Black Hart

To Kill A King

Chapter 14 - The Painted Man

Early next morning, Eloi was shocked awake by Friederikson hovering over his bed.
"It is dawn, m'Lord - time for morning prayers and breakfast."
Eloi stared at the squire - not many men achieved this, but Friederikson scared Eloi! The squire actually believed Eloi was going to say prayers.
Awake now, he jumped up, passing the bowl of water Friederikson had prepared for him and rushing down to eat. Thankfully the squire did not follow him.
About fifteen minutes after Eloi finished his breakfast, and was washing down a flagon of ale to help him through the day when Bermen came down.
"Eloi, I didn't expect you to be here. What...?"
Bermen read the 'don't ask' look on Eloi's face and stopped his question. Before long they were ready and set off on the dusty road to Niole Dra, Friederikson having groomed both horses and polished their saddles to a shine.

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Mordekei awakened early, as usual, and set about memorising his spells. Not long after, there was a knock at the door.
"Mordekei - are you awake?"
Hamman's voice shouted through the door. He let the foppish prince in, and set about tidying away his spellbooks in a pile by the dressing table.
"Wissig went on a raid last night."
Hamman told him. Mordekei stopped and looked round at him.
"Seems he got information as to the Redemptionists' camp. Of course when they got there it was empty, looked like they moved on some hours before. They followed the trails back to Axewood, although they knew what they were doing, they split up. The trails were lost by the road in the village."

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In Akhan's dream he was inside the King's bedchamber, the King lying injured on the bed. Somehow he had managed to close the door and the massive Devil was standing outside, pounding furiously to be let in. Bang, bang, bang....
"Akhan! Akhan! It's Mordekei, get up, time for breakfast!"
Akhan and Hanali leapt out of bed with a start, grabbing at their clothes.
"Damn it, I pray my husband still sleeps!" she said with a worried tone as she pulled her fine night-gown over her fine, slender Olven frame.
She quickly slipped inside the secret compartment as Akhan ran to the door, half-dressed with one of his socks hanging from his mouth. Opening the door an inch he saw Mordekei standing there looking impatient, Hamman standing behind him.
Mordekei stared at him for a moment, then nodded down at his chin. Glancing at the items between his teeth, Akhan could see it was not one of his socks, but Hanali's fine silk underpants he had between his teeth.
Akhan's eyes widened in disbelief and he grabbed them, hurling them out of sight as though Mordekei would know instantly from them which noble's wife he had been entertaining.
Akhan would have blushed if he were the blushing type. Whistling Ash out from the corner of the room, they quickly left for Jean-Paul's room.
"Hamman tells me the Mareschal Wissig was hunting this Shebbedd O'Harle character last night near the Axewood," Mordekei informed him. "And after some thought I believe you are correct - we need to speak to this Lominstrall. He is obviously up to no good!"
They knocked and knocked on the paladin's door, but could get no response.
"Must have beaten us to it," Hamman said, shrugging and heading off down to breakfast.
"Fat bastard had better not have scoffed all the bacon," Akhan said jokingly, apparently recovered from his earlier embarrassment.
They sat for the best part of an hour at breakfast, discussing the events of the past few days at length. By then Jean-Paul had still not made an appearance, and they were starting to become concerned.
Concern soon turned to worry, and the trio found themselves standing outside Jean-Paul's door again.This time, after a few knocks Akhan resorted to opening the door himself, with the help of his trusted lockpicks.
"Nice locks," he said as he fumbled about. "Good quality."
With a click, the lock was defeated, and with a beaming grin Akhan pushed the door carefully open. The room was disgustingly spotless and tidy, giving the appearance of somewhere that had hardly been lived in at all. The bed was made up, and Jean-Paul's armour and sword were nowhere to be seen.
"I think we'd better see Wissig about this. Perhaps he knows where the fool has gone to," Mordekei said.
With thoughts turning through their minds at a gallop they headed downstairs to find the Mareschal. As they reached the ground floor they heard the commotion coming from the front door. A group of soldiers led by the Captain of the Guard were carrying in a man. An armoured man.
Jean-Paul!

