down the back of her shirt until clawed fingers brushed against something fragile and clammy. Gently extracting the frog from her clothing, she muttered to him; “I thought you were supposed to be the brains of the operation. I’d be much obliged if you’d stop trying to get yourself squashed at the first thing that frightens you, you tiny green idiot.”

Slumping back onto the stool, she released the frog onto the counter, where it gulped peevishly at her and croaked for a maggot.

“No, you don’t deserve one.”

It was only then that the reddish brown stain across the chest of her shirt caught her eye, and she remembered. Oh things just get better and better, huh? I guess it could be worse, it could be my blood. She quickly put her coat on again, and tried to pretend nothing had happened, distracting herself by listening to the conversation next to her. A half overheard phrase piqued her interest. Beauty of the south? What’s that? Sounds expensive…

[Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin]

Altario's eyebrow raised somewhat.  Strata?  Strata was the Beauty of the South?  Well, if there were gods, then one of them was looking out for him now.  Strata was a day or two from here.  And to think, that Denrykmar might have been here all along.  And Nayriss?  Maybe.  He could feel his heart beating more quickly in his chest.

"My broth-" he stopped in mid-sentence.  He glanced left to right, and was a little dismayed at the type of people that were crowded up to the bar.  Especially the one to his right, who smelled like he had been out on the road for weeks without bathing.  Since being here, in this oasis of peace in the great desert, since being with Valannia, who made him feel a peace he had not felt in many years, he had grown careless; soft.  Now, with news of Denrykmar and Nayriss, he felt the walls beginning to rise again within him, making him distrustful of those he did not know.

"I just have things I need to take care of there, Ana.  I'll be leaving at first light, so if you plan to get paid then, make sure you have the items written up.  I have enjoyed your company, and I will miss this place, but I have stayed here far too long."    Then he smiled warmly at her, when he thought he spotted some remorse in her eyes.  She was a gracious woman, and he would miss her, and the child, Lori. "Perhap's some cold taenish on loibl, for the trip?"  He winked. "For the three of us?  I'll eat the lady's share.  And a couple of your vegan rolls."

[Damien Scar]

Damien woke up in a sweat and shaking. His dreams were becoming nightmares, and he kept on seeing a blonde little girls face, whose features were somehow familiar, but he could not recall and each time he tried to reach out to touch her, she would float away like some specter: He could not even speak to her, though he could see her lips moving, no sound came to his ears.

He threw off the sweat soaked sheet and sat up. He was surprised that it was much easier than the last time and his chest did not hurt as much when he took a deep breath. He glanced at the table besides his cot and saw the jug of water, but no cup. He then remembered he had thrown it against the wall.

He stretched, his head tilting upward and he felt unused joints all over the upper part of his body crack and pop, like a whip upon a horses flank. He then stood up, his hand resting on the nearest wall, ready to catch him if he should happen to begin to fall, but he held steady.  As before he now stretched his lower part of his body and felt the same. When he was finished, he was sweating terribly, his chest hurt more, and his whole body quivered and shook, especially his hands. He needed a drink. And be dammed these sisters who would stop him, He thought.

He took a few steps toward the door and stopped and a weak smile came over him. "I guess I better put some clothes on at least. Do not want to get arrested, already," he mumbled.

He went to his trunk, found the hidden latch that opened up a small drawer that held the trunk's key. He opened the trunk and put the key back where it belonged and closed the hidden compartment. Inside the trunk were all of his worldly goods, well at least the ones he had taken from his castle near Voldar. His castle, lands and serfs were the only things that King Voltigar allowed him to retain after...

Damien went through the trunk and found no clothes except his royal ones. He sure as a donkey's ass was not going to wear those, however just the black leather pants and his white shirt should do nicely.

As he got dressed he could hear that beautiful voice and he knew that it was not a dream and that voice seemed to be coming from downstairs. He pulled on some socks that needed darning near the toes, stamped his feet into his black leather boots and slipped on his white shirt. He reached into the trunk took out a wide black leather belt and wrapped it around his waist. Inside two sheaths, one on each side, were very sharp throwing knives and all around the belt were pockets that held different denominations of coin. 

He glanced down at a covered bundle and considered taking his Sengren, a short handled, two edged curved wicked axe, that was part of his tribes the Kyranians, legacy and pride and joy.  He decided against it and slammed the lid back down upon the trunk.

