Lunish turned the Sending Stone over and over, her thumb sliding repeatedly across its smooth clay surface. “Are you sure that’s what you want me to say?”
Bird paced the length of the cottage, head bowed, claws tapping each other in a steepled wave. Under the warped aura of the mythal, his shadow pointed due north, despite the morning sun just starting to peek over the Glimmerstones east of their position. “Repeat it to me one more time,” he prompted her.
The gnome spoke each word carefully and deliberately. “Snuggles, in Undrinn, south Shan. Heard of a group with a mysterious stone racing south to Celben in Glahaneth. Heading to investigate. ETA two days.”
Bird’s arms fell to his sides as he turned to face her, his head bobbing with approval. “I think that’s it. Send it!”
Lunish stilled the stone between her fingers and closed her eyes momentarily. “Okay, it’s sent, though I’m still not clear on how this will tell us anything. We’re hundreds of miles from Undrinn, and there’s nothing in Celben.”
The tabby leveled one clawed finger in her direction. “Those, my gnomish friend, are precisely the key points.”
A muffled comment followed by the low rumble of laughter drew them back across the cabin’s threshold. Inside, their host stood behind Segwyn, occupying Glynfir’s prior position, draped over the dwelling’s only ladderback chair. Iskvold stood in front of the ranger, holding his shoulder-length hair clear of the precise pistoning of Turin’s tattoo needle.
“Did you two complete your assignments?” Whydah asked from her seated position on Turin’s straw-filled mattress.
Lunish produced two bottles from her cloak, setting them on the counter. “The locator is in place and, as requested, refills of juice and pollen from the vines.”
Turin nodded in appreciation. “Excellent, thank you. We’re just about done here.” With a couple of final dabs, he drew his ink-stained rag across the ranger’s neck before tapping his shoulder and stepping back.
Tsuta, sitting cross-legged on the floor, spoke without opening his eyes. “Any flinches?”
“None that I saw,” Iskvold confirmed.
Glynfir immediately jumped up from his seat on the hearth. “That’s hardly a fair comparison. I had to go first! He knew what to expect. Besides, he might have been healing himself during the process. Could anyone see his hands the entire time?”
As he stood, Segwyn merely rolled his eyes and shook his head at the wizard’s remarks, but Tsuta wasn’t about to let it go. “Face it, Mustache, Woodsy is just tougher than you are. There’s no shame in being a bit squishy, especially for a wizard.”
Ignoring the banter, the ranger turned to Bird and Lunish. “And the message…?”
Lunish nodded in reply. “Sent.”
Bird spoke directly to Turin. “Remember, just go to work as normal today, and have your ears open for any mention of Celben or Undrinn from your customers. We’ll check in with you before the meeting tonight and meet back here afterwards.”
Turin packed a fresh wad of tobacco into his pipe. “Understood. I best be getting a move on.” With a nod to the group, he left the cabin and made his way to the paddock. “Good luck, see you on the other side!” he called from the back of the grey mare headed for Irdri.
Segwyn tightened the buckle on his pack. “Everyone ready to go?” A chorus of confirmations followed him out of the cabin.
As the last one out, Whydah examined the door as she pulled it closed. “I don’t see a lock of any kind.”
“Not to worry,” Bird muttered over his shoulder. “I get the sense this isn’t a very rough neighborhood.”
Ninety minutes later, the group strolled through the gates of the bustling river town of Irdri. Just inside the gates, the visitors were greeted by a sprawling circular market area. The drab gold and green of the surrounding wheat fields were replaced with every shade of pastel. Awnings of pink and orange were tied off on anchor posts and buildings, presenting a slanted kaleidoscope of cover from the elements. Beneath, a cacophony of barkers and vendors promoted their wares. Woven baskets of flour, spices, nuts, and fruit stood shoulder to shoulder with every form of handicraft: silks, woodwork, even housewares. Sprinkled in between were bakers, butchers, and pit jockeys grilling anything and everything for the crowds.
