Black Hart

To Kill A King

Chapter 4 - A Disturbing Encounter

Aranon had noticed Teuch’tir’s man trailing him as he went about his business that day. He was an old, stern-faced dwarf with much grey, and his face was covered in battle scars, long and short, thick and fine. His left eye, across which a deep scar ran, was white from blindness. At his side a dark, heavy warhammer hung from a thick engraved belt.
He made no effort to hide from Aranon, and later that evening he approached and introduced himself as Tharak Vorgart. He explained that his Lord’s brother, Euch'tir was burying his dead at that time, but would arrange his passage north as soon as he could.
Thankfully his worries about Emarill seemed unfounded. It also appeared that Count Fimuth was himself at Axewood. Zarn Varnt, their long-time adventuring companion and now Fimuth’s magist, was here in Niole Dra. Apparently, Aranon was informed over dinner by Lancer, Akhan had been hit in the eye by a Drow crossbow bolt on returning to the battle. Zarn had replaced the lost eye with a magical one of his creation.
News was starting to trickle in from the countryside around Niole Dra, where the forces of good were spread out in all directions, chasing the remnants of the Dark Hordes. Lancer seemed to think that it would not be long before they ground to a halt. It seemed a stalemate was about to be reached, with evil having taken over much of the lands of the good folk.
To the west, Sterich and Geoff were mostly lost to the giants and the Drow. Directly to the north, Bissel and parts of the Gran March had fallen to the Ketish and undoubtedly the Iuz forces too. Past the Lortmils there were areas in Veluna and Furyondy where the Hordes of Iuz still ruled. The Hold of the Sea Princes, as well as most of the Iron League, were all lost to the intrigues and subterfuge that was the Scarlet Brotherhood. The Great Kingdom was worn down to a shadow of its former self by the madness of the Overking, Ivid the Undying. The Shield Lands, the Bandit Kingdoms, the Barrens, all lost to the Horned Society. Tenh to the Fists, Almor to the Great Kingdom, the list went on and on, until Aranon could listen no more.
What did interest him, and worry him greatly, were the rumours that the Pomarj Hordes of Turrosh Mak that had earlier swept into Ulek had now attacked the south of the Wild Coast. The towns of Eldredd and Badwall were apparently overrun, and now ruled by cruel Euroz and Eiger Lords. But of Fax, noble Fax, and Aranon’s daughter, there was no news.
But that was a problem he must resolve at a later date. For now Aranon would have to trust her safety to his fellow priests, the Knight Patriots and the mercenaries of Fax's Foreign Legion.
One disturbing rumour he had heard banded about was the possibility of a truce, or pact, of some kind. Many had proposed it, but many also opposed these thoughts as lunacy. Had the efforts and lives of he and his friends in stopping Lolth, of all the men who faced the Hordes and died, really been in vain?
These past few days Aranon had trusted leaving Emarill, and had performed a few ceremonies and healings on the needy. These were more than welcome - the people fretted over the cost and lack of food, the deaths and losses of homes, the thoughts of even more fighting before there could be peace. Despite the victory, all of these factors weighed heavily on the people about the capital, particularly throughout the refugee settlements.
Emarill seemed to present very little to worry about now. Her physical wounds were gone, and the mental scars, he knew, would need time and more than a few kind words to heal. She seemed to take comfort in his words, and it was obvious to Aranon that she thought very highly of him.
She asked Aranon about his children, but this only reminded him how worried he was for Elouera's safety. She seemed sad to learn of the recent death of his wife and son at sea.
Sometimes he returned to the room to find her reading his Holy scriptures! A convert, perhaps!
Through the days he had run into most of the others from the party, and even his faithful companion, the bold Don Raziano. Wishing some time to sort out the Emarill problem, he had told them all that he had to join the army in the north to strike at the Hordes. They did not seem surprised at all by this news, but wished him good journey. Raz had taken a bit of persuading not to tag along, but the prospect of spending some time in Niole Dra greatly appealed to him.
Aranon smiled as he watched Emarill sleep at this late hour, picturing Raz’s thorough carousing and the dreadful state he would find himself in the next morn. He glanced at the door, willing for Tharak to knock and tell him they would be leaving soon. As he fell asleep, he saw Elouera’s beautiful smile, and dreamed of the days when his family had been together, happy, in their townhouse in Fax.

