Black Hart

Gradsul by Twilight

Chapter 7 - Griffin Team in Gradsul

It was dawn on the second day after Temperance when the sailbarge skipper awakened Smokelight and Eloi, as he had been asked to do. Within an hour they were actually out from under their blankets and almost looked as though they might stumble into action.
They had decided to leave the boat early and ride into town. Eloi was leaving his horse behind, and took Bray, his mule, instead - somehow it seemed more in-character for their task.
Akhan and Kyros were taking the extra horse into Gradsul from the barge docks, and would arrive there first. They would get rooms at a different inn, then check out this Golden Anchor, watching to see any reactions as Eloi and Smokelight entered.
"Hopefully," Eloi mused outloud, "they won't be trashed senseless by the time we get there!"
Smokelight got the feeling that Eloi was not usually so demanding - he seemed to be taking the responsibilities as team leader very heavily, and perhaps was trying too hard. Still, he must have been well-experienced for Thoggin to entrust him with this position, so Smokelight felt he could trust him - as far as he would trust anyone!
Eloi did not think often about Smokelight - his mind was running through all the possibilities of the days, even weeks, ahead. What if he made the wrong call? What if someone was killed? What if they couldn't find their 'mark'?
He shook his head and sighed deeply  - this was really getting to him!
Hopefully once things got going in Gradsul he would feel better.

When Kyros and Akhan awakened the others were gone, as agreed. It would be just after noon when they reached the barge docks at Gradsul - the others would be a while longer, most likely. Kyros and Akhan would get rooms elsewhere, check out the Golden Anchor and settle in, watching to see any reactions as Eloi and Smokelight entered. Eloi had warned them both about overindulging whilst they waited.
The closer they got to Gradsul, the more uptight Eloi had seemed to be getting about his responsibilities. Akhan, of course, took great pleasure in winding his friend up with all sorts of disaster scenarios - he would expect nothing less if  situations were reversed.
They sat peacefully at the front of the barge as they neared Gradsul - it was a pleasant day, and the sea breeze was just right.
The Sheldomar had been getting gradually wider for the past few days, and shallower, and they were just about to enter the delta area at its mouth. To the left, the skipper told them, would be the fortified port-town of Dundorian, in the Principality of Ulek - a mirror to Gradsul in all aspects save size.
Kyros and Akhan got on well - both seemed light-hearted and of a mind to enjoy their time in Gradsul. Akhan knew from Aranon's manner that this priest would not be the 'preaching' type that he despised so much - he was, as most Olidamarrans, more interested in the practice of his religion, especially the celebration of drink. And Akhan could find nothing to fault in that.
Kyros noticed, despite his merry and happy-go-lucky outlook, that Akhan often went into a daydream, as though he were hundreds of miles away. He often sighed deeply, a worried sigh, before returning to their conversation.
"Why the faraway look my friend?" Kyros remarked, after seeing Akhan sigh for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "You're hoping to be somewhere else? Thinking of a woman? Hanali perhaps?"
Kyros paused, then continued. "No, I haven't been reading your thoughts, just a name I picked up from something Eloi said. Speaking of women..."
Kyros smacked his lips.

Nearing Gradsul, Kyros had stuck on a short grey beard and bushy eyebrows, and ruffled his hair thoroughly. He had coloured his skin so that he looked slightly dirty, but not foul or disgusting, and put a small scar near one eye, no doubt inspired by the elf. He wore his usual green and black tight tunic and pants, together with a shapeless cloak.
Finally, and in the back of his mind wondering if Akhan was looking at him curiously, Kyros magically assumed the guise of a common labourer, a short and portly man in his late forties, blue eyes as opposed to his own brown ones, hair combed back neatly to hide the beginning of some baldness, with no beard, bandana around his head, weathered looking staff in hand.
"Sometimes the magic gets dispelled. If so, I'll still be in disguise underneath. It seems overly elaborate, but I've needed to keep my subterfuge in the course of life. I'm not dead yet, so this seems to work so far."
"Whatever guise you take, I'm your hired hand. I'll carry our packs and stuff."
Akhan sat on one of the canvas-covered crates the barge was carrying as Kyros performed his metamorphosis.  The change was very impressive and when he'd finished Akhan removed his hat and raised it in admiration.
"Tell me something Kyros - can you make yourself look like absolutely anyone?  Only, I'd love to see Eloi's expression if he came face to face with himself." 
"I don't know. I think it's harder to duplicate a person's features exactly - there are often giveaway signs, especially mannerisms. I could try it in a pinch. Maybe if I watch Eloi a little more. This could be fun - I've never been a baron before." Kyros' eyes revealed that he was entertaining the possibilities of such an action, and was relishing the thought of it as well.
He jumped off the crate and had a good look at Kyros's new identity from all around. 
"Very convincing!  And it's a good idea - the hired hand thing.  But I disagree with Eloi on my visibity.  There are plenty of well-to-do merchants around a port so fine clothes on me aren't going to automatically shout 'spy' to all and sundry.  All of us appearing as scruffs isn't going to help us anyway.  If this Brotherhood agent is moving in higher social circles we'll need to have some access and it might as well be me.  I've got a certain degree of experience; and the panache too, it goes without saying," he said, saying it anyway.
"But we'll not tempt the gods too much - I'll change out of this particular garb.  If T'Lan is around he might just recognise it although I can only remember seeing him once while he was alive and that was only briefly."  He sighed.  "Maybe this hat should get stored away too, just for Gradsul." 
He stared sadly at his hat and shrugged. "All in a good cause."
"As for our cover-story, I don't see anything wrong with posing as a merchant.  There's no real need to be more specific at the moment as it might suit our purposes to choose the particular merchandise to bring us close to any targets we may have.  And merchants are always good for some gossip, so if we choose our lodgings appropriately then we can keep our ears open to that potential source; even if my half-elven heritage does make mine a little sharper than your own.
"So, I suggest we ask around the docks when we get in for some recommendations for a lodging for a middling prosperous merchant.  What do you reckon? There's a point, what do I call you?  Would you prefer not to use 'Kyros'?  I think I'll call myself Vesic Ommeriaij"
"Okay," Kyros agreed. "The merchant and his hired hand then, in which case I'll carry a sword on the side as well to look the part. It's a good excuse to carry one around. There are no laws against weapons in Gradsul are there? You should see the Palish cities, you know, the Theocracy. They'll arrest you for so much as a sharpened toothpick. Call me Gresten from now on, a middle-aged out-of-work ex-militia henchman. Not too impressive, definitely not too dangerous, just average-looking."
Kyros settled into his disguise, taking care to adjust his way of walking and talking somewhat.
"Have I mentioned I haven't been to Gradsul before? Ha!"

