Session 16: Kisha, Half-Orcs with Fabulous Hair, Shame, Sylvans, Yehlan, Teaching Birds How to Play Cards, People Who Do Not Listen to Good Advice, Jonothon and His Stupid Outfit, Drugs That Are Not Glow, Shadows, Dario, Grandfather, No Plans, Bad Plans

General Summary

Seems like most nights now I am heading to meditation all bruised up and bloody from whatever bad guy it is we have been fighting today. It is little bit like days at Academy, only I think maybe there is less danger here, even with all our many enemies and intrigues. Definitely, I am having more fun now. Academy was pretty much big drag – most everyone had no sense of humor, and exciting bits were entirely wrong kind of exciting.
I’m flat on my back in the center of the sparring grounds, dust and blood clogging my nostrils, making it difficult to breathe. One eye is swollen closed, my nose broken, my left shoulder dislocated, a rib or two cracked, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be peeing blood if I ever get up off the ground again, which seems debatable at the moment.
Kisha is pointing out all the mistakes I made, occasionally nudging me in the ribs with her foot for emphasis. It goes on for another ten minutes or so, but I’m just concentrating on breathing in and out, trying to ignore the intense pain each inhalation brings.
Finally, the lecture is over and I hear the other students talking as they start to leave. I steel myself, preparing to sit up. If I can just get myself to the infirmary, they’ll heal me up enough so I can drag myself back out here tomorrow. Full heals are reserved for the students who perform well. Or the ones who kiss enough ass.
I sense movement next to me and fight not to cringe. Opening my eyes a sliver, I see Kisha squatting down next to me, examining me with an air of clinical detachment.
“You’re not going to survive this. You know that, right?” she asks matter-of-factly. “A few more weeks, a month maybe, and we’ll be sending you back home in a box.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter. Not particularly clever, I know, but I think the witty repartee has been bled out of me.
She slaps me – more out of principle, than in anger. I should ignore it – the pain barely registers, and what’s one more minor insult at this point? But I realize that for once she’s right – I’m not going to make it. Doesn’t matter how pissed off I am. Doesn't matter how determined I am. This isn’t some kind of story in a book where the hero overcomes unbeatable odds. Nobody could survive four years of this. And if they’re going to kill me — if I’m gonna be forced to leave so much that needs doing, undone — well then, maybe the only real choice I have left, is… when?
I smile grimly, pain forgotten, and tighten my grip on the blade. Okay, then. Fuck it, I’m out. No more of this bullshit. I’m only going to get one shot at this. I’ve got to time it right. Wait till she leans in… Wait till she exposes… There! NOW!
With a final burst of strength, I heave my wrecked body off the ground, twisting to sink the blade deep into her belly. She screeches and falls to the ground beside me. Her hands clutch helplessly at the wound, and blood pumps out of her in beautiful red waves. I roll over, nearly on top of her, and rip the blade up through her gut. Her eyes, filled with pain and fury, meet mine. She tries to speak but all she can do is gasp. Blood bubbles on her lips.
“Didn’t telegraph that, did I?” I laugh. It hurts, oh fuck me, it hurts. But I keep right on laughing until someone finally comes and kicks me in the head.
Ah, happy memories.

********

Next morning, bruises are fading, cuts are healing, but sickness is here. I am sitting still with back against tree, where I have been keeping the watch. Others are waking and going about morning business. As soon as Grandfather’s eyes open, I see them dart around campsite until they find me. I give him little salute and he huffs out breath, relieved and annoyed, and starts long, difficult process of getting old ass up off ground.
Baermek is also doing usual morning routine, which I have already been telling you about, but now he has added to it something – searching me out to give me little pick-me-up. He walks over to where I am sitting and reaches out hand to help me up. I give him finger with one hand, but slide other into his. There is strength there when he pulls me up, but more important, there is relief. As he lets go of hand, I let myself fall forward into roll and up into handstand. I walk on hands across campsite to fire, do ten press ups, then over in controlled back spring. I settle down cross-legged and take mug of coffee Ingoria is holding out to me. She smiles, puts down her own cup, then proceeds to tie herself into fucking knot because she has no fucking spine.
Goddamnit, she can be annoying.
Skreek is watching both of us, beak open. I give him little wink and beak snaps shut. I would swear he is blushing, but I do not think birds can blush, and I do not know what could cause embarrassment in someone who is so into the public pooping.
Breaking camp is done with quickness and we are back on road. It is nice that we are out of what was jungle and are in more of forest now. We can see further, in case six-legged cats are sneaking up on us, and we are not having to fight to get through plants as much. Bugs are less trying to murder us, and it has been days since we have seen wisp, or other of undead nonsense, which is definite plus.
Baermek is now teaching us how to speak language of assholes, to pass time as we walk. When first we started, I made him teach us all of Sylvan swears he knows, which was fun, and has definite future usefulness, but now we are mostly just conjugating verbs – I sneer, you sneer, he/she/it sneers. I have never been what you might be calling good student, but you can tell from how good I am at speaking in Common that I have definite ear for languages, so it is coming very easy.
We are just conjugating verb “to oppress”, when Grandfather and Skreek both stop in middle of road, looking very intently at sky. Grandfather glances over at bird and jerks head forward. Skreek explodes into air flying fast and low after… something. Rest of us catch up with Grandfather who has stayed staring forward.
“An owl. In trees up ahead. Took off as soon as it saw us.” Before he has even finished with words, Ingoria has disappeared into trees. Baermek hides himself behind some bushes by side of road and I climb up to where tree branch hangs out over road. Grandfather does not hide though. He finds rock at side of road and sits down, opening pack and taking out little snack. He is probably going to die, but at least he won’t be peckish when he does.
Maybe it is ten minutes later or so when group of people come around bend in road. In front is big guy on horse. Behind him is three smaller peoples on ponies. As they approach we can see big guy is half-orc with light green skin and most fabulous long golden hair I have ever seen. Truly, it is being magnificent. He is also in full plate armor that is almost as shiny as smile that he is cheerfully assaulting us with. On asshole scale of one to ten, this guy is looking like maybe 15.
There is with him grumpy looking gnome who is pretty much covered in pockets – there are pockets on his vest and all down his pants, and I am guessing he probably has pockets on his underwear. Also he is wearing goggles, but they are not so stylish as is mine. On his shoulder is owl, which I can see now, is not same owl as was spying on us at Thanedell.
Then there are two halfings, one who is in leathers and stares off into distance. Other one wears long black coat and funny round hat. He is carrying cane and has big, friendly grin. I would not trust this guy even little bit, but I would totally go drinking with him. Also, he is seriously rocking this outfit. It is probably good thing for him he is so short, or I would be trying to figure out how to keep Skreek from putting holes in clothes before I can steal them.
They stop a little ways up road from us, fanning out. Big guy calls out, “Ho there! This gonna be a problem?”
Grandfather takes bite of apple. “Why should there be problem?”
Half orc waves hand roughly in direction of rest of us. “Maybe because your companions have all hidden themselves. Not looking to ambush us, are you?”
Grandfather continues chewing bite of apple but turns hands up like what-can-you-do? “They are only being cautious. We ran into bit of problem on road yesterday, and we do not wish to be surprised again.”
Half-orc nods. “We’re just passing through, friend. No need for trouble.”
“Fair enough,” says Grandfather, “But tell me friend, before you pass through, have you seen our bird companion?”
Big guy grins. “Your friend landed somewhere behind us. I’m sure he’s still stalking us.” He looks over his shoulder, then back to Grandfather. “It’s curious, that you’re traveling with one of the feathered folk. They usually keep to themselves.”
“He was forced on us by circumstance,” Grandfather sighs, then replaces food into bag, wiping crumbs from his hands.
Baermek has stepped out from behind bushes and asks, “What can you tell us about the road ahead?”
Half orc turns and glances back down road, “Well you’ve got maybe another half day before this meets up with the main road leading into Yehlan. From there it’s an easy two or three days into the city.” Turning back, he pauses for moment, considering us. “I should probably warn you, though…we’ve been seeing regular Sylvans patrols on the road.”
“What do we care about Sylvans?” asks Grandfather with dismissive wave of hand.
Guy with hat says, “Don’t take this the wrong way old timer, but you might want to conceal the, uh, evidence, before you run into those patrols.” He nods head down toward Grandfathers side, where flintlock is.
Grandfather raises eyebrows, both of them, which is how you know he is surprised. ”This is known?”
“To Sylvans,” replies hat dude. “You know how to use it?”
“It is simple,” Grandfather shrugs, both eyebrows back down where they belong, in semi-scowl. He turns away from halfling, not saying more.
“What can you tell us about Yehlan?” Baermek asks half-orc.
“Well, it’s a very old city, very old. And big! Before the Sylvans showed up, it was mainly Dwarves. Now the Sylvans occupy the city center. They’ve got a large garrison camped out in one of the city parks, too. The dwarves aren’t too happy about the situation, as you can imagine. They’ve been causing some trouble lately, so things are a bit tense there.”
I am still sitting in tree above them, but I call down, “Do you know where in city we could go to make some money? We need to find job.”
Blondie turns to look up at me, chuckling. “There’s plenty of work to be had, but the Sylvans don’t care much for adventurers and sellswords and the like, so there’s no hall, not any more. You’re gonna want to talk to the guilds, maybe ask around in taverns. ...”
“But,” says hat guy, looking specifically at Ingoria, who has dropped down out of tree where she was hidden. “If you’re going to be conducting business, you’ll need to clear it with the Midnight Watch first.”
She smiles big toothy smile at him, “Midnight Watch. Got it.”
Ah, tithes. There is always someone who is looking for cut. I am not sure how I feel about being one who pays – this is not usually my end of deal. But I am knowing very well what happens to people who refuse.
There was once beautiful girl who went to theater…
“You guys coming from the Cauldron?” Half-orc interrupts train of thought, which is probably for best – that story does not end well. “What kind of trouble did you run in to?”
“Keep walking for little bit, and you will see,” I call down, because I am so helpful.
“Something I thought only existed in legend,” says Baermek, because he is actually helpful. “An oni and its companion, a displacer beast.”
“Damn,” says gnome. “You took them out? That’s no mean feat! Those things are dangerous!”
“Indeed, they are,” says Grandfather, smiling, but meaning is clear. Don’t come at us, Blondie.
We make chit-chat little while longer, and they they go their way and we go ours. We are keeping guard up very high, though, and move little bit faster than we have been, trying to put distance between us and them. I am sure we could take them out if they jumped us, but it would be nice if, for change of pace, we can just have dinner, get some rest, and not have to wash blood out of hair again.