The smell of charcoal and cooked meat seasoned with paprika and turmeric wafted over an undercurrent of strongly brewed coffee. Narrow streets spoked off the circular central plaza haphazardly in all directions. Walls of beige sandstone dotted with doors and windows framed the alleyways, a testament to the city’s age and organic construction. The only exception was a wide central thoroughfare at the far end of the plaza. Lined with permanent shops and vendors unable to secure a spot in the main market area, the cobblestone road sloped downhill to the river.
A wide stone pier extended out over the river’s surface at least two hundred feet, with three perpendicular wooden wharves extending downstream from its western edge. The upstream side of the pier was dominated by large storage sheds, with the space between providing a loading area for carts and wagons. The wooden masts of docked cargo ships bristled above the wharves, pennants of all colors snapping in the breeze in contrast to the lazy, intermittent swaying of relaxed, flaccid sails. Midmorning traffic was brisk at both the market and the docks.
Iskvold swept her arm across the market landscape. “You didn’t mention any of this after dropping off the horses.”
“It wasn’t here then. The whole plaza was empty.” Whydah replied with a shrug. “Maybe it's only on certain days, or times of day?”
The drow rubbed her hands together. “Either way, I’m all about it! I just wish I had a bit more coin to spend.”
Bird stepped to his left, inserting himself into the path of a tight group of passing shoppers. After they flowed around his stationary form like a river changing course around a rock, he stepped back. The tabby held up a small coin purse, tight to his chest, shielding it from the eyes of the departing group. With a twitch of his whiskers, he flicked his wrist, landing it in Iskvold’s waiting hand with a jingle. “It’s always even more fun to spend someone else’s.”
The drow loosened the cinch, pouring three gold, five silver, and eight coppers into her hand with a nod of approval. “Not bad at all!”
He plucked one of the gold coins from her palm. “I’m going to check in with the Guild, see if we have any correspondence from our friend in Chagrothlond. I’ll need this for tribute.”
Segwyn put his hand on Glynfir’s shoulder. “We should also get a bit of separation as well. I’m sure with our new branding, there will be some eyes on us before tonight’s gathering.”
Bird surveyed the landscape. “Before we go our separate ways, let’s take a look at the docks and what we’ll be dealing with later, to finalize the plan.”
Leaving the thrum of the agora behind, the group made their way downhill, through the thinning crowd, toward the river. The cries of circling gulls replaced the marketplace barkers as they approached the water’s edge.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
At this close distance, the majesty of the Kyathlinneas was impressive. Originating over one hundred miles north, in the heart of the Orphan Spires, it sprawled more than a quarter mile wide by the time it reached Irdri. Dark and dirty, its current propelled outgoing vessels west into the desolate swamps before eventually turning south to Ins, the port city capital of the Nerinenor Theocracy.
The pier bisected a flagstone quay and promenade, complete with stone benches spaced evenly along the river’s edge. Bird and Whydah gravitated toward the busy docks while Glynfir and Segwyn took a seat on one of the benches. The others strolled idly down the quay with the water on their left, and a mixture of marine supply shops, pubs, and temporary rooming houses on their right.
The tabby’s eyes quickly scanned the moored vessels as they walked the perimeter, careful to avoid getting underfoot of the workers loading and unloading cargo. “Assuming the place doesn’t clear out before dark, we should be good.”
Whydah gave him a side eye. “Are you good with this? I know you’re not particularly fond of water.”
“I don’t mind water,” Bird corrected her. “I’m not fond of swimming, specifically when I can’t touch bottom.” He casually looked down from the end of the wooden structure. “How deep do you think it is right here, off the dock?”
Whydah craned her neck over the wooden lip and stifled a smile, watching him closely as she answered. “I’d say at least thirty feet. They likely dredged it out to accommodate larger vessels.” The fur on the back of the tabby’s neck rippled involuntarily. “Was that a shiver?” She laughed out loud. “You are so transparent sometimes. You realize I don’t think less of you for being aquaphobic, right? I actually think it’s cute.”
