Dirken kept eating. Sure, the situation was tense, but getting hungry later wouldn't help. He mentally ran through various plans as he did so.
There was a tablecloth. Good. Under the table out of sight of the men following them, and trusting that his companions would have the good sense not to stare, Dirken unsheathed his knife. It was a fighting knife, well-maintained, with mysterious-looking runic patterns etched along the blade. He unscrewed the handle. Then he took the lid off his hip flask.
It only took about half a minute to carefully fill the reservouir in the handle from his flask and screw it back into place. He gave it a couple of shakes to ensure that the poison was running properly, not caring about the miniscule droplets that littered the floor, and sheathed it. While he worked, Dirken kept tabs on the conversation, but didn't speak; once he had satisfied himself that the knife was in working order, however, he leaned asked Iarei, "Is your apprentice a good actor, by any chance?" From what he'd seen, the boy obviously wasn't, but there was always the possibility that that was an act.
In for a Bishan
Re: In for a Bishan
The elf's question startled Jester, so much that she had to put down her fork to think about it properly. Injury, her? She was fine, now that she had some food in her belly, what on earth was he talking -
Oh, right. The fall. She'd completely forgotten about it - and the aches that clamored for notice now that she was paying attention. Breakfast was suddenly not as appetizing, now that her head throbbed dully with every bite. She had eaten enough, anyway; not just her share, but probably some of someone else's eggs, and certainly more than her fair portion of potatoes. Oh well, the elf probably had the chivalry in him - though he didn't look it, that was for sure - to give up part of his breakfast for a starving woman. He seemed to care enough about her well-being, at least.
Now that she remembered it, she'd be wise to make sure her leg wasn't festering from a sliver of wood hidden inside the wound. Jester'd watched an animal tamer go that way once, the leg rotting from the inside as he'd slowly gone insane from the pain and infection. She would rather drown in sewage than die like that. Didn't much fancy amputation either; who'd ever heard of a one-legged acrobat?
A quick peek under the table cloth revealed scabbed-over scrapes and a boot half-ruined by blood. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of washing out those stains, focused enough on the no-doubt hours of future scrubbing to almost miss the slight movements across the table. That no-good 'freelance problem solver' was doing something sneaky in the shadows of the table, shaking out a knife that sprayed... drops of water? No... something darker - it couldn't be... poison, could it?
Jester wanted to drop the cloth like it was poison itself, but she bent further over her leg and tried to control her racing pulse, her thoughts frantic. Was this why the other two wanted to leave quickly? Had they seen what she could not? Was this man not only disrespectful toward professionals, but a cold-blooded killer as well? Were they the 'problem' he needed to solve?
She couldn't let him know she knew. She was a professional, after all. Even - no, especially in times like these.
Jester straightened with a smile, radiating slightly strained but believable relief from her flushed face. "I'm fine, good sir," dammit, what was his name again? "certainly up to a walk anywhere Miss Iarei should choose to lead us. Falls like that don't hurt us performers as much as normal folk, she could tell you, I'm sure, haha. As soon we're finished with this meal, perhaps to the more comfortable accommodations-?"
All she could do was trust in Iarei's judgment and the elf's possible usefulness. She only hoped they wouldn't disappoint her.
Oh, right. The fall. She'd completely forgotten about it - and the aches that clamored for notice now that she was paying attention. Breakfast was suddenly not as appetizing, now that her head throbbed dully with every bite. She had eaten enough, anyway; not just her share, but probably some of someone else's eggs, and certainly more than her fair portion of potatoes. Oh well, the elf probably had the chivalry in him - though he didn't look it, that was for sure - to give up part of his breakfast for a starving woman. He seemed to care enough about her well-being, at least.
Now that she remembered it, she'd be wise to make sure her leg wasn't festering from a sliver of wood hidden inside the wound. Jester'd watched an animal tamer go that way once, the leg rotting from the inside as he'd slowly gone insane from the pain and infection. She would rather drown in sewage than die like that. Didn't much fancy amputation either; who'd ever heard of a one-legged acrobat?
A quick peek under the table cloth revealed scabbed-over scrapes and a boot half-ruined by blood. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of washing out those stains, focused enough on the no-doubt hours of future scrubbing to almost miss the slight movements across the table. That no-good 'freelance problem solver' was doing something sneaky in the shadows of the table, shaking out a knife that sprayed... drops of water? No... something darker - it couldn't be... poison, could it?
Jester wanted to drop the cloth like it was poison itself, but she bent further over her leg and tried to control her racing pulse, her thoughts frantic. Was this why the other two wanted to leave quickly? Had they seen what she could not? Was this man not only disrespectful toward professionals, but a cold-blooded killer as well? Were they the 'problem' he needed to solve?
She couldn't let him know she knew. She was a professional, after all. Even - no, especially in times like these.
Jester straightened with a smile, radiating slightly strained but believable relief from her flushed face. "I'm fine, good sir," dammit, what was his name again? "certainly up to a walk anywhere Miss Iarei should choose to lead us. Falls like that don't hurt us performers as much as normal folk, she could tell you, I'm sure, haha. As soon we're finished with this meal, perhaps to the more comfortable accommodations-?"
All she could do was trust in Iarei's judgment and the elf's possible usefulness. She only hoped they wouldn't disappoint her.
Re: In for a Bishan
Iarei was momentarily distracted by Dirken's furtive movements. What was he doing?! She wanted to scream at him in her rising need to control the situation down to the minute facial tics of this . . .crew. Her crew. They would become her crew if this did not stop soon, and she chewed on the idea of abandoning them to their individual fates. They'd seen her face. Shit. Should she move on? There were more cities east of Marn, though that put her pretty far out of the way of Eyropa. Marn was an individual greatly suited to her needs; being almost Eyropan in nature without the strangeness that might come with a more eastern or southern set of customs.
She was getting ahead of herself.