He ignored the sharp pains coming from his chest telling him he should be resting instead of walking about, but he wanted a drink and he wanted to see who was singing that song down below.

He went out of his room, softly closing the door behind him, so as not to wake Y'riss followed the softly lit hallway, down a winding staircase that ended in a common room.

The room was large, almost as large as one of Voltigar's castle's ballrooms. It was brightly lit with three large candle chandeliers that hung from cedar beams that criss-crossed the ceiling high above. The inn had one large bar that stretched from one wall to another. Many bartenders were serving the ever increasing crowd of thristy men and some women; most of the men were sailors, but not the usual crowd of raucious of them, but the more civilized kind, like where the Captains and officers of a ship would go and not the crew.

Damien scanned the room, his dark black eyes glittering in the candle liight. His head, at least a head taller than most overlooked those that were in the room. He found the source of the song that just would not get out of head nor heart. She was sitting in a high backed cushioned chair which sat upon a podium that was approximately a half ped higher than the common room floor. She had lustrous brown hair and wore a light blue dress that as far as Damien could see hugged her lithe body in all of the right places; as most of the men attested as they stared at her as if they had found a precious jewel. A lute was in her hands and her fingers nimbly brushed over the strings; Damien felt as if they were gently playing the strings of his heart, and the song brought back memories... but he did not want to feel that anymore.

Angrily he bullied his way through the crowd toward the bar, with protests of "Hey, and watch what you're doing?" ringing through the air behind him. He ignored their sounds of protests, stood in front of the bar, slapped some coin down on the top and snarled at the closest bartender that stood behind it. "Dwarven Ale, a bottle," he demanded.

[AnaMirl Goodwill]

Ana‘Mirl has served the guest in an inn her whole life long. And there she has learned to control herself, her gestures, her facial expression, if needed. So she doesn‘t show any sign that she has noticed Altario‘s hesitation to talk about his ‚bro‘ - brother.

"I just have things I need to take care of there, Ana.  I'll be leaving at first light..“

So suddenly. Is there something with the Lady? Or has he met somebody?

„Of course, I‘ll bring you your bill up to your room as soon as possible. And I add some Thyslan spicecakes as a treat of the house for a pleasant guest!“ she answered him with a smile, but continued with furrowed eyebrows. „ Be aware though, that the sandstorms of last night may have covered the trails and it might be difficult to find the path, you might need somebody who knows the way. And....  enjoy a last drink of Shendar wine this evening, I‘ll send Lori to bring some for you and your company. “

While putting some mugs from one end of the counter to the other Ana‘Mirl and pretending to being busy, her eyes skimmed over the crowd and she saw a new customer standing near Altario‘s elven Lady. Oh yes, he wanted to have rolls for three and vegan rolls...

 So there was something brewing. Ana felt sorry, that one of her favourite guests was about to leave, she had enjoyed the presence of that Northern gentleman over the last two months. Very rarely customers stayed more than two nights and it had been agreeable to have him and his elven lady around. Somehow she didn‘t want to let him go - to an unknown destiny.  Strata, that beautiful town full of thieves, cutthroats and worse. She doubted, that he would tell her more when she brought him his bill up to his room, but somehow she wished she could help him and his beautiful elven Lady, protect him - though he surely needed not protection. Well, she could go to Strata as well, her monthly shopping trip was due anyway. Perhaps he would need somebody familiar with the town. But that was nothing to tell him in front of all the people.  But she would announce later, that she would travel by cart to Strata tomorrow, maybe she could earn some sans by taking some horseless customers along. 

[Airyn]

”Ah, well, you know, it’s just Kassandra really.” Said the lady, pointing to the green bird atop her pink hat, ”She comes up with the most uproarious pranks. I’ll never be out of tales to tell as long as she’s with me.”

The elfess nodded eagerly and looked up at the bird. “Well, I look forward to hearing the tales of your adventures,” she said, holding her hand out to the green feathered animal. When it did not move and continued to stare at her warily, feeling rather foolish, the elfess withdrew her hand. Her human companion had been occupied by her wine, and hadn’t noticed. Hopefully.

A tug on the leather leash in Airyn’s hand distracted her, and her companion’s next words were left unheard. The now dirty ball of fluff at her feet had tried to run around the stool, to pounce on the shoe of a fairly handsome man standing between herself and a traveller with dark hair and yellow eyes. She pulled him back, not knowing what had captured the dog’s attention. Maybe it was more alcohol spilled on the floor near the man’s foot, or a sliver of meat perhaps? She hadn’t been watching him as he stood at the bar, in fact, she hadn’t even seen his face yet.