Bermen stood slightly within the doorway, and watched the Suel run off down the street, obviously trying to keep to the shadows, and not doing too bad a job of it. He seemed to be following a horse-drawn carriage that headed north, in the general direction of the Keisling area.
“These three in the bar are up to something then!” he surmised. “Doesn't do any harm to find out what, and that Suel's not going to pose any problems should he object to my attentions.”
As Bermen made off after the Suel, he realised the man was preoccupied with the carriage to the exclusion of all else, and found following him an easy task. Surely enough, the carriage wound through the dark streets of the Tarskling, up the road around the walled Keisling area and stopped at the Merkstaff, where a couple of City Guards had a brief look inside before waving them on.
Bermen waited until the Suel was safely through, then approached the gate. The guards asked his name and business, but on being told he was going see the his Major they let him pass without incident.
Once inside, the streets being quite empty, it was easy enough to pick up the Suel's trail again, even though he was running to catch up with the carriage. No need for Bermen’s tracking skills with this fool!
The carriage stopped outside a small, yet affluent, townhouse, and Bermen watched its follower from a distance, as he in turn watched the two half-elfs and the half-orc get out, all staggering noisily into the townhouse. The one-without-hat dismissed the carriage driver and the carriage sped off as they were let into the house by a man.
As the door closed, Bermen watched closely the hidden Suel, who did not budge one inch. Most puzzling!

Eloi soon remembered how much he enjoyed Kro's hospitality - somehow he was winning the card game, quite easily, and in spite of his wretched state. Kro's stock of fine drink was unsurpassed - port from Almor, vodka from Schnai and a particularly smooth, but potent, Dwarven whisky - Glenmordor 112 year malt.
This was not surprising, considering his 'other' occupation as a wine merchant - a successful wine merchant at that. Despite this fact, Akhan was shocked to see Eloi intent on drinking Diamond Merrybuck, a cheap, nasty, mind-blowing fortified wine brewed by monks in southern Veluna.
And if that wasn't to his taste, there was the smokeweed - the finest Ketish blend, although Akhan suspected there was a mild narcotic through it. The craic was good, with the old stories coming out, the drinking, the fornication, the vomiting, and the fighting - oh, the fighting!
Kro related his favourite story, of the time when, being chased by Fax's Constabulary, he lassooed the Chevalier Kh'Marra, their High Constable, who promptly fell from his horse and was rendered unconscious by their host. When the Knight awakened in the early morning light he was upside down in his underwear, hanging outside the court building among the unfortunates occupying the stocks!
This was the end of his enjoyable time as a catspaw in Fax, embarrassing a few of Fax's dignitaries by stealing their underwear, diaries, other miscellaneous items - and then hanging them in inappropriate places. He wore bright clothing to make it quite obvious, and became a people's hero of sorts. Thankfully his identity was still unknown to most. Thievery was entertainment to a rich cat-burglar like Kro - however the heat in Fax was too great to be amusing, hence his relocation to Niole Dra.
The topic turned soberly to the Dark War for the moment.
"I've been doing my damnedest,” Akhan declared proudly, “to avoid most of this bollocks going on with the Dark Hordes up till now. Bloody inconvenient for the life of pleasure."
At this juncture, Akhan paused to burp loudly, with no effort to cover his act.
He then continued. "Still, I do have some friends who seem terribly excited by all the fighting and I've found myself sadly bound to follow them, if only to keep them out of trouble. As for your young friend D'Asswipe, I'm sure he'd be just as incorrigibly enthusiastic as my comrade Thanoin. I've never met a paladin yet who didn't think the world would fall to pieces without their 'help'."
As if to show his opinion of Paladins, Akhan emitted more bodily gases, this offering being lower, louder and longer than the last.
"Ahh, vintage!" he declared, grinning broadly.
The best wine, good smoke, a fine card game, excellent banter. What more could a half-orc want?
"Em, it all seems a bit lonely around here, Kro," Eloi said bluntly, winking at his host. "Where the fuck are these wenches or do you expect me to sit here and beat you both at cards all night. If you have fat enough purses I'd be happy too but, my baser instincts need attending"
Kro smiled, saying "Yeah, yeah, I sent Braddik out for them".
Sure enough, half an hour later, half an hour of drunken card-playing and frenzied drinking, three brazen strumpets duly appeared as promised.