It was cold, wherever he was. He could not see. His face felt sore, puffed up to twice its size. He shivered in the cold, every spasm sending pain wracking through his battered body. He could not bear to move - he felt like he had on the slavers' boat, when he almost died.
He had been lapsing in and out of consciousness for what seemed like an eternity, but he had no idea how long it was. Exhausted from a minute's thought, Cinion fell quickly back asleep.

Soon after the sailbarge docked, not long after noon when the Temple bells throughout Gradsul had rung, the half-olven merchant Vessic Ommeriaij and his henchman Gresten stepped onto the docks. All along the waterfront here were barges, and they could see further to the west the taller sea-going merchant ships. Even further round were a couple of warships, undoubtedlyKeoish Fleet vessels.
The docks were an unbelieveable hive of activity - if Niole Dra docks had been busy, this place was absolutely packed with workers loading goods from the boats and ships, onto carts and other conveyances, people coming to and from the docks with these cargoes, the crew of these ships and the usual layabouts and no-good citizenry that hung about the dockfronts.
At least every hundred yards there was an inn or a tavern. Outside these, minor scuffles were frequent, and all along the way they were propositioned by the city's 'working' women - many of them not women at all. Neither Gresten nor his master had been to Gradsul before, and it seemed a strange and lawless place. The strange smell, a mixture of a multitude of different foods, animals, beings and other less attractive substances was, if nothing else, 'unique'.
The day was now hot, and the dockers' work must have been a thirsty task, for many of them stopped frequently to quench their thirst with a mug of ale. Captains shouting orders, beggars wailing for monies, drunken sailors yelling curses in strange languages, the whores and street vendors calling for business - overall the racket, much like the smell, was overpowering.
The inn they had agreed their 'business meeting' for, the Golden Anchor, was somewhere in this mass of heaving bodies, as its name suggested. However, if they had entertained any notions of residing near to the docks before landing, they did not remain. It seemed prudent to stay as far away from this place as possible.
"Well milord, we should find yerself some place ta stay. I like this place meself, but pr'aps it suits ye not." Gresten spoke respectfully to his employer, while staring at some of the more interesting people along the way, even as they made their way across the dock.
"An ye should keep an eye on yer purse," Gresten declared, checking their belongings every couple of minutes even as he prattled on and on, "too many people too close together. an mebbe we could find somthing ta eat. I could eat a filly, an yer dog looks kinda hungry too, dontcha, ya mutt..."
Gresten's thought his inane prattling and staring was the perfect cover for his continual alertness, both because he was new to the place and was thus overly careful, and because he was really checking to see if anyone was either following them or attempting to pick their pockets.
As they stood there, some people in the crowd started looking their way.
Akhan had noticed the increasing attention they had been drawing as he had discussed lodgings with `Gresten'. 
"Nay Gresten, this place suits me not at all."  he said, frowning at the crowds of people. "Come, there must be more suitable quarters to be had in Gradsul."
Both men felt uncomfortable at the attention, and a few of the dockfolk started over their way. Their hands drifted automatically to their swords, fearing something sinister.The first man to approach them was an old man, perhaps in his fifties, reeking of stale sweat and limping as he walked.
"Greetings to ye sirs," he said, a toothless grin spreading across his wrinkled face. "Hope yer dun mind me pesterin' yer, just as we was all admirin' yer fine hurse."
The man pointed to Hamman's horse.
It suddenly occurred to Vesic that there they were, leading their horses, Gasten taking the spare one of course, and while he had the riding horse given him by the stablemaster at Tringlee, the 'servant' had the finest grey stallion most folks had most likely ever set their eyes on. They had been so concerned with not drawing attention to themselves they had forgotten about Hamman's horse.
As more of the crowd came over, asking the usual inane questions, clapping and stroking the beast, they began to feel very uncomfortable. A small crowd had gathered about them, and even if there were no alternative motives, which they doubted, the attention was unwelcome.
But now there were all these over-curious faces pressing in all around them and a stolen purse was not the greatest danger now.  Vesic's brain was racing and he cursed Hamman's horse silently.  Too late to clap a moustache on the thing now! 
"Hold there!" he said to the nearest man that was sizing the horse up.  He'd just have to make this up as he went along.  "Take care my friend - I would not have you harmed by this animal." 
Somewhere deep in Vesic's mind there was a forlorn voice: "Eh?"
"I have come to Gradsul to seek a buyer for this magnificent beast.  I prize him as one of my greatest assets but even I, fine horseman as I am," he dipped his head modestly, "find him beyond my means to maintain.  I am a busy man and I have not the time to spend chasing around the countryside in order to satisfy this horse's appetite for the chase.  Pen it up for too long and it is a veritable demon. Verily, I think there may be dragon's blood in its heritage. Why, only the other month it bit the fingers off of my stable-boy. And he, maimed for life now."
This was hardly vintage bullshit for Vesic, but he was feeling a bit rusty on the excuses front.  Best to get out before he was tempted to get too outrageous. 
"Make way there. Gresten, find us a way through the crowd and see that no harm comes to any of these good people."