"Err, a few streets away. It is a little. . .disturbed at the moment. There was an accident, shall we say, quite mysterious in origin but it seems the Marn guards have it under control." Probably. Let those thugs suck on the mention of guards and wet themselves thinking about tangling the wrong way. They couldn't prove anything of Iarei's group. Probably. "As a matter of fact, the boy was not there at the time, seems he found himself some playmates elsewhere. He is . . .disappointing in certain respects. Particularly that of following instructions, though he can make a fair stage-hand should acrobatics or theatrics be called for, I wouldn't place him in any great role. Nor am I confident in putting him on a stool with any instrument. His touch is far too rough yet."
She glared at him, with one hand under the table and squirming a little as he ate messily with the other. She slapped the back of his head and he coughed and sputtered and let out a string of words that sounded faintly like invective, so she slapped him again. He coughed harder, and his face went bright red. He was probably quite murderous at that time, but she couldn't tell since his eyes were watering something fierce and he didn't seem able to focus enough on her to give her yet another murderous glare. She was doing all the glaring that was needed anyways. And all the while, Aniseed's voice had lifted to carry the drooping conversation.
She dropped her own hand to find his, and the object he was fiddling with. There was a small shock much like static electricity, and she barely covered a flinch by scooting her chair back and leaning back. She squeezed his wrist until the boy let go of his prize, and she promptly put it in with the other one all the while smiling attentively at Aniseed.
"Yes, they should be more comfortable despite the, ah, accident." She was insincerely reassuring. "The guards being so near by shall be even more insurance against any more issues against the patrons, wherever they might arise." She casually swept her gaze over the tavern and noticed one of the burly men had up and left somewhere. One of the two remaining was tossing coin on the table and leaving and the other --
The other was staring straight at her, not into her eyes but lower, and propriety was one thing but that was not cause for the thrill of alarm that went through Iarei as she realized her hand had burrowed into the coin pouch with the two miniatures. She pulled it out and folded her hands on the table, dropping a few coins. The man's eyes seemed to warp just slightly, and Iarei promptly looked at her crew. "Well then, seems breakfast is done let's go." The words came out faster than she intended, and she jerked boy up by one arm -- done coughing and fighting for just one last bite poor snotty growing child -- and was marching out the door with a cheery call of farewell to the wench. "Just a few streets that way, mind."
And as she waited outside for the others to catch up she scanned for the brutes, and found nothing but a few strolling passersby and a few scattered knots of people casually chatting. Nothing that screamed a tail, certainly, but the actions of the one in the inn had caught her in a way she hadn't felt since Eyropa, and she knew there was danger. She couldn't quite escape the feeling that the man's eyes followed and pinned her through the wood, and it was with supreme effort that she did not touch the purse. Shit. They were going to need to move it fast.
She was getting ahead of herself.
"Err, a few streets away. It is a little. . .disturbed at the moment. There was an accident, shall we say, quite mysterious in origin but it seems the Marn guards have it under control." Probably. Let those thugs suck on the mention of guards and wet themselves thinking about tangling the wrong way. They couldn't prove anything of Iarei's group. Probably. "As a matter of fact, the boy was not there at the time, seems he found himself some playmates elsewhere. He is . . .disappointing in certain respects. Particularly that of following instructions, though he can make a fair stage-hand should acrobatics or theatrics be called for, I wouldn't place him in any great role. Nor am I confident in putting him on a stool with any instrument. His touch is far too rough yet."
She glared at him, with one hand under the table and squirming a little as he ate messily with the other. She slapped the back of his head and he coughed and sputtered and let out a string of words that sounded faintly like invective, so she slapped him again. He coughed harder, and his face went bright red. He was probably quite murderous at that time, but she couldn't tell since his eyes were watering something fierce and he didn't seem able to focus enough on her to give her yet another murderous glare. She was doing all the glaring that was needed anyways. And all the while, Aniseed's voice had lifted to carry the drooping conversation.
She dropped her own hand to find his, and the object he was fiddling with. There was a small shock much like static electricity, and she barely covered a flinch by scooting her chair back and leaning back. She squeezed his wrist until the boy let go of his prize, and she promptly put it in with the other one all the while smiling attentively at Aniseed.
"Yes, they should be more comfortable despite the, ah, accident." She was insincerely reassuring. "The guards being so near by shall be even more insurance against any more issues against the patrons, wherever they might arise." She casually swept her gaze over the tavern and noticed one of the burly men had up and left somewhere. One of the two remaining was tossing coin on the table and leaving and the other --
The other was staring straight at her, not into her eyes but lower, and propriety was one thing but that was not cause for the thrill of alarm that went through Iarei as she realized her hand had burrowed into the coin pouch with the two miniatures. She pulled it out and folded her hands on the table, dropping a few coins. The man's eyes seemed to warp just slightly, and Iarei promptly looked at her crew. "Well then, seems breakfast is done let's go." The words came out faster than she intended, and she jerked boy up by one arm -- done coughing and fighting for just one last bite poor snotty growing child -- and was marching out the door with a cheery call of farewell to the wench. "Just a few streets that way, mind."
And as she waited outside for the others to catch up she scanned for the brutes, and found nothing but a few strolling passersby and a few scattered knots of people casually chatting. Nothing that screamed a tail, certainly, but the actions of the one in the inn had caught her in a way she hadn't felt since Eyropa, and she knew there was danger. She couldn't quite escape the feeling that the man's eyes followed and pinned her through the wood, and it was with supreme effort that she did not touch the purse. Shit. They were going to need to move it fast.
Re: In for a Bishan
Dirken walked beside Iarei, close enough to dash forward if needed but lagging a half-step back to let her lead the way. He didn't speak. Nor did he touch the knife in his belt; he could feel the blade encased in its leather sheath brushing against his leg and knew that it was within easy reach.
An injured young woman, a boy, a female bard abd some random man... not good. He couldn't possibly protect them all; if they were attacked, either the bard and the man were going to have to show some decent fighting skills or it was going to be flight time. Dirk wasn't much of a fighter and he wasn't getting himself killed for a bunch of thieves he didn't know.
An injured young woman, a boy, a female bard abd some random man... not good. He couldn't possibly protect them all; if they were attacked, either the bard and the man were going to have to show some decent fighting skills or it was going to be flight time. Dirk wasn't much of a fighter and he wasn't getting himself killed for a bunch of thieves he didn't know.