The Suel waited a short while, and both he and Bermen saw the man leave the townhouse shortly thereafter, a servant-like man in a hurry. He actually walked, unknowingly, within feet of both men.
The lights had gone on inside the house, and occasionally the half-orc's deep, pounding voice boomed out onto the street. After a quarter of an hour or so, the servant-type returned with three harlots in tow, and trailed them back into the house.
Once they were safely within, the Suel quickly ran over to the back wall of the house's gardens, deftly scaling it in one fluid motion, dropping quietly to the other side. He certainly appeared to Bermen to be a practised thief of sorts by the way he moved.
Assuming this Suel was watching the house, Bermen went to another part of the wall and peered over, cautiously. At first he did not see him. Then, after an intense scan of the darkness, he spotted the Suel, behind a bush where he had gone over the wall, looking towards the main building. There stood an outhouse, probably the toilet, and another outbuilding closer yet, which Bermen hoped would shield him as he leapt the wall.
Drawing his cloak about him, Bermen settled down to watch the watcher. The noise inside built up; They talked, it sounded like they were playing cards; there may also have been a bit of passion going on! The elf-without hat came out to the toilet twice, the elf-with-hat once, but once more, the Suel did not move an inch!
Bermen was getting very cold.

Home at last, the past week had been the most strenuous of Mordekei’s life!
First the battle, fighting evil hordes, almost being killed when the Hordes overran the Keoish King's camp - and that damned cloud blocking out the sun all of the time! Luckily Grymalkin saw them coming through the smoke, and he had managed to warn the King in time!
Mordekei glanced down at his familiar, snoring quietly in front of the fire. He and the Pseudodragon had saved the King’s life, only to find themselves surrounded and almost certainly doomed as the King withdrew. Luckily, between them, Baron Arganass and his men, aided by Mordekei’s magics, had held off the attack. In the process, nearly all the Baron’s men were killed, and he himself had lost an arm! And the King had not even sent reinforcements, believing they were dead.
“Or word of thanks,” he thought as he arose from his armchair.
Then two days after the battle, he was awakened by Zakanieth. His apprentice had obviously been nervous at waking him against instructions, but seemed to think it was very important.
"It is Zarn Varnt, sir, he requests an audience."
Curious, down he went and, greetings over, Zarn got straight to the point in his polite but no-nonsense Olven manner.
"'Tis one of the heroes", he had said. "A young half-elf called Akhan - he had his eye put out in the battle afterwards. His friend, Sir Thanoin Varkrunden, a Knight of the Holy Shielding, has come to me and asked if I could do anything for him. Now, I intend to make a magical eye for him, but I would appreciate your expertise in this area, for it is a complex task - I will need the help of a Wizard of your skills to be sure of success!"
Mordekei was about to point out that he was not yet a Wizard, but since he was being so complimentary, and knowing him not to be the sort to give out false accolades, he had just smiled and said that he would be honoured to help.
And he had to hand it to Zarn, he knew his magyks - the Eye of the Beholder indeed took well to the elf. And they both hoped that the powers of sight and detection, plus the special powers of telekinesis and ESP that it bestowed would lessen the loss of his real eye. But the headaches proved a bit of a problem - so severe at times that he passed out for up to an hour. Only by covering the Eye and sleeping could he get the headaches away. This was where Mordekei’s expertise came in, for his knowledge of psionics, which had similar problems for its young disciples, helped him to manage the pain and cut down the frequency of their occurrence.
The excitement of battle, the thrills the young elf spoke of in his fevered sleep, the immense feeling of power as Mordekei had battled the Dark Mages and won - that was not for him!
He looked back at the sleeping Grym, and his nice comfy armchair. Truth was, and he knew it, that Mordekei somehow missed adventuring. Stuck here for the past 5 years working with the Magusvolk had its rewards, but he was getting old before his time!
“Ahhh!” he thought outloud. “Out into the Niole Dra air with you, old fool. That’ll son clear your head of these stupid thoughts!”
Grabbing his cloak, Mordekei headed for the front door.