********

Threat level is very high as we approach Sylvan town, so decision is made that we will be doing double watches for time being. I am not so happy about this, but it is not being something I can really argue with either. Ingoria sits up with Grandfather for first watch. Then Bird and I have second watch.
For first hour, we say nothing. He is perched up in tree where he can see far away, and I am sitting on small rock at edge of camp, staff out and ready across my lap. But it has been long time since Baermek gave me spell, and I am feeling bad again. It is harder and harder for me to keep still. Finally, I am having to go be sick behind tree, where hopefully Bird cannot see me. When I return, he is staring at me. I wipe mouth with back of hand, sit down slowly on rock, and stare back.
It takes him long while to work up courage to ask me whatever it is he is wanting so bad to ask.
“So. Um. The glow. It, like, feels good?”
This question, it is not what I expected. I stare at him for moment, trying to figure out how it is I can make answer he will understand. I look up at stars shining through trees, and take slow, deep breath. Sometimes, with all of sky above me, there is not enough air now. And then I know what to say. "You want to know what Glow is like, Skreek?"
“I mean. I guess. Yeah.” Probably, he was thinking I would not answer. But why should I not answer? Has anyone been asking me about how time with Aleorman has been affecting me? No. I am only secrets to uncover, or problems to fix. He has asked me honest question, I will give him honest answer.
“What if, your whole life, you did not know how to fly? This would be sad, right?” He nods, very serious. “But, you would not be knowing it was sad, because never once did your feet leave from ground.” Another nod. “And then, one day, someone teaches you how to fly.” He makes little gasp and eyes are big now.
“Glow is like flying, Skreek.” I say with sad smile. “It is freedom most people do not know they are missing.”
“Ah,” he blinks couple of times. “I totally get that. And that’s why you want it so much. But it sure seems to make people…”
“Crazy? Would not you be feeling crazy if tomorrow you could not fly? Would Baermek’s spell be able to make you forget your wings?”
“No fucking way!” He has left treetop where he was keeping watch and fluttered down close to where I am sitting. “I…” he looks around, then whispers. “I kinda want to try.”
Oh, fuck me. I have made him understand TOO much. I shake head, “But you can already fly, my friend.” He looks disappointed, so I change subject. “Tell me, Skreek, your life on Bird Island? was it happy one?”
“Yeah. Very.”
I nod. Lucky fucking bastard. "I thought this is true. You are happy to be going home?"
“Very. I miss my people. My family.” He looks little bit embarrassed. “I’m not really a prince.”
"You are not?” I say with smile. “But you have such princely bearing!"
He is even more embarrassed now, and we are both not talking for moment. Then thought comes to him, and he says in not-very-quiet whisper, “I saw you fly! It was epic!”
Fly? What… oh, blue guy. “Yes, that was good fight.” I grin, but I can tell it is weak one. “It is too bad I only borrowed wings for moment.” I stretch legs out in front of me and study him. “Tell me more about your home, Skreek. I am feeling very much like shit right now, and it will be good distraction.”
He looks away from me. “In my home, we soar all the time.” His eyes close, and feathers on his wings ruffle briefly like he is preparing to fly. But then thought occurs to him. He looks back at me with worried expression. “As I am always stared at here; you will be stared at there. There are no outsiders. None.”
Well, doesn’t that sound fucking delightful? ”How are you standing it? Being stared at, all time like that? I do not think I can deal well with the being stared at. I have worked very hard, for many years now, to not be seen.”
“I think I deal with the staring because at home I am… I am a noble. People don’t stare, directly… But I know they see me. I know they watch me. So here, it’s just…” he spreads out hands and shakes head with the disbelief. “...out in the open. Here I can do anything! There is no decorum. There are no expectations. I can be whatever I want to be!” He leans toward me and says in hushed voice, “And that is almost never what they think I am.”
Ah, would you look at this thing? Prince of Air is knowing something that is true. “No, they always think they are knowing who you are.” I smile to myself. “And they are always wrong.”
“Very much so.” A new thought occurs to him, and he frowns, “Sylvans really don’t like me.”
I make little laugh. “Sylvans, they are not liking anyone. But, your people… they do seem to have made them even extra pissed off.”
“I hate them!” Words explode out of his mouth and it is little bit surprising. There is venom in his voice I have not been hearing before. We are all knowing how much Skreek hates Sylvans – pooping kinda is big hint. But what I hear in his voice now, it is something more than that. It is darkness inside that I am understanding very well. It starts off such little thing, this darkness, but it grows and grows, if it is fed. “I have never felt this way about anything before. I hate them.” He hisses.
Then he looks down and away, and, like that, darkness is hidden away again, and he is just scared little bird. “My mother, she is not like this. I need to hide these feelings from her.”
I am tired of scared little bird. I want darkness back. “This is funny. I am hating most people. And mostly they are deserving it. Sylvans are definitely deserving it.” I look him in his eyes. “Do you think your mother will not be hating them when she learns what you have learned?”
He looks shocked. “My mother, she is so wise, so patient, so understanding. I do not think she will react the way I have reacted.” His eyes narrow, “But she has not seen what I have seen, heard what I have heard, felt what I have felt.”
“What Sylvans did to your people, it is fucked up Skreek.” I shake my head. “It is seriously fucked up. You should be hating them.” I fling hand out in general direction of Bird Island. “Your mother, she should be hating them too. Listen to me. I have known very many bad people, Skreek, but nobody who has managed to fuck up whole race of people like this.”
And then… and then he says, “Yes, but…without them, we would not be.”
Oh my god, asshole is sad when he says this. I want to hit him with fucking stick so fucking hard.
“Skreek!” I keep voice down even though I am wanting to shout. “My father was terrible fucking person. He beat Mama. He beat Istovir and me.” His eyes open up wide with shock. “Without him I would not be, but believe me, all I feel is sadness that I was not one who killed him.” I grab him by arm and look right in his stupid bird face. “You owe Sylvans nothing.”
He sighs heavily. “I know. When I killed Aleorman,” I can feel my eye twitch at sound of name. “I felt so good. It was a good fight and he was a bad person. But when he turned into a Sylvan. I felt…” he searches for right word. “...elation.” And there it is again, little bit of shame, smothering what should be joy.
"Yes,” I am trying to keep voice even. “He was very bad person. I know Grandfather gave you much shit for killing him, but I will not. I am thanking you for what you did, Skreek. It was not being your fight, but you made it your fight.” I let go of arm I was holding and give it awkward pat. “So do not punish self for enjoying doing what needed to be done.”
Maybe there is sound behind me. I look back over shoulder at campfire where is forms of sleeping companions. Are Grandfather’s eyes open, there where he is meditating? No, no, it was nothing.
“And do not still be thinking you want to try the Glow, Skreek.” I lean in. “This elation you are feeling at killing your enemy? Maybe it is freedom you did not know you were missing.” He is looking at me intently. “Others, they are telling me that Glow will be bad for me, that I must not try to have it, even though it is first time in life that I have felt free.” He nods hesitantly. “And we are all telling you, you should not to be killing every Sylvan you can see. That it is dangerous. But maybe…” Now I am almost whispering in his ear. “Maybe, we are also being wrong…”
He looks down at me and I can see firelight reflected in shiny bird eyes. “Do you want glow right now?” he asks me.
I look up at him. “Do you want to be killing Sylvans?”
“Indeed!” he says, with no doubt at all.
“Indeed,” I say with smile.