The dog protested against the elf’s restraint, but stalked backwards to sit at her feet again once she scolded him. “Sage, don’t act up on me now you little bugger!” Forgetting her manners for a moment, she frowned and shook her head at the dog’s pleading eyes, “not a chance, mister. You can’t run around in here.”

Airyn’s ears tingled as she heard the few words of the man’s conversation. She guessed him to be named Altario, as the innkeeper had addressed him. He had said something about a “beauty of the south.” Why did that sound so familiar? I don’t recall reading about it... Airyn knew then that the only way to find the answer would be to look up at him and ask. Simple.

Excusing herself politely from the conversation with the woman and her bird – Kassandra, wasn’t it? –, Airyn turned in her seat to face this Altario, and ask her question. Might as well do it now, while the bravery lasts. Her eyes scanned over his attire; neat, expensive, attractive, well fitting. He wore this to impress someone. Her heart fell immediately after she looked at his face. Please, please, please do not have noticed my staring, please, please, please. She cast her eyes to the floor, asking her dog for his confidence, but he looked away in a sulk and rested his small head on his two front paws.

She swallowed hard, making an awkward gulping sound, and looked back up at this man who was now waiting to be served. Taking a deep breath, she said “Excuse me, sir?” His face did not turn. He probably hadn’t heard me. She was breathing with more confidence now, and released the incredibly tight grip on the leash, also realising that she had left nail marks in the soft leather. “Altario?” She asked, hoping to catch his attention by stating his name. “I’m sorry, I heard the innkeeper call you by your name a moment ago. Might I ask, what is the Beauty of the South? The name seems familiar, though I do not remember being told about it.”

Airyn realised that this man probably assumed that she had been eavesdropping on his conversation. She could feel the redness climbing up her neck and onto her cheeks, and laughed quite awkwardly. “I’m sorry; you don’t have to answer that. I only heard...” The elfess began to stutter and closed her mouth. Why did this always happen around men?

She decided to quickly turn to the innkeeper, who was standing behind the bar. Since she had made plans to leave in the late morning, anyway, the elfess decided to ask for some means of transport. “Might I be able to buy a horse or donkey from you?” she asked, wondering if she was speaking clearly or not in her stress. “It seems that I have a need to go through Strata, and I have no way of getting there. I do have money, and will pay you for your generosity.” Airyn knew that she now made sense, and turned back to Altario with fearful eyes. Well, it could have been worse, she thought, I could have started rambling in Styrásh. That wouldn’t have made any sense at all.

[Damien Scar]

Seashoals Inn

Pagran

Even Pagran's normally pessimistic, grumpy attitude softened as he listened to his new aquistion's voice and playing of the lute. The normal crowd of customers on a weeknight, actually swelled as more and more customers came in to hear and see her. He was quite pleased with himself as he filled up more and more glasses of wine and pocketed more and more coin as well.

His reviere was rudely interrupted when a rather tall, unkempt man barged through his customers, slapped some coin down upon the bar and demanded a bottle of Dwarven Ale!

Pagran glared at the man. The man glared back with dark piercing eyes, his hair was as dark as his eyes, except for some gray around the temples and was braided in one long braid. He had a peppered beard that reached almost down to the end of his collar bone. "Mister around here we ask, not demand. Why don't you go find another tavern to drink in. More to your liking I expect," Pagran growled out.

Damien blinked. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. Who did this piece of donkeys dung think he was speaking to? "Do you know who I am?" Damien asked, matching the growl in Pagran's voice.

"Nope, and don't care to either," Pagran answered and then turned toward another customer and filled his glass with wine.

Damien reached over the bar and grabbed Pagran by his collar, pulled him almost half over it and screamed in the mans face. "I am Baron Damien Scar from Voldar and you better damn well give me the respect I deserve and my station in life demands!"

Pagran smelled the man's breath and just could not help it, it smelled like the meat yards where rotten meat, roasting and bloating in the desert lay for days...weeks sometimes before it was taken and buried far out in the desert. He vomited right in Damien''s face.

Customer's quickly backed away, some ladies, added to the vomit that had dripped down the side of the bar and onto the floor.  The smell was awful and more and more customers either added to the ever growing pool of vomit or left the inn.

