The Path of Poison: Chapter 36

Sepp and his fellow refugees have arrived in the Free City of Farhaven seeking passage to Lundermark. But Sepp’s grimoire of medicine and hexes was stolen, and he has agreed to aid a warrior named Casimir in his own quest to uncover who or what is behind the recent spate of thievery. Now Sepp and the gang attempt to settle into life in the city…

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Sepp and Seva took their time strolling back to the meeting place with Skivor and Barosh. They’d had lot to take in, and a lot to relate. Sepp had been holding onto the meeting with the paladin as an anchor, but after the curious reaction the Baletorian merchants had to being told about him, Sepp wasn’t sure what to think, only hope. Righter of wrongs? Sounded like a good thing to him. This was a wrong, wasn’t it? The theft? Unless, the absurd thought crossed his mind, the knowledge of hexes in the book were themselves wrong. Was it within some kind of order that he not have that knowledge? Was it good that the last thing he had of his dad was gone? No, he refused to think that. Of all the things the thief could have grabbed, why him and why that book? Was there anything to it, or was he overthinking a pickpocket’s poor decision in a crowded city? Sepp had found some measure of comfort in the idea there was an order of some kind, that the World Serpent had his back and watched over things, but not the idea that he didn’t really have a choice, that it was better to just let the god move things. So much of Silverden religion, not that he had ever been exposed to the more intense stuff, was about finding the connections and flow within the Coils. But even so, his dad’s book being taken like that didn’t seem right.

As chance would have it, Skivor and Barosh were already waiting, sitting on what looked to be the remains of a low, old wall, worn almost totally smooth from the years. Barosh hopped up while Skivor rose pushing on his knees—he looked more than a bit tired. Had they much trouble finding things, Sepp wondered​​?
“Right, so,” Skivor began with only a nod as greeting, “I’ve found us lodging. But we’ve a problem.” Skivor passed a hard glance to each of them. “Didn’t come cheap. Didn’t know how long we’d be staying, and they said that’s extra and all up front because they don’t want to deal with chasing after rent payments. I’ll be frank: I’ve run out of the last of my goldleaf, but it did get us this far.” A mixture of relief and mild disquiet passed over Sepp and Seva’s faces.
“So, where are we staying?” asked Seva.
“It’s a boarding house just up yonder,” Skivor pointed, “meaning it comes with rooms and food. But don’t expect the meals to keep coming free. Just a feeling.” He shared a look with Barosh, “From what I understand, though, they’ll take service in most places on the waterfront, so we won’t starve. But we need coin for passage. You two have any luck?”

Sepp gave a sigh, Seva looked down, and they filled in the other two on the search, what the Baletorians said about the fleet having left for Lundermark, the Baletorian Gurmani as a place to stay or to find help, although that may have been a lost cause, and finally, the theft.

“Serpent’s Breath,” Skivor swore.
“Coils, Sepp, sorry,” Barosh also swore.
“And that’s got...” Skivor nodded to Sepp’s pack, “that stuff in it?”
“Yeah,” Sepp exhaled.
“But,” Seva interjected in a lighter tone, “we met someone rather interesting. A Baletorian...paladin, wasn’t it?”
“I think that’s what he said,” Sepp said, “he told us about a ship that would take the merchants, so that’s all sorted. He also…” A tightness gripped his chest—he’d already began to say it. It felt like an apprehensive guilt. “He said he could help me find my dad’s book. But I’d have to help him.”
“Are you gonna?” asked Barosh.
“I think I have to.” The grip became a weight.
“Unless he’s paying you, which I very much doubt he will be,” Skivor said with no small measure of unveiled disapproval, “we’ll need to find work for coin, and you’ll need to be available for that. Need to know how we’ll set ourselves up here for a while.”
“Hey, just a thought,” Barosh chimed in, “do they take service on ships, you think?”
“Maybe, but I’m not in the market to become a sailor. Ships are a rough life, that I know. Best be passengers.”
“So, best to stick around the ships, then? Could be workhands on the docks. Give us ins as to what ships are coming in, you know?” Barosh was looking around at the ceaseless bustle of the waterfront. “All those crates unmoved, we could be doing that.”
Skivor seemed to like it, if the odd huff that passed for a laugh meant anything.
“You’re thinking right, I’m sure someone will need able hands. Sepp, you up for it?”
“I was thinking trying to set up as an apothecary, actually. Don’t know if I’ll be much use hauling cargo,” he said with a kind of embarrassment half-smile. “Only...well, I’ve never been a healer alone like that.”
“You did pretty well back on the road all those time,” Seva said.
“Aye, but I, well, had my dad’s book.”
“Maybe there’re healers and such nearby,” Barosh added, “try them, they might need help. Bet people get hurt all the time out there, or come in wounded from the seas.”
Sepp was looking away, brow furrowed in thought. Not a bad idea. Good chance he’s right. He gave a shrug and nod in affirmation.
“As for myself,” Seva said with a slight smirk, “no offense, but I don’t think I want to haul cargo all day-”
“Why not? Sure, we’ll have a laugh out here!” said Barosh. “Here, you don’t think something would happen? With me and Skivor out here, too?”
“I think hauling numbers is more for me,” she said with a short laugh. “A lot of offices along here, importers and storage and such, bound to need some help. Smaller places. Or maybe an apothecary needs help with stock, what do you think?” She looked to Sepp, who made a noise of agreement.