Re: In for a Bishan
Erryl listened with growing impatience to the conversation between the others, far more interested in where they were going next, what exactly they were going to do, and how much trouble he was in. He had successfully avoided confrontation, at least for the time being. Hopefully he would get out of this in one piece, and before too late. He certainly didn’t want his brother to find out; he’d likely be banned from leaving the house entirely, if that were to happen.
Disrupting his contemplation, Iarei announced their immediate departure, dragging her boy apprentice behind her out the door. Dirk, or whatever his name was, followed her quickly. As Erryl stood to join them, he glanced over at Jester, wondering whether she really would be fine to walk on that leg.
He was about to ask her once more, perhaps offer some assistance, when he suddenly remembered the men who’d been chasing him. He hadn’t noticed when they’d followed them in and sat down nearby, too busy trying to put the thoughts out of his mind, and the last time Erryl had seen them at all had been when they’d all met in the street, after that spectacular fall.
Having no idea where the men had gone to, terrified and not wanting to be left behind, he forgot about Jester and quickly caught up to the others who were, fortunately, waiting just outside, and hadn’t abandoned him to the mercy of ruthless predators, as he had feared they would. He was definitely more alert now, even if his head still ached and he was exhausted from earlier and all he wanted to do was go home and sleep and forget all of this. Then again, maybe things aren’t so bad. Maybe I’m overreacting...
He moved closer to the others, anxious to arrive at this other, supposedly more secure establishment.
Disrupting his contemplation, Iarei announced their immediate departure, dragging her boy apprentice behind her out the door. Dirk, or whatever his name was, followed her quickly. As Erryl stood to join them, he glanced over at Jester, wondering whether she really would be fine to walk on that leg.
He was about to ask her once more, perhaps offer some assistance, when he suddenly remembered the men who’d been chasing him. He hadn’t noticed when they’d followed them in and sat down nearby, too busy trying to put the thoughts out of his mind, and the last time Erryl had seen them at all had been when they’d all met in the street, after that spectacular fall.
Having no idea where the men had gone to, terrified and not wanting to be left behind, he forgot about Jester and quickly caught up to the others who were, fortunately, waiting just outside, and hadn’t abandoned him to the mercy of ruthless predators, as he had feared they would. He was definitely more alert now, even if his head still ached and he was exhausted from earlier and all he wanted to do was go home and sleep and forget all of this. Then again, maybe things aren’t so bad. Maybe I’m overreacting...
He moved closer to the others, anxious to arrive at this other, supposedly more secure establishment.
Re: In for a Bishan
And just like that, Jester was alone at the table. There were some bits of breakfast keeping her company, though, and she was torn on whether or not to take them with her. A tiny, reasonable part of her pointed out that with her leg and the still undefined Bad Situation that she was caught up in, she wouldn't get the chance to earn enough for regular meals for a while, but that voice was quickly and properly bludgeoned into silence by the rest of her, which insisted that a performer had her pride, and table scraps weren't a part of that.
And that was that. She swiftly stood to follow the others and practically collapsed into the table as her ankle gave out on her. Her hands scraped roughly against the wood as she caught herself with a loud noise and a bit-off curse at the tiny knives slashing at her foot from the inside. Right. From now on she would be aware of that little setback.
Her ankle seemed steady enough once she carefully, carefully put her weight on it again, though it groaned with pain when she starting walking. But she could, though, and she had told the elf that she could take a fall, after all (and she could! Normally, anyway. Really.) so she would just have to grit her teeth and bear it.
Halfway out the door she was stopped again, this time by a hand roughly latching onto her wrist and jerking her unpleasantly to a stop. She favored the manhandler with a glare courtesy of her stinging ankle and twisted out of his grasp.
"Watch it," she snapped.
"Pardon, missie," the man said. He had unpleasantly squinty eyes that glared at her even as he gave his best crooked-toothed smile. "I was just wonderin' if you'd pass a message to that pretty miss out there an' that boy o' hers."
Despite the obvious warning signs that had her bristling like a scared cat, she stayed to hear the message. She knew that every troupe went through hard times and drys spells, and sometimes you had to perform for people like this. She wouldn't judge Iarei because of her audience.
Seeing that she was willing to listen, the man smiled wider. Jester winced. "Jus' tell her that we mighty enjoyed that performance her boy gave us little while back and we're looking to repay the favor real soon."
Jester nodded and was proud of how she didn't limp too noticeably as she practically ran out the door. That man, whoever he was, crossed her the wrong way. She was relieved more than she would admit to find the rest of them waiting outside for her, so she could quickly relay the man's message to Iarei and continue to the safe place she mentioned.
She wondered though, as she told her, which troupe exactly Iarei had belonged to. She couldn't remember if she had said or not. If it was one of the new Europan ones Jester probably wouldn't know it, but Iarei didn't act like a fresh act. Part of an established troupe, definitely. One that she would have heard in passing, if not personally.
But if she was here now, alone, what did that mean?
And that was that. She swiftly stood to follow the others and practically collapsed into the table as her ankle gave out on her. Her hands scraped roughly against the wood as she caught herself with a loud noise and a bit-off curse at the tiny knives slashing at her foot from the inside. Right. From now on she would be aware of that little setback.
Her ankle seemed steady enough once she carefully, carefully put her weight on it again, though it groaned with pain when she starting walking. But she could, though, and she had told the elf that she could take a fall, after all (and she could! Normally, anyway. Really.) so she would just have to grit her teeth and bear it.
Halfway out the door she was stopped again, this time by a hand roughly latching onto her wrist and jerking her unpleasantly to a stop. She favored the manhandler with a glare courtesy of her stinging ankle and twisted out of his grasp.
"Watch it," she snapped.
"Pardon, missie," the man said. He had unpleasantly squinty eyes that glared at her even as he gave his best crooked-toothed smile. "I was just wonderin' if you'd pass a message to that pretty miss out there an' that boy o' hers."
Despite the obvious warning signs that had her bristling like a scared cat, she stayed to hear the message. She knew that every troupe went through hard times and drys spells, and sometimes you had to perform for people like this. She wouldn't judge Iarei because of her audience.
