Prospecting in New Stetvan

"As Master Jokun instructed," the White One assured her.  "You will exit the Vanishing Dragon and travel eastward along the docks.  Stop before the alley that runs beside the apothecary; I will meet you there and lead you where you desire to go."

A slight breeze blew across the oracle's back, shifting her hair and rippling her clothes, and Danaru was no longer present behind her.

With the practiced ease of a mountain lion wandering a cliff side, Danaru stealthily traversed the rafters and departed the tavern through a hidden door above.

It was only when the shoulders of her ranger companion relaxed, that Wynn knew they were once again alone. 

"Oh good, he'll meet us in an alley," Kazimir grumbled as he rubbed the stiffness out of his knuckles. "An alley!" He knew simply by watching the strange one in white, that he was no match for him, but he was not the sort man to admit defeat so easily. Especially when there was a woman present.  However, by the look on her face as she wrapped up the jawbone, she already knew it anyway.

The oracle smirked in open defiance of her fear, though her hands still trembled slightly. "Kaz, he's not going to kill us in the alley. . ."

"You know that do ye?" He eyed her doubtfully, as he rose from his seat.

Wynn pulled the hood of the cloak back over her face and joined him as they left the building.

"Well. . .okay, no," she admitted. "Not precisely, but I'm feeling somewhat confident that we'll live to see the sun rise."

"Then, I feel completely relieved then at your 'somewhat confidence'!" Apparently Kaz got a bit more chatty when he was afraid for his life. Chatty and snarkier than usual.

"Let's just get this over with, my friend."

That was something they both agreed on. 

If they left now without giving Jokun his due payment, that fellow would hunt them down. She doubted that not at all. There was little choice but to complete what they'd started.

At a quickened pace, the pair made their way along the dark streets beside the docks, slowing only when they came upon the apothecary shop the man in white had indicated.

Pale orbs of slate materialized from the depths of darkness within the alley like will-o'-wisps seeking nourishment upon fear. "Come," the seemingly disembodied voice whispered. "The one you seek is here."

Danaru's eyes suddenly shifted ten feet farther back, where his white figure appeared as if limned in a specter's ghostly luminescence. He beckoned them with a hand encased in white leather strongly dulled by the shadow. "Come."

He led the pair two score feet deeper into the alley, where he motioned toward a long burlap sack cut up the side to make it more of a folded-over blanket. "Hold your discussion here," he instructed. "None will bother you. The Lady will speak magic, I know. State the manner of spell beneath your breath beforehand."

The White One backed slowly away from them, the shadow enveloping him more and more with each step until, once again, only the slate of his eyes remained visible.

"I will be listening," he half-informed, half-warned them before disappearing completely.

Wynnsaren moved toward the sack, eager to finally have the opportunity to get some questions answered. If this fellow would be cooperative. . . Chances were, that even after death he could want to hold on to his secrets but first he had to manage to resist her. She'd know soon enough.

Pushing back the hood, her glowing indigo sigils cast an eerie light on the burlap as she knelt down beside it and prepared herself for what form of decomposition might lie beneath. When she pulled back the flap though, to her surprise, the corpse was completely skeletal! A closer inspection revealed the pockmarked bone, indicating that Motsov had been cleaned, likely in acid, to remove all trace of how the deed was done and also any chance of identifying who he was.

Jokun and his man were efficient all right. Frighteningly so. The oracle had hoped to get a sense of him and perhaps what he did for a living by examining the body before questioning, but their method of disposal made that impossible. Asking the man in white about it was currently not an option she wished to pursue. . .

She removed the polished jawbone from the borrowed cloak and set it in it's place, fitting it to Motsov's skull.

"I will attempt to Speak with him magically now." Wynn whispered under her breath as requested, before beginning her casting.

The pile of bones shuddered at the divine resonance in her voice, and aligned themselves one by one until he was assembled. The integrity of the corpse was important to the spell and this one was brought to her whole. A detail that would help immensely in the questioning.

After a few minutes, Motsov's skeleton arched in mock life as his jaw opened in what almost looked like a gasp of air, before settling back to the ground. Steadily his ribcage rose and fell. . .waiting for the first question.

The whole scene was rather disturbing to Wynnsaren, who was casting this particular spell for the first time, but she pulled herself together and put the first question to the corpse.

"What is the name of the being or beings who told you where the meteor in the Stolen Lands would be located?"

She attempted to word it carefully. Only three questions would be allowed her and the dead weren't keen on drawn out answers. . .