Bird eyed her suspiciously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The breeze coming up the river is quite cool. It just gave me a bit of a chill, that’s all.” He pulled his hood up and nodded towards the four large warehouses, changing the subject. “What do you think about the meeting location?”
The two continued to pace the pier’s perimeter, stepping around a lone fisherman, perched on the end, dangling a line into the river’s murky depths, before reaching the structure’s northernmost corner, gazing back toward the shore and town.
Whydah deliberately looked upriver as she spoke, not wanting to give away their reconnaissance. “The first two are being loaded up with cargo, likely not enough room for a significant gathering tonight. So, it’s got to be one of these two, on this end.”
Bird knelt beside her, picking up a broken piece of a wooden pallet, stealing a glance along the backside of the buildings. “No back doors on any of them either, too tight to the edge. That means one way in, one way out.”
She nodded, turning her head innocently downstream. “Makes sense, from a security perspective. The landward end is also a natural choke point.”
Bird casually tossed the pallet fragment into the river, watching closely as the current carried it downstream. “I wonder where they put the wagons at night.”
Whydah shrugged. “Maybe they’re parked on the quay, ready to load at sunup?”
Raising his head, his eyes narrowed, straining to make out the far bank. “Could be. Looks like there’s also some structure directly across, probably a ferry for crossing the river.”
“Makes sense,” she agreed. “A lot of the grain bound for Shan and Glahaneth comes from the west.”
Bird turned on his heel. “Okay, we’ve seen enough. Let’s get out of here before we attract too much attention.”
The pair retraced their steps, once again cutting a wide berth around the dock’s commercial activity. Stepping back onto the stone quay, Whydah noticed the tabby’s shoulders relax as he let out a breath slightly longer than normal. She smiled to herself. Don’t mind water, my ass!
Without so much as a glance toward their friends seated at the water’s edge, Bird and Whydah strode across the quay and back up hill towards the center of town and the crowds, pausing in front of a butcher shop before looking back.
Within a couple of minutes, Glynfir and Segwyn pulled up alongside. Through the crowd, Iskvold’s white hair stood out as the rest converged on their position.
“Well, what do you think?” the ranger asked.
Bird kept his voice low. “We can work with it,” he confirmed. “Let’s stick with the plan we discussed last night.”
Segwyn nodded. “Good enough. Mustache and I will explore the town on our own and see you later. We’ll also look in on Turin, see if he’s heard anything.”
With a nod to the group, they both carried on up the street back toward the market.
Iskvold raised her eyebrows. “Shopping?” She forced a wide fake grin onto her face, glancing expectantly at the others.
A murmur of confirmation rose from Whydah, Tsuta, and Lunish.
Bird scanned the crowd. “I’m going to check in with the guild and see if we received any mail. I’ll meet you over there.” With that, he crossed the plaza and disappeared down an alley.
The afternoon at their disposal, the four wandered back toward the main gate and into the agora. Upon arrival, varying interests quickly dispersed them in different directions. Lunish stopped at an herbalist stall, drawn by the variety of dried herbs, plants, and flowers. Whydah struck up a conversation with a merchant selling locally carved wind instruments, while Tsuta found himself convinced to try some grilled fruit skewers by one of the more vocal pitmasters.
Iskvold flitted excitedly from stall to stall, a hummingbird loose in a bountiful meadow. At her first stop, she stroked her fingers along the bolts of colorful silk, returning the smile of the proprietor, an older elven woman with kind eyes, gazing hopefully in her direction. The glint of metal caught her eye, and she thanked the woman over her shoulder, drawn across the path to a stall managed by a young barbarian selling a variety of brass objects, some functional, others purely decorative. She marveled at sets of teacups, ceremonial daggers, and figurine likenesses of various creatures before being distracted again, this time by the rich smell of strong coffee.