********

Next day is uneventful except for little run-in with Sylvan patrol. Thanks to Blondie and friends we have warning. Baermek has hidden sylvan chain under shirt, and Grandfather has stowed away flintlock in satchel (although he is grumbling whole time). We have noticed that other travelers are doing best to avoid being near Skreek as we pass. Now, company of Sylvans ride up from behind us, stopping as soon as they see him.
“Where are you heading?” one of them demands to Skreek, but bird stares straight ahead and does not respond. I can see his hand twitch though. Sylvans notice, too.
“Is there problem?” Grandfather steps slightly between them.
“Not yet,” soldier replies cooly. “I ask again. Where are you headed?”
“Yehlan,” answers Grandfather, then nods head toward Skreek. “What is your interest in dumb bird?”
“His kind have been raiding our fishing vessels,” replies guard.
“Well, I can assure you that our friend here has not been in area for long time. We have been traveling together for many months. He is not part of your problem.” Grandfather lets eyes run across entire patrol. “Now, is there issue with us continuing on to Yehlan?”
Officer falls back and has brief talk with Sylvan in charge. There is little bit of back and forth, then first guy gives head angry jerk in direction of road. “Go on, then,” he says. “But you watch yourself, Bird.”
“I bid you good day then,” Grandfather says, before Skreek can open beak. Then he adds, with little bit of smile, “And you have our gratitude for working so diligently to keep roads safe.”
Ha! Sylvan cannot seem to be thinking of anything to say back that will not make him look like even bigger loser. He gives Grandfather dirty look, then patrol turns, and without another word, continues down road to annoy other people.
And my heart, it is filled with pride of being Belov. Perhaps you are not knowing this, but our family motto, given to us by High Emperor of Drow, many generations ago, in honor of our long and loyal service is My Nichto, My Ne Sarkastichny, which of course is meaning We Are Nothing, Be We Not Sarcastic.

