The Path of Poison: Chapter 40

After his father’s grimoire was stolen, Sepp agreed to help a paladin named Casimir in his quest to uncover what is behind the recent plague of thievery in the Free City of Farhaven, while the party also seek to secure some work so that when the time comes, they may buy passage to Lundermark…

Check out The Path of Poison sub-section for all previous installments

The situation in the Free City of Farhaven was, according to the antiques dealer and fence for stolen goods cornered by Casimir and Sepp, thus: not only had a number of high profile merchants been hit by this wave of thievery, there was, in fact of truth, scarcely a trader high or low who hadn’t had something pilfered every single day for the past several score of days.

Now, the dealer explained, theft wasn’t exactly new in Farhaven. Theft was part of the city’s background noise, and came in spurts and waves. This was a reliable constant for every city and sizeable town across the known world—he would know, he’d done business as far as Minosmir. New gangs rose up, got cocky, did their thing, were dissolved by authorities and either dissipated into other lands, or were absorbed into other gangs on the rise. Sometimes lone shadows moved through a city, and things went missing from what were said to be untouchable heights, birthing the kinds of legends every gang leader aspires to become, and surpass. It all kept people on their toes—guards, gangs, and the general populace. This recent stuff, the merchant said, was probably just another spate of it, but more noticeable because of its daring and reach. He couldn’t deny it, though, and looked troubled as he said it: it did seem larger this time. And different. High profile figures getting hit—not a problem, but scarcely anyone of any worth not finding things going missing? And no word, no whispers, no notions at all going around about a new gang boss, or some foreign burglar ring, or anything like that, no sign of anything—it just started happening.

Chances were that the ringleaders of certain organizations, the dealer said with some hesitation, were looking into this. Would be strange if they weren’t. Territory getting edged in on, and all that. The city guard had their hands full with what was going on anyway, there’s little chance they had the manpower to spare. Thus was the paladin involved. No, the dealer mused, it will be merchants and their, ahem, contacts and partners who will be investigating. He recommended getting in with them. He didn’t know how, not exactly, but it seemed the paladin had some stake in it, as did everyone now.

“But,” the fellow added finally, “I will...do what I can, if you really think you can make any difference.” He looked away, and was quiet for a second. “I’m not a bad person, you know,” he said half under his breath, “but things are hard here, and if you don’t fight dirty, you end up on the streets.”
“I don’t buy that for a second,” said Casimir, “but I say it now upon my oaths: whatever wrongs you’ve done here, and I don’t doubt those books have seen their fair share,” he nodded up to the high desk, “consider them righted, and consider yourself free from city guard interference—but you will aid us. If we have questions, you will answer. We will return. Until then,” the paladin ended with a fearsome glare and flash of a smile, “good day.”

Back on the waterfront, Sepp and Casimir prepared to part for the time being.
“There are things I must look into now, people I must talk to, leads to investigate, notes to pore over, and this is best done myself. There are faces who know me, and only me, you understand. Though perhaps we should take some time, and get you up to date on my findings. Still, it may be some days before I contact you again, Sepp. You do have lodging in the city, aye?” And he asked when a genuine concern.
“I do, and pretty lucky to have it. My friends and I are in a boarding house yonder,” he pointed in the general direction, “I don’t know if it has a name, it’s near steps up into the overcity, and, well, you can’t really miss it with the fake battlements and things.”
“Ah, I think I have an idea of it. Old place, that. Then I shall send word there when the time comes! And thank you, Sepp, your aid has been most welcome thus far. The gods are at our backs!” Clasping Sepp’s shoulder, Casimir gave a nod, and then disappeared into the crowd.

