The Chronicles of Nir

2 | Crates and Questions

Tallon bowed his head in thanks and according to their equal station, ignoring the man's curled lip at being expected to do the same. "Thank you, sir."

Turning and maneuvering once more through the packed bodies, Tallon inhaled in relief when fresh salty air touched his tongue. Every nearby person smelled like urine and sweat, which made the humidity even more unbearable.

Running a hand through his loose hair, Tallon strode back to the place he'd originally bumped into that troublesome man in what now appeared to be a diversion.

A diversion from what though? Tallon stroked his chin and pursed his lips. The guards were more alert than usual, not quite eying him with suspicion—as an elven descendent, he was difficult to miss and not exactly welcome—and kept their distance. Tallon understood the risks of exposing his wealth and status, but he'd have been in more danger if he appeared as a traveler with limited means. More than one man had drawn blades and stroked the handles, sending a clear message what they'd like to do with their weapons. This included a guard or two, but their gazes had wandered to the young man in the shadows before redirecting their attention to the incident in the bay. What had them so wary? Was it possible the would-be criminal had links to the Merchant's Guild? It wouldn't be unheard of to pay a desperate commoner to create a distraction, but without finding him, Tallon couldn't be sure.

Tallon put a hand on his hip and stared into space, turning the question over repeatedly in his mind. It wasn't until Scamp landed on his shoulder with a muffled chitter as she spit out a seagull feather that he returned to the present. Then she chittered again and launched herself into the air, poking her nose against a piece of paper on a dilapidated advertisement board with weathered and torn postings. Only one flier looked relatively new—clean except for a smudge of blood on the top of the page.

Tularul Tavern and Inn
Room and board - 2 Silver Bits per day
Amenities include fresh air and a view of Ballsdeep Bay

Oh, dear Celestials. Why did Goddess Zetia need to test him with all the worst locales? This inn was probably infested with lice, if not rodents. He had to go here too on top of a black market shop likely disguised as a bordello?

Curling his lip, Tallon snatched the page from the nail and neatly folded it before placing it inside his vest pocket. He needed to learn more about the shady young man, but first, he needed to locate Raebel.

~*~

In the chaos of the falling crate and with the guards' attention diverted, Benethane scanned the length of the docks. Where had that blasted elf gone? Ben had hardly caught a solid glimpse of him, but he'd stand out in Ballsdeep like a naked man in the temple of Gala the Virtuous. He couldn't be hard to miss.

Slipping into the narrow alley between two of the larger company warehouses, both belonging to the Coconut conglomerate, Ben leapt up and kicked off the top of a loaded ballast barrel, catching hold of the metal drainpipe running down from the roof. After ensuring no one had witnessed this bit of acrobatics, he shimmied up the pipe and climbed onto the slanted shingles above.

Grimacing, he wiped his hands on the sides of his trousers. The roof was slick with guano. Carefully, his feet barely touching the shit-stained surface, he danced up to the peaked crest and grabbed a gutter to steady himself. Then, with one hand shielding his eyes, he scanned the surrounding docks.

Finally, he spotted his quarry—deep in the crowd surrounding the scene of the fallen crate, of all places—and swore under his breath. The elf hadn't struck him as a looky-loo, but Ben had been wrong before. As he watched, however, a different picture began to emerge.