Seeing that she was willing to listen, the man smiled wider. Jester winced. "Jus' tell her that we mighty enjoyed that performance her boy gave us little while back and we're looking to repay the favor real soon."
Jester nodded and was proud of how she didn't limp too noticeably as she practically ran out the door. That man, whoever he was, crossed her the wrong way. She was relieved more than she would admit to find the rest of them waiting outside for her, so she could quickly relay the man's message to Iarei and continue to the safe place she mentioned.
She wondered though, as she told her, which troupe exactly Iarei had belonged to. She couldn't remember if she had said or not. If it was one of the new Europan ones Jester probably wouldn't know it, but Iarei didn't act like a fresh act. Part of an established troupe, definitely. One that she would have heard in passing, if not personally.
But if she was here now, alone, what did that mean?
Re: In for a Bishan
Iarei suppressed a growl and a curse and wordlessly turned to walk opposite the direction she'd pointed in. She had her hands on some very valuable merchandise, and likewise she'd pulled the balls of some very rowdy men. The rough and tumbles of the underbelly she'd wanted to be acquainted with, and if this wouldn't mark her in their world then paint her a fool. It was likely there was already plants waiting for them at the very visible inn she'd mentioned, so it would be good to make an appearance there, later, but the risks of staying there. . .
If they weren't afraid of the guards, then they weren't stupid. They might be too small yet to be known on sight, or large enough that they had expendables to hang around playing nanny in broad public. Powerful, or sly. But not too small, or too large; though her inability to pick up a tail of any kind was an irritation that bordered on worrisome. She didn't like admitting she couldn't spot it.
"Leggo, I can walk on m'own!" Boy's trembling, cracking voice brought her enough out of her furious thoughts to realize she was squeezing his upper arm hard enough to leave marks, and she released him as though he'd burned her, and he teetered away from her from the force of her withdrawn pull. She only glared at him, though, but he gave it back. A little spitfire, that one. A stupid little spitfire.
But it might still be to her advantage yet.
Down a couple of buildings from the inn she'd described, set inwards on a corner away from the main street was another inn, smaller but more upscale, named The Proper Lady. Not a place ruffians could easily hang around, or pay for. Not a place Iarei would be able to afford for longer than a week or two, unless she supplemented it with performances, which she knew she'd be able to if she went back to her former inn, wrecked upper rooms aside. They'd welcome the chance to draw in customers for their ground rooms, never mind the construction, and it might give her the opportunity to see what they were up against.
She took them around a long roundabout way, though it set her teeth on edge to see how Jester limped, and there was a smidgen of guilt at causing the other woman pain. It was, however, a necessary thing, as she wanted to get them inside before they were tracked. She needed at least one night of worry free conversation, to figure out everything. She was tired, and barely able to think.
She stopped inside the lobby of The Proper Lady. She looked around at the faces, judging them, measuring them. "I'm booking us two rooms here, for one night." She said carefully. "After that, it'll be improvisation. I know this isn't the inn I talked about before. Things changed. The situation is fluid. If you stay with me after this, I can't guarantee a damn thing -- but I aim for buckets of bishani. With me?"
If they weren't afraid of the guards, then they weren't stupid. They might be too small yet to be known on sight, or large enough that they had expendables to hang around playing nanny in broad public. Powerful, or sly. But not too small, or too large; though her inability to pick up a tail of any kind was an irritation that bordered on worrisome. She didn't like admitting she couldn't spot it.
"Leggo, I can walk on m'own!" Boy's trembling, cracking voice brought her enough out of her furious thoughts to realize she was squeezing his upper arm hard enough to leave marks, and she released him as though he'd burned her, and he teetered away from her from the force of her withdrawn pull. She only glared at him, though, but he gave it back. A little spitfire, that one. A stupid little spitfire.
But it might still be to her advantage yet.
Down a couple of buildings from the inn she'd described, set inwards on a corner away from the main street was another inn, smaller but more upscale, named The Proper Lady. Not a place ruffians could easily hang around, or pay for. Not a place Iarei would be able to afford for longer than a week or two, unless she supplemented it with performances, which she knew she'd be able to if she went back to her former inn, wrecked upper rooms aside. They'd welcome the chance to draw in customers for their ground rooms, never mind the construction, and it might give her the opportunity to see what they were up against.
She took them around a long roundabout way, though it set her teeth on edge to see how Jester limped, and there was a smidgen of guilt at causing the other woman pain. It was, however, a necessary thing, as she wanted to get them inside before they were tracked. She needed at least one night of worry free conversation, to figure out everything. She was tired, and barely able to think.
She stopped inside the lobby of The Proper Lady. She looked around at the faces, judging them, measuring them. "I'm booking us two rooms here, for one night." She said carefully. "After that, it'll be improvisation. I know this isn't the inn I talked about before. Things changed. The situation is fluid. If you stay with me after this, I can't guarantee a damn thing -- but I aim for buckets of bishani. With me?"
Re: In for a Bishan
"I'm with buckets of bishani, ma'am," Dirk replied with a grin. "And improvisation is what I do best." But the best improvisation was built on a lot of information, which was why Dirken had been observing his companions carefully and was careful to remember their names. He had a lot of opportunities; he could work with them, turn them in for money, or even take the statue for himself.
He dismissed that last thought immediately; he didn't know the town, he was no match for the ruffians he was sure would still be tailing them, and Iarei would have a lot of connections that he didn't have, connections that would surely be valuable in moving the object and troublesome if he made an enemy of her. It was a fool's choice. The first and second options, though, were open for the taking, as was the time-honoured plan D: running away from the whole situation. Right now, though, staying with the group seemed to be his best bet. It wasn't dangerous or profitable enough to betray them at this point in time.
He glanced out the window, hand on his knife. The hotel might feel like a safe haven to most people, but he'd been cornered in enough of them to know that it was just as easily a trap. "We should agree, though, on what exactly our goal is here. Are we aiming to sell this thing? I don't think we'll have much collective use for an old statue, no matter how in demand it is among ruffians."