Sepp took his time returning to the boarding house in the early-settled winter night, winding his way down the waterfront, letting the day’s events settle in his mind. When he did arrive, he found Skivor and Barosh together at the dining table, in a state of some agitation.
“What’s the problem?” Sepp asked with a little flash of worry.
“Oh, it’s a battle out there, lad!” Skivor grumbled.
“Spent the whole day-” Barosh began.
“The whole day!” Skivor cut in.
“The whole day waiting, trying to help, getting told off-”
“Threatened more than once!”
“I mean, I just don’t think anyone trusts us, you know?”
“The war got mentioned a lot,” Skivor said, quieter and troubled. “As if it makes people not want to have anything to do with us. Don’t get it. You’d think it’d make us look more eager to help.”
“I think they think we’re…” Barosh trailed off. “I don’t know, looking for handouts. It’s not fair.”
Sepp wasn’t really sure what to say. But then he thought of something. He wasn’t sure about it, probably shouldn’t say it, in fact it would likely only cause complications down the road, the way his flashes of thoughts went, but his friends could do with hearing it.
“You know...I did find something today. I think. Maybe. I found an apothecary who might try me out.”
“That’s a good start,” Skivor exhaled.
“It’s run by these two women—twins, if you’d believe it, and maybe they could do with some other help. Fetching supplies, helping bring things in from the docks, going to their suppliers, helping sort through deliveries, that kind of thing.”
“Bah, we don’t even know the city yet, lad, we can’t be runners ,and we’re not healers,” Skivor waved it away.
“Well, no, not yet, but I’ve shown you things, I can do more, and there’s still time to learn the city. Look, I’m not even in yet, but if I am—I’m going to check tomorrow—if I am, I can mention it. Might save them some time, and it would help us all out.”
“Thanks, Sepp,” Barosh said with a tired half a grimace, “but for right now, I think we just want to complain.”
Skivor gave a gruff chuckle. “What’ve you been up today?”
Sepp sat back, sighed, laughed. He filled them in on Casimir and what he learned of the god Imaal, their trip into the undercity—the fact he’d now seen the overcity, too, which got no little amount of interest from the two opposite him—then the thing like a beastman that crawled from the waters, the shady, nameless little tavern, the intrigue of thieves and gangs and fences he’d but barely glimpsed, the merchant the paladin had bound to their aid, and the whole deal that something did indeed seem to be afoot in Farhaven.

Just as he finished his tale, the proprietor of the house, Dulmila, had appeared to tell them it was time for dinner. The two Baletorians shuffled into the room bearing arms of papers again, followed a few minutes later by the silver-haired Farhaven sailor. He didn’t sit down, though. Instead, he took Dulmila just outside the room, and began to speak hushed and hurried in some Voerlund dialect, a local one perhaps. But it was just clear enough Sepp could understand it, craning his head around, as Skivor and Barosh shared amused exchanges about the whole story.
“It’s getting worse up there, woman,” the sailor all but hissed, “you get any venerate or priest or wizard you can find, or you’ll find yourself out of business.”
He couldn’t make out the proprietor’s reply, but the tone was serious. Even pleading. A silent moment passed, and the sailor came in, and sat without a look or word. Dulmila followed right behind him, her manner entirely unchanged, and asked the three Silverdens if their fourth would be joining. They realized didn’t know. Dulmila said, after a second’s thought, that if she was late, well, maybe something could be done.

Some while after the communal, which the meal seemed to be referred to now, and which had mostly consisted of repeating several key details of his day’s doings for the benefit of a fascinated Barosh, Sepp found himself unable to wind down. He remained at the dining table, drinking a small beer, trying to get a taste for it, and taking in the gentle sounds of the evening hours of the house. Knocks, steps, the clatter of cooking utensils nearby. Things calming down, at least inside the house. Skivor and Barosh had left, bellies full and now full of resolve to tackle tomorrow. But he reckoned he was still buzzing with everything that had happened today. S’eth, he really did hope it would be a while before Casimir came back to him. Paladins must be built from sterner stuff than he. And yet, the longer it took, the more his father’s grimoire would change hands. Maybe even leave the city. Stuffed into some thief’s trunk, or some chest bound for Baletor or beyond. Gone forever. The good it was meant for used instead for gods knew what cruelty. That soured his mood somewhat. It was to his honestly immense relief that Seva appeared a short while later. She sat down with a weary smile and greeting. She’d been speaking with Dulmila, who came in with a plate of food and a mug and a look that said “you’re lucky I’m in a good mood”. It looked to be more of the dumplings they had earlier. Good stuff, too. Alas, the day hadn’t gone terribly well for her, in fact, Seva explained, she’d wasted a lot of time trying to convince about a dozen different shopkeepers of whatever it was she could think of, from being able to speak several Merchant’ Tongues to being good with numbers, knowing the city, and more. Few seemed convinced, and the even fewer who eventually gave her the time of day didn’t seem likely catches for work. But she’d follow up. She then got most of the brunt of Skivor and Barosh’s similar problems, to which she agreed wholeheartedly seemed to be the case, and then the salient details Sepp’s whole adventure, only mildly embellished for the sake of a little entertainment.
“You’re such a quiet lad,” she couldn’t help but laugh when it was done, “how do you keep ending up in all this stuff?”
“Well, you know, I don’t really think ahead all that much,” he said with a single, slightly embarrassed chuckle.
“And we’re all pretty glad for it,” she said downing the last of her drink. “Maybe even a little proud of you. I bet your dad is.” She gave him a playful thump on the arm as she said so. “So, what’s tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow I go see the twins and see if they’ll take me onboard for a bit. I’m thinking it could lead to some interesting things...”