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Despite his dry mouth from the previous evening's over-indulgences, Aranon somehow managed to fully describe Berran's proposition to Tumbry.
"I know," the bard said in reply. "You told me about it last night."
"Ahhh!" Aranon replied. "Just making sure I got all the details to you."
Aranon tried desperately to figure out what else he might have told the bard in his debauched state. He recalled Tumbry advising him of the current state of affairs in Fax, how the Ruling Council of Elders had forsaken the lands outside the walls of Fax, leaving them to autonomy and, for some, almost certain invasion by the Pomarj as they lay largely unprotected.
Within a few hours, Aranon had packed and briefed Aklaw, the village headman, on the situation. He seemed quite pleased with the news, hoping that it would mean better things for the village.
By noon, he and Tumbry were on the road to Fax.

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

He seemed slightly wounded, with a minor, but deep, cut to the left shoulder and several scrapes and cuts to his face.
"What is the meaning of this?" Mordekei yelled above the rabble.
"We found him lying in the ditch by the road outside the village, sire," the Captain said. "He had been covered over as though hidden, and he does not awaken."
The guards carried him up stairs to his room while Hamman and Akhan left in search of a cleric. They soon found the Priest of Pelor who had helped save the King, explained what had happened and returned to the knight's room. A quick examination and the priest kneeled by the paladin's bed, clasping his Holy Symbol and praying.
"He should be fine in a moment," the priest said. "The poison has been destroyed, I fear your friend may be a bit shaken by his encounter, but should be fine in time."
The priest said a quick prayer over the Knight, whose wound seemed to heal instantly, and he appeared infinitely healthier.
"He's awake," Akhan said.
Jean-Paul's eyes opened slowly, sensitive to the light. He seemed somewhat dazed.
"My friend," Hamman said in a serious tone. "The guards found you unconscious in the ditch just outside the village this morning. What on Oerth happened to you?"
Mordekei bent over the paladin and checked him over quickly. His breath smelled of nothing so much as dog crap, but apart from the scrapes to his face, probably where he was dragged, and the small puncture wound at the shoulder, right on the joint of his armour, he was unharmed.
Jean-Paul had felt better.
He was sure that he had something to remember - something important about the previous night. His mind was hardly in a fit state to race, but finally a something fell into place and he blurted it out.
"Lominstrall...King...Redemption...ambush...murder...drink...gerls...feck!"
He passed out again.