The skull twisted and turned, as if it sought to view its surroundings through hollow sockets of darkness. Every-so-often during the long silence after the oracle's question, the clacking of bones filtered through the alley as the whole skeleton shivered and spasmed uncontrollably. Fingers of bone clawed at the sack and ground beneath it with a seemingly nervous tension. With teeth chattering from some unrecognizable, supernatural chill, a feeble sound emanated from a diaphragm that no longer existed . . .

"Pitri Amputin."

Another name. The next step in the puzzle.

The aasimar's heart soared as this little bit of information promised to shed new light on a frustrating mystery; a mystery which threatened all of Novastasia. She pressed on not only hoping for more to go on, but also because although it seemed unlikely, something about the motions of the skeletal body made her think that his man's soul was in pain.

"Where can I find Pitri Amputin," she whispered almost soothingly.

"Silverhaaaaaaaaall," the skeleton released the name hauntingly.

Silverhall. . . Interesting. Northwest across Lake Reykal lay the small city which housed the grandest castle in Brevoy. The seat of House Lebeda.

Silently, Wynnsaren prayed that this wouldn't become political. Politics in Brevoy were complicated and dangerous on their best day and the last thing she wanted was to have Novastasia embroiled in any of that business. This was definitely something King Thaddeus would need to be made aware of before she proceeded in looking for the man in question.

The oracle's final question was a long shot, but she hoped it would tell her whether the next piece of the puzzle was yet another middle man or perhaps someone with plots on a grander scale.

"What was it that Pitri Amputin wanted released from the meteor?"

"I don't know," the skeleton hissed through grinning teeth.

Upon releasing those final words, its frame arched as if the victim of a strong electrical charge, and its jaw opened in a mockery of final breath before once again going completely still.

Wynnsaren nodded at the expected answer to her pie-in-the-sky question, but all in all she was quite pleased with the results of this unconventional conversation. She layed a hand on the bleached skull and breathed a word of thanks before pulling the burlap flap over the pile of bones.

She stood then and glanced behind toward Kazimir who stood stoically, eyeing the darkness with overt suspicion. Normally she'd be able to see a man hidden in the darkness but there was something different about this man. It was as if he WAS the shadow, not merely trying to cloak himself in it.

"Please extend my thanks to Jokun for his business in this matter." Wynn addressed the Shadow, pulling the silver chain and vial from beneath the silk of her dress. "This is his payment with the remainder to come after we find this man who Motsov worked for."

She held the chain out at arm's length toward the seemingly empty alley.

A gentle breeze brushed at Wynnsaren's face and hair; a mild, yet unnecessary, distraction from the frost-white glove that struck quick as a serpent beneath her arm to snatch the vial.  "Master Jokun," Danaru whispered into the ear opposite her extended arm, correcting her impropriety.  Immediately, the White One vanished into the shadow.

"Do not forget," the disembodied voice echoed softly through the ally.  "Do not renege."

The tip of a kukri's blade pricked the skin of Kazimir beneath the chin, then disappeared so fast it was as though it had never been there.  "You never will know when I might be watching . . . "

Danaru looked down on the pair from the rooftop, the vial of the precious substance enclosed within his hand.  He wondered if when next he met these two individuals it might well be to kill them, and a lone tear crept down his masked face.

If so, he decided at that moment, it would be with his bare hands.

A chill ran down her left side where the Shadow's breath had tickled her ear, and the hairs on her arm stood on end. Wynn paused a moment to listen in the darkness but heard nothing more. If he was there, she couldn't have known it. If he was gone, she couldn't have known it. The oracle had no doubts in her mind that the Shadow's threat was completely valid and she had no desire to live her life looking fearfully at every shade.

No, she'd not be forgetting about this little exchange. . .

Wynnsaren turned to see a white-faced Kazimir smearing a drop of blood from his neck.

"Did he hurt you?" She moved to the ranger to inspect the wound, but he waved her off.

"Nah." His voice cracked and he attempted to conceal it with a cough. "Didn't hurt me. Just. . . just warned me. You've got your answers, m'lady. . .most of 'em anyway, and I'm ready to put this city behind me if it's all the same to you."

The aasimar couldn't have agreed more. Within half an hour she'd changed, they'd gathered their things and mounted up to go meet their akata friend in the forest to the east.

Upon reflection, Wynn was pleased with the information that had been gleaned, however she wouldn't be able to pursue the Silverhall lead until she'd had a chance to discuss the matter with the King. She'd lived in Brevoy for the last twenty years yes, but the inner workings of the houses were little more than rumor to her at best. Matsuro Shi would know more about House Lebeda. Wandering about the streets of Silverhall and calling out for Pitri Amputin could be no less than a death sentence if she wasn't careful, so definitely more information would be needed.

It was time to go home.