Eloi had left with the hevily bossomed wench as soon as Braddik had returned with them, no doubt to get Kro’s money’s worth out of her upstairs. Kro and Akhan abandoned the game, turning their attentions to her companions, but they were not so base as Eloi with his carnal needs - not tonight anyway.
Their thoughts were soon confirmed as sounds of Eloi’s grunting and the whore’s moaning came down to them through the ventilation shafts in Kro’s old house. After a few straight-faced moments they could take no more, and the four fell about the floor in laughter at the intimate noises floating downstairs. Their entertainment, however, was not to last long, and within minutes there was silence.
Akhan looked a knowing look at Kro, who nodded, and passed a pouch of coins to one of the whores, brushing her away. Akahn was too drunk, Kro was too tired, and neither wished to share their company as Eloi had.
As the other came downstairs, preceded by Eloi, no doubt on his way out to answer the call of nature, Kro showed them to the door, closely followed by the inebriated Akhan.

As Mordekei reached his front gate, three harlots were staggering down the path from the house of his neighbour, the wine merchant Kro Arribal. Kro shouted from the doorway.
"Mord, Mord, come in my friend! Come have a drink and a smoke with us- we have company!"
Kro pointed to the strumpets and Mordekei was forced to laugh. He knew fine and well that the mage did not drink or smoke, and as for women, well, how long had it been? Despite his habits Mordekei liked Kro, who had a friendly, roguish character, and he almost joined him just for the company.
Then, at the door, Akhan appeared.
"Mordekei?! Mordekei," he shouted excitedly, leaving the doorway and leaping the fence between the houses. He strode over and grabbed Mordekei by the arm. "You must come in...," he started.
Suddenly, from through Kro's house, probably out the back door, there was a soft explosion, and the sound of shouting and the clashing of metal on metal.
Kro and Akhan stood still for a split second, then Kro shouted, "Eloi!"
He turned and ran inside the house.
Akhan, showing he was slightly more drunk than Kro, looked at Mordekei before turning and running inside after his friend, stopping to pick himself up after he tripped over the fence.
The sounds coming from Kro's back yard were unmistakeable - battle!

There was a click from the door as it opened, and Bermen saw the half-orc from the inn emerge, holding his loosened trousers together, and in that instant the Suel had thrown something near the half-orc's feet and was speeding towards him.
Bermen too was moving as the missile exploded, covering the half-orc in a thick, dark cloud of dust. He instinctively drew his sword, roaring, "Ware, assassin! Protect yourself goodsir, you are attacked!”
Bermen closed on the surprised assassin, and brandished his sword, saying, "Put up that dagger, Scum, lest I fillet you."
At first the Suel seemed surprised by his sudden appearance, but as he finished the speech he turned, and Bermen realised he now intended to use that dagger on him!
As he lunged, Bermen stepped aside and struck his left arm, cutting in deeply. Turning, he now notice that the Suel had also cut his left arm en passant. But the cut did not feel sore as it should do - in fact there was a numbness creeping up his arm!
“Poison!” he yelled, his mind screaming in panic.
As he faced the Suel, however, Bermen sensed the feeling returning to his arm. There was a commotion within the house, and feet running towards them from inside. The half-orc seemed to have fallen to the ground and was still coughing and choking under the impenetrable cloud.

“Shit!” Akhan thought. “ This sounds like someone's got some bad news. I suspect I'll be mincemeat in short order if I don't get my mitts on me jaggy old mate Kagnstir.”
He did his best to bounce himself down the hall to the room where he left it, collecting his sword and Eloi and Kro's weapons too. Then he staggered off towards the sound of the fighting out the back, trying desperately to sober up and work out what was happening.
“Feck, arse, bugger!” he thought. “ I'd be better off trying to fight an opponent with a bout of Noxious Vomit than trying to chop 'em up. Ah hell, here goes.”