Damien had been so surprised at what had happened that he just stood there with vomit dripping all over his face and into his beard. Then like he had come out of a dream, he realized what had happened and his anger knew no bounds. He spit some of the vomit that had landed in his mouth back at Pagran, his left hand swung to pummel this man, when the sharpest pain he had felt yet hit him like an axe in his chest.

His hand let go of Pagran as it clutched his chest as he doubled over in pain. He fell to his knees. Suddenly he felt many hands upon him dragging him away through the vomit and spilled drinks on the grimy floor. He was tossed out into the street and they began beating him.

He tried to fight back, but the pain in his chest was unbearable. He gasped for each breath and then he saw a club in one of the bartender's hands swinging down at him. He tried to block the blows, but they came relentless; pounding on his arms, his chest, his ribs and then a blow hit him behind his head...an excruciating shooting pain ran through his brain and then...darkness.

********************************************************************

Y'riss woken out of her sleep by hearing a ruckus downstairs went to check in on their charge. She did not find him in his room. She quickly went back to her and her sisters room and woke the other two up; Salome, and Vyre. They quickly got dressed and went down the stairs. They all saw their charge being dragged out of the inn and then the bartenders came back, some with blood upon their aprons and on their clubs.

They went over to where Pagran stood, cleaning himself off. He was swearing up a storm, not because of what happened to him, but because all of his customers had left for the night; looking for another establishment to spend their coin on.

The sisters slowly made their way down the stairs. Y'riss was concerned about their charge, but they were also afraid of Pagran. They tried to get down the stairs without being noticed, but it was not to be. Pagran saw them.

"You...you sisters. Look at what you have done! Our owner was kind enough to let you bring that bastard of a man into his place and look what he has done! He bullied some of my best customers. He accosted some of the ladies here. (which was a lie, but they did not know) His breath made them vomit and when I peacefully tried to get him to up to his room, he threatened me! Well, my men took care of him."

Pagran had always thought of the Seashoals to be his own, but he was just the head bartender.

Y'riss and her sisters stared in shock and awe as they heard Pagran's tale. "Sir, I am awfully sorry that our charge did this, but he is ill and does not know what he is doing. We were told that he is a very wealthy man and I am sure that he will pay for any damage done tonight. Please tell us where he is so that we can minister to him?" Y'riss asked.

At the mention of wealth Pagran looked down at the coins that this man had slapped down upon the bar. The coins were laying in a pool of vomit, and Pagran saw some sans, but then a piece of silver glinted in the candlelight. He picked through the vomit and picked up the coin and rubbed it off on his apron...he stared at the gleaming silver...by the gods, it was a silverbard! Pagran began searching through more of the coins, scooping up the sans, and cleaning them off, but he found two more silver pieces. He pocketed the silver.  What did the man say his name was? Damien, yes Baron Damien Scar from some place Pagran never heard of. Could this be true? That this man was actually a Baron! Pagran thought. And another thought came to him that made him afraid. What if the owner knew this and that is why he allowed these sisters to take care of him here? He could lose his job!

"Sir, where is our charge?" Y'riss asked in a more forcefull voice than she thought she would ever use, interrupting Pagran as he searched through vomit and picked out coins. Y'riss did not miss Pagran pocketing three silver coins in his pocket and frowned in displeasure at the man's theivery, but she would not accuse him; not with her charge out there in the streets, probably very hurt if not dead. She needed to find him quickly.

Pagran looked at the other men. "Quickly show the sisters where he is and do it in a hurry!" He ordered.

The men looked at Pagran with puzzled looks upon their faces. "Boss, we don't understand. We thought..."

"Shut up and do as I told you. Help them in any way they ask...now!" Pagran shouted, pointing his finger. "Or else you are all fired," he added.

The men rushed out the door calling for the sisters to follow them. Y'riss and her sisters quickly ran out of the door into the night.

Pagran looked over the common room. No furniture had been broken, the only thing actually wrong was all of the vomit and blood on the floor. That would be easy enough to clean up, he thought. Then he noticed Rhia, who was just staring at him.

