Previous session: TheShadowWaterWarehouseVolumeTwo

The events occured on the 89 and 90 days of Fall 372yp

Insert journals/stories here

Tavisja and myself(Tame'er) begin the task set to us by Sjer Mi'han.

I've been told I am an energetic looking man. I tend to view my surroundings in quick glances. When talking with someone I will occasionally turn the other way for a moment to gaze at something and then turn back. I find this gives me a better idea of what is happening around me. I've been told there is something unsettling about my body language. If I cared, I might pay attention to such talk. Sjer says I never appears calm or relaxed, instead I seem to go from an air of impatience to one of combat readiness and back again. Perhaps it is this unsettled demeanour that helps me gather information from strangers. They might feel it best to give me what I want and so spend less time in my company.

Tavisja, my companion of late, looks nice enough, but there is a ripe stable smell on him that doesn't fit his appearance. He is a tall athletic looking man, not a stableboy, and yet the people around him might prefer that he stay in a stable instead of around them. He often studies the people around him and gathers knowledge that a less perceptive man might miss. But his gaze is wont to linger to the point of awkwardness on the faces of strangers and he often gets as many looks as he gives. I enjoy the sensation he causes to people. It amuses me.

It is a clear cold day, the 89th of Harvest, the year 372 of 24th year of the reign of Emperor Harazin. It will be one of the darkest nights of the year as the small moon is new and the large one is as well. There appears to be more stars than usual but the streets are still much darker than normal.

We both leave the tavern that I work at, and Tavisja lives in the stables of, and head to the harbour between Islands 11 and 12. We find out where Taremar is stationed. He is out in the middle of the harbour in a tower. The boats that enter the harbour are assigned pilots who guide the boats to the appropriate docks and steer them clear of all underwater hazards. You must have good vision and an excellent memory for that job. That explains Tame'er's willingness to pay money for improvements to his failing vision. We pass a couple of hours watching the pilots at work. We wait until closing and follow the harbour master and his Taim'leilm guard home. The guard is a massive man who looks incredibly strong. He seems very relaxed about his duties. Either he is very good, or has been very lucky in his assignments. They duck into the Golden Cup and Spoon on Island 8. As they enter, it becomes obvious to Tavisja that the big man has spotted us.

We decide they will be staying for a spell and that our chances of successfully gaining information through small talk are nil. So instead, we head on toward Taremar's house. Near Taremar's house duck into the Blue Hearth tavern to meet up with Ja'liim. We watch him finish his meal. Ja'liim is an odd looking man. If I were the sort to be intimidated I would classify him as spooky. He certainly has less humanity to him than anyone else in Sjer's company. Perhaps that is why I like him. His reactions and movements remind me more of the shadows in the evening than they do of a man eating his dinner. You can see what he is doing. You can follow the results of his actions. The plate was full, now it is empty. But it is not always possible to follow his hand from the plate to his mouth and back again. My depth of perception seems affected when I look at him. But, there, his plate is clean and he turns to talk to us.

Ja'liim tells us he has already cased the house and gives us the bad news. There are only two entry points through doors, both open into couryard areas. The four walls also only gain us entry to open areas which are patrolled by dogs. Any which way we look at it means swordplay against greater odds.

We plot and plan and decide to try to detain Taremar on the streets instead of set off the inevitable blood bath at his residence. We head back to the Golden Spoon and Cup and find a likely alley. We get our plan set up and a likely spot for detailed discussions picked out. With everything just in place, Taremar and his bodyguard step out of the tavern.

As the two come around the corner of the street, I step out and call Taremar's name. "Taremar, we wish to speak with you." He tells his guard to "Run them off". At that moment Ja'liim appears behind Taremar, from Chal knows where, and grabs him firmly while prodding his adam's apple with the point of a dagger. The big man who had taken a step towards myself and Tavisja stops. He sheaths his weapon at the insistence of his boss and is practicaly choking with anger.

There is something satisfying in watching the big man gaze murderously at us. I find it amusing that the alternative to this encounter would probably start with a surpise three-fold attack on him that would see his death. Perhaps he would have preferred that. I let the enjoyable thought fade and motion them towards the alley behind.

We guide them through the alley to an empty shed. Empty of people that is. Old tools line the wall and there is some sacks and crates stacked against the back wall. Tavisja remains outside while I begin the questioning.

"So, Taremar. Tell me about your eyes."

I see the momentary flash of deeper fear cross his face. Not the kind displayed when you fear for your life. The kind that comes when someone fears for their lifestyle.

"My, eyes. What? They are the ones I was born with! What do you mean?"

It didn't take an expert at sensing motives to know the man was lying. But being an expert didn't hurt either.

"You are lying," I stated. "Your eyes are failing. You won't have your position for long at this rate. Tell us about the Cascral Tafract. How are they helping you?"

"My ... I ... but ..."

The point of the dagger settled in a little deeper. It was far past the point of contact, but still not drawing blood. I couldn't say why not. Obviously Ja'liim was far more deft that I was.

"Tell us now," whispered Ja'liim behind the old man's ear. Taremar seemed to fold up a little more and began talking. It seems a man named Mahar told him about the Cascral Tafract. He is the chief pilot at the White Market harbour. He was a friend of his and had had the operation done. Apparently it was successful. But Taremar swore he hadn't done anything about it yet. That much was obious from studying the man. It spoke volumes about his people skills that he still had his job.

It was easy to lose sight of Ja'liim in the dim candlelight. At times the old man appeared to be standing awkwardly alone, like a theatre performer pantomiming his peril. But the glint of cold steel pressing against his bloodstream brought the promise of a real death to this little stage.

Ja'liim and Tame'er exchanges glances, silently agreeing there was no more to be had from this man. I backed out and, at Ja'liim's direction, both Tavisja and myself left in different directions.

We met up at another tavern, the beer and braising beef mingling with odours of stable and unwashed bodies. We decide to try to contact Mahar, the chief pilot of the Harbout by the white market