And the next day, before dawn, as the hour bell called for the beginning of labours, Sepp rose, had a quick wash, a quicker meal of sweetened ground cereals, asked the World Serpent to keep in them in its coils extra tight, and left with Skivor and Barosh along the waterfront. Ships came and went in dribbles, and there were lulls in their activity. The streets were just a tad quieter. It seemed they’d arose at just the right time. Sepp bid them blessings, and Skivor and Barosh began to hail whoever the captains or commanders or whoever was in charge around there. Sepp found himself soon before the door of the apothecary. He stopped, and took a breath. This was important. He hoped he was doing the right thing here, coming back so quickly. He said to himself again, Serpent, ever-present, please guard us and our goals. He also figured it was guarding the twins. Well, guard us together, he asked, let our goals be in the same order. And with that, he walked through the door.

Memories flooded back to him. More so than before. In the lantern light and chill morning it...just had a look about it. The interior of the apothecary was longer than it was wide, mostly consisting of a smaller immediate space with a flagstone floor. Above, a paper lantern lit the space with a warm orange, on the right was a bench, but on the left was a whole line of little shrines. He recognized the World Serpent one, with its dome and coil decorations, one had a bronze disk and little fire behind a metal mesh which sat closest to a window—the Manatarian sun god?—and a few others he didn’t know, but guessed might have been Baletorian, or maybe even something more obscure. Beyond this was a step up, with a space on the left to come and go from behind desk that made up the rest of the front facing portion. Behind this, rows of shelves with potted plants, dried specimens, glass jars, ceramic urns, and even things hanging from the ceiling. The smell was heady, that was for sure. But for Sepp, it was the smell of a home he felt he hadn’t seen in years. He almost, again, didn’t notice one of the twins greet him.

“Ah, you’re the young man from before! Hello!” she said in Silverden sounds. “You know, I’m so glad you turned up today,” she hurried down and then stopped in front of him, hands up. “We haven’t even been properly introduced!” She put a hand out. “I’m Amelka, and my sister is Sigri—SIGRI!” she bellowed into the back room behind the desk, while Sepp took the offered hand and stopped mid-bow, startled. There was a clattering from the back room.
“I’m Sepp,” he said holding back a laugh.
“Sepp,” Amelka drew out the syllable, then reset herself. “It’s so good you came today, we talked it over, asked some friends of ours, and we think we can definitely, um, how should I say it, we can definitely, we think, try you out here.” She finished with a pursed smile and wide, friendly eyes. Sigri appeared then, made a surprised sound, and rushed out from behind the counter. “Sigri! This is Sepp, the young Silverden man from the other day!” her sister announced.
They shook hands, or rather Sigri clasped Sepp’s with both of her own, and he caught the sister’s big toothy grin as he lightly bowed.
“So,” beamed Sigri, “how would you feel about helping us out today?”
“Word is there’s a big fleet coming in from Mul Manatar way soon.”
“As well as a few new ships to be outfitted.”
“And we really could use an able young fellow like yourself for the work ahead, we know some soon-to-be-captains who will be wanting our services.”
“I would love to help,” Sepp half smiling, half laughing, unable to contain his reaction.
“So come in! Come in!” Amelka said, guiding Sepp by the arm.
“And let’s see just what it is you know!” the last few words punctuated by a pointing finger from Sigri.