[Rhia]

The inside of Rhia's mouth began to smack as she sang; she was thirsty. She lingered on the little podium for a short while longer, watching as a rough-looking man with a dark braid and a black and grey beard forced his way to the front of the bar, hollering and shoving in response to the objections of the people who had been there first. Hoping that that Pagran would begrudge her a little break, finally Rhia propped her lute in the corner that the fireplace provided, somewhat hidden from sight, and tucked her panpipes in her belt. The calf-length, flowy skirt of her vontromarine blue dress brushed against her legs pleasantly as she edged her way to the bar, providing both a pleasing sensation and a pleasing visual

“A glass o’ cow’s milk,” she shouted at Pagran over the general noise. A protesting look appeared on her face as she winced under the skeptical glances of those near her, and she could not help attempting to defend herself. “It soothes th’ weary voice.” The heads turned away, but they were no less cynical.

Sipping on the cool, creamy milk, Rhia watched Pagran swell up in indignation at the coarse man’s demand. “Sirrah, around here we ask, not demand. Why don't ye go find another tavern te drink in, one more te yer liking, how ‘bout.”

She could practically see the bristles rising on the other man as he growled an angry reply. “Do you know who I am?”

“Nay- and nor do I care.” Pagran pointedly turned to the next impatient customer.

From there it went downhill. The man with the braid announced to the innkeeper that he was a baron, hauling him up by his shirt in the process, to which Pagran could not seem to handle, promptly emptying his stomach in the baron’s face. Rhia watched in horror as a fight erupted before her eyes. It ended up with the baron being beaten to unconsciousness. He had put up a good fight, but Pagran and his men did, after all, outnumber him.

Most –if not all– of the customers in the common room hurriedly left after the fight. Pagran was left kneeling among the vomit, broken glass, and spilled food and drinks, greedily pawing through the man's belongings. Rhia could only stare outright at this, her mouth open in shock. They–they did not speak of this avarice in the ballads... The gruff innkeeper had his hands drag the unconscious man outside the inn, and then proceeded to have an argument with a pretty, dark-haired young woman, who she could only assume was a maid or worker of the inn.

"Where is our charge?" the young lady demanded.

Rhia could tell that Pagran wanted to roll his eyes, but he showed remarkable self-control –especially for someone like him– and only consented to her. "Quickly, show th' sisters where 'e is! 'N' do it in a hurry!"

After a little bit of waffling, the men obeyed, leading the poised young lady and a few others out the door. Rhia slowly turned her head to stare at Pagran. He seemed to be contemplating the mess that the brawl had made, though once he glanced at her, almost guiltily, but Rhia was not paying attention. And this is a reputable inn? When the innkeeper is this... this... How long did Oldana stay here? Or perhaps it was the inn itself that was supposed to be reputable, not the innkeeper. Rhia was not entirely sure. In any case, the thought that perhaps she should find a different place to work slid into her mind, lapping into her brain like the tide on a beach. Or were all inns and taverns like this? She could not remember– she had only been out on her own for so long. But once again the memory of the baron –Damien something or other, wasn't it?– crept back into her mind. Now she faced a decision– slink back into her room? Follow the others? Rhia pressed her eyes shut. After a few moments they slowly came open, revealing the stormy grey skies that were windows to the girl's mind. Well, I can always write a song about this, she thought making a mental excuse for hurrying out the door after the others. It will be good practice... Or something...

[Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin]

Altario smiled at Ana's generosity in adding the spicecakes.  She did, however, bring up some practical points to consider.  "Ana, I thank you for the spicecakes, but I'll pass on the wine.  If you know of anyone who is going there, I'd appreciate the guide.  If not, I'll just head south until I find it, or hit the sea."  Once he made the coast, finding Strata couldn't be that difficult.  Still, someone who knew the way would be much better.

He was then aware that the well dressed elfess was talking to him, her voice soft, almost like a whisper.  She was very shy, it would seem.  He looked at her more closely.  She didn't appear to be a threat, hearing Denrykmar's warning in his head.  "Apparently the city of Strata is the 'Beauty of the South'."

Why would she pick up on that, much less ask him?  It made him more curious than suspicious.  Before he could ask her why she asked, she was asking Ana for a donkey.  It seemed she was suddenly bound for Strata as well.  A little too convenient?  Or was he just getting spooked by Ryk?

No, he was being silly.  She was no threat.  Just another traveller.  In fact, it was her complete lack of outward appearance of danger that had Altario feeling somewhat sorry for her.  Someone like her would be a target for some of the less noble of people, some of which were in the room.  And that tiny dog-like thing at her feet would not protect her.  Back at Urimpaar, one of his Icemut hounds would eat that thing for a snack.  As would Garret's Shadowfoot.  The thing would be more trouble than help.