********

Yehlan is monstrous thing.
I had reputation at Academy as country bumpkin, as stupid girl who grew up on surface and never before had seen anything as spectacular as Novo. It was constant wonder to me when I was there, that there could be people living so close to me that I would never know, whole streets, whole neighborhoods even, which were strangers to me. I was being overwhelmed at times, but not knowing city was one of easier weaknesses to hide at Academy. I cannot hide amazement now. I am country bumpkin all over again.
Road has been passing through farmland for while now, not too different from area where I grew up. But slowly houses creep closer and closer together, until we come up over hill and now city is spilled out over all land from here to ocean.
Novo is nothing, nothing compared to Yehlan. I ask Baermek for word which will describe city and he says it is immense, it is gargantuan. But really word I am thinking for Yehlan – it is hungry. As I stare down at city, it looks to me like giant devouring mouth, eating up bay. Once it was smaller beast – you can see by tall stone wall that surrounds inner areas of city. But it has eaten, and eaten, and eaten, until it burst out of own skin, like snake, and started consuming country around it in big, greedy bites. Sylvans may be sharp teeth that threaten us, but I can tell, city has always been hungry.
I look at Grandfather, and for first time in long while, I am not so certain that Belovs are match for whole world. I think maybe Yehlan could swallow us up without even noticing. It is not such good feeling. I do not want to go down there.
I need to find some fucking svetit’sya. No, it does not matter that Baermek gave me spell only few hours ago, I need it now. Hands are shaking, because fear makes hands shake just as much as withdrawal does. And his spell, it does nothing to control fear.
“We should not all of us go into city at first. Especially not Bird.” says Grandfather, his voice cutting through panicked feelings, at least little bit. “And Ingoria, you too, are very noticeable. I will stay with you both. Baermek, you and Granddaughter should go get us rooms. Once you do, we can make bird invisible and smuggle him in. He can stay in room until it is time for us to leave for island.”
This plan makes sense to everyone, except to me, because I do not want to go. But I cannot say this to anyone, so it is short time later that Baermek and I make way into town.
Things are actually little bit better when we get down into Yehlan itself. Streets, buildings, people – these are not too different from what it is I am used to – it is scale that is too much to accept. We decide to avoid city center where is so many Sylvans. Instead we will stay in poorer areas outside of wall, near fishing docks. Hopefully we can hitch ride out to island on trawler.
About half mile or so in, we find inn called The Practiced Lyre, run by dwarf named Olden. It is nothing special, but maybe little bit nicer than surrounding area, which is made up of tight, twisty streets, crowded on both sides by two or three-storied buildings. These are mostly made of wood and plaster, not stone like I could see in city center. People around here do not look like they have much gold, and whole area has feeling of being temporary, thrown together as needed, with no real plan.
I sit at table at inn, and make it through two pints in time it takes Baermek to have conversation with Olden. I am just starting on third, but he makes me leave right now so we can go get rest of group, and pint stays on table unfinished. Asshole. I ask him as we are walking back to others what it is he was talking to dwarf about for so long, but he tells me just to wait and he will tell rest of group at same time. I think maybe he does not care for length or volume at which I protested leaving pint.
Group is waiting where we left them. Skreek and Ingoria are back to Eternal Fish Debate and Grandfather is just finishing taking apart Boris to put in satchel. Baermek tells us he has arranged for us to have two rooms at inn for couple of nights. One has a window, so hopefully we can get Skreek in that way.
Olden thinks getting to Bird Island will be very difficult for us. Fishermen probably won’t take us. They are ones who are seeing most of difficulty with Birds, because they have been pushing further and further into areas which are supposed to be Bird Territory. It seems they are looking for more profitable harvests than just seafood – things like oysters and pearls.
There is one Sylvan, called Mr. Triskian, who is mostly responsible for this, and he is found at mercantile docks in city center. He probably has boats that can get us close, but I do not think any of us are liking idea of making deal with Sylvan. There are maybe rich speculators who we could talk to, but they would want cut from expedition. This leaves smugglers, who are expensive, but usually it is simple, one-time transaction. We can be making negotiation with them through Midnight Watch, which operates out of tavern called The Gilded Dragon. It is located inside gate, in city center.
It is easy decision for us, who will go make negotiation. Grandfather, because he has many years of experience with smugglers, and looks much more impressive in appearance than he is really being. Ingoria, because she is sneaky asshole and they will probably be best friends, like, right away. And me, because all negotiations should have cranky teenager with big stick to make sure they go smoothly.
As we are walking toward gate to City Center, many more people are noticing Cat, since Bird is not around to be big distraction. We pass by beggar who is sitting with back to wall, dirty rags wrapped around eyes, holding out tin cup with few coins in it. “I don’t see many of your kind around these parts,” he calls out to her in raspy voice. “If you throw a blind beggar a coin, and he catches it in his cup, the fates will smile on you.” She shrugs, then digs out silver piece and flips it at him. He whips cup out to catch it and smiles. “Looks like it’s your lucky night,” he says.
Who knew fate was so cheap to buy?
But I guess it worked because we pass through city gate with nothing more than long looks from Sylvan guards. City Center is clean and neat, streets are wider and paved with stone, just like buildings are made of. This is originally home of dwarves and it is very obvious, despite efforts Sylvans have made to to make it look like they built it. They really are fucking assholes.
There is large city park just inside gate and it is mostly filled with with busy outdoor market, selling foods and many other things. Night is warm, but not crazy hot like it is usually being, so all of shops are still open and there are many, MANY people out and about. It is… a lot, and I am thinking very hard about svetit’sya again. It is long time until morning.
Gilded Dragon is much fancier place than is Practiced Lyre. Outside is decorated with, you guessed, dragons. There is even great big one up on top of building. Some people might say it was bit much, but these people are not me. I think every building should be covered in dragons. It is underused architectural element. Ingoria says there is writing in thieves’ language outside that says “Neutral Territory! Don’t Fuck with Us!” so I guess this is right place, even if dragons did not give it away.
Inside is rowdy. It is almost impossible to hear Ingoria over noise of crowd and group of musicians playing loud drinking song, but I manage to get basic idea when she nods toward booth in back and mouths word “business.” I lead way over to table, and we slide into booth. It is little bit quieter over here away from musicians, and server shows up after few minutes to take our order and feel us out. Grandfather is apparently in no mood for being subtle because he orders pint and tells her we’re here for business.
It is not too long before gnome comes over and joins us at table. He does not introduce himself, but gets right to deal. We tell him we are looking for transport to Bird Island. We are open to working for passage, but charter is also possible. He tells us it is difficult to arrange but he will see what he can do. We are to return in evening of day after tomorrow. That is long fucking time to be stuck in shithole city. I am not happy about this.
We do not stay long after. Again, I am not allowed to finish my fucking pint. This is such bullshit. We head back toward Practiced Lyre and as we pass through gates, Ingoria tells us in very quiet voice that she thinks she sees something up on roofs. By time I turn around to ask her about it, she is gone, up and up to top. Well, ok then. Hope she has not just gone to untimely death.
Grandfather and I lean against wall, not even trying to pretend we are just innocent peoples out for evening walk. Nobody approaches us, and it is not long before Ingoria returns and says that she is sure there is someone up there. When she goes back up though, she has lost track of them. I do not think any of us are in much doubt that it is thieves’ guild that is keeping eye on us. Is pretty standard procedure, really.
When we get back to tavern we tell everyone what is said at Dragon place and we agree that is best bet to just keep low profile until then. Baermek tells us that his mistress (you know, ring lady) has informed him that Anlyr and Shadow Knights are here in city. Which, I mean, where else would they have gone when they left ruins? Probably we should avoid them very strongly, but I have to admit I’d like to exchange words with fucking mage. We could use another skull for collection.

