Questionable Business

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel raised his eyebrows in surprise, a sly but silly grin forming on his face. He nodded to Adam and said, “Well well, seems this one has a pair after all.” Adam only rolled his eyes in response; he had never agreed with Jacel’s charitable behavior towards particularly gutsy rogues.

All the same, it wouldn’t hurt to act like he was conceding ground. After a moment of scratching at his chin, feigning thoughtfulness, he spoke again. “Alright then... Anther, was it? I can let you know all about the Paragon’s favorite haunts. I’ll even personally advise you on how to get in and get information out of the tight lipped bastards you’re going to have to deal with. In return though, you’ll have to tell me who’s got you doing this, and why.” He motioned to the bishani yet again and shrugged, “You’re right about one thing, you are a street kid; which only means you’d have taken the money were you not wearing a leash.”

Jacel shrugged flippantly, “And don’t worry, I’ll ensure you don’t suffer fallback from telling me the shit. Worst comes to worst, we can always just blame that stoner for the slip-up.” Jacel tapped his finger upon the table, a meaningless gesture which only implied possibilities. “Play your cards right, and you may even find yourself spending some time here once this whole thing blows over. A better bit of work than nicking your living from pockets by any estimation.” He stopped tapping the table to flick a coin to the edge of the wooden surface. It went just a bit too far and tumbled to the floor at Anther’s feet. Jacel frowned and made a “tsk” noise, having intended for the bishan to merely head in Anther’s direction.

He extended a hand across the desk and said “But enough of tomorrows. For now, I’ll not ask any more than a favor for a favor. What do you say, Anther? The deal sound fair to you?”

[Anther]

Anther was sweating visibly. It was collecting at his temples, leaving marks at pits and sticking down his back. He could feel it gather and trickle all the way down his spine, dripping lower and making him real uncomfortable. He hated it when he sweat like that. He hated it someone could make him do that, make him stick like he had nowheres else to go. Ten years, more, had been spent staying out of those kinds of situations. Right up until he'd seen a pretty woman walking drunk, all hunched and wearing jewelry that shone. He almost blurted out that no, he didn't have a pair so grand as that, but they kept talking. They talked, he sweated, and gripped his pants 'til his knuckles paled to white under the grime.

Jacel flat didn't get it. Maybe he thought hisself to be the toughest guy on the street. Maybe he was. He hadn't been under the city though – Anther could see that. Because if Jacel knew, if he'd been, he couldn't be acting so tough, so in control. Anther couldn't. He opened his mouth again, to deny, but he saw the way they was looking at him. He knew himself to be trapped. No matter what he did, it was gonna end bad. Real bad. The only question was how bad it was gonna be.

They talked, and he finally took several steps back. He was stopped by somethin', he didn't know what. He couldn't pull his hands away from his pants to check it. He couldn't move. Paralyzed, he could only watch them talk, watch them threaten without sayin' a word that sounded. Them, with their smart talk and power. He'd love to put them down the other way, with a knife in his hand and on them, so they could feel it so bad they shook and sweat and begged out of fear. 'Cept Anther couldn't even beg. His jaw had locked up tight, and he realized he was shaking his head, mute and quiet, so quiet not even a squeak escaped.

He remembered.

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel frowned, sighed, and watched his hand drop from its outstretched position to rest upon the tabletop. Anther was throwing some sort of a fit, and Jacel was once again frustrated in his attempts to communicate. He rubbed his temple in an attempt to calm himself as he again tried to organize his thoughts.

Anther was deathly afraid of whomever held his puppet strings. Their entire conversation seemed to be, in retrospect, little more than Jacel saying something innocuous and Anther responding with a full blown panic attack. The fruitless tug of war had Jacel more than a little frustrated; how was he supposed to compete with someone who could put such a complete terror in a person like that?

It was equally possible that Anther was just a coward who had run afoul of some particularly ballsy gang who wanted to remain anonymous for the duration of this little meeting. The rebels got quite a bit of their meager funding from illegal activities such as the drug trade, and that meant they had pissed off their share of the underworld with their competition. If that were the case, it might be the best course of action to proceed as Adam would and set Bitch to maul Anther until he talked.

Jacel wasn’t enthused about that course of action. It wasn’t that he was blood-shy, any thug could tell you otherwise. Nor was it that, were Anther more bold, Jacel would have found great potential within him. Jacel simply preferred to avoid unnecessary killing, since bodies lead to questions he’d rather not answer, and killing Anther in a place like this? Unwise. They would have to dispose of the body eventually, and the dogs couldn’t eat everything. As another reason against bloodshed, in the likely event that this was unrelated to gangs, he might make a powerful enemy out of a man whom Jacel might not be able to identify. There were just too many unknown variables here.