He suddenly found himself getting a bit angry at the elfess.  Why would someone so obviously ill prepared for the world be travelling by herself, let alone bring a useless animal?  He couldn't understand these southerners sometimes.  A Remusian woman would never be so foolish.  Nayriss would never have done that.  On the frozen wastes, you didn't get a second chance to make mistakes.  Foolishness got you killed.

"If you need company on the trip, you can come with us.  We leave at dawn.  If you are late, we leave without you."  Altario was as surprised as he knew Garret and Val would be at his magnanimous offer.  But, once uttered, it could no longer be taken back.  "See to it that you keep your animal out of my friend's wolf's mouth."  That, at least, made him smile.

[AnaMirl Goodwill]

"See to it that you keep your animal out of my friend's wolf's mouth."

Ana‘Mirl had to smile at Altario‘s warning. Though he was such a well-mannered person, sometimes the rough Northern circumstances everybody up there had to meet while growing up or living there shone through. Probably he asked himself, how such a delicate little person as the young elven lady who was sitting there could survive outside of her protected home. But she was here and quite alive, and her animal, what ever it was, as well. Lady Vallania was as delicate, or even more so, but nobody would ever suspect, that she was a fierce warrior. Maybe that lady here had some hidden, unexpected qualities as well. That she needed a means to get away from here came in handy - the first customer for her trip to Strata had signed up. But first she needed some assistance to understand, that there was no need to fear for her pet. So Ana‘Mirl scolded Altario with a laugh in her voice.

„Sir Altario, don‘t scare our young lady here, as if any of your friends would bring a beast in here which assaults  my pet-customers. No need to talk so roughly with her!“
 
The smile she gave Altario however belied her words. Then she addressed the young woman.

„Lady, don‘t be scared by his words, he only pretends to be so rough, in his heart he is a gentleman who fears he could bee seen as a weakling, if he is too friendly to foreigners.
What your travel to Strata concerns - no, we don‘t have riding beasts to sell or lend - most  of my customers have their own. But I will go to Strata tomorrow as well, so you can accompany me on my cart.  I will do my monthly shopping a bit ahead of schedule, for I don‘t want my noble friend here to loose the path and end up swimming to Strata, for the coastline is rocky at parts, no way to use it as a „guide“.“

 The imagination of Altario swimming to Strata made Ana‘Mirl giggle, but then she composed herself quickly, after all she was a reputable innkeeper.

„So, be prepared tomorrow at sunrise, I will be ready to take you all along. And now I have prepare some rolls and find that little brat which was sitting on the counter not long ago.“


„Lori, Lori, you ne'er-do-well, where are you? If you want to come with me to Strata tomorrow, you better get to bed soon!“


With a nod to her guests she left the main room and entered the kitchen.

[Lori Lo]

STRATA?

Lori‘s bad mood she had been in, because she had missed the opportunity to see and to feed a grass green frog lifted, as she heard that word. Strata was the town she had grown up and though she had had a bad time there as a little thief, not knowing where to take the next food or if the stomach stayed empty another time, it was nevertheless a place of great wonders, of things to see, to smell, to touch. A broad happy grin appeared on her face, and her eyes looked more  mischievous as they did anyway.

The short thought crossed her mind, that there was some work waiting for her in the kitchen -  to cut up some dried bread for tomorrow‘s ‚baked semm‘, but as this was something which she did not favour very much, she chose to postpone it for . That was a work which did not vanish anyway, when it was  not done, she could do it later as well.

But first she had to get out of her hiding place, the table which stood near the door to the kitchen and where the plates with the food were placed for Moira to take them to the customers. This place was a good one, for though she could only see the lower third of the tavern, it was an interesting outlook nevertheless. From there she had seen the small dog, that the thin elven Lady had with her, which was nearly as interesting as the frog. She was tempted to go over to it and try to caress it, but she was not ready to leave her hiding place. There she could also have a look at that huge grey longhaired dog with the dark paws which she had not seen before, ever. She pondered for a while, if that was a real animal at all, or not a kind of friendly demon - for who had ever heard of a dog of this size?

She sat there and  considered for a while, if it was safe to go over and have a closer look, even a touch, but though Lady Valannia was near, she was very uncertain. This beast was big! The question was settled, as soon as the animal looked into her direction and golden eyes assessed her. Lori‘s self got a bit smaller and she decided to grow first a bit taller until she would approach that white demon-animal.