Bermen, whom the assassin seemed to regard as the greater threat, hit the Suel again, slashing lightly across his chest. The Suel lunged deep at him, but he easily avoided his clumsy attack. He seemed a little worse for wear now, but still very dangerous.
The one-without-hat ran from inside the house, and swung wildly at the Suel with what appeared to be a rolling pin.
Eloi coughed and choked, feeling unwell, the tears streaming down his face. As he got to his feet he saw two forms, one of which he thought was Akhan, coming out of the lit doorway. As he did so, his trousers dropped to his ankles and almost made him fall again.
"Do not kill the bastard,” Eloi shouted in between coughs, “I would appreciate that pleasure myself."
Eloi grasped his trousers with both hands, and started hobbling back inside the house.
The Suel noticed his opponents' numbers were increasing, and, changing tactics quickly, spun around, slashing Kro across his unarmoured chest. Immediately, Kro dropped the club, and seemed unable to do anything - he looked decidedly unwell!
The Suel grabbed Kro from behind, putting a dagger to his throat!
Immediately, as if in response, Bermen brought down Gottflinder on the Suel's right shoulder, almost severing the arm away. The Suel dropped the dagger in agony, but tried to turn the paralysed Kro to shield the coming blows. Akhan made a feeble swipe with his shortsword, missing both the Suel assassins he saw.
At the back door, Mordekei finished the incantation he had been casting unnoticed, and five silver-white balls of magic shot from his hands, flying at the Suel and striking him fully in the back and head. The shock of these missiles showed immediately as his body shuddered, and his eyes became glazed as those of the dead are wont to do.
Rather than fall to the ground, the dead Suel slumped against Kro who, body now entirely rigid from the poison, looked on, only his eyes moving.
Panting from the efforts of combat everyone stood silent for a second.

“And just what do we have here?" Mordekei asked.
He scanned the dark gardens, looking to see if there were anyone else there, perhaps with the Suel.
Bermen wiped his brow and turned towards the others, saying, “I thank you for your assistance gentlemen. This bugger was a bit lively."
Stepping closer, he prodded the body of the Suel away from the paralysed half-elf Kro with his sword.
"I am Captain Bermen Zladek.” he declared. “I followed this piece of dirt from the inn where I was staying when I noticed he was intent on following your carriage. I'm not fond of back-stabbing sneaks, you understand. Perhaps you should find someone to look after your friend here. The assassin's blade was undoubtedly poisoned."
As Akhan tried to focus on the stranger, he thought, “This is going to be the mother of all hangovers. Woops, Kro doesn't look too healthy. Neither does this assassin either.”
Serious though the situation was, Akhan couldn’t help but laugh, although he managed to keep it to a mental giggle.
"Ah, Mordekei!” he said to the mage. “A blast from the recent past, no less. Tell me - you wouldn't know anyone who could deal with poor Kro here? His taste in clothes is terrible but I have to admit I'd be sorry to lose a friend with such a varied and interesting collection of wines and spirits."
Akhan turned to look for Eloi, squinting tipsily through the darkness, not even noticing he had gone inside.
"Eloi, my popular friend.” he said. “Allow me to introduce you to Mordekei bat-Varruch, a mage as you may have guessed, of puissant power - and I'm not saying that again."
To Mordekei he said, "Mordekei, meet Eloi Brand of Crockport."
Just at that, Eloi emerged from the doorway with his trousers now secured, and a footman’s flail in his hand. He looked around at the scene before him.
Looking at Kro, he said, "Do any of you have the ability to heal poison? Damn, if only that damned Paladin was here!"
Everyone shook their head, and Eloi lifted up Kro, who seemed to be getting less rigid now, and took him inside to the comfort of his couch.
Mordekei started searching the grounds while Akhan and Bermen introduced everyone and had a pleasant chat over the body of this man they just killed.