Jacel tapped his finger as he watched Anther squirm against the wall. He was going to knock some gaudy trinkets off the shelves at this rate. The fat elf sighed and leaned his head to his hand while panting his elbow on the countertop. Even if he managed to discern the boy’s purpose in seeking the rebellion, any fool could see he was going to fail as an improvised spy. The paragon had eluded his efforts thus far, and there was no discernible reason Anther would succeed where his other agents had failed.

No. Anther was as good as dead if he continued seeking the rebels, but the blood did not need to be on Jacel’s hands. “Alright then boy, you win. Adam. Move aside. Bitch, down.” Adam appeared shocked, but he complied and shuffled to the side of the door. “You aren’t getting your information here if you don’t offer me anything in turn. I’ve given you ever opportunity so far, and these options will remain open to both you and the man who ordered you here. Until then, you are on your own. Good luck with the rebel business. You’ll need it.”

[Anther]

The out was what Anther had needed. The knowledge, pure and fresh, that he wasn't trapped, that he wasn't being forced. He nodded, maintaining his careful non-eye contact as he looked around the room. He licked his lips.

Taking money was a bad idea. Jacel was already going to be giving him information, so money meant that there would be future transactions and Anther would be the one holding the debt for those transactions. He was already collared by one master, and he was no way able to juggle another. Plus, the way all these men did business -- he wouldn't survive to see the end of it. Wasn't nohow, no way for that.

"I'll tel ya --" he started to speak, but his voice was nearly hoarse and breathy -- far too quiet to be heard. He cleared his throat and started over. "I'll tell ya other things. Not why-why I'm doin' this. Can't tell that."

Even saying that much was a risky move, but he had no guarantee that if he left there would be anywhere else to go. Jacel wouldn't take it kindly if Anther went to any of his competitors, he was sure of that.

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel blinked twice, genuinely surprised by Anther’s sudden change in mood. They boy had been, moments ago, ready to shake himself to death in fear. Jacel had been certain that Anther would leave at the first available opportunity. But there he still stood, trying to barter with nothing on the table.

Jacel looked at Adam to check his thoughts on the matter. He shook his head, displaying indifference. “I’ve work to get back to, Jacel.” He said simply, his cold voice implying that Jacel was wasting everybody’s time by entertaining Anther further.

Jacel groaned and rubbed a hand against his forehead. He was beginning to suspect that Adam was right about that, but figured it might not hurt that badly to give it another shot. At least Anther seemed to be more cooperative, now that he knew Jacel wasn’t some sort of psychopath. “Go then. I suppose I’ll stay here and give the boy a final look over.” Adam left in that noiseless way he left the room. As the door opened, the burst of noise from the crowd was startling enough that Bitch raised a sleepy head. When it disappeared again, only Jacel, Anther, and Bitch remained in the suddenly silent room. Jacel took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair and adopted a pose which generally stated that he was rapidly losing interest in Anther. The wooden chair creaked loudly in protest.

“Alright then Anther, I’ll bite.” Jacel’s voice had changed its previous boisterous encouragement to a breezy, bored tone. He stared up at the ceiling light and rested his legs on the table with a bit of effort. “What could you possibly know that you think is worth selling, if not that?”

[Anther]

Oh, Anther was still shaking. He hadn’t stopped, he’d just used tricks to try to stop it as much as he could. Now he had to remember what’d happened in the – he shut his eyes, squeezed them tight shut and took a few deep breaths. The trembling was deeper now, darker, full of the memory of magic and blood.

“There’s a book some . . .witch . . . traveled a long ways t’get. ‘Sin the Library. S'posed t'be real powerful. ‘Swhy the Library got busted into, why the b-battlemages gots called on it. She wanted it real bad, was willin’ t’do – t’ – “ Anther stopped, his mouth having gone dry and sticky. Funny how your mouth could get in such a way when your hands were just the opposite: wet and slippery.

He didn’t look at Jacel. He’d been unable to look Adam’s way as the man slipped out like some alley cat all silent and predatory, ready to bite and scratch a man up just for looking or stepping the wrong way. Anther’d not done nothing wrong, neither. Nothin’ but being in the wrong place at the wrong time over, and over, and over. It was his whole life like that, being left to twist in the wind after someone else’s actions. He shoulda been used to it by then, but somehow it never got any easier.

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel looked up at the ceiling and gave a long, slow whistle. “I gotta admit, that’s not bad.” He stated simply. He thought about it for a moment. “It’s a start, anyways. You’ve given me nothing I could sell.” Jacel took the last bite of the food as he watched Anther stammer and stutter. It was like watching an insect flutter around a light. The spinelessness really got on one’s nerves, after a while.

“Can you give me any more specifics? The name of the book, the name of the witch, what she looked like, why she wanted it, where she’s staying?” Jacel doubted it, but maybe something more would come up from his questions. He again brought his hand wearily up to his forehead, only to realize it was still slick from the meat. He quickly wiped it up with his sleeve. “Changers, maybe you should just start from the beginning and tell it like a damn storybook. You aint no good at talking straight.”