As they approached the main gates of Gradsul, Eloi and Smokelight dismounted and walked their horses. The city was walled, although several smaller villages lined the Caisteallweg outside the walls. From here they could see the hill to the northwest of the city where the Count's castle, Kaylagrunn Castle, sat. It was large, dull and unimpressive, most likely practical but hardly a thing of beauty.
To the west, along the seacoast, they could see, every few miles, a watchtower, always watching for any sign of attack or invasion from the sea. These watchtowers were also found every few miles along the Caisteallweg, and across the bay from Gradsul to the Prince of Ulek's naval garrison town of Dundorian. From Saltmarsh to the border with the Pomarj, these towers guarded their countries' southern border.
As they neared the gate on the north wall, there did not seem to be the usual queue of people waiting to enter the city. Only a few guards were standing about the gate, mostly talking to each other. As they passed through the gates, Smokelight recalled being there before. Well, perhaps that was the wrong way to put it - Mordenkainen had been there before!
He had memories of the walk through the villages outside the gate, and entering the city. Then, he had gone to meet someone in a Kaffeyhuise. More than that he could not recall - where he had gone after, whom he had met, why he was there. It was all a blank to him.
Within a minute they were inside the city walls, without so much as a glance from the guardsmen.
As they stood looking about the broad street before them, which seemed to go on for some distance, possibly all the way to the sea, a temple gong boomed out the time - it was two o'clock. The other two night not yet have had time to arrange their rooms and be ensconced within the Golden Anchor for their arrival.
Eloi smiled stupidly at Smokelight.
"Well, that was much easier than I thought. We should head for the Golden Anchor Inn and wait for Akhan and Sablefist to arrive. From the information that I have it is on the dockfront."
Eloi looked around the street and found what he was looking for. He approached the street urchin and produced a fennig
"I shall give you this if you can take us to the dockfront."

Perhaps not his best, but better than those dumb fools! Barely had the words left Vesic's lips than a gap appeared between the crowd and the horse, deepening as word of its ferocity spread in frightened tones amongst them.
Gasten led them quickly out, and they proceeded down the first sidestreet they could get to, heading away from the docks. It was shaded there, and less busy, and immediately both men felt a greater ease come over them.
"A performance worthy of the Rel Mord Deyvian Theatre Company!" Vesic declared, obviously pleased at their quick escape.
Kyros still seemed shaken by the crowd, and only managed a pathetic smile at his proclamation. In truth, he was truly shocked at Vesic making mention of Rel Mord. The Deyvian were locally famous in the Nyrondese capital, perhaps at best throughout the country. But with the ease the name rolled off Vesic's tongue, Gresten was sure that he had some firsthand experience of Rel Mord life.
Immediately paranoia set in and he could think of little else but the possibility that Vesic might recognise him.
Gresten fingered his sword, and watched Vesic carefully. It might have been a casual statement on his part; then again, maybe not. He would have to be more cautious around him from now on. And then he wondered about Eloi. I'll just have to go along with the mission for now, he thought.
They seemed to be in a warehouse district, with few houses here and many large cargo warehouses in all directions. Carts carried goods in a steady stream to and from the docks, and out of the city from here.
The warehouse in front of them read 'Mandrennin Trading Co.', and outside it two warehousemen stood smoking their pipes, chatting solemnly. To the left, two goodwives by a well nattered endlessly as they drew water.
The road here went left to right, but they could see naught in either direction but warehouses blocking their view.
"Been ta Rel Mord milord?" Gresten asked weakly as they cleared the crowd. "I haven't noticed yer int'rest i'the theatre, sir."
"Was it not in Rel Mord that your employer was educated?" Vesic exclaimed rhetorically to Gresten.  "What a jewel that city was for entertainment." he continued, looking dreamily ahead.
Shaking himself awake again though, he began to think that this assumed personality Ommeriaij was just a bit too pompous.  It wouldn't do at all for mixing with other merchants and delving for any juicy gossip.
Gresten continued to look slightly uncomfortable, but regained his composure as theytrotted down the sidestreet. "It's a mighty fine hoss indeed, this one is."
Thinking now about what to do about the horse, Vesic decided it was probably best if he led the damn nag until they got to the lodgings. No sense in causing any confusion in passers-by about who had the better horse - master or servant.
"I'll take your horse for just now Kyros, just 'til we get to our lodgings.  Don't want anyone thinking you own the beast," he whispered.
Gresten was glad the crowd bought Vesic's quick thinking. "We'll have to do something with the horses", he thought. That was near trouble. Colouring the coat would work.
"I could ask fer directions milord, fer some lodgings." Gresten nodded towards the men at the warehouse.
"Yes Gresten, see what you can discover," Akhan said cheerily. Under his breath he muttered, "Nothing too prosperous though if we can manage it - we don't want to attract too much attention."
As Gresten spoke to the workmen outside the warehouse, Vesic held the three horses. Movement from the warehouse drew his attention and he saw three men strolling out from within.
Doing a double-take, Vesic incredulously recognised the three men!
A large portly man, red-faced with a straggly beard, and his two companions who were obviously his bodyguards. It was the merchant Halykk from the 'Wolf and Halberd' in Niole Dra.
Halykk stopped dead in his tracks on seeing Vesic - then to his bodyguards' dismay ran, or rather waddled, over to Vesic, his hand outstretched.
"Why my boy!" he said, his tone almost verging on an excited yell. "What fortune! You are in town. How did you find me - you left the inn so quick I never even got to thank you properly. Never mind, make up for lost time."
Hearing the commotion, Gresten lilted over to them with a bit of concern before realising this man was some sort of friend or acquaintance of Vesic.
"Where are you staying?" he asked.
As Vesic opened his mouth to speak, Halykk continued his rambling, saying, "But of course you must stay with me. We will dine together and celebrate the joys of life. Why are you here in Gradsul? Business I'll bet. Come, come - you look well-travelled, we will let you be refreshed before we celebrate..."
Vesic initially started to refuse his offer - then it occurred to him that it might be an ideal situation, perfect cover. He said nothing and Halykk continued to gibber on endlessly, answering his own questions, ranting over Vesic's good sense, describing in mouth-watering colours the delicacies of food and drink he would lavish his guests on.
"Saved my life, boy," Halykk said to Gresten, whom he had not even asked to be introduced to, "stopped me from choking to death on a  steak bone. And what steaks we shall enjoy my firend! Why my cook, Shellibai, what he can do..."
Somehow Gresten got the feeling that his directions to the Bulette's Head Inn would not be needed!