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When he was finally fit to talk, Jean-Paul sat back on his bed and began to explain his previous evening's exploits.
"At the Shriven Oak I was approached by a fellow, the very one you followed Akhan, who asked me to meet him at the stables alone last night. I fear I stumbled upon our friends, Redemption, who informed me of their suspicions regarding Lominstrall in the attempt on the kings life."
He paused and took a cup of water from the bedside and drank from it.
"They explained that they had some personal vendetta against Lominstrall and that they intended to intercept him on his flight from the Palace, somewhere between here and Niole Dra. They also explained that they would kill me if I tried to interfere in their schemes."
He took a longer gulp of water, apparently quite enjoying.
"Good water this is!" he exclaimed, taking a longer drink.
"Well, let me continue! They locked me in the stable, but I found my way out and was making my way back to warn you when I bumped into their rear guard. Next things I know I am here."
On finishing his tale he looked up at the rest and then looked down at the empty cup he was.
This time his mind was clearer, and he focused on his friends as they crowded around the bed.
"We must hurry" he said weakly, "I believe that Lominstrall may have been responsible for the attempt on the kings life. I understand he is on his way to Niole Dra? However, he will never get there! I have it on authority that Redemption plan to ambush Lominstrall and murder him in repayment of an old and nefarious debt."
He struggled to get up out of the bed.
"We must hurry and attempt to stop Redemption from carrying out their plan and allow us to bring Lominstrall to justice!"
Following these words he took two very shaky steps across the timber floor before keeling over into unconsciousness once more.
"Wellll!" drawled Akhan. "It doesn't take the mind of a demi-god to work out our prime suspect. I for one am not about to let these Redemption arses chop him up though! We need to get to Niole Dra fast. Mordekei, is Zarn Varnt still floating about in the ether around about here? I don't know what sort of tricks he's got up his sleeve but if he can pull one of those translocation stunts then we need to go get 'im."
Akhan lowered his eyebrows over his eyes and frowned at the floor.
"But if that's a non-starter then I'll have to give serious consideration to buggering off now. I've got my boots," he said, clicking his heels together, "and I could be there in a greasy puff of smoke."
"We better get hold of Wissig too and let him know what's afoot. If we have to ride then we might be able to con some good fast horses out of him."
Akhan waited impatiently for the response of the others, starting to bite at his fingernail before stopping in disgust at himself.
Mordekei mused thoughtfully for a second or two, thinking over what Akhan had said.
"I think we would be better served by staying as a group. If we split, each of us may stand no more chance than a single pawn facing ranks of bishops and rooks. I'm afraid the idea about Zarn, whilst a good one, is probably a non-starter. He would need to know the location fairly well, and he's not about anyway."
"But on the other hand, I'm not entirely sure I trust Wissig either yet. Yes, I admit that Lominstrall also fits the profile of the traitor that we discussed previously, in fact I now think that it could be him. But if we're about to jump headfirst into that hole then I'd rather not pull the earth in behind me."
Mordekei began to pace back and forwards, hand absent-mindedly at his beard, before stopping and looking purposefully at the others.
"If we're open and go after Lominstrall, and Wissig, or others, are involved, then there's scope for ambush. If he's honest, though, he might insist on sending his own men after him. On the other had though, he might furnish us with fast horses and such other assistance as he can muster. We could also have him search Lominstrall's quarters, or do it ourselves. "
He shook his head slowly
"I'm just not entirely sure..."
Mordekei pondered the situation for a second before enthusiastically declaring a plan.
"Damnit, I think we have to assume that Wissig is the King's man. Let us tell him what's up and get going. Akhan - make your way to Lominstrall's quarters, see if you can obtain entry, and carry out a quick search. Hamman - I doubt if Akhan will have any trouble, but you never know. You'd be as good going with him just in case."
Mordekei turned and leant over Jean-Paul.
"I'm not entirely convinced that the poison is as guilty as the terrible overacting now - that spell should have been fairly effective. Try and get to your feet, old chap, grab your stuff and get ready for a chase!"
"I'll try and catch Thoggin, get the green light to proceed. I suggest we want to be in a position to leave sharpish after we tell the other 'suspects', so I'll gather my necessities first and you may want to do the same. Lets go!"
And with that Mordekei turned and left.
Hamman quickly caught Jean-Paul as he stumbled, helping him to his feet as he opened his eyes again. He looked round at the others, shrugging his shoulders.