Following her nose, the drow moved further down the lane to the source of the slightly acrid aroma of roasting beans—a wheeled wagon with a raised counter edge offering freshly brewed coffee.
The young man operating the cart held up two fingers on one hand, accepting her payment with the other. “Two minutes for the brew.”
He set a small porcelain cup on the wagon’s counter in front of her. While she waited, her eyes drifted to the stall next door, overflowing with trinkets and handicrafts.
The heavyset human woman seated on a stool at the stall’s center watched for a few seconds before speaking. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Iskvold met her gaze. “No, just visiting, how did you know?”
The woman cocked an eyebrow, pressing her lips into a small smile before twirling her fingers in her shoulder-length brown hair suggestively.
The drow rolled her eyes. “Of course, the white hair!”
“Dead giveaway,” the woman confirmed. “How about a memento of your trip, to take home?” She swept an arm across her body. “What tickles your fancy: brass, headscarf, maybe some local spices?”
Iskvold scanned the stall, her gaze landing on a display of low-end jewelry just as she heard the clink of a mug being returned to the wagon counter behind her. She retrieved the steaming cup, sucking in a snootful of its delicious fragrance before signaling her move next door to the attendant.
She moved carefully through the stall display before bending down for a closer look at the jewelry.
“These are interesting,” she remarked, nodding toward a row of necklaces. The pendants, shaped like the palm of a hand, came in two styles. One was a mosaic of multicolored glass, the other, white iridescent pieces of shell. Both featured a black painted figure with a hollowed-out face, empty eye sockets, and exaggerated arms and legs crudely scrawled over the glass surface.
The woman turned in her seat. “Talismans,” she said brightly, “For protection. Just in case you’re headed near the Zulm and get too close.”
“The Zulm?” Iskvold parroted. “A friend told me about that. I didn’t realize it had its own merch.” Her lips curled into a smile.
The woman raised an eyebrow, turning her head slightly in caution. “The Oppressed Lands are no joke, honey, but they haven’t moved for hundreds of years. It’s simple. Stay out and stay alive.” She spread her arms with a shrug, “As for all this…Hey, everybody’s got to eat.”
Oppressed. The translation slithered through her brain, casting off images of putrid squalor and famine. But with no inhabitants, what could possibly be oppressed? Iskvold chose the words of her next question carefully, picking up the mosaic pendant from the display. “And what are these figures supposed to represent?”
The woman snorted. “You really are new! That’s what you need protection from.” Her tone became slightly irreverent as she leaned toward the drow. “That’s Khamu, or ‘The Smother’ in the common tongue. If he gets hold of you, the air itself disappears, like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, until he sucks the life right out of you.”
Iskvold straightened in alarm at the woman’s description before reaching toward the glittering white pendant.
“And that’s his partner, Sayeh— ‘The Shade’. He doesn’t steal your breath, he just takes your place. If you’re unlucky enough to find yourself in his shadow, you’d best get out quick before you’re just not there anymore.” She paused, her tone returning to normal. “Three coppers for the pair.”
Iskvold felt a tingle creep up the back of her neck as she sipped her coffee. “That’s fascinating. Where could I learn more about The Shade and The Smother?”
“There’s nothing more you need to know, honey,” the woman scoffed. “If you see either one of them, you run, or you die.”
The drow held up the two amulets by their chains. “Do they work?”
“For three coppers, what do you want me to tell you?” the woman asked. “Now, are you buying?”
Iskvold handed both amulets to the woman and fished into her pocket for the coins. “Sold! Thanks for the local legends as well. My niece will be scared silly when I give them to her.”
The drow traded the coins for the pair of amulets, tucking them into her robes before returning to the coffee wagon and draining her cup. She scanned the market with a fresh perspective. Bargains weren’t the only thing on offer here.
The Glimmerstone Enigma and The Siremirian Conundrum?
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