A short while later, Mordekei and Bermen walked in from outside, with the drunken Akhan close behind. They both had serious looks on their faces, although Akhan just looked ridiculously drunk. As anticipated the poison soon wore off Kro, and he appeared unhurt, aside from the initial cut and a horrified expression.
"By the Gods, he was too fast!” he said, when he finally could speak. “What'll we do with the body? Who was he? Who does he work for? We might not be safe here! Where can we go? Hell, I need a fucking drink!"
Eloi had fetched Kro a large brandy "for his nerves". The dead Suel, meantime, was having a seat outside in the toilet, courtesy of Bermen and Mordekei. Mordekei had also brought two cups of some boiled herbal brew - one for himself and one for Kro.
After the merest sip, Kro yelled "Blergh!" and refused to take any more.
Mordekei shrugged, somewhat bemused at this, and sat down, sipping frequently on his brew.
“We may have the answers,” Bermen said, laying down several items on the table nearby.
“We found these on the assassin,” Mordekei said, “this is what he threw at Eloi.”
He pointed to a clay 'egg', about the size of a duck egg.
Bermen said , "That's the thing he threw at Eloi. He waited there when both the elves came out and only made a move when he saw the half-orc. When it hit the ground it shattered and threw up a choking cloud of smoke at him."
Also on the table were a set of thieves' tools, and a metal potion-vial. There was a small purse, which Bermen pured out to show five gold coins. Not Keoish Merrke, but Sea Princes gold pieces. Kro’s jaw dropped slightly, as though he suddenly realised something, and Mordekei nodded to him.
Bermen seemed unaware, and said, "But what is it? Have you found something?"
Eloi dropped his head into his hands, shaking it from side to side.
“Are they worth anything?” Akhan questioned.
“Your life, perhaps!” Mordekei stated bluntly.
Akhan still shook his head, to drunk or ignorant to understand.
“He is has been in the Hold recently, Akhan!” Eloi muttered.
Suddenly it all made sense, and the smile dropped from Akhan’s face. A pure-bred Suel, assassin, Sea Princes coinage - this man was an agent of the Scarlet Brotherhood!
"I don't know about the rest of you,” Eloi said, “but I would be a little more than interested in having a chat with the other Suel chappies, in particular Mr T'lan. Anyone fancy a return to that favourite of drinking haunts, the Wolf and Halberd?
Kro seemed to have recovered slightly, and looked at Eloi in a strange manner.
"Are you mad?!" he spat. "For some reason, he felt strongly enough to try to assassinate us - or, should I say, you! So you want to return to his grasp and let him finish his business - well not I. You forget Eloi, I am a catspaw like yourself. We cannot call on the City Guard, that is certain. I may have enough contacts to dispose of the body, but I for one shall be leaving town for a while until I am sure that it is safe. I would advise you all to do the same!"
Akhan suggested, "Fella's, what we need now is some heavy hitters on our side. No offence like Mordekei, but if we've got assassins prowling around after us then I suggest it wouldn't do any harm to find our old champ, Aranon of the Thunderfart. Now, what was it Thanoin was saying about meeting up?"
Kro looked around, saying, "Do what you like guys. Getting in with Aranon may be the answer. I seem to remember he had some involvement with the Scarlet Ones some time back, he may be able to help. Nonetheless, you will remember that I was on my way south on business when I was, ahem, called back."
He looked over at Eloi, before continuing. "I will be setting off at first light. You are welcome to stay here 'til you leave, but if they are looking for you, this may not be the best place! We were seen coming into the Keisling, and since it was my carriage, and I'm the only one with a house here!”
He paused to emphasise the logical conclusion of his points.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I think I can just about arrange for the disappearance of the body. It would probably be best if I didn't hear the rest of your plans, just in case."
He got up, and wishing all a goodnight, headed off up to bed.
The drink seemed to have won the battle with Akhan, who lay sprawled across Kro's velvet-covered couch, fast asleep.
Eloi looked very concerned, and still splurted out a little cough from time to time.
Looking at the others, Bermen said, "Gentlemen, I certainly feel involved in this affair now and if it is as serious as you seem to think then I would like to throw my hand in with you. One man alone is easily picked off; united, we stand a lot greater chance of confounding our foes."
"However,” he continued, “I have left some of my belongings back at the inn, as, I imagine, your pissed associate here did also.”
He nodded at the grinning Akhan.
"I am prepared to return to the inn and collect my things and your friend's,” Bermen told them. “I have had nothing to do with you all previously and I do not believe they will know of my involvement as yet. I should be able to find some Dwarven friends in the area and return to the inn with them as further protection. What say you all?"
"Okay I agree,” Eloi said, “that we should leave town, but as Bermen needs to get his belongings from the Wolf and Halberd - it looks like we're going to have to go there first. I am sure T'Lan will be long gone now anyway. Does anyone have any suggestions as to where we should be going? Does anyone have contacts that may know of the Scarlet Brotherhood and why they tried to kill me?”
Akhan looked in disbelief at Eloi. “Apart from your little confrontation, you mean?”
Mordekei interrupted, saying, "It seems I too am involved in all this. Perhaps after you return with your things we could sit down and work out a solid plan. I am not without contacts here, we should be able to come up with something workable."
That course agreed, Bermen left for the inn, after retrieving the room key from a sound-asleep Akhan. A few minutes later, unseen by Bermen, Eloi slipped out the back door, over the garden wall and carefully followed him, doing his best to remain unseen.