********

“No, no, Skreek! This is not right. Suit is blades. You can not follow with arrows!” Thought occurs to me that Go Fish might have been better choice, on so many levels.
“Arrows are always better than blades!” He throws cards down on table. “This game has too many rules anyway.”
I pick up his hand and look at cards. Huh. Good thing I was not having money on game. Quickly, I snatch up my cards and shuffle both hands into deck. "Ok, Skreek, you do not want to play cards? What then should we be doing? We already have gone through Grandfather's stuff."
It is funny thing. I was not expecting to find anything that was interesting in satchel – it was mostly just way to keep Bird from telling me more stories about time he shot small thing from very far away. I knew good stuff would be in secret compartments, and I cannot be getting into those, not without somehow getting ring off Grandfather’s finger, which probably involves getting finger off of Grandfather. I am sneaky, but this would be hard to pull off without him noticing.
When I felt smoothness of glass, I first had thought that it was svetit’sya, that somehow little bit had been missed. This is stupid thinking, I know, but what is it Mama always said? Hope springs eternal. I almost could not hide excitement I was feeling – relief and happiness, and right away I was calculating how far I could stretch tiny amount that was in one vial. But then I was thinking, maybe it is something else, something not so good.
I cannot tell you how it ended up being in open pocket of satchel – there is no way Grandfather would leave it there, where anyone with quick hands could be finding it. All I can think is, it must have slipped into wrong place when he was putting it away. Skreek was watching me root around in bag, so I could not check too closely, but I am being pretty sure there was only one. Other four must be in hidden compartment, where they are belonging.
Only as last resort, I tell myself, for like fifteenth time. I pat pocket where now is resting small vial. It is filled with formula we got from Black Hands. You remember – one that was distilled from brains of addicts, made to replace the svetit’sya? Fucking nasty shit. Only as last resort. Only as last resort. Only as last resort.
“I am so bored,” Skreek whines, and I look up at him, startled out of thoughts. “I have been stuck in this room all day. It seems like a week.” He stretches his wings out, nearly knocking over chair on to Baermek, where hobgoblin is sleeping.
I jump up and catch chair, lowering it quietly back down to ground. “Yes, keeping watch is very very boring. Why do you think I am complaining so much that always Grandfather and I have to be doing it every night? You should be happy you at least have company.”
I sit back down, leaning way back in chair, and look around room for new thing to distract Birdling. "Do you think Ingoria would eat us if we were going though her stuff. What do you think she has in bag?" I am willing to risk being eaten at this point.
“I guess I should be grateful you guys keep watch over us at night. This suuuuucks.” He stares at Cat’s bag. “She probably has mice in there.”
"Mice?” I snort. “Well, there are worse things she could be eating." I put chair legs down, lean in very close, and whisper, "I do not know what to be thinking about her eating Sylvan guy back at Thanedell. Have you seen thing like that before?"
“Never!” He says in loud voice. Everyone in room shifts, and Grandfather mutters from where he is meditating, “Granddaughter, if you do not keep bird shut up, I will kill you both in morning.”
Skreek looks sheepish, and whispers, “Never ever. I actually thought it was cool. Really cool!” He puts up hands in front of him. “I would never do that!” Hands slowly sink down. “But I kinda wanted to.”
Let me be understanding. He wanted to eat Sylvan? What kind of people is it that Grandfather and I are traveling with? Damn it, we are just very ordinary criminals, trying to make little bit of money and not get selves killed. We are not eating anybody!
I reach out and give him little shove. "Sure, and you also wanted to be trying Glow, dummy!” You would not think it would be possible for person to pout when lips are beak, but you would be surprised. “Maybe, Skreek, maybe you have problems with bad impulses. At Academy they taught us many things, like patience and discipline. Maybe this is something you should be working on."
I do not get impression he appreciates advice from learned elder. He changes subject to one I would rather not be discussing right now. “This is a really big city; do you think they’ll have glow here?” He stares at me intently, waiting to see how I respond.
I have been asking myself this maybe million times since we have arrived, but I pretend it is of only passing interest. “I do not think so. It is more common in Underdark, and even there, it is almost run out.”
“So what will you do?” he leans in closer.
“Do? What is it you think I should be doing? I will sit here in little, stuffy room and try to teach you how to play cards.” I pick up deck, deal out new hands, and try not to think of vial in pocket.
“You’re teaching me how to lose at cards!” he mumbles, and there is pout again, but he squares himself to table and pick up cards.
“And hey! you are natural!” I give him wink.
I am trying to study hand, but I can feel him staring at me. Resting cards against my chest, I meet his eyes. Right away he starts in again on Glow. “I don’t know what you should do,” he says, with much earnestness. “I want to fly so bad sometimes I can’t stop myself. And if glow makes you feel like flying…”
I snort. “It is simple matter for you to fly -- you just spread wings and go.” I make hand of cards fly toward ceiling. “It is tiny bit harder to fly when you have to buy new wings each time, and no one is selling.” I discard two – 7 of hands, face up, lieutenant's gamble.
“But you must do something. Right? Once you have flown, you cannot walk!” Still, he is not looking at his hand. I point at cards and raise eyebrows. Frowning he studies them, finally selecting one.
“It is seeming to me that you do great deal of walking these days.” I say as he lays it face down. He looks up at me, and I smile.
“Yes, and I hate it.” he scowls. “I hate walking, I hate hiding, I hate being stuck in this room.” Voice turns mournful. “But when I fly, Sylvan arrows find me.”
I draw. Three of arrows. Appropriate.
“It is really true that you did not know about Sylvans and their ...uh…” I pause, trying to think of what tactful person would say. “ ...history with your people?” I play 12 of circles, face down, Popov’s Charge.
He is quiet for long time. “…yes,” he finally says, and I am surprised. Always he is clamming up when asked about his home. “My mother, I think… maybe had an idea. So sent me. But none of us knew…” He wrinkles up forehead. “None of us really knew.”
“Why you?” I am studying cards, but am more interested in answer. “Why did she send you? What were you supposed to do?”
“My older brother, he is a leader. Me?” he shrugs. “I’m a fighter. I can shoot.”
Brother? Brother?!
Ok, so it is true I took expected courses in seduction, interrogation, and information extraction at Academy, just like everybody else. But it is also being true that I sucked at them very, very much, and was strongly encouraged by administration to follow more the physical track. Maybe I am improving.
(Wait! Do not be mistaken! I am meaning extraction in this case. Extraction, not seduction. NOT SEDUCTION.)
I do not mention brother. I do not want to be spooking him by paying maybe too much attention on personal details. “Yes, for all of your many faults, you do shoot absolute shit out of things. This is true. But what exactly was it that she needed such excellent shot for?”
“She asked me to find out what the Sylvans are up to. She fears for the safety of our land.” He tosses cards back on table, and looks across room at window. “And she was right.”
How is it that they knew Sylvans were danger to them if they are being so isolated? “Have they already made it to your island, then?”
He shakes head. “Not before I left.”
I give up. Discard everything, all face down, Nausea’s Victory. You could set watch by symptoms at this point. Still, it is being hours before Baermek’s spell. I am nowhere near desperate enough for last resort, but maybe, I am thinking, maybe I could find something out there, in city, that would make things little bit easier.
As soon as I think that, I am breaking out in sweat. Maybe it is idea of leaving room and heading into Yehlan by myself, or maybe it is just more symptoms.
I try to distract self by thinking more on dangers of Bird Island. There are just too many of variables that are unknown. “I do not think we have much idea what it is Sylvans are after,” I say, shaking head. “I mean, we are knowing of many fucked up things that they have done, but we are not knowing why, or what is their plans for future.”
He turns back to look at me. “Yes. True. We know they’re looking for artifacts. We don’t know why. But we do know they’re headed for my home.” He looks worried.
People, especially Grandfather, are usually thinking I am big hot head, that I do not think things through before I am doing them. This is not true. I am loud, yes, and maybe I tend to think violence is answer to most problems, but I am not usually running off without thinking first, even if it is only thinking about how to kill target. That is lesson I learned very hard way. So, it is making me nervous that we are running into situation with Sylvans, where we do not have any idea what we are facing.
“So, we rush back to warn Mama?” I ask. “Maybe we help fight off expedition? Is this plan?”
“I like that plan well enough,” he shrugs.
I rub my temple. “And when they are dead, Skreek? Maybe Sylvans send bigger force, better armed force. And maybe then they aren't just interested in ruins and artifacts anymore. Maybe then they want to find just who it was that killed their people. What will be plan then?”
He narrows eyes at me, “Or maybe they stay away. Maybe they learn from that. But either way, they do not get what they are after!”
“Maybe,” I shrug, pursing lips. “Maybe one little setback, and they will forget island of bird people. I mean, after you are shooting bunch of them, they surely have lost interest in you…”
His eyes flick side to side as he tries to think this through. “Yes. Fair. But when they come for me, they never return! If we kick them out, then my people can be more prepared when they come back.” He tries to sound certain, but there is much doubting in his voice.
I am quiet for minute, considering. “Ok, we do not know what situation will be when we get there. And we do not know what exactly is thing they are after.” I drum fingers on table, as I think. “Maybe we can stop them from finding it, whatever it is, without direct confrontation. Then they go away disappointed, and do not have reason to further interfere with island.” He is already having big frown on face at my words. I hold up my finger and shake head no to his objections. “I mean, I love killing Sylvans. Maybe not as much as you and Cat, but it is definitely good time. Do not get me wrong. Still, I was taught that direct path is rarely best way to approach sensitive situation like this.”
He is having none of reasonable discussion. He crosses arms in front of chest. “Also, we could kill them all.”
“Entire Sylvan Empire? Well, that should keep us busy,” I sneer, standing up from table. Vial or city? Vial or city?
City.
I wave hand at him as I turn toward exit. “I am not feeling well. I need to..."
“I hope you’re ok,” he calls out softly, as I open door.
I say nothing. I am tired of stupid stubbornness, and I am tired of feeling like shit. I step through door, and let it close behind me with quiet click.