He dismissed that last thought immediately; he didn't know the town, he was no match for the ruffians he was sure would still be tailing them, and Iarei would have a lot of connections that he didn't have, connections that would surely be valuable in moving the object and troublesome if he made an enemy of her. It was a fool's choice. The first and second options, though, were open for the taking, as was the time-honoured plan D: running away from the whole situation. Right now, though, staying with the group seemed to be his best bet. It wasn't dangerous or profitable enough to betray them at this point in time.
He glanced out the window, hand on his knife. The hotel might feel like a safe haven to most people, but he'd been cornered in enough of them to know that it was just as easily a trap. "We should agree, though, on what exactly our goal is here. Are we aiming to sell this thing? I don't think we'll have much collective use for an old statue, no matter how in demand it is among ruffians."
Re: In for a Bishan
For a while, Erryl wasn't really paying attention, more interested in where they were going - or where danger might be hiding - than what the others were actually discussing. But Iarei's words crawled their way into his consciousness after a few moments, reality slapping him in the face so hard he had to take a step back.
"Night...? Are you saying we have to stay here all night?!"
He took another step back, looking back and forth between the others, and trying to make sense of the situation, as he had been trying to do since the first moment he laid eyes on that horrible child.
"I have to go home. I have t-" But what if they follow me home...?
He had been somewhat in denial about the whole thing until now, telling himself it would all be over soon, that as long as he was careful, he could simply walk away from it all. Erryl pulled at his hair, trying to think of a way out of this situation, working himself into a panic, while in the back of his mind a voice was telling him how ridiculous he was being right now. Calm down, Erryl. As long as you're calm, you can find a way out of this situation, so just relax.
"Night...? Are you saying we have to stay here all night?!"
He took another step back, looking back and forth between the others, and trying to make sense of the situation, as he had been trying to do since the first moment he laid eyes on that horrible child.
"I have to go home. I have t-" But what if they follow me home...?
He had been somewhat in denial about the whole thing until now, telling himself it would all be over soon, that as long as he was careful, he could simply walk away from it all. Erryl pulled at his hair, trying to think of a way out of this situation, working himself into a panic, while in the back of his mind a voice was telling him how ridiculous he was being right now. Calm down, Erryl. As long as you're calm, you can find a way out of this situation, so just relax.
Re: In for a Bishan
The inn they ended up in was classier than any Jester had been in before. Her troupe had been a large one with a limited purse, so they had often camped out in empty fields or paid a farmer to use his barn. A place like The Proper Lady, full of simple decoration that still sang with elegance, made her feel uncomfortable. This cleanly fresh-scented room was a world apart that rejected her dirt-stained, worn-out self. She hadn't noticed the faint reek of sweat that clung to her outside, when every passerby was likely to have the same. Nor had she thought anything of the fact that she had last bathed three days ago, and her hair was limp and oily against her forehead.
She almost fled. Almost broke beneath the glaring fact that she did not belong here, harsh red and white and green clashing with its subtler tones. But she wouldn't, not when Iarei seemed as at home here as she had in a common tavern, as she had in the streets. Jester would not let herself be less than this woman who walked with such confidence. If she wanted to survive here, she couldn't be.
So she took a breath, and let it whistle out her tension in a low, clear note. She relaxed and just with that, the illusion that the room was forcing her out faded away. In its place she pasted the idea that she fit in here, and she straightened her shoulders. Like that, she almost believed herself.
At least, until the others started talking. Nothing like a conversation that made absolutely no sense to make you feel like you didn't belong. She did pick up one thing, though: that man had absolutely no idea what he was dealing with. Sell the thing? Put that evil into unsuspecting hands? Was he that much of an idiot?
Jester swelled with righteous indignation like a gnomish balloon about to take flight -- or explode. "You can't sell that to someone." she hissed at him. "In case you hadn't figured it out, that thing has bad magic in it. If you're going to do anything with it, you should -"
"Night...? Are you saying we have to stay here all night?!" A panicked voice interrupted.
Aaand, apparently the fourth member of their little group had taken something else entirely out of that conversation. She shot him an irritated look, only to pause at his impossibly pale face. Something was wrong. What - oh, he had to go home? But why hadn't he said something earlier?
And more importantly, what's stopping you? she thought. She could feel all the things left unsaid surrounding her like the calm of a river's surface, waiting for the right moment to suck her under and devour her. It was not a pleasant feeling.
She almost fled. Almost broke beneath the glaring fact that she did not belong here, harsh red and white and green clashing with its subtler tones. But she wouldn't, not when Iarei seemed as at home here as she had in a common tavern, as she had in the streets. Jester would not let herself be less than this woman who walked with such confidence. If she wanted to survive here, she couldn't be.
So she took a breath, and let it whistle out her tension in a low, clear note. She relaxed and just with that, the illusion that the room was forcing her out faded away. In its place she pasted the idea that she fit in here, and she straightened her shoulders. Like that, she almost believed herself.
At least, until the others started talking. Nothing like a conversation that made absolutely no sense to make you feel like you didn't belong. She did pick up one thing, though: that man had absolutely no idea what he was dealing with. Sell the thing? Put that evil into unsuspecting hands? Was he that much of an idiot?
Jester swelled with righteous indignation like a gnomish balloon about to take flight -- or explode. "You can't sell that to someone." she hissed at him. "In case you hadn't figured it out, that thing has bad magic in it. If you're going to do anything with it, you should -"
"Night...? Are you saying we have to stay here all night?!" A panicked voice interrupted.
Aaand, apparently the fourth member of their little group had taken something else entirely out of that conversation. She shot him an irritated look, only to pause at his impossibly pale face. Something was wrong. What - oh, he had to go home? But why hadn't he said something earlier?
And more importantly, what's stopping you? she thought. She could feel all the things left unsaid surrounding her like the calm of a river's surface, waiting for the right moment to suck her under and devour her. It was not a pleasant feeling.
Re: In for a Bishan
Iarei had put herself out there with her words, and she watched the reactions of her companions with narrowed eyes. She was prepared to judge them harder than they would even dream of judging her.