Upon arrival at the dockfront Eloi took note of the location of the location of the Golden Anchor. He looked at Smokelight pensively.
"I suppose that you are in need of a drink. Before we enter perhaps we should loiter outside the inn for some time. Just to see who comes and goes. Our enemies may know of our plans."
"Sounds good to me!" Smokelight replied, jovially enough. "Especially the part about getting a drink."
Smokelight looked around, at the surroundings in this city of Gradsul. A strange look crossed his face.
"You know, Eloi... Have you ever had the feeling you've been somewhere before, when you know you haven't? Deja Vu. Strange feeling... I guess  I've been here in a former life."
Smokelight observed the docks themselves, and took account of the various sorts of ships and people that passed about there. Considering how important Gradsul was to Keoish naval interests, he speculated that perhaps the Scarlet Brotherhood's schemes involved something that was right in front of him. He figured they'd find out soon enough.
The docks around the Golden Anchor were pretty open, and there was nowhere, aside from sitting on the waterfront itself, that they could watch the inn from.
Smokelight gazed at the plethora of ships there. There were all types and sizes, and they seemed to go up in size from east to west, most likely as the waters would be shallower closer to the Sheldomar Delta.
Down to the left were the shallow bottom barges and other similar craft. Then came a practically empty area, with a few fishing boats - he could see the first of them returning from the day's fishing. Finally the merchant ships, small coast-hugging ships, right up to the few, larger, ocean-going vessels that were docked on the piers outside the Golden Anchor.
Further to the right he saw the shipyards, mostly small, and then a walled area over which the sails of a couple of large warships loomed. He had never seen the Keoish Ensign, but thought it safe to assume, from the heraldry of the flag that flew on all those ships, that there lay the Royal Fleet harbour.
"The 'Umberdtine', I'd reckon," Eloi said, noticing Smokelight's interest in the Fleet harbour. "That building there - home to the Royal Fleet, including the Thalassic Company, the Keoish Marines. Shebbedd O'Harle and his Redemptionists fired it last summer, almost succeeded in burning it down too."
Smokelight had heard of these outlaws, fighting for a separate state in Keoland's south. And fighting in vain too, he reckoned - the King would never let Gradsul go. It was too profitable, too strategically important and too necessary to Keoland's navy.
"I'm thirsty," Smokleight said. "Let's get a pulque."

Finally Halykk had wound down as they approached his house - or mansion to describe it better. In a plush area of town, built of fine yellow sandstone, it was fairly impressive. Even more so on the inside, Vesic figured Hanali would have loved a place like this.
As they entered, a temple bell rang out two o'clock. Suddenly Vesic realised that Eloi and Smokelight would soon be in town, and they had not yet been to the Golden Anchor. Quickly, when he could get a word in, he explained to Halykk that he must attend to some urgent business before dinner, and excused them for now.
"Of course," Halykk said in an apologetic manner. "You must forgive my rambling, I tend to go on and forgot you have your own business to attend. I shall be here relaxing, awaiting your return. Wait until Mrs Mandrennin hears of this. She will be most pleased to meet you."
Halykk smiled, then frowned as he looked at his two oafish bodyguards.
"You useless dolts, feed, water and stable their horses, and fetch them my two best to be on their way!"
It seemed as though Akhan's arrival had reminded Halykk of how dumb his bodyguards really were.
"A wine while we wait?" Halykk said, pouring the dark red liquid into the glasses before they could answer.
Almost an hour later, Vesic and Gresten tied Halykk's horses to the posts outside the Golden Anchor. They were late, and Akhan saw that Bray, Eloi's donkey, was already tied up there. At least they weren't drunk - well, not 'too' drunk!

Eloi looked at him in puzzlement, but followed as he walked into the Golden Anchor. Immediately he realised how good a choice it had been for a meeting - not only was it dark and noisy, but it was full of the scum of the Oerth. Just his type of place! A quick glance revealed no sign of Akhan or Kyros.
As they reached the bar, where a grotty barman, overweight and filthy, and probably the only person who had noticed them enter, wandered over.
"Yer pleasures?" he asked.
"Two ales, my man," Smokelight demanded, "with pulque chasers."
The barman grinned and set about fetching the drinks. As Eloi watched him pour a clear liquid from a spirit bottle into two glass snifters, Smokelight explained.
"Never tried it meself either," he said, nodding towards the barman. "It is a legendary drink, from the Olman Islands, fiery but friendly. The explorers found it, and by all accounts it gives a good account of itself."
The barman settled the drinks in front of them, and Smokelight tossed him a Merkke as he supped a mouthful of ale. Eloi did likewise, then both men took their snifters to their lips.
"To drink and girls!" Smokelight declared, sinking his pulque in one.
Eloi sank his, and immediately drew in his cheeks, noticing Smokelight also screwing his face at the sharp bitterness of the aftertaste. The drink tasted like, well, like...green! It tasted like a plant or something, like it was distilled from leaves. And the burn as it made its way to his oversized belly!
"Excellent drink!" Eloi declared, pulling his ale to his lips to put out the fire.
Smokelight nodded in agreement, momentarily unable to speak. He could see how a man could get a taste for such liquor.
Eloi swiftly ordered another round of ale with pulque chasers. As he drank from his new drinks he nonchalantly took a long hard look around the throng with the Inn.
'Could one of these reprobates be their contact?'
He leaned over the bar and shouted to the barman, "There wouldn't happen to be a game of cards in progress at the moment. I feel lucky tonight!"
He turned to Smokelight.
"What is your pleasure Smokelight, is drink all you care about? Don't you fancy a game of cards?"
Eloi's spirits lifted, it had been a long trip from Amarr, and for the moment at least, he could forget the perils of what had brought him here.
Smokelight seemed to be developing a bad mood, even though he had a drink in hand.
"Gambling is for mindless fools," Smokelight grumbled. "Unless you're smart enough to cheat, and cheat well, then why bother? I only like games that I can stack in my favor."
Eloi's heart sank 'Smokelight was most definetely an odd character to assess. On some occasions Eloi thought that the mage was an excellent companion, but on others he considered that his arse was as tight as that other magical cretin, Mordekei.'
"Usually a few games later," the barman told Eloi. "But they're big money - none a' yer fennig games here - stakes go as high as ten Merkke at times."
Eloi held back his laughter - he's blown more on a good whore, although in the end she wasn't 'that' good. After all, as Millhouse used to say, 'Yer hole's yer hole for a' that!'
He slapped Smokelight on the shoulder.
"You need to lighten up and get out more Smokelight. If cards are not to your taste how about us finding some hot tottie? There are bound to be a few women around here looking for a bit of ruff."
"Oh I didn't say cards weren't to my taste, I said gambling was not to my taste," Smokelight said, producing a stack of plaques and holding them up so that Eloi could see them. "I like to play with my own cards.
Eloi laughed at Smokelight's response.
"Playing cards without gambling is obscene. Its like sex with foreplay! Somehow I do not think I will choose to play with you when using that deck, for money or otherwise. I think the odds would be stacked too much in your favour, if you get my meaning."
Eloi, in his new responsible mindset, deciding that they'd had enough pulque, for now at least, so they resigned themselves to a few beers.