********

I am in strange city, I am alone, and I am looking for drugs.
This was brilliant idea, Belov, sneaking out when I am supposed to be on watch. Sure, Skreek is still there to keep eye on things, but it will be bad if shit hits fans while I am gone. Fuck it though, I feel sorry for anyone who wants to mess with assholes, even if I am not there to protect them.
First stop is beggar we saw earlier. I get feeling he was more than just random guy on sidewalk. In Novo, we do not have beggars’ guild because everything is too tight in grasp of Unseen. But there is one in Freehold, and I know that they keep maybe even better eye on what goes on in city than does thieves’ guild. Asking beggar is only one step removed from asking totally random person, I know, but what else am I going to do? I am new to being junkie.
It is unfortunate that half-assed plan turns out to be no-assed plan. Beggar is no longer at same street corner. Shit. Plan B sucks. Now it is time to find seediest, dirtiest tavern in area and pass around some coin until someone points me in right direction.
Place I find is called The Flowing Flagon and it is unbelievable shithole. I mean, so, so bad. There is hardly anyone inside, even though it is prime time for getting shit-faced. Floor is so sticky it makes actual sound with each step I take. And smell is… smell is… words, they are failing me.
Barkeep is rough looking dwarf. Dwarves are usually bit of rough looking, sure, but this guy looks like he strangles puppies for fun. He does not even look up at me when I slide coins across bar and ask him where it is I can get hookup – just nods his head to particularly dark corner of bar where sits, oh god, this guy.
Ok, first of all he is elf, and when I say elf, I do not mean proper underdark elf which is politely called drow. No I am talking about people who have stick up butts only slightly shorter than Sylvan sticks. I am talking about wood elves. Wood elves are fucking bitches of overland, but somehow think they are better than drow, which is fucking hysterical. Wood elves are crap, they just are. Ask anyone. If I had to choose between having drink with wood elf or Sylvan, I would grab Grandfather’s gun and shoot them both in head.
So he is elf. And he is dressed in stupid, stupid clothes. He looks like fucking asshole. He is wearing elegant suit in expensive looking fabric. He has a long thin sword that looks like maybe it is prize given for poetry reciting contest. There is even some kind of fluffy fabric piece of nonsense that is tied around his neck. They are like clothes of clown. Everything he wears screams “I do not belong here.” I cannot believe he is trusting nice suit to benches that are covered in nasty goop. If someone else has not beaten and robbed him within next hour, I am going to do so, as service to community. He is joke.
He looks up at me as I approach, and smiles.

********

It is I don’t know, hour later? And me and best friend Jonathon, are downing shots of cheapest, nastiest rotgut I have ever tasted, and still it is better than mushroom beer.
“C’mon Jonathon,” I say, and maybe I am slurring littlest bit. “Svetit’sya. Glow. C’mon. You must have some. For old friend.”
“Alyona, you adorable little thing, I do not. I have told you now a dozen times, in the smallest words I know — I do not deal in that Underdark shite.” He talks so funny. It sounds like each word hurts his mouth when he says it, and maybe also someone is pinching his nose shut whole time he talks.
“It is not shite!” I say, slamming hand down on table. “It is very good drug. Grey Ghost makes it and he is very, very good at making drugs. It is BEST drug.”
“Be that as it may, dearest, I do not have any in inventory. I cannot help you with that.” He cocks head to side, and diamond earring catches in light. Oh my God, he is wearing great big diamond fucking earring out in open where anyone can just rip it out of his ear in like half second.
Should I… No. Drugs first.
“But I think I may have something you will enjoy. It’s called Fairy Ring, and it will open for you, a doorway to somewhere truly magical.” He gives me little wink.
From pocket inside suit coat, he pulls out clean white handkerchief, and opens it up. Inside is little pile of old, shriveled up mushrooms.
Because, of course.

********

I stagger out of bar after trading Jonothon some coin for mushroom, which he so helpfully has crumbled up and wrapped in thin paper for me to smoke. It is very late and streets are mostly empty now. I know I should be paying more attention to what is around me, but I am drunk and dopesick at same time, which is terrible fucking combination. I just want to get closer to inn, then I can smoke stupid mushroom and maybe I will feel little bit better.
It is probably miracle that nobody jumps me during walk back, or maybe, it is that I look like I will kick your ass while at same time vomiting on your shoes. There are dead bodies in alleyways that are dressed better than I am now. I make vow that tomorrow I will buy new clothes, better clothes.
When I get close to inn, I find what is hopefully private alley to duck into. I make my way deep into shadows, where I can not be seen by someone on street. With much reluctance, I light up and it is worse even than I expected. It tastes like clump of dirt that sick troglodyte has pissed on, and smoke makes me cough and cough. Bitterly determined, I smoke it down until flame singes fingers.
Exhausted, I let myself lean against alley wall, and look out into street which is not what you would be calling well-lit, but not so dark as alley. Voice yells out in anger and is answered by more angry words. Two people run by, one chasing other, and I hope they catch up and beat shit out of each other.
There is movement out of corner of eye. Something is crawling toward my feet. I jump back startled and look all around, but I do not see what it was. Shuddering, I start to make way out of alley, leaning heavily against filthy brick wall as I go. I am almost at entrance when I sense movement again, behind me. I turn around to look and…
Light from street has mostly lit up mouth of alley. I can see busted up crates, and pile of old cloth, and broken bottles. Further back though, it is shadows. And shadows, they are… moving.
Slithering and crawling, they are coming up alleyway into light, where they should not be. They move not like shadows will move when you carry lantern with you through dark room, or when you watch early morning sunlight spread across campsite. They move like they have purpose, like they have thought. They swirl and dance around each other, merging into larger shadows, then separating again into thin, dark strands.
I think for moment of shadows that are in engineering school, but these are nothing like that. Those shadows were each just single mass, and aggression was obvious. These shadows are sneaky. I do not know what it is they are doing, why they are approaching me. It does not seem like attack. What else could it be? What could shadows wants?
I turn to run, but shadows on street, they are moving now too. Swirling and dancing, some parts spinning in slow hypnotic arcs, others whipping back and forth like tail of angry beast. I run to where is single streetlight, and climb few feet up pole, like shadows are floodwaters I am trying to escape. They follow me, pooling around base of lamppost where they should not be, swirling, swirling, swirling.
And, like that, they race up pole, drowning me and light, both.