And then she heard the word STRATA. From then on all things were settled.  She crawled out of her hiding place (but of course not before Ana‘Mirl was in the kitchen again), for there she could not bounce or hop around, which her body forced her to do, out of anticipation of the coming day. Standing in the middle of the room, her hands and arms crossed behind her neck, for this was her favourite ‚thinking posture‘, she went through all possibilities for now.

 The frog-person, should she go to her and tug at her shirt and ask, hidden from the kitchen by the counter, if she could have another grub (She even might find the old one in Altario‘s pocket), but no, she was now far too much excited to slip quietly to that frog-person. She had to TELL somebody that she was going to Strata tomorrow and how great this was. The Kassandra-person had been so nice, she would talk to her. So Lori hopped over to the bird person, who was sitting still at the one corner of the counter and simply interrupted any conversation the lady woman might have led by grabbing her arm and starting to tell her with sparkling eyes:

I‘ll go to Strata tomorrow, Ana‘Mirl says! That is just ... She lacks words how great it is for a moment. That is awfully great! Strata is such a great town, so full of things to see, to smell, to touch. The harbour is just overwhelmingly big, these really big ships are there..  She stretched her arms wide to show it to Lili how big these ships are, but continued quickly . The streets have trees in their middle with fruits on them and  - have you ever seen a Baveras‘ temple which was so...  exciting, the water comes up and floods the floor occasionally and then, in the middle of the town is that market, where you can find everything, clothes, jewel-things and booths with food you never can imagine!  If you are fast, you can get away with some delicious food without  ... I mean, ah well.  She stops talking suddenly, aware that she nearly had given away, that she once was stealing food. So, she just stood still for a moment and looked expectantly in Lili‘s face:

If you come with us tomorrow, I‘ll show you around.

[Damien Scar]

Alley behind Seashoal's Inn

Fortunately two of the six men had grabbed a lighted torch before they left the inn. Y'riss quickly followed and was assaulted by a strong warm ocean breeze that whipped through the streets and alleyways of the city, and caused her and her sister's robes to flap and wrap around their legs.

The torches light wavered as the men led the ladies around the inn to an alley. They half-ran up the alley, afraid of Pagran, and puzzled at the same time. Why would he want this man back? And why follow these girls orders? One whispered to the others,
"What are we doing? Why should we be ordered around by girls, like servants? We should be bedding these wenches instead we're taking them to that stinkin' drunk."

"Shhh Tryas," one of the other men said. "If she hears you she will tell Pagran and then we are out of a job. Just do as he said, help these ladies find this man and then we go have a drink ourselves."

Tryas grumbled, but agreed, however his eyes could not keep from sweeping over the girl's bodies as they tried to keep their robes in place and in the light of the torches the sight was even more inticing to him.

Y'riss, was the oldest of the sisters and was not amused when she saw one of the men looking at her and her sisters in a manner that was not kind. A gust of wind whipped through the alley sending the grils garments a fluttering, exposing parts of the girls skin that was not to be seen, Vyrie yelped in horror as she tried to cover herself, that yelp made the men turn and stare.

"What are you looking at?" Y'riss yelled. "Find our charge or else!" She ordered.

Tryas growled, "Girl, watch yer mouth. We do not take kindly to being ordered around."

Y'riss realized that perhaps she had overstepped her authority. She had been so concerned about the man she was taking care of, that she did not consider the situation she had put herself and her sisters in. They were in a dark alley with six fully grown men. "I...I apologize gentlemen, and to you sir, if I was a bit abrupt. It is just that I am deeply concerned that we find our charge and give him aid," she said gently, hoping to ease the situation.

"Tyras did'n mean no harm miss, 'e is a bit thirsty, as 'e all are. Right gents?" Another man said.

There was some grumbling but finally Tyras spoke up. "Yeah miss, I mean no harm," he turned to the other men, "lets find this fellow and get a drink."

The men agreed and continued up the alley. They did not go long when they saw a body trying to crawl itself up the alley and then it collapsed.

Y'riss had to keep from screaming, but a gasp escaped from her mouth as she rushed past the men and knelt down by Damien. His shirt was in tatters and bloody. She wanted to call his name but did not know what it was, except "Lost"

"Lost! Lost can you hear me?" She asked, gently shaking Damien.

Damien groaned.

Y'riss glanced back at the men. "Help me take him to his room, please?" She pleaded.