They spent a good half hour talking about nothing at all - beer, fights, women, adventures - before Eloi, checking the door each time he heard it open, saw Akhan and Kyros walking in.
Akhan had changed his clothes, and lost the hat - still foppish, but not the same as on the barge. Kyros, assuming it was Kyros, looked somehow shorter, a portly man in his late forties with his hair combed back neatly to hide the beginning of some baldness, a bandana around his head, weathered-looking staff in hand and a sword at his side.
They walked straight towards them and Eloi cringed for a second as he thought they were coming straight over.
"That's them in," he said quietly to Smokelight, turning back to the bar. He was quite sure nobody could hear them over the din.
He saw Akhan and Kyros stand to his right at the bar, and the barman walked over to them.
"What yer for?" the barman asked them.
Eloi glanced at Akhan and Sablefist at the bar and then spoke softly to Smokelight.
"Let's not get acquainted with them yet. We do not want anyone here to get the impression that we were waiting for their arrival. We shall wait a few minutes then I will get another round from the bar. I will then casually enter into conversation with them."
Eloi spoke further with Smokelight about his previous adventures, in particular his heroic rescue of King Kimbertos. After a few minutes had passed Smokelight was somewhat relieved when the Baron stood up and swaggered over to the bar, standing beside Akhan.
Eloi banged his fist on the bartop and shouted, "Barkeep, another round for my comrade and myself."
He then seemed to drunkenly loose his balance and careen into a rather shocked Akhan, knocking both him and Kyros, and their drinks, the ground.
Eloi swiftly picked himself up and held out his hand to help Akhan to his feet.
"My apologies, my friend, I have had a little too much to drink. Here, let me help you to your feet." He noticed Akhan's spilt drink and looked sheepishly towards him.
"I appear to have spilt your drink. May I purchase your companion and your good self another as recompense?".
With out waiting for a response Eloi turned to the bartender
"Another round for my new friends, please!".
He bowed a very jittery bow towards Akhan andSablefist, and motioned towards Smokelight. "I would be honoured if you would avail me and my good friend of your company for a few hours. We can drink, talk and perhaps play a few hands of cards".
"Cleverly done", Smokelight thought to himself. Who would expect a half-orc to have such subtle ways?
Smokelight went through the motions of "meeting" Akhan and Sablefist, as if for the first time. He deliberately did not give his own name, or ask them out loud for theirs. You never knew how much knowledge the Scarlet Brotherhood had, he thought. It might be that they have no knowledge of Thoggin's agents, but that seemed unlikely. If they were scheming in Gradsul, they would no doubt be aware of the possible repurcussions. And if the one Scarlet Brother that was defeated earlier - T'Lan - if that one had been brought back to life, then their spies and watchers would have not only a few names, but physical details of Eloi and Akhan on which to go by.
Smokelight dismissed this line of thinking, for the moment. There were plenty of half-orcs and half-elves in Gradsul, no doubt... How much suspicion could a set of pointy ears and a single pig-nose generate, anyhow?
Akhan, however, looked disgustedly at his spilt drink, his face taking on a flat emotionless expression. 
Despite the successful nature of the first few hours he felt a genuine stab of anger at having his longed-for drink bumped onto the floor.  He realised almost immediately what Eloi was up to though, and couldn't help feeling relieved that they wouldn't have to contrive some other form of meeting.  Still, he was almost tempted to swing for him just out of malice.
Looking round surreptitiously at the rest of the Golden Anchor's denizens he said sullenly, "A brandy." 
So far, so good.  Not too much attention and not too obvious. 
"You seem fairly happy `friend'. Perhaps my henchman and I will join you after all.  You certainly seem to be having a good time."