********

Skreek and I return to inn at almost same time. He is just closing window behind him as I stagger into room. I am freaking out too much to ask him where he was.
“Alyona,” he hisses. “You were followed!”
I turn to him and I can feel that my eyes are so, so wide. How does he know? Could he see shadows too? “Yes, yes…shadows! Shadows are… they’re…”
“It was a Sylvan. I am sure of it! C’mon!” he grabs me by arm and yanks. “You and me, before he can report back. We can take him!”
I pull arm from his hand and stumble over to where lantern sits on table. I trip over Grandfather on way.
“What da fuck?!” he growls, sitting up and trying to grab me as I pass. I manage to avoid him and slam into table. With hands that are shaking badly, I light lantern. Shadows retreat to corners of room.
“What are you doing, Alyona? The Sylvan!” Skreek is in my face again. I push him away, grab lantern from table and stagger over to corner of room where I sink down to floor, back to wall, lantern held in front of me.
All of this has woken others, and there is much complaining and carrying on, but I need answers. I pull out sending stone and whisper into it. “GG. GG. Tell me about shadows. Shadows are following me. They are trying to tell me something. GG. Why do they whisper? GG, I…” There is small, I don’t know, maybe click you can feel in your head when you have reached end of message you can send.
It takes him moment to reply. He was asleep. “Alyona? Are you ok? Shadows? What kind of shadows?” His voice clears up a bit, like he is shaking off sleepiness. “Like the Horrors? What happened? What do you mean they were talking to you? Did they…”
“No, no they weren’t like Horrors at all, they were…” but of course sending stone only works once a day. I will have to wait before I can get answers.
Grandfather has crossed room to where I am sitting. “Granddaughter, what has happened?” he grabs my chin and looks into my eyes. “Blyad!” he says with disgust. “Pupils are like fucking dinner plates. Goddammit child, what have you done?” He tosses my chin roughly aside and stands back up, turning to rest of room.
“Stupid girl, she has gotten into something bad. Do not listen to what it is she is saying. Baermek’s spell will help this.” But it is too early for Baermek to recast spell, so they leave me alone in corner. Baermek fetches lantern from other room, and they sit around table, talking.
“Where did you two go, Skreek?” Grandfather demands. “What did she take?”
“Me?” Skreek squawks. “I didn’t go anywhere! I have been here the whole time watching out the window!”
“No, he hasn’t,” says Ingoria. Voice is bored as she idly shuffles deck of cards we left on table earlier. “I saw him come in the window, same time as Alyona got here.”
“I was… looking out the window… and I saw Alyona returning from…uh… wherever she was going and, and, and… there was someone following her!” Skreek may be worst liar ever. Ever. I lay down on floor, still with back to corner, body curled around lantern. So dizzy. Eyes are having trouble focusing.
“Who, Skreek?” Baermek demands. “Who was following her?”
“I think it was a Sylvan. Up on the roof, following behind her. Watching.”
“On roof?” Grandfather looks over at Ingoria.
“On it!” she chirps, rushing over to window. She throws it open, jumps up to catch top sill, pulls herself up, and disappears.
We are all waiting for her to return. Nobody is talking. I think maybe I drift off for bit. Everything feels like dream but, thankfully, shadows all stay where they are put.
Maybe ten minutes later, door to room opens. Ingoria walks in with ordinary looking human, dressed in shorts and loose-fitting sleeveless shirt. He has arm around her shoulders and is busy explaining something to her with great earnestness.
“Everyone,” Ingoria says. “This is Dario. He’s from the Midnight Watch.”
Room is completely silent for moment, then Dario makes sheepish wave and mutters, “Pleased ta meetcha.”
Baermek is first to recover from surprise. He waves them both in. “Nice to meet you too, Dario. Happy to see your organization has taken such an interest in us. You haven’t seen anyone else about, have you?”
“Well, there was one of them, uh, bird guys…” voice trails off when Skreek ruffles feathers at him. “Ummmm…”
“Listen, Dario. I can assure you we have no ulterior motives in your city. We are simply looking to make a business arrangement,” Baermek says in calm voice. “That’s all we want. We’re just a bit paranoid, I’m afraid.”
“What are you guys, then? Some kind of mercs the Old Guard brought in?”
“Old Guard?” Grandfather asks.
“Yeah, the Old Guard, the, uh… you know, the dwarves who’re working to toss out the Sylvans?”
“Ah,” Baermek says. “The Old Guard. No, we have not offered our services to them at this time.” He lifts eyebrow. “But if we were to want to reach out to them?”
Dario laughs like hobgoblin has made great joke, but Baermek does not laugh. “Oh. You’re serious, mate? You don’t know?” Nobody responds to him, “Well, interesting choice of lodgings, that’s all I’m gonna say.”
“I see,” says Baermek, but I don’t. I am blinded by rainbows that are coming out of lantern into my eyes.
“Is Old Guard working with Night Watch?” Grandfather asks.
“You kidding, Grandpa? The Watch only has one side in any conflict, and that’s the side that’s offering the gold.” He is studying Skreek who is trying to avoid making eye contact. “You fellows came from the Cauldron, right? Are there many birds there? Cuz he sure looks like one of them Island Birds. Same coloring and everything.
“Don’t mind our bird companion,” Baermek tells him. “As I mentioned previously, we’re just passing through, and looking for assistance with securing transportation. So, why is the Midnight Watch so interested in our party?”
Dario nods his head at Grandfather, “Well, Grandpa here was a bit…direct, wasn’t he? Just strolled right in to our place of business, made himself right at home, and declared that he was looking to make a deal. Not exactly subtle, was he? Not exactly low-profile?”
“That’s it?” asks Baermek. “You just wanted to keep an eye on us because we were too direct?”
“Look at it from our perspective. Ya got a bunch of well-armed assholes, begging your pardon, Ingoria,” he gives embarrassed smile to Cat. “…who come strolling into town, set up shop at rebel headquarters, and immediately seek out the Watch. Folks are gonna get to wondering, ain’t they?”
“Of course, of course. Completely understandable,” Baermek agrees. “Ingoria, would you mind…?”
“Ya sure?” she asks. He nods.
She shrugs, and Dario staggers for moment, before looking around him wildly. “What the fuck?!” he shouts.
“Dario, Dario,” Baermek tries to catch his eye. “We’re all friends here. All friends. We just wanted to talk to you, understand the Watch’s position. We have no problem with you or your organization.”
Dario is looking around him, taking us all in like it is first time again. Face he makes at Ingoria is like he has smelled something bad. At this point, my head is down on floor and I am watching sideways through fog, so please do not give me too much shit if I am not saying everything right. I do not like this Fairy Ring at all. It is nothing like svetit’sya and I am going to kill Jonothan as soon as I can peel myself off of floor. Still, colors are real pretty, and I like how Ingoria has nine tails now.
“You fuckers don’t know what you’re…” he pauses, and even in drug fog I know it would be stupid for him to tell superiors he got whammy put on him by cat chick. “I mean…”
“There is no need for this to be an issue, my young friend. You were just checking up on us, making sure we weren’t a problem. And we wanted similar reassurances. Everyone is happy, now. We’re all on the same page.”
“Right…” he thinks on it for second, “Right. I’ll just be going now.” He backs up slowly, gives one more look at Cat that is not least bit friendly, then scoots out door.

********

Next morning, Baernek’s spell is welcome; I will not be being coy about it. I almost want to kiss his fuzzy face when he gives me pat. Between withdrawal, hangover, and whatever was fucking Fairy Ring, I woke up feeling like death on toast. Now I feel almost normal.
Right away, I announce I am going to go out and do some shopping and mostly they are all ignoring me, except for Grandfather. “No. You will not be leaving my sight, Granddaughter,” he says in Elven. “You have shown you have no sense of self preservation, let alone responsibility. I can’t believe you…”
I hold up hand to stop his words. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed Grandfather, but you're not my parent, or my superior. In fact, you have absolutely no say over my actions, whatsoever. So you can just go ahead and get fucked.”
I am pretty sure he is going to shoot me, he is that mad. He blinks, then his eyes get all squinty. “You are the most…”
“Where ya going Al?” Ingoria interrupts. Grandfather sputters into silence.
“I need new clothes,” I turn toward her, ignoring old man completely.
She wrinkles nose. “Oh my God, yes you do.”
“You want to come?” I surprise myself with question, but really it is maybe best I do not go out alone. And right now, Cat is one who has annoyed me least of all of them.
Ingoria is not seeming surprised though. “Sure! Can we get some ice cream?” she asks, already gearing up to leave. Grandfather opens mouth to say something.
“Ice cream?” I say loudly, with much enthusiasm, which is funny because I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Yes, ice cream is sounding amazing! Let us go!”
I grab pack and stick, and we stroll out of door, leaving Grandfather, and his annoying fucking judgment, behind.