Bermen made his way quickly to the Dark Hole. The melodies of Dwarven warsongs flooded into the street.
"Nach Nibbelhein, gehens wir, unt mitt unserer.....".
As he entered the inn, there was a brief silence and the Dwer peered at him through the thick clouds of pipe smoke. In the corner, two thick-set Dwarves, stripped to the waist, were having a stand-up fight, punch for punch. Near to the door, a young Dwarf looked up from his game of 'knifesy' at the silence, and promptly stabbed his own hand.
"Bermen!"
The silence was broken, the noise immediately resumed, covering the howls of the injured 'youth'. Bermen saw Gratte, a fiery Sterish fighter he knew well, and would gladly die with, even although they had only exchanged words a few times.
“Strange, how war does exactly that!” the captain thought.
"A beer for my over-tall friend," Gratte yelled to the barkeep.
As Bermen strode over to him, smiling, he noticed that Euch'tir was sitting at the same table, unsurprisingly. He nodded, and drew an undersized chair for Bermen to sit beside him.
As he did so, before Bermen could even get a word in, he said, above the din, "I need a favour!".
Bermen nodded, and he continued.
"A friend of mine needs escort to the north - men I can trust - men who can keep themselves to themselves, and not bother with questions. I am sure you fit this description, and I was wondering if you have any companions could help me with my problem."
"Of course!" Bermen said. "But I will have to speak to them first!"
A large tankard of frothy beer was placed in front of him, crunchless and ice-cold like only the dwarves could serve. He took a long, welcome drink as Euch'tir nodded and explained.
"Well meet me at the Merkstaff tomorrow morning at six. I cannot tell you more for now. If you cannot get me two or three reliable others by then, let me know, I will be here all night!"
He smiled at that prospect. A cheer went up from the corner, as the shorter of the dwarves floored the other with a mighty uppercut that made Bermen flinch.
“That had to hurt!” he thought.
"Actually," Beremn said, "I was hoping that you could do me a favour too!".
He told Euch’tir of the night’s busieventsness, omitting the parts about the assassin being killed, and an agent of the Scarlet Brotherhood.
"No problem," he replied. "Gratte, Takker, gahen sie mitt Bermen narch an Wolf unt Halberd vur saine Kleidern!"
Bermen was glad he spoke Dwer, or he may have thought they were speaking ill of him from the harsh way that their language sounded. After finishing his beer, Bermen left the inn, accompanied by Gratte, and Takker.
As they walked through the night to the Wolf and Halberd, none of the three noticed the shadow that seemed to trail them in the darkness. As they paused briefly at the door, Eloi watched in silence from behind a small bush, before the man and two Dwer entered the inn

Walking inBermen saw that if it had been busy before, now it was overflowing! Many of those who were there earlier were still there, but somewhat worse for wear. Scanning briefly for the other two Suel, Bermen saw they were not there any more. In case they were upstairs he moved quickly, fetching his and Akhan's belongings, then returning downstairs to settle up with the innkeep.
"What is it tonight?" he said, the surprise showing. "Why does everyone feel the need to move out?"
Bermen asked what he meant.
"First the three gents from the south, you know the ones the half-breed nearly fought with. Now you and your friend. Was it the food or something?"
Somehow, Bermen thought, he cared little for that question to be answered and, telling him to keep the change, he went out, returning to Kro's house. On the way he checked to make sure he was not being followed. Perhaps it was a testimony to Eloi’s skill that he was certain that he was not.

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