Jacel wondered if he had made another error by asking that, but shrugged it off. If Anther didn’t like it he could damn well leave. Jacel was well past the point of caring much, and was entertaining the notion of telling Anther the name of the tavern he wanted just to get the kid out of his hair.

On the other hand, he stood to learn a bit about a magic book or some nonsense. Honestly, what had happened to the good old days when people wanted to know about the location of a rival’s drugs or hideouts? All this rebel drivel and magical horseshit made everyone so tight lipped.

[Talion]

Time passed all too slowly on the other side of the door. The drunken masses went about their business of downing one drink after another. Talk could be heard of the next dog fight and how ones luck would surely change the next time around, it just had to. New patrons entered the establishment and others dragged their sorry selves home before their homely housewives could come looking for them.

However, Talion had remained just outside the door, exactly how Anther had left him. He stood close enough that he could reach out and touch the handle, if he so chose, but between him and the simple piece of wood that separated him from the other young man was the towering figure of the man who guarded the entryway. He hadn't uttered a word to Talion since the fat elf disappeared with Anther, but his silent glare spoke volumes. He had this menacing air about him that seemed to dare the young man to try to stick his hand out while at the same time declaring that if he so much as tried that he would come away with one less arm.

Talion tried his hardest to formulate in his mind what he could say to this man to let him pass, but nothing came together. He was too cowardly to take an assertive approach and utterly tired of begging for everything. Every time he tried to open his mouth to say something, anything, words died on his tongue before he could properly pronunciate them. He felt like a fool standing there with his mouth hanging open. A feeling made worse by the deep-seated frown apparent on the guard's face.

Another man had entered and left the back room in the time that Talion had stood there, and yet Anther had yet to reappear. He couldn't hear what was going on and trying to peek through the opening in the brief seconds that the door had been opened, yielded no clues as to what was going on. Anything could have happened back there. That was what worried Talion. His mind thought of all the horrible things that could be happening just out of sight and how out of the both of them, Anther seemed the least prepared to talk himself out of a bad situation.

[Anther]

Hope and despair were captured in the length of Anther's trunk, all soaring warmth curdled up in sour knots betwixt one breath and the next. His pupils dilated, and his shaking grew that little bit more pronounced.

"Tsai," he whispered, and squeezed his eyes shut for one long moment. "She's a witch. Was a witch. T-they took her. Look, I didn't – I don't know what t'book was but – "

he didn't want to say any more. He didn't want to dredge it up. It was done and it was over and –

"Talion'd know more," he whispered. He looked up. "I know where she was livin', but by now. . .if we're lucky, if we're real lucky, they burned 'er up and scattered th'ashes. And burned up all her witchery, too."

He made a sign against evil.

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel paused and thought about it. If the witch was dead, several things might occur. First of all, it might mean she was a lone agent and the information was entirely unprofitable. Two, it might mean people would come looking for her, and that was where he might come in. The downside was that anyone who came looking would also be mages, but if he spun his words right he might be able to leave the wizards in his debt, and wouldn’t that be a handy favor to cash in.

Jacel supposed it was also possible some guards or someone hunting the witch’s potential allies might come through. He stood up in his seat and made as if to move before stopping himself. “Talion the one outside?” His question was confirmed when Anther nodded his head, and Jacel continued his motion.

He sung the door open and looked around for the boy, but his line of sight was blocked by Cerranel. “Find the other boy and bring him here. He’s got another piece of the...” Cerranel moved out of the way. Jacel flicked his head in mild annoyance and motioned for Talion to enter. “Come in. I want some clairity on the events around the library.”

[Talion]

He didn't know if he should be relieved or terrified that he was being brought into the back room after mention of the library. Anther must have opened his big, fat, human mouth and spilled everything. He should have known that he wouldn't be able to handle the situation alone. Anther could act all tough and claimed he knew the streets, but the second they found themselves faced with an authority figure he would cry out to the Changers and rat out everyone.

Talion still had yet to figure out why he did it, what did he get out of it?

And what did he tell the elf? How much did he know? How far in did they get and how much shit was the government guy going to give them?

"What...has he told you...about the library?" He tried to come off as calm and relaxed but his voice gave him away.

[Anther]

Anther scowled and looked away. Yeah, sure, now they'd hear all the real sweet stuff with that damn drugged elf comin' in reekin' the place up. His anger clashed with his fear, mixing in a sour knot deep in his stomach.

"Jes the witch 'n 'er book," Anther snapped. "I tole 'im you'd know more. She was some culvert witch right enough. Don't stall, jes' tell 'im what he wants t'be knowin'." He made a hurry up gesture; the craven's sign of hypocrisy. Not that Anther recognized it in himself, but he had no intention of hanging out in that stuffy office with the toothy mutt in the corner and the fat bastard in front with their balls in one hand and their throats in another. An' couldn't forget Mister Tight Britches with his line to the guards, oh no. Shoulda run. Shoulda gotten out when he'd had the chance.