Seated at a table in the darkest part of the Anchor they could find, Akhan continued with their pretence for a little. 
"What is your name then `friend'.  I am Vesic Ommeriaij and this is Gresten," he said gesturing at Kyros sitting next to him.  "Gresten is a hired hand but I find him a most useful companion.  I am a merchant by profession but occasionally I venture into the more lively aspects of the city's inns and bars, such as this very Golden Anchor.  Gresten is good enough to show his employer around."  Akhan thought that that ought to cover any suspicions any eavesdropper might have about why a merchant would be slumming it with his servant.  But he was getting tired of the pretence now and anxious to get on with telling Eloi and Smokelight about their run-in with Halykk Mandrennin.
He played along with the game of cards and waited for a couple of hands, observing the rest of the inhabitants, scanning for anyone suspicious. 
When he was satisfied that it was probably safe enough he put on a bright face, he casually said,  "Have you ever noticed how often one can bump into acquaintances completely unexpectedly.  Why I was only just entering Gradsul today when I came across a man called Halykk whose life I once saved.  I'm a rather strange saviour as all I did was to slap the man on the back!  But he was choking on a bone you see.  Very grateful he was - understandably.  I can't imagine a more ridiculous death myself." 
Actually, Akhan could imagine a more ridiculous death and had in fact seen its aftermath in an inbred little hamlet once. The debauched and monstrously fat local shepherd had managed to crush a young sheep to death when he'd had some sort of fatal seizure.  Akhan had remarked at the time how the little tableau had been very educational.  Bestiality had never appealed to him in the least, but the sight of the stricken shepherd must have done the villagers' souls the world of good. Well, maybe not.  They were selling tickets to look at him after all, which said more for their entrepreneurial spirit than their moral sensibilities.
"But what do you know, before I can say a thing he's invited me back to stay at his town house.  But tell me friend, what brings you to Gradsul in such good cheer." 
Akhan was pretty sure they could probably drop their charade now so long as they kept their voices down.  But there was a large streak of showmanship in him which prevented him from doing so just yet.  Let's see how good Eloi's acting was.  They all might come to depend on each other's abilities at dissembling.
As the continued to play cards Eloi laughed at Akhan's talk of Halykk, and lowered his voice to a whisper so, that only the group could hear.
"That is very odd my friend, I too once knew a man called Halykk and very nearly poisoned him. A case of mistaken identity I am afraid. Unfortunately I was stopped from administering the poison to my real target, something which I dearly regret as it may have stopped a whole lot of grief."
"I already knew that Halykk lived in Gradsul and had been given his address by Kro Arribal. He should provide a good source of information for us in the city. I am sure that he can be trusted."
Still, there was a little voice nagging at the back of Akhan's mind. He was almost constitutionally suspicious so it didn't necessarily mean anything this meeting with Halykk.  But coincidences were something which made him itch.  Halykk was around when T'Lan was in Niole Dra and here he was again.  Maybe, just maybe this was Thoggin's man on the spot.  Or maybe he just had an overactive imagination. While Akhan waited expectantly for Eloi's 'cover story', Smokelight, whose back was to the wall, scanned the inn. Still running with his previous worries, he saw that there was one other half-elf in here, and no half-orcs.
He did not recall seeing many of those race as he entered Gradsul, but then again he did not note an absence either. He imagined that their population in Gradsul might be slightly lower than average, as neither race were noted for their love of the sea. However there would also be a few half-elves of the acquatic variety, and they might make up for this.
Certainly those two races together might seem strange in some situations, especially with Akhan's eyepatch. But it was a very busy port though, and Smokelight began to wonder if all this talk and no action was making him slightly paranoid. He for one had never been associated with the Keoish Intelligence, or any intelligence for that matter, and from their brief and secretive discussions it appeared the others had none or little.
More worrying was the hand he had just been dealt, and with a dark look he tossed his cards back at the inanely grinning Akhan, whom, he realised, seemed to make a sport out of baiting Eloi.
Eloi was not happy. Akhan always was a smartarsed bugger. He would take great delight if he knew that Eloi and Smokelight had not prepared a cover story. Still, better not give him the satisfaction'.
"My name is Zebadiah Bradick and this is my companion Dunstin Holt, we have travelled from Furyondy to Gradsul in search of work. The farmlands have been savaged by the war and we have lost our previous jobs as farmhands. We hope that we might be able to pick up some work in the docks. Perhaps with your contacts, you might be able to put in a good word for us?" Eloi finally managed to stutter.'
"There that was it!" he thought. "Sounds like we made it up hours ago.'"
Eloi lowered his voice again. "Did Halykk have any news or information?"
As he spoke, Eloi folded his cards closed and threw in a gold Merkke. Kyros immediately looked at his cards and threw them to the table in disgust. Akhan's grin of extra-cheesiness flourished, but that meant nothing, he wore that all the time. The Baron's look was also void of any meaning.
"Yeah, I'm sure there must be a galley looking for some good strong rowers.  You'd love it, I'm certain.  Every barmaid loves the old sea salts you know."
Akhan tried to rein in his sarcasm.  Lowering his voice in like manner to Eloi he muttered, "No, Halykk either asssumed I was simply the bloke that saved his life, or didn't choose to reveal any knowledge he had of us.  I assume he doesn't know of my connection with Kro and yourself as yet."
Akhan scratched his head irritably.  He'd found himself doing so repeatedly but he couldn't help it.  Life just wasn't the same without a hat. 
"Look, where's this contact of Thoggin's then?  Didn't he give you any other information than turning up at this place?  How are we supposed to recognise him?  Thoggin must at least have given you some sort recognition code.  Or do we just wait for a drunk bloke to fall on us from out of the rafters of this dump."
While he waited for Eloi to reply he casually ran a professional eye over the Anchor looking for any unusual features which might suggest alternative uses for the joint.  You never knew what you'd find and Akhan was convinced he'd better get into the habit of checking for escape routes on a regular basis while on this particular mission.
"Thoggin did not reveal much about the contact," Eloi replied. "All he said was that he would meet us here. Do not worry I will know by his actions that he is our contact."
He took a long hard swig of his ale and followed it down by downing his Pulque in one gulp. He bellowed with laughter.
"You had better have a good hand Vesic? I don't want you to make it too easy for me to take your money."
Akhan looked over at Smokelight.  "'Dunstin'. Zebadiah here says that both of you are new to Gradsul.  You must have seen many wondrous things today as I imagine the Furyondian farmlands are fairly, well, vegetabley.  What sights did impress you most?"  Akhan shrugged embarrasedly at the lameness of this line.
Smokelight shrugged. "S'pose I'd have to say it was the potatoes," he said with gusto. "Yup, the potatoes of Greyhawk, Dyvers and Furyondy-land are mighty impressive. Hell, the folks up there cook 'em, bake 'em, and I hear'd even use 'em as weapons!"
Dropping his voice again he said, "In other words, did you spot anything that might interest our quarry?" 
Akhan looked back at Eloi and sighed.  He picked out four gold pieces and laid them down on the growing pile. 
"Raise you Zeb."
"Nope," Smokelight answered in a voice that was muffled under his whiskers and beard, as his eyes were focused on the cards and the table. "Then again, I'm not even sure what to look for. Other than its naval importance, I have no idea how Gradsul could be interesting to the boys in red."