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

Akhan went with Hamman up to Lominstrall's room, between the Royal Suite and the Count's Chambers. Unfortunately there was a guard on the door.
Hamman smiled, saying, "Leave it to me, Akhan."
Hamman rushed over to the guard, saying, "Quick man, with me, there is an intruder..."
He pulled the young soldier's arm and led him away form Akhan, who quickly took out his picks and set to work on the lock. The lock itself was of good quality, but should have been possible to open. Still, try as he might, the lock would not budge.
About five minutes of trying and he heard Hamman's voice booming along the corridor.
"Sorry about that, could have sworn I saw someone."
Akhan went around the corner and waited for Hamman, giving him the bad news when he arrived.
Hamman shook his head.
"It is too dangerous, we'll be caught and implicated. Best call it quits for now."
They left for their rooms, to collect their belongings, and the inevitable Ash, before heading down to the entrance hall where the others waited.
Akhan was shaking his head.
"Useless, I fear," he said. "Hamman distracted the guard, but the door must have been magically locked. The room is between the Royal quarters and the Count's room, and I fear capture or discovery if we try another way. We'll just have to find this Lominstrall blind."
They took their belongings outside, where it was beginning to rain. Jean-Paul seemed in the depths of some deep depression, and the light rain, which had recently started, only seemed to encourage his state.
Soon the horses were led out as promised, and they saw the glint of a smile on Jean-Paul's face as he walked over to his own war-horse.
"Canterbury," he said as he stroked its long mane. "So good to see you my old friend."
The horse nudged his master as though somehow understanding him. Mordekei looked like he was going to vomit.
They mounted and rode off towards Edalsvell, and the rain became heavier after a short while.

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Several hours later they reached Edalsvell, where as usual Halykk gave them a sincere welcome. They could see the Bierkeepe was almost complete now, although the bad weather would undoubtedly slow its building. They were glad one and all to shelter from the rain inside Halykk's welcome inn.
It seemed that Wissig and his men had stayed there last night as had Eloi and Bermen, but the Mareschal had been there for only a few hours, arriving early in the morning and departing not much later. They were indeed hunting down Shebbedd O'Harle, but had followed him off-road to the west.

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It was just after dusk when they arrived at Niole Dra.
Listening to Eloi`s plan, Bermen nodded solemnly in approval.
"I think I may see if I can question the guards at the Gate first. With the right kind of persuasion, one of them might just remember a buxom wench passing through."
At this point Bermen looked unusually uncomfortable and assumed an expression of pained dignity.
"Perhaps you could see your way to lend me some cash to grease some palms Eloi. I'm afraid that as I haven't been paid recently, what with being away from my unit and all..."
Bermen fell silent, looking abashed.
"I assure you I am a very good risk and I will reimburse you at the soonest opportunity. I'll follow after you when I've finished unless I get a solid lead but we'll appoint the Painted Man Inn as rendezvous point."
Eloi put on a sad face at his companion's request.
"Alas Major, I am not the man of substance I may appear. What little funds I _do_ have are, shall we say, out of reach at this moment. As in behind enemy lines in Furyondy, you understand. It seems we will both have to make ends meet as best we can."
"Let us meet at this Painted Man when you are done. Then mayhap we can visit on our friend Kro, see what has been going on in this pit since we left."
A boy approached Eloi at the waft of the money, and, realising it was a silver Rittern his eyes came alight.
"I'll show you the way, m'Lord," he said with great glee.
He grasped for the coin, Eloi snatching it away at the last moment.
"When we get there," the Baron told him.
Eloi turned and rode off after the boy who eagerly beckoned him toward the Weyrkling area, Friederikson following close behind.

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Bermen turned his horse and approached the Merkstaff, where the merkket traders were packing up for the night. If he could not use charm, perhaps his charm and rank would do the trick.
As he approached the gate, he saw that the usual City Guard contingent was doubled, and there was also an army squad, light cavalrymen headed by a Lieutenant. As Bermen approached him, the Lieutenant saluted him, and he returned the salute.
After making small talk, Bermen told him his story.
"I think her brother put her up to running away with my money. They've always had an unhealthily close relationship, if you know what I mean. Anyway, this brother op hers may be coming to join up with her so I'd be very appreciative if any of you gents could tip me the wink."
The Lieutenant chuckled.
"I had the same problem in Grabford, sir, but less success than you I think in resolving it. No, I can't say I recall anyone like that around here, but there are so many about it would be unlikely for me to notice. I'll ask around the other watches and get the City Guard to keep an eye out for you. Where can we reach you sir, if we find anything?"
"The Painted Man inn, Bermen said, immediately noting the surprised look on the officer's face.
"A bit rough," the man said. "A den of thieves too, if you don't mind me saying so. Still, if we find anything, we'll contact you there."