Anther closed his eyes in a nice, long blink.

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel thumped back into his chair for what he hoped was the final time. At this rate the poor thing was going to break, especially if its loud creak of protest was anything to go by. From his strained perch he gave Talion a lazy look over, wondering if he was going to have to go through the process of coaxing information from a terrified, superstitious buffoon all over again. He shooed Anther to the side and folded his hands together on the table in a businesslike fashion. Intimidation had failed him with Anther and he wasn’t about to repeat the mistake.

“Alright then, Talion, was it?” Jacel said, keeping his voice direct. “Your companion has been spinning a fascinating tale about a witch and a magic book, and has felt it necessary to dump the burden of telling it onto you like a bird shit on a statue of Teonidus.” He thought about his words, placing his hand on his chin. So much for businesslike. “Not sure where I was going with the metaphor, but you get the idea. Start with, I don’t know, meeting the witch.” He wasn’t about to let this Talion character stutter and barter before he got to the juicy stuff. Maybe keeping him rushed and off balance was the best way to go about this.

Maybe he was getting his hopes up, but this did sound like a rather interesting story. Jacel dearly hoped Talion was better spoken than his companion. Watching the boy shake did not instill much confidence in the fat elf, especially when Jacel recognized the similarities between those symptoms and the ones he had so often been responsible for creating. Jacel’s eyes narrowed and he decided to make note of that possibility. It might be useful later, if he could confirm it.

[Talion]

An irritated look was shot in Anther's direction. He intended to tell the elf everything he knew, but now he had nothing to bargain with. Now he was going to look like a whiny little bitch as he spilled all the information he had.

Talion hobbled over to a chair, dragging his lame keg behind him, and sat down. If he was going to telling this man every little detail, he was going to make himself comfortable first.

"I met the witch at a bar, I don't know the name...down on the main road through town." Some of the details of that night were still a bit foggy, but he was doing his best to remember. "She was foreign-looking," I'm foreign-looking. He couldn't begin to guess where she was from so describing her looks was going to be difficult. "She had darker skin than most people around here and she wore lots of gold. She was covered in expensive-looking jewelry, but not much of anything else." A comment that made him blush.

After a moment he continued with his tale. "She may have had an accent. Oh, and she was a shifter. A shifter that could change into different animals." He didn't know much about shifters but he was pretty sure that most of them couldn't do that, so that had to be important. "She gave..." he had to stop himself for a second to better word his next sentence, "she had some strange drugs from...well I'm not sure...but I don't have them anymore."

"She took us to her house across town, where another shifter girl was killed." Was killed. For now that was all he could say on that matter. He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he knew he had played some part in that girl's death, but the very thought of it made him sick to his stomach. It was better to push the thought away. He could bury it deep down inside. He could say things like 'that girl was killed' and it somehow relieved him of the guilt he had over the situation. Or at least he could tell himself that for now.

"She wanted us to steal a book for her. She told us the city had taken it from her or people she knew. I'm pretty sure it was some kind of magic book." He had to stop and catch his breath. At the rate he was going, it was a wonder everything didn't all start falling out at once. "She wanted us to sneak into some building at night to steal it for her, but there were locks, magic locks and she couldn't break them."

He had to look at Anther for confirmation. That was where he thought he was supposed to stop. He hoped that Anther wasn't foolish enough to tell the rest. If Anther let it slip that they had broken in or that they had been caught, this guy seemed smart enough to figure out the rest. Surely he would suspect something if Anther let them know that they had just been released from cells.

[Anther]

Bird shit on a statue of Teonidus? Blasphemous pig! Anther crossed his arms and hunched, lips puffing out all fishlike as he sulked and listened to Talion. He had some right choice words for the fat toad behind the desk, but he wasn't some nutter to go spilling them. Not when he'd said enough. Instead, he glared at Talion, thinking all sorts of nasty things.

Finally it was to the point where he'd joined their stupid little wagon train, to which he answered with a muttered, "Aye, that's when I was roped in wi' all the madness. Good 'nuff?" He asked the question without actually looking back at Jacel. He kept glaring at Talion instead, sure the other boy had deliberately held back the most juicy bits of information. Anther didn't want to talk about what happened after -- if Talion had talked more about the witch-woman, about where she'd stayed, maybe that would've been enough.

Anther had a slow sinking sort of feeling that Jacel was circling them both real slow, like a dog in the pit. Anther didn't like that not one bit, but what could he do? What cards did he hold? The only things to bring to bear was a shit amount of bishani and wonderboy the addict king. Fat load of help that was, which meant they was staying on the fat elf's mercy.