Their spirits somewhat lifted with at least a general idea of how to move forward, the decision was made to visit their lodgings so everyone had a good idea where it was, and get settled in. After all, it could be home for a while. It was a fairly prominent structure, and, from a quick glance, had about it an air of age. Tall and tower-like, and very much unlike what Sepp accepted in his mind as a “house”, it even had what seemed to be thin, chipped, imitation battlements surrounding its low-peaked roof. Whitish plaster was crumbled away in most places to reveal the stained and weathered brick beneath, yet for all that, it had about it that same look of solidity that Voerlund had, and he guessed idly the building might have stood since before Farhaven had become an independent city. It did seem somewhat out of place, and if so, this house had seen quite a lot of that nation’s colourful history. As they approached, Skivor said to take note of the surroundings. The house stood somewhat by itself and receded inwards a short ways from the long and uneven street outside, near the foundations of the overcity above. It was hard to miss, for it rose above a lot of the structures around it, sitting away from the piers and fairly close to a set of massive stone steps leading into the overcity. It was like the city had made sure to build around this little old tower.

The front door was of a darkish wood and bore four little opaque panes. Skivor said that there was a curfew, more a sensible window of hours for coming and going, outside of which the proprietor exercised the right to reproof lodgers for disturbing the peace. While not exactly enforced, it seemed a smart move to stay on the right side of things. They entered, and just inside the wide, low-ceilinged entrance hall was something Sepp took notice of. Immediately to the left was a small kind of recess with a half dome set in into the stone wall. Skivor went ahead to knock at a door, but Sepp stopped to look. There was serpentine decoration about the rounded top half, and the bottom was flat, where there sat little raised metal disk in which old incense sticks had been placed. A religious household, he thought, or one that at least catered to the more faithful. He took it as a sign that, just perhaps, they were safe here.

In any case, the meeting with the proprietor was short. An older Voerlunder woman with a great amount of silver in her very sensibly tied back mane of hair, named Dulmila. Her manner was, to put it politely, brusque. A few words, in a Silverden dialect no less, were spared in greeting and introduction, then she said that their rooms were two flights up.
“You two lads,” she motioned them to listen, “you’ll have to share a room for the moment, that shouldn’t be an issue?” It wasn’t a question.
“Not at all, we got on fine back in Saumark, aye?” Barosh said with a nudge to Sepp, who gave a light chuckle in assent.
“If another room becomes available, perhaps a change can be made, we shall see. There is a washroom and laundry at the end of the hall here for your use, but do book your time in advance.”
“Many thanks, ma’am,” Skivor said with a bow as he shepherded the others towards the stairs. Dulmila stood in her doorway for a moment, and gave a short nod.

They ascended, and the house started to become panelled in wood, but it was a kind of dull wood, which in a curious looked laden with dust, though a touch proved otherwise. It just looked old, and no movement could shake the malaise and quietude of age. But for all that, apparently the rest of the house was full up, and there were communal meals where they’d meet their neighbours. The sounds of slight motion did seem to come from many directions. As they came to their floor, whose hall ended in a thin rectangle window, Sepp looked up the stairs to the third floor landing. It seemed not as well lit, and yet he swore to himself he could see a shape there, turning the corner just as he looked. He paid it no heed, as Skivor was making sure they knew the numbers of their chambers.

Stepping in, Sepp and Barosh noticed immediately that the room hadn’t much to say. It was, in truth, a rather bare and odiously furnished space. It was two small areas consisting of a bedroom with two beds, and a sitting area with two divans and a round table before an octagonal window that looked out on a view of soot-covered rooftops and the ocean. Sepp and Barosh agreed in a few words this would need some changing if they were going to call it a home. But right now the sitting room was freezing—some searching around behind a divan uncovered a stove with a thin pipe running into the wall they had missed, which they assumed led outside. It had some old blackened logs inside, and a tinderbox sat atop the small cylindrical stove. A meagre but welcome fire was lit, and the two sat back on their couches.

“Feels like the end of the day, doesn’t it?” said Barosh.
“It does. Honestly feel like I could sleep two nights away.”
“No point rushing elsewhere just yet, I think Skivor needs a sit down anyway. So here, tell me, what’s this about a...paladin, was it?”
“That’s what he called himself, yeah. A paladin. Those Baletorian merchants gave me a pretty funny look when I told them about him. Gave me a funnier look when I said he had a warhammer, and not a spear.”
“What do you suppose that means, eh?” Barosh leaned in with interest.
“Couldn’t tell you, except what they said to me: he follows some god, can’t remember the name, they called it a righter of wrongs, and he’s on some mission here. He was talking about something stirring in the undercity.”
Barosh laughed with excitement. “And you’re gonna help him uncover it! Now that sounds like something.” Sepp did remember that Casimir had mentioned to bring anyone along who’d help...but something in his gut bade him keep that to himself, at least for now. Skivor was right, they did need coin, and having himself and Barosh traipsing off with this warrior was probably not the best idea. At least, again, for now.
“I suppose I am, or at least until I get my dad’s book back.”
“You’ll get it back, Sepp,” Barosh sat back, exuding confidence, “I mean, the stuff we’ve seen? The stuff you’ve pulled off? No doubt.”

He wasn’t wrong, really. Sepp couldn’t help but think, though, a lot of what they’d been through they’d barely scraped by, and they’d had help. But in Farhaven, they were alone.