Eloi saw the man at the bar, and as he spoke he noticed the barman lining up the ales on the counter. As he dropped a measure of rum into each, he realised that this must indeed be the contact. Akhan was about to speak when the man, tray load of 'tarry ales' in hand, walked over to them and cleared his throat. The others, who had not seen him, looked up in surprise.
"Dun' mean to bother yer gents, but ah was wunderin' if there's room for me an' ma drinks at this table?" the man said.
"By all means!" Eloi said, beckoning the man to sit down.
After being relieved of his tray, its contents quickly shared about the table, the man pulled up a chair. Eloi downed his 'tarry ale' in a oner, exclaiming his approval with a quality burp.
"Pressure's on, Akhy!" Eloi said, staring him in the eye.
The man looked simple - in clothing and of mind. He seemed very happy just to be there, and as he emptied his coins, all gold, onto the table it seemed that everyone's thoughts were the same.
"I find," the stranger declared in a loud voice, "that a game a' cards is a lot like life isself, gents. Yer look and yer look at them cards, but sometimes the one yer see ain't really the one you wanted after all."
He smiled inanely at his cryptic comment.
Eloi looked at Akhan, then looked at his cards, then looked at the four Merkke bet on the table, then finally at the others.
"Ahhh Feck! I fold. You are having a good day my friend. It is unusual for you to beat me."
He rubbed his stomach.
"All that ale has done in me bladder. I better visit the rest room and drain the old one eyed trouser snake!"
He stood up from his seat and headed towards the backdoor of the Inn to have a leak in the alley.
Akhan was a little disappointed Eloi had folded so easily.  After all, he lost to the bugger often enough it hardly seemed fair that Akhan shouldn't have the opportunity, just this once, to remove a sizeable portion of Eloi's stash.  Still, he gathered up his winnings in good cheer.
As Eloi, made his way out the back Akhan watched quietly to see if anyone else was interested in where the half-orc was going.  Akhan toyed with his drink while he was doing this.  The thought of it brought him back to their new friend.  Maybe he was getting responsible in his old age but he felt a little uneasy about just accepting a drink off any old wack job that turned up at their table.  Sea towns weren't his speciality but he certainly didn't intend to find himself press-ganged as soon as he arrived in Gradsul.  Eloi's quick acceptance of him suggested that he thought this was their contact.  But all the same...
"Care to sit in on this hand?" Akhan asked him.  He gathered up the cards and gave them an expert shuffle.  Flipping them negligently around the table he continued, "You're a philosopher then sir.  And I must confess I like the sound of your comparison.  I enjoy a game of cards but maybe you'd care to expand on your example.  Say I was looking for one particular card to complete my hand," and he waggled his cards theatrically.  "Does your card example have anything to say about this situation in life?" 
Frankly, from the look on this chump's face he seemed more likely to bore them all to death.  This contact procedure of Thoggin's was decidedly odd.
"Just a little saying of mine," the man said. "Nothing serious, don't rightly know what it means. How d'you like your tarry ales?"
The man looked expectantly at them as he took a fair gulp of the one they had left him.
"A sailor's drink, if you don't know," he said. The man had an ale-head moustache on his upper lip. "Pint of ale with a bit o' rum to taste. My favourite, but especially good in Gradsul."
Smokelight nodded his head in agreement - perhaps a bit rough but it was certainly nice and strong. Akhan grunted at the stranger's reply; not much joy there then.  He swirled his tarry ale around a couple of times and then had a mouthful.
"Five card stud, threes wild, starting bet is a Merkke," Akhan said as he dealt the cards. "Ante up!"
As Akhan dealt the cards, they all chipped in their two-Rittern ante.
The banter stopped for a second as they looked at their cards. The players stared at their cards, then at each other, and at the pot of eight silver pieces..
The stranger smiled, looking at Smokelight.
"What will it be, pensive one?" he said.
"Well, if yer offerin' me another drink, I'll take a Velunan Fireamber, if they have such a fine vintage liquid in this smelly port," Smokelight snorted. "I wonder if there is anything of interest this city... Do you know of anything interesting in Gradsul? The place seems rather dull."
Smokelight downed the rest of his drink and threw his hand in, deciding to stay out of the card game tonight.

Eloi really did need a leak and he sighed with relief as the after effects of his afternoons drinking drained into the muddy track of the alley. He fingered his dagger as he waited for their 'simple' companion to join him,
Eloi had good cause to believe that the man was probably far from simple. As the stranger had finished his cryptic comment, he lhad ooked straight at Eloi and with a flick of the head and eyes gestured over towards the back door. Eloi thought the movement was very skilfull, as it took an instant and he didn't believe any of the others had seen it.
As he fumbled with his fly-buttons, a noise made him spin around, dagger poised for attack..
A dwarf stepped out from the shadows and held up his right hand.
"No need," he said. "A friendly killing would be most unfortunate."
He stepped closer into the light, allowing Eloi to better see him.
"Eloi, I am Koftus Grymsdale," he whispered. "Follow me!"
The dwarf turned and opened a clearly visible trap door in the yard, then jumped into it. Eloi heard a soft thump a split second later. Peering in he saw this 'Koftus' landed on some sandbags, starting to get up - it seemed to be where the ale barrels were delivered.
With a keeness brought on only by the prospect of ale, Eloi launched himself onto the sandbags

The stranger, seemingly ignoring Akhan's question, laughed at Smokelight's reply.
"Velunan what?" he said. "Reckon ye'll not find the likes o' that around here. So what say you, Olidamarran?"
All eyes turned to Kyros.
"Two cards, please," Kyros said, throwing four Rittern into the pot.
Akhan dealt them smoothly and turned to the stranger. He placed four Rittern calmly into the pot, then pushed one card over to Akhan.
"Just the one, this time Vesic," he said.
Akhan handed him his card. As he turned it over, the stanger beamed a wide grin. Without a word, Akhan placed down two cards, drawing another two from the pile after placing his four Rittern in the pot.
"I'll raise." Kyros said, pushing his coins forward nonchalantly, not really having paid attention nor
said much throughout the evening, almost as if he wasn't there.
Akhan studied his cards and sighed inwardly.  But, just to keep his poker-face in practice, made another sweep of the Anchor.  He hoped he'd see Eloi heading back to the table.  Conversation was a bit limited when they didn't know if they could trust this tailor's dummy.
The stranger, without checking his cards, threw two Merkke into the pot, saying, "Raise!"
Akhan looked nonchalantly around the inn - it was becoming busier, most drinking and a few eating their dinner.
"Dinner!" he said involuntarily.
He suddenly recalled that he and Gasten were supposed to have dinner with their host, Halykk!
The others were looking at him strangely, and trying his best to maintain a calm outlook, he threw two Merkke into the pot.
As he saw Akhan look around, Smokelight also had a good scan of his surroundings. Suddenly he realised that Eloi had been gone quite some time - either his bladder capacity was legendary, or something else was occupying his time!