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

It was a hard ride to make it to Fax that day, but not long after dark they reached the city. Or what was left of it.
The smoke could be smelled several miles from the city. Aranon could not see the extent of the damage, but from the lack of lights in the southern half of the city, knew it was great.
He had spent many years in Fax as a junior priest tending to the needs of the downtrodden in the Maze slum area. He smiled at the thought of the people who lived there. Most likely they had put the fires out with their bare hands, so resilient and strong they were. And stupid!
It took them half an hour to get the guards to open the gate, and all of Aranon's clerical clout, for there were strict orders not to open them during the dark hours. Soon they were heading up the long flights of stairs to the Rustic Hostel of his Lord Olidamarra. There was a makeshift encampment for the homeless outside the Hostel, and the place itself was full of refugees injured by the fires, as was the temple itself.
There seemed to be fewer priests than usual here though, as many were out tending their 'flock' in the streets. Soon, one of the higher-ranking priests, Bularric, was alerted to Aranon's presence and arrived to greet him. More and more he was finding that he did not know the priests about here so well. Most of the older ones who were in charge as Aranon came up were dead, or far away, and he had been gone from Fax itself so long now.
Bularric arranged to send a messenger to Berran, and they talked over Fax's situation. It was dire.
The Count had left a considerable sum of money, but much of that would be required to rebuild the city and to pay their army and navy. Many men had been released, to allow money to be saved, but Aranon considered that might be better for him, as there were plenty of mercenaries about now whom he could hire to protect Oakhart.
Aranon discussed his plans for rebuilding the keep at Oakhart.
"You'll need an engineer-architect," Bularric told him. "Werrel of Dyvers, the one you picked to rebuild the temple, is finishing off just now. He cost us about a hundred orbs per month, basic pay. Likely he would have little problem with your work, and he may even be able to find you a site on your land for that Temple you were always going to build."
They chatted some more on the plight of the people of Fax and the Council, whilst religiously quaffing a few bottles of Fax's finest wines, before Tumbry and Aranon headed off to bed.