Dirken's words had the start of a smile from her, but Jester's and then Erryl's words quickly soured that possibility into dangerous neutrality. She held up a hand at Jester as she turned and fixed Erryl with a quiet stare. "Huh." She said, and then bent to the boy's level. Boy eyed her warily, and she picked out a few bishani from her coin purse, and pressed them to him with quiet instructions to get the rooms. She'd forgotten that these might not realize the stakes at hand. Maybe she'd been too sweet to them; maybe she'd assumed too much about their capabilities. It was a weakness on her part that could get any one of them killed, and she closed her eyes for a long moment as boy trotted off, and pushed herself up. Her knees creaked in protest.
"I've not been frank enough, 'tseems." She said, choosing her words with picky focus. "You're welcome to leave me at any time, of course. But once you leave, I don't know you. I won't watch out for you, and I won't help you, and if you betray me you'd best know now that I will see you paid back in kind. She's right in that these aren't ordinary little trinkets. They've got power, and while you could go to the guards it'd be easy enough for them to finger you accomplices in dealing with illegal trafficking of magicked goods." She held up a hand as if to forestall any forthcoming commentary, words coming quick and quiet.
"I know this isn't what you were looking for when you woke up this morning, but it's what you got. I take opportunity where it arises and these are opportunity. Now I don't pretend knowledge about good and evil, but I know I've got my own aims and goals, and I know these are going somewhere. Someone brought them or made them here, someone was holding them, and someone, maybe several someones, wants them. What I am to find out is who they were taken from, what they are, who wants information about them, and who will be most beneficial to us to have them."
She'd trotted out the 'u' word, that hinged on trust and camaraderie, and she looked to see how it was received. She felt almost sick at using it, herself, but the way things had gone keeping the three of them close to her was her highest chance at seeing the whole thing through. Erryl was her weakest link, Dirken had the potential to be the strongest. That placed Jester at highest unknown, and her morals protest had put Iarei on edge.
But she held those thoughts close, trying to present a calm and kind face to her audience. She didn't want to hurt them, her eyes would say, but she had to protect her own interests -- theirs too if they joined her!
Dirken's words had the start of a smile from her, but Jester's and then Erryl's words quickly soured that possibility into dangerous neutrality. She held up a hand at Jester as she turned and fixed Erryl with a quiet stare. "Huh." She said, and then bent to the boy's level. Boy eyed her warily, and she picked out a few bishani from her coin purse, and pressed them to him with quiet instructions to get the rooms. She'd forgotten that these might not realize the stakes at hand. Maybe she'd been too sweet to them; maybe she'd assumed too much about their capabilities. It was a weakness on her part that could get any one of them killed, and she closed her eyes for a long moment as boy trotted off, and pushed herself up. Her knees creaked in protest.
"I've not been frank enough, 'tseems." She said, choosing her words with picky focus. "You're welcome to leave me at any time, of course. But once you leave, I don't know you. I won't watch out for you, and I won't help you, and if you betray me you'd best know now that I will see you paid back in kind. She's right in that these aren't ordinary little trinkets. They've got power, and while you could go to the guards it'd be easy enough for them to finger you accomplices in dealing with illegal trafficking of magicked goods." She held up a hand as if to forestall any forthcoming commentary, words coming quick and quiet.
"I know this isn't what you were looking for when you woke up this morning, but it's what you got. I take opportunity where it arises and these are opportunity. Now I don't pretend knowledge about good and evil, but I know I've got my own aims and goals, and I know these are going somewhere. Someone brought them or made them here, someone was holding them, and someone, maybe several someones, wants them. What I am to find out is who they were taken from, what they are, who wants information about them, and who will be most beneficial to us to have them."
She'd trotted out the 'u' word, that hinged on trust and camaraderie, and she looked to see how it was received. She felt almost sick at using it, herself, but the way things had gone keeping the three of them close to her was her highest chance at seeing the whole thing through. Erryl was her weakest link, Dirken had the potential to be the strongest. That placed Jester at highest unknown, and her morals protest had put Iarei on edge.
But she held those thoughts close, trying to present a calm and kind face to her audience. She didn't want to hurt them, her eyes would say, but she had to protect her own interests -- theirs too if they joined her!
Re: In for a Bishan
Dirken chuckled at Jester's words. "Magic doesn't scare me none, girl; I've never known a mage who can hurt me." That wasn't technically true; he had a couple of nasty scars from that time he'd overestimated his own natural resistance when bringing in that one guy with the claws, and the burn mark on his thigh was never going to fade entirely. But they didn't know that.
He listened in appreciation to Iarei's attempt to sway the others. It was just right; frank, pursuasive without making oneself look untrustworthy, and pitched so that it would pursuade anyone worth pursuading. No threats, he noticed; at least, not from Iarei. Their pursuers were a threat that didn't need stating. Dirk never tried particularly hard to keep allies unless the stakes were ridiculously high; coercing someone into helping you didn't give you an ally, it gave you an enemy who followed you around and knew where you slept. Whether the others stayed now would depend on their natures, and they would end up where those natures were the most benefit or least harm to those who stayed.
It occurred to him that Erryl was an innocent bystander after all. Well how about that. Unless, of course, he and Iarei were attempting to dupe Jester and Dirk. With that thought, he glanced at Jester to see how she was holding up.
"Before we do anything, we should probably see to that ankle," he said. "Walking around on it like this is only going to make it worse.
He listened in appreciation to Iarei's attempt to sway the others. It was just right; frank, pursuasive without making oneself look untrustworthy, and pitched so that it would pursuade anyone worth pursuading. No threats, he noticed; at least, not from Iarei. Their pursuers were a threat that didn't need stating. Dirk never tried particularly hard to keep allies unless the stakes were ridiculously high; coercing someone into helping you didn't give you an ally, it gave you an enemy who followed you around and knew where you slept. Whether the others stayed now would depend on their natures, and they would end up where those natures were the most benefit or least harm to those who stayed.
It occurred to him that Erryl was an innocent bystander after all. Well how about that. Unless, of course, he and Iarei were attempting to dupe Jester and Dirk. With that thought, he glanced at Jester to see how she was holding up.