Eloi followed the dwarf through the stacked bottles and barrels to a small room at the back of the dimly lit cellar. Peering inside he saw an office of sorts, with little on show save a table, two chairs, a bottle of wine and two mugs.
They entered and Koftus barred the door behind them. By the time he was seated, Eloi had poured the drinks.
"OK - I wish we'd had more time to get acquainted, but this is it," Koftus said, reaching out to clash his mug with Eloi's, then taking a gulp before continuing. "I am your contact in our organisation from now on - nothing save dire emergencies and what he requests through your previous contact."
He did not mention Thoggin, but Eloi knew who he meant.
"I apologise for this lecture, but ordinarily you would have trained for a while in these matters before being activated. First, I told you my name, but from now on refer to me as 'Father'. Only your next contacts, Cinion Quicksilver and Meyrit O'Veyl, know of me, the others need not. You are to cease referring to each other by name.
"Choose an alias and a  codename each - Akhan already has a codename, 'Goshawk', given to him in his earlier spying days. As an aside, I don't think he truly knows that he works for us. I will tell him after the mission is over.
"Now, your team - firstly, they are to become that, a team. Not slaves, not soldiers, not strangers, not enemies - a solid team who can rely on each other. Only you can help that - nurture them, lead them, inspire them. If you are not up to the task you will be removed as leader, I will not jeopardise their safety.
"They all have different experiences - different abilities and specialties, and of course, different weaknesses. Get to know them, direct them to do the things to which they are best suited. If you need resources, Meyrit O'Veyl, your local contact, will get them. Likewise she will contact me when you are done.
"Now, the mark is a man named Vellip O'Shad. He first came to the attention of an operative in Saltmarsh. This man travels the southern coast in his small boat, the Shelliak, transporting who-knows-what. Our operative is suspicious of him - he does not feel the mark is a seafaring man - his knowledge is impeccable, but in his words he 'just isn't salty enough for the sea'. It is as though he has learned all he knows from a book or a tutor.
"He has been followed twice on his trips to Gradsul - once he was lost in the docks, the next time he was followed to the house of a prostitute, 'Red' Hannay. He was lost there, our men never saw him coming out. He is surveillance aware, so watch how you tread.
"Investigate him - tell me what he is up to. Find out all you can, and if you think he is a traitor or spy, capture him and any accomplices. The choice of when to move is entirely yours! Too early, you don't get to find out everything. Too late, he gets away or his deed is done.
"When you are finished, you will all go to 'Elysium' for training - that is our estate, where our agents recuperate and prepare. You will need to learn many things, such as encoding messages, how to make contact, unusual techniques I am sure you will enjoy."
He drained the last of his wine.
"For now, find somewhere to stay and await Cinion's contact, I will let him know you are here. Any questions yourself?"
Eloi's head was buzzing, and not only from the booze. 'So many names and things to remember!' He looked at the small dwarf and spoke quietly - events were starting to take over Eloi. "Kof...Father, I am but a simple soul blessed in the art of thieving and sculldugery.  Our party as it is at the moment have already taken aliases. Codenames are a different matter, I am sure given time we will all be able to come up with something appropriate."
"Codenames!" he thought. "What the feck did he need a codename for? Most times he had difficulty remembering his own fecking name.'
He paused and took a sip of his drink.
"Are Cinion and Meyrit to become partof our team? We shall take lodgings nearby and await their contact. This man, Vellip, do you know if he is presently in Gradsul? If not do you know when he is expected to return. Perhaps our first port of call should be a visit to the harbour master followed by a visit to 'Red' Hannay."
Of course, Eloi had other reasons for suggesting this!
"Cinion and Meyrit are indeed the rest of your team. I will have them contact you at your lodgings - two of you should try a little guesthouse on the corner of Schubler Street and Wessen Avenue, in the Gartten District. The landlady is a Mrs. Byellok, and if you tell her that Master Ganes recommended this place to you I think you will find you do not have to pay."
He smiled knowingly at Eloi.
"I regret that this is the sort of information you should have had before arriving here, but alas! As for Vellip O'Shad, I do not know. Last I heard he had left Saltmarsh and was headed this way. If he is not here, he soon will be - perhaps Cinion or Meyrit will know better. 'Red' Hannay and the docks seem as good a starting place as any - I would hope that Cinion will already be working on those, he may have some news for us.
Eloi looked at the old dwarf, contented with his answers.
"If we are done then I should return to my companions. I have been away some time and they will no doubt be becoming curious. I assume I will meet you again once this affair is over? If you have no further information which may be of assistance, I will bid you farewell."
"I will see you again at Elysium," Father said, "unless other matters demand my attention. Cinion will guide you there once you have decided that all is complete here. If something should happen to him, or a disaster befalls you, get a message to me through Mrs. Byellok. And if you really, really need some lawful assistance, remember that the Mareschals are, at the end of the day, Thoggin's men. The local one is a half-elf by the name of Ollf Veshper, and he has a particualr interest in things Scarlet, if you know what I mean. Good luck, Eloi!"

Smokelight wandered through the back door, into the darkened yard, which smelled of piss and horse crap, and something worse. As he moved along, he held tightly onto his quarterstaff, wondering if trouble could have found them so quickly. His mind rehearsed the command words for his staff, and he considered various modes of attack, should it turn out that agents of the Scarlet Sign were already onto them.
"If Sir Pig-snout is in trouble," he thought, "then I'm going to help him, even if it means I have to burn down a small portion of Gradsul to do it."
Looking about in the darkness he could make out little, and there was no sign of anyone within the yard, although there were a few outhouses. But there was no Eloi, no Scarlet assassins, nothing!
As he looked about, trying to get his eyes accustomed to the dark, there was a loud thump of a trap door. Instinctively he raised his staff, and it was all he could do to stop himself from striking the hideous beast that emerged from there.
"Eloi!" Smokelight declared. "Some pee you had!"
Eloi smiled, and walked back into the inn with Smokelight. The game over, and the stranger now gone, Eloi addressed his two 'new friends'.
"Dunstin and me will be stayin' at Mrs. Byellok's guesthouse, on the corner of Schubler Street and Wessen Avenue, in the Gartten District. If you come around early tomorrow morn, we could 'ave some breakfast agither."
With few formalities, as befitted 'new' friends, they shook hands and left, Eloi noting that Kyros was scooping all the winnings from the table into his pockets.

Previous Chapter

Return to Black Hart page

Return to Greyhawk Matters

Next Chapter