The men looked at each other puzzled. "Why do ye call him Lost?" one asked as they rushed forward.

"That is what he said his name was," Y'riss answered, as they gently picked Damien up, but Damien was a big man and it took all of them to carry him. Damien groaned each time one of the men would take an arm or a leg. He coughed and blood sprayed out.

"Lost? He told Pagran his name was Da...Damien and that he was a Baron from somewhere, miss."

"Really?" Y'riss asked, a bit astonished.

"Would not a litter be better than trying to carry him?" Salome asked, interrupting.

"Aye, miss it would, but we have none, so we have to carry him," a man answered, grunting under Damien's weight.

"Here let me take a torch, Vyrie take the other one and let us go," Y'riss ordered.

She turned and was surprised to see a very slender woman, with long hair, holding her dress, staring at them all, especially at Damien. For the first time in her life Y'riss felt a pang of jealousy. But why? Because this woman was staring at Damien. She was probably just wondering what was gong on? She had no interest in Damien, so then why did she feel jealous of this woman?

"What are you staring at?" Y'riss asked, a bit curtly; which surprised her and her sisters who glanced her way giving her strange looks.

[Lili the Elfcat]

Lili watched and listened in fascination as a lot of remarkable things were going on within a short space of time. The little girl, having joined the grim-faced stranger for hardly longer than a blink, ran off again. The stranger took her coat off, made a series of awkward movements with her arms, and produced a tiny green animal that seemed to live in the back of her shirt – in order to have a little conversation with it, apparently. In the front, this shirt had a rather conspicuous stain, which the stranger, having finished the dialogue with her companion, covered rather hastily. Interesting, interesting!

In a separate development, the golden-skinned elfess talked un-ladylike to her dog. It was hers then! Lili congratulated herself for guessing right. Next, the elfess got interested in a man who had struck up a conversation with a barkeeper. Don’t blame her, thought Lili. Fetching bloke, that. As the elfess spoke, she lost the light-hearted spring that had been in her voice while she had talked to Lili. Also, she flushed. Her favourite trick again! How does she manage to get such a murderously handsome red hue on her face as if on command? Buggered if I know!

And ... oho! It sounded like these two were going to travel to the “Beauty of the South” together, where Lili had just come from. (And of course, she’d heard of the Shendar’s proud epithet for their grand city.) Ooh, and I’m going north, and then I’ll miss my chance to ask this lady how she ... well, ... how she can be so damn lady-like! Lili felt a flash of disappointment. But once again, Kassandra came to the rescue, as she whispered into Lili's ear:

“Excuse me, sir?” It was said in the elfess’s voice. Of course! I must go with them! There will always be time to discover the Kuglimz lands later!

Lili was just pondering how she could best attach herself to this little party, when the little girl - the one who had brought the wine - came running from the-blood-bear-knows-where and grabbed Lili’s arm. What a delight this little rascal was! She was speaking excitedly, and she was providing Lili with the perfect excuse to join the party. It was this girl, then, whom the barmaid had meant when she had called for “Lori the never-do-well”. Well, this couldn’t have worked out better if someone had arranged it!

Lili bowed down to the girl, so that her face was almost at Lori’s level. ”Aaaah,” Lili said and frowned ostentatiously, as if she was thinking hard. ”Go to Strata, you say? Tomorrow? Hmmmmm. You see, Kassandra and I have a lot of important things to do. Very important things. Is that not true, Kassandra?”

Kassandra said nothing.

So Lili released her playful frown and smiled broadly. ”Oh, all right, so it’s not true. Of course we’ll come! I’m Lili, by the way! And you must be Lori.” Lili winked: "And it seems you know all about the wine here!”

… as well as the proper way to supply yourself with fruit, Lili added in her mind. The former bandit was not an educated woman, but she knew how tempting market stalls were for hungry little girls who have no money. She had been a hungry little girl with no money. Not very long ago. I'll have to tell Lori later to watch out what she says to strangers, Lili added inwardly. Aloud she said:

”Thank you, Lori! We’ve been to Strata, Kassandra and I – it’s where I bought this dress, in fact. But I’m sure you can show us something new. And if you’re not too scared, you can ride for a bit with us on our horse. Her name is Fiddlesticks! Now, do you think I should let your boss know that we’re coming? Onnamyull, did you say?”

"Ana'Mirl" said Kassandra, in Lori's voice.

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