"Before we do anything, we should probably see to that ankle," he said. "Walking around on it like this is only going to make it worse.
Re: In for a Bishan
Never having been in a situation like this before - having an older brother as overprotective as Koran doesn't allow much room for gaining that kind of "world experience" - Erryl's ignorance was threatening to undo his generally calm composure, paranoia overwhelming his logical side and poisoning his thoughts. He was hardly willing to walk away from these people alone, with those men after him, but how could he stay? What about his brother? What about his life?
Erryl cared little for whatever potential profits could be made. He was happy with what he had, and would be glad to simply be left in peace, but that was certainly not going to happen any time soon. He would have to stay with these people, he decided, at least for the time being, and make sure he paid a lot more attention from now on. Normally, that wasn't a problem at all, but in such unfamiliar territory, he was hardly in his usual state of mind right now. This was dangerous.
"Are you sure this place is safe?" he spoke quietly, uncertainly. After a moment of thought, he added, "At least... compared to the alternatives?"
This woman - all of these people, in fact - would surely be much more familiar with the business in Marn than he was, despite having lived here his entire life, or perhaps because of that. With a decent home, a family, no real need to provide for himself, Erryl had no reason to learn one inn from the next, nor did he require much knowledge regarding the other businesses in Marn. He may not be rich, but he didn't need to perform for a living, and he was certainly no criminal.
In the world of academia, Erryl flourished. In this setting, however, he was completely useless. And could he really trust these people? It was obviously wiser than trusting in the mercy of those pursuing them, and he was clueless as to what should be done about all of this, so perhaps he had no real choice. He was still in one piece and they hadn't abandoned him. That was a good sign, right?
He was just going to have to trust that these people knew what they were doing. They seemed convincing enough, for now, and he couldn't see any other reasonable options, despite constantly re-evaluating the situation. At least he'd calmed down a little, and he had enough sense to suggest they find a more comfortable place to discuss the matter, for Jester's benefit if nothing else.
Erryl cared little for whatever potential profits could be made. He was happy with what he had, and would be glad to simply be left in peace, but that was certainly not going to happen any time soon. He would have to stay with these people, he decided, at least for the time being, and make sure he paid a lot more attention from now on. Normally, that wasn't a problem at all, but in such unfamiliar territory, he was hardly in his usual state of mind right now. This was dangerous.
"Are you sure this place is safe?" he spoke quietly, uncertainly. After a moment of thought, he added, "At least... compared to the alternatives?"
This woman - all of these people, in fact - would surely be much more familiar with the business in Marn than he was, despite having lived here his entire life, or perhaps because of that. With a decent home, a family, no real need to provide for himself, Erryl had no reason to learn one inn from the next, nor did he require much knowledge regarding the other businesses in Marn. He may not be rich, but he didn't need to perform for a living, and he was certainly no criminal.
In the world of academia, Erryl flourished. In this setting, however, he was completely useless. And could he really trust these people? It was obviously wiser than trusting in the mercy of those pursuing them, and he was clueless as to what should be done about all of this, so perhaps he had no real choice. He was still in one piece and they hadn't abandoned him. That was a good sign, right?
He was just going to have to trust that these people knew what they were doing. They seemed convincing enough, for now, and he couldn't see any other reasonable options, despite constantly re-evaluating the situation. At least he'd calmed down a little, and he had enough sense to suggest they find a more comfortable place to discuss the matter, for Jester's benefit if nothing else.
Re: In for a Bishan
All eyes on her. The room was full of her audience, watching, waiting, baited breath and glimmering (predatory, almost, she thought) eyes, hungry for her to perform. Come, ladies and gentlemen, and see the incredible Jester in her latest, greatest Act: turning the world right-side up again.
Wasn't it an act, though? The chance meeting, the strange, hard-eyed men, the forced smiles, the way events and words seemed to line up neatly before her like a bad romance novel - all of it seemed like a terrible play, a tragicomedy of unreal proportions. No, she didn't want it to be real. Marn was not supposed to be like this, her childhood haven tainted by the dirty underbelly all cities had (and she'd known some of it before, really, she wasn't stupid, but this was her home). These people, her tentative troupe, were not supposed to be like this. Dirken, maybe, she knew to be shady, but she never would have thought Iarei of all people -
She had stopped breathing, some part of her noted absently. She should probably fix that soon. Preferably before she died.
Seeing how everyone else was willing to ignore the fact that they were involving themselves in illegal magic-trafficking, Jester decided to shove that to the side for the few moments it took to convince her lungs to draw in more air. Of course she wasn't going to get involved. That was a given. She would not change Marn by immersing herself in the scummiest parts of it. Yet, somehow, she found herself reluctant to just walk out of there and leave the group to its ill-advised course. Maybe she was worried about the power of the statues?
She didn't want to decide this now, while her head was still dizzied with the implications of Iarei's speech. Dirken's and Er -- Erin? Ermin? -- Er-something's suggestions dropped like a life-line out of the conversation. Jester grabbed hold for all she was worth.
"The rooms!" she suggested, out of breath and a little panicked. "We should - I'll be able to sit down and tend my ankle there, and it'll be private. Privater. We should plan our next steps there, where we won't be heard."
Without waiting for their response, or even for directions to the room, she made for the stairs, though it took every drop of poise she possessed to keep a calm pace. Her ankle twinged at her for the deliberate steps, but she ignored it. She would play like she was a part of them for now, until she could find a way out of this poorly-written drama.
Wasn't it an act, though? The chance meeting, the strange, hard-eyed men, the forced smiles, the way events and words seemed to line up neatly before her like a bad romance novel - all of it seemed like a terrible play, a tragicomedy of unreal proportions. No, she didn't want it to be real. Marn was not supposed to be like this, her childhood haven tainted by the dirty underbelly all cities had (and she'd known some of it before, really, she wasn't stupid, but this was her home). These people, her tentative troupe, were not supposed to be like this. Dirken, maybe, she knew to be shady, but she never would have thought Iarei of all people -
She had stopped breathing, some part of her noted absently. She should probably fix that soon. Preferably before she died.