********

Clothes shopping takes big chunk of day and, by time I am done, Yehlan and I have made some little bit of peace. Yes, it is is big and hungry and terrible. But also there is ice cream (which, have you tried?! Holy shit!) and I was able to find cool long black coat and round hat just like halfling we met on road. And there was shop in city center, where I found excellent earring that lets me change hair color! I can change it every day! Woman who worked there was complete bitch, but when Ingoria and I both gave her best smiles, she took my coin fast enough. Hair is purple today. You are liking?
When we return to room, Olden is there with rest of group. Apparently, he has job for us. Sylvans have captured some of his friends in resistance, and they are needing little rescue operation. We are to hit prison caravan which is taking them to mines and bring them back home. Prison caravan to mines? Ah, it is giving me little sentimental feels. Pay is shit, only 500 gp, but we are skint, and 500gp plus opportunity to fuck with Sylvans is acceptable deal right now.
I notice during discussion that Skreek slips little note to Olden, who reads it. Before he leaves, Olden makes request to talk alone to Bird, who accepts. When they are done talking, I am immediately telling whole group about note, because I am tired of being only one who got in trouble for last night’s bullshit.
Skreek is very much not wanting to tell us what it is all about, but we do not really give him any choice. Story comes out and it is, well, it is not too surprising, really.
When Skreek first left Bird Island and came here to Yehlan, he met Sylvan guy. Sylvan guy was very friendly. He got Skreek drunk, then took off with some locket or something that is apparently of great value to Bird. I am pretty sure Baermek can tell us one hundred stories that are all called Tale of Naive Young Person Who Goes to Big City and Gets Taken For All They Are Worth. And now Skreek is saying he will not go back to Bird Island without locket, because he will be in big trouble with Mama Bird if she sees he has lost it.
Olden was able to tell him name of person who stole his locket and it is same guy who is responsible for fishermen moving into Bird waters and making trouble, Dareth Triskian. Bird is very upset about all this and in moment of group insanity, we tell him we will help him get his jewelry back. But if we are going to do little bit of second story work like this, then we had better be clearing it with Midnight Watch.
Back to Dragon building, and this time we talk to different guy. Human strolls up to “business” booth and flops down, kicking his feet up on table.
We are planning on hitting manor of Mr. Triskian, we say. We need to retrieve something he has stolen from us.
“You speak of the fisherman?” asks human guy.
“Well, he’s fisherman,” I reply. “I do not know if he is particular fisherman, but probably?”
He stands up from table immediately. “Midnight watch will have nothing to do with this. You’re on your own,” he says before striding away.
Well that is… something. Before it was favor for friend, now I admit, I am somewhat looking forward to little job.
So now we have to rescue dwarf political prisoners, and break into house of hoity-toity sylvan fisherman guy. But we cannot be losing track of main goal which is to sail away to island full of skreeks (this is terrifying image. Best not to be thinking of it really).
At appointed time, we show back up – again – at Dragon place and meet with gnome from first visit. He tells us to call him Umbrey, and that he has found sucker who will take us to island. It is not cheap, 500 gp, and that is only for one way ticket. We cannot even decide if we should engage boat for both ways. We are hoping there is porter in ruins, since we have found them in all other ruins we have seen so far. But if we are guessing wrong then we must live forever with birds, and only hope is that we die young.
Anyhow, it is Captain Swales, who goes by very, very reassuring name of “The Weasel,” who we are to meet down at Pier 9 to make further arrangements. Progress, I guess.
After much discussion that is very tedious, we have decided to help dwarves first. Then, night before we are scheduled to sail away to birdie paradise, we will hit mansion of fisherman guy. This way, if everything goes to shit, which it almost certainly will be doing, we have escape route.
We spend some time casing mansion and it is looking like good challenge. So far we have no real idea how we are going to infiltrate. I would suggest it is just Ingoria and me that do job, because we are only ones who are fucking qualified, if we are being super honest, but I doubt Skreek will be going for that. And once we are being three of us, we are definitely going to be caught. So we might as well have rest of team there to help us fight our way out.

********

Ok, this is bullshit. Over there, at that table, is sitting Grandfather, Baermek and Ingoria. Over here, at this table, is Skreek and me, because they are still fucking pissed off at us for last night and do not want to be eating with us. Of course, it looks like they are maybe talking about retirement savings or maybe horrors of arthritis (except Ingoria, who should be at this table with us really). Maybe it is really little service they are doing us, and not punishment at all. Still, it feels much like bullshit.
But hey, there is cute girl at bar. I am about ready to go ask her opinion on color purple, when Skreek clears his throat, and starts making little speech. I settle back into chair, but am trying to keep one eye on hottie.
“Alyona, you are very wise.” Ok, I cannot help it. I turn back to look at him, and both eyebrows go way, way up. This is not word that is said about me too often. “You look so young, but still you're wise. I should listen to you. Among my people you would already be an elder. And that...that is what angers me. To have been designed to...engineered to be...I don't...it makes me so angry, even talking about it. I…”
He trails off, looking lost, and also so very young. He actually is making me feel like elder. Truly, I cannot be imagining what it would be like to find out things he has lately been discovering. He is four years old, I think to self. When I was four, I did not have so much to be angry about as he does. Even I had more of childhood than him.
“Skreek, I am not so very wise.” This is being major fucking understatement. “For drow, I am little more than child. Only real difference is, I have spent years now in places where I could not be trusting anyone.” Also understatement. “You have only started learning lessons about world outside your little island, and it is painful, ugly thing to see how nasty it can be. So, it is not surprising me how very angry you are. Not even little bit surprising.”
“But my anger. It’s so…there’s more. It’s so deep. I don’t even have a word.”
“There is word,” I say. “In Elven, it is nenavist. It means, I think, “hatred,” but it is, I don't know...” I wave hands, looking for way to describe. “Darker, maybe. Hungrier. It is like hatred that you are feeling with every single breath.” I consider him for moment, “You remember long time ago, in cave where frogs tried to eat you, there was woman who attacked us?”
“Yes. Fucking frogs,” he says with disgust. “Every time I fly, it’s like the gods are watching me, and doing things to keep me from flying again!”
I chuckle, but really it is not too funny. “I do not think, if there are gods, that they are wanting us to fly, Skreek. They cannot be letting us have this kind of happiness, can they?” He has turned to look out across tavern again. I reach out and pull on his shoulder, turning him, so he is looking me in face. “Listen to me though…”
“Yes,” he says, leaning in.
I tap table between us. “So I ask you. Why? Why is this locket so important?"
“My mother gave it to me,” he says, and voice is very, very small. Why would Mama Bird send little chick out into world like this? Alone and unprepared? I am seriously doubting she is so wise and wonderful as Skreek thinks she is. It is probably same lie all children must tell themselves – that parents are strong, and wise, and want to protect you. That they know what they are doing, that they will make best decisions. I wonder how much longer he will be believing this lie, and who will be left bleeding on ground, when he learns truth.
“Then we will get it back for you, and what you are doing with this Mr. Triskian after that is up to you.” I tilt head to side, and ask, “But Skreek, is not threat to your island being more important?
“Mr. Triskian, he goes to his gods. Being Sylvan has nothing to do with it. That’s just algae on the clam.” He waves hand dismissively. “The threat to my home is, yes, more important. But I must get my locket. Then return.”
That was not explanation. I fix him with stare. "Why?"
“… I can’t… It isn’t…The locket it has… Significance. Like your ring.”
Fuck, Is it wrong that I am really wanting to be one to get hands on locket first? What is so fucking important that he would be making so much of fuss? I doubt it is having value to someone who is not being covered in the feathers, but still…
“You need to choose better what is important to you, Skreek. I am not understanding how punishing one petty thief is more important than stopping Sylvans who are maybe, even now, threatening your home!" I am losing patience.
“Yes. Yes, I want to punish one, specific thief. Who happens to be Sylvan. But also, yes. All of them.” He snatches up nearly full tankard and drains it, with much defiance.
I give up. I may be so very “wise” but that does not mean he will be listening to me. What business is it of mine if all of Birds are slaughtered by Sylvan assholes while he dicks around with jewelry?
“We will help you kill thief then, and get locket back.” I shrug. “But this is little thing. It is just personal, little issue.” I wait until he lowers cup so I can look him in eyes. “You need to think bigger, Skreek. Bigger. If you want to go after Sylvans, it is time for you to make plan. Stop fucking around with petty thieves and pooping on corpses, who do not even care what is happening, because they are fucking dead already. If killing Sylvans is what you want to do, then you must figure out how you can really do some damage.”
He glances over at other table, and I study him for moment. “You’re really fucking good at it, you know?” He turns back to me, raising eyebrows. “The killing, Skreek, The killing. You and that bow of yours. Teachers at Academy would love you.”
He smiles sheepishly. “You’ll have to tell me about this Academy someday.”
“Yes, maybe someday I will be doing that.” I say with smile.
I will never fucking do that.

Report Date

27 Aug 2022