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

Through the winding, narrow streets of the dock area with its small, thin shops, multitude of street vendors, ruffians, sailors, whores and all the other types of low-life. Eloi found it comforting to be amongst them again. They drew a few looks as they went, but Eloi's flail hanging from the horse's side seemed to put off the worst of these.
They came to the first canal, and waited there for the ferry moving people back and forth between the many long, thin islands between the canals leading up to the Weyrstaff. Many ships, some of them military, were docked in the Sheldomar to the east, this being the farthest north most larger vessels could sail on the river. A silver coin saw them to the front of the queue and across to the other side. Another two ferries later the boy pointed to a ramshackle wooden building as they turned the corner.
As they approached, Eloi noticed someone watching out from one of the upper floor windows, and the man slumped at the door did not quite seem as drunk as he would have people believe. Walking in, Eloi soon formed the opinion that this place was some sort of Thieves Guild safehouse, or headquarters, or something connected to them anyway.
They strolled in, many looking at them both as they looked out of place, Eloi in his new cloak and rapier, Friederikson with his dust-covered chain armour and longsword. The barman asked them what they wanted without uttering a word, just a look in their direction and an upward flick of his fat, ugly head.
Eloi turns to Friederikson and whispered, "All, is not as it seems here, let me do the talking, these appear to be my kind of people."
He meandered over to the barkeep trying to keep his demeanour as casual as possible.
"Good-day my man, my companions and I are in town on business for a few days and are looking for simple lodgings. This place seems most suitable, do you have rooms to spare?"
Without looking at Eloi, the barman rhymed off without looking up. "One fennig for the common room, a Rittern for private. Payment up front, any trouble or funny business we dump your bodies in the canal."
Eloi paused, then laughed at the barman's lines. He looked up finally, a smile creeping across his face, just another vertical scar on his cracked visage. Eloi fished out seven silver pieces from his pouch for two nights, plus the ale, passing them to him.
"Barkeep, an ale for me and whatever you wish yourself."
He turned to Friederikson.
"Take our belongings up to our rooms and unpack then meet us down here. Bermen and I are going to partake in a tasting of whatever donkey piss serves as ale in these parts
He took a sip of the ale and leaned over the bar.
"I have heard some rumours about an attempt on the kings life. Are they true? Do you know what happened?"
As he poured the pints, the innkeep shook his head.
"Not heard a thing, sir. Don't take much to do with what don't concern me. Don't surprise me much neither, considering the feelings of the folk around here."
He placed the two frothing pints on the bar and drank to Eloi's health.
He listened to the barman's response, feigning interest, almost casually adding in his more important question.
"I have an old friend who I believe used to work in this inn, her name is Ariall, does she still work here? Such a charming girl, I would like to meet her again to discuss old times."
Try as he might to hide it, Eloi saw the recognition in the innkeep's face.
"Don't know that I do," he said.
The barman knocked twice on the bar, loudly, with his fist, and Eloi heard two chairs being moved as someone behind him stood up. Glancing around he saw two local worthies walking toward him.
"Perhaps Mister Wakes in the corner there can help you."
The two men stood one on either side of Eloi, who felt he was not being allowed much option here but to go to sit with 'Mr Wakes'. He turned and walked with them over to the table where a gaunt man with long black hair and faded clothes that might once have belonged to a fop like Akhan or Hamman, sat playing cards with two others. The fop, whom he gathered was Mister Wakes, wore a crushed top-hat, somewhat the worse for wear.
The taller of the two escorts pulled a chair over for Eloi, and Mister Wakes stopped playing as he sat down.
"Eawartt Wakes," he said, making no effort to offer his hand to Eloi. He nodded to the innkeep.
"Dastin seems to think you might use my services - who are you and how can I help?"
"I am Eloi Brand, sir, of Crockport. I have come seeking a friend, a girl, who may be, shall we say, 'in need of protection."
"Does your 'friend' have a name, Eloi Brand of Crockport?" Wakes asked, in an almost mocking tone.
"The only name I know her by was 'Ariall'," Eloi told him.
A grin crept over Eawartt Wakes' face, and he reached out for the deck of cards. Shuffling them skilfully, his eyes remained on Eloi, as he spoke.
"I do hope I can help you, Eloi Brand."
He flicked the cards out to the five players with great practice, placing down his hand. As Eloi went to look at his cards, Eawartt stretched out his hand to stop him.
"You look like a gambling man. Are you a man of your word, Eloi?"
As he spoke, Eawartt ran through a series of minor hand movements in Thieves Cant, which identified to Eloi that he was the thief in charge of this inn.
Before Eloi had a chance to reply, Eawartt continued.
"You wager every coin you have in your possession. I wager my help in tracing this 'Ariall'. We each turn one card from our deck, and you have my word that they are not marked. I think when doing business with someone it is very important to know if you trust them."
Eloi heard someone enter the bar, from the sounds of it a lone man.
"Or you may leave this inn and not return."
The man behind Eloi moved closer behind him. Looking into the reflection of his polished beer tankard, Eloi was relieved to find it looked it was Bermen.
Eloi stared at the five cards before him.

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

Bermen saw the looks he was getting from the two other card players, on either side of the fop, and did not imagine they were going to let him get much closer to the game from the way they moved. He decided to stay a short distance back from them for now.
Bermen watched as Eloi placed his money pouch on the table. He then reached out and turned over a card, the second from the left.
Seven of clubs.
Bermen had not, of course, noticed the series of hand movements done by Eloi, in which he acknowledged Wakes' signs and his authority.
Wakes lifted his card, the middle one, looked at it, and then replaced it, face down on the table.
"Istus smiles on you, Eloi Brand. Your monies are safe, for now, and my services are yours."
Wakes looked up at Bermen, asking, "And who might you be, sir? A friend of Eloi's no doubt."
Without waiting for his reply, Wakes continued.
"And tell me how I can help you both, fortunate Eloi. The truth now, not that yarn you span for Dastin."
Wakes beckoned to the innkeep for drinks as he awaited their reply, gesturing to Bermen to be seated.