Seeing how everyone else was willing to ignore the fact that they were involving themselves in illegal magic-trafficking, Jester decided to shove that to the side for the few moments it took to convince her lungs to draw in more air. Of course she wasn't going to get involved. That was a given. She would not change Marn by immersing herself in the scummiest parts of it. Yet, somehow, she found herself reluctant to just walk out of there and leave the group to its ill-advised course. Maybe she was worried about the power of the statues?
She didn't want to decide this now, while her head was still dizzied with the implications of Iarei's speech. Dirken's and Er -- Erin? Ermin? -- Er-something's suggestions dropped like a life-line out of the conversation. Jester grabbed hold for all she was worth.
"The rooms!" she suggested, out of breath and a little panicked. "We should - I'll be able to sit down and tend my ankle there, and it'll be private. Privater. We should plan our next steps there, where we won't be heard."
Without waiting for their response, or even for directions to the room, she made for the stairs, though it took every drop of poise she possessed to keep a calm pace. Her ankle twinged at her for the deliberate steps, but she ignored it. She would play like she was a part of them for now, until she could find a way out of this poorly-written drama.
Re: In for a Bishan
Iarei hated being interrupted, but being ignored was something of a pet peeve, drawn in through her roots as a performer. And in her frustration, her exhaustion rose up to send its finger slick tendrils through her mind, long denied by way of an adrenaline rush that was steadily fading. She shook her head, and followed Jester with an expression set in granite.
The Lady wasn't a bad sort. It looked recycled and rehashed, a sort of tired gentry that was rubbed down in some places, like some old gentleman who had seen better times with his finery darned again and again. But it was, in that sense, a comfortable thing; the edges might be worn away but they had long since become suitable to the establishment as a whole. It did not compare to the sharp taste of Eyropa, but then again there was no way it could. Marn suffered its death throes economically, with nothing new to offer the merchant world. Even as an entertainer, Iarei could see that.
She could also see that somehow boy had been rudely turned aside, and she wearily closed her eyes. Her estimation of the place plummeted, and she took her place before the clerk, and took care of it with no few terse words. She ignored those behind her, and Jester's disappearing form, and hoped sourly they were uncomfortable in their beds (or the floor) that night. She wasn't meant for this. She could only blame her tired mind for the idea, and the follow through, and suddenly having folk beholden to her was not as exciting as it was initially. She was trained in scams, not . . .whatever the whole mess was turning into.
She glowered at boy after she'd finished scouring tracks between the clerk's ears; poor man had only made a legitimate assumption that boy was nothing more than a poor brat with grand ideas. But boy was not looking at her, instead taking in the gilded scrollwork along the walls, and the velvet carpets and the artistic pieces placed boldly to attract the eye. Iarei had stayed in finer places, but that was a long time ago.
The stairs featured fancy carpeting Iarei knew would have cost a pretty penny when new, but it was worn all along the edges. She got the sense of being cheated out of her money, and decided to lower the price after she'd slept. Somehow. She'd figure out a complaint later. Her feet dragged as she moved past Jester on the upper floor, walking down the tasteful hallway to two rooms facing each other at the end. She wanted nothing more to slip inside and slam the door in their faces, and take a nap, but it was doubtful any of them had skipped sleep the day before and she didn't want them slipping out while she wasn't looking. A tired smile was dragged out from somewhere and displayed across her lips.
"We'll talk in here." She said, and took out the overlarge key to open the door. Inside, the room was smaller than she'd expected, but cleaner than other places she'd more recently been. More velvet. More gild. More ornate. But, as with the rest of the place, old and fusty. There was only one bed, and she took up residence on it. Otherwise the room held a single chair, a washbasin and a mirror. A small round window looked out at another building and the dirty alley between, but it let in light at the very least.
The Lady wasn't a bad sort. It looked recycled and rehashed, a sort of tired gentry that was rubbed down in some places, like some old gentleman who had seen better times with his finery darned again and again. But it was, in that sense, a comfortable thing; the edges might be worn away but they had long since become suitable to the establishment as a whole. It did not compare to the sharp taste of Eyropa, but then again there was no way it could. Marn suffered its death throes economically, with nothing new to offer the merchant world. Even as an entertainer, Iarei could see that.
She could also see that somehow boy had been rudely turned aside, and she wearily closed her eyes. Her estimation of the place plummeted, and she took her place before the clerk, and took care of it with no few terse words. She ignored those behind her, and Jester's disappearing form, and hoped sourly they were uncomfortable in their beds (or the floor) that night. She wasn't meant for this. She could only blame her tired mind for the idea, and the follow through, and suddenly having folk beholden to her was not as exciting as it was initially. She was trained in scams, not . . .whatever the whole mess was turning into.
She glowered at boy after she'd finished scouring tracks between the clerk's ears; poor man had only made a legitimate assumption that boy was nothing more than a poor brat with grand ideas. But boy was not looking at her, instead taking in the gilded scrollwork along the walls, and the velvet carpets and the artistic pieces placed boldly to attract the eye. Iarei had stayed in finer places, but that was a long time ago.
The stairs featured fancy carpeting Iarei knew would have cost a pretty penny when new, but it was worn all along the edges. She got the sense of being cheated out of her money, and decided to lower the price after she'd slept. Somehow. She'd figure out a complaint later. Her feet dragged as she moved past Jester on the upper floor, walking down the tasteful hallway to two rooms facing each other at the end. She wanted nothing more to slip inside and slam the door in their faces, and take a nap, but it was doubtful any of them had skipped sleep the day before and she didn't want them slipping out while she wasn't looking. A tired smile was dragged out from somewhere and displayed across her lips.
"We'll talk in here." She said, and took out the overlarge key to open the door. Inside, the room was smaller than she'd expected, but cleaner than other places she'd more recently been. More velvet. More gild. More ornate. But, as with the rest of the place, old and fusty. There was only one bed, and she took up residence on it. Otherwise the room held a single chair, a washbasin and a mirror. A small round window looked out at another building and the dirty alley between, but it let in light at the very least.