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Wakes listened eagerly as Bermen told his tale of the events at Axewood Palace. He had decided to be honest and forthright with Wakes, believing it would get him more than some shoddy tale of his own invention.
Wakes listened to Eloi's tale.
"I do not know if I can help you, Eloi Brand," he said solemnly.
Wakes paused, looking thoughtful as he peered around the room.
He leaned forward towards Eloi and Bermen.
"You are asking me to risk someone's life who may be in danger - I do not know either of you. If I could help you, it would have to be on my terms. And you may not like them. What say you?"
Eloi shrugged.
"Seems like I have no other choice, Master Wakes."
Wakes nodded.
"There is no other way my friend. I will arrange the necessary and let you know the plan later."
Wakes got to his feet and offered his hand to Eloi, and they shook. He nodded to Bermen and left the inn, his two cronies following him closely.

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"What now, then?" Bermen asked. "I had little luck at the gate, they said they'd keep an eye out though."
Eloi pondered for a moment, and Bermen could almost have sworn he was in pain as he did so.
"I want you to go to Kro's house," he eventually said, having had to quaff the remainder of his ale to ease the pain of thinking. "See what he knows about all this. I'll see what else I can find out about Ariall, and this Mister Wakes."
"Fair enough!" Bermen said. "He is your friend, but if you think it best, I'll go."
Bermen took a few things from his pack, which Eloi could see was put together with disgusting military efficiency. He then pushed the rest in front of Eloi.
"Could you have Friederikson put this in my room. I'll see you later."
Bermen left the inn with a few sideward glances at the denizens.
Eloi got up to go to the bar, just as Friederikson came back down the stairs. As the squire opened his mouth, he pointed to the pack on the table.
"Master Bermen's stuff. And that'll be all for tonight."
Friederikson looked relieved as he was dismissed, scurrying upstairs with Bermen's kit.

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He made his way slowly through the building crowds as evening descended on the Weyrkling dock area. As he passed the main docks for the larger ships, he saw a very strange ship, a three-masted one with a small gold dome at the rear, like a turret. Bermen had seen nothing like it even in his days living in the port of Monmurg, but his curiosity ended there and he put it down to some strange eccentric's poor taste.
He was somewhat glad to leave the Weyrkling behind and enter the safer Keisling district, noting that the watch had now changed. A brief enquiry with the watch commander told him they had no news for him about Ariall.
Bermen sensed there was nobody within Kro's house when he approached, as all the windows were boarded and doors locked over. Another five minutes of ringing his doorbell confirmed this.
He was about to return to the Painted Man when he realised that he could check at Lareng's house for any news. Failing that, he would go to the Dark Hole inn, where his Dwer friends drank. It was not too far from Lareng's, and preferable to the scum rabble of Eloi's choice.
Luckily, as darkness fell completely, the servant girl who had served him drinks before answered his knocks, and Bermen was soon shown into a study where Lareng worked. He turned and rose from his seat, greeting Bermen enthusiastically.
He insisted on hearing the events of the past week in detail, over a few glasses of fine Keoish brandy, the blue kind which Bermen had heard of but never before tasted. Bermen related it all in detail, and once finished he soon found another hundred questions from Lareng.
As the conversation, and the drinking, went on, they drifted from the subject. Such was Lareng's obvious passion for knowledge, and they spoke long into the night of everything from the Wars to the Drow, and of Bermen's experiences in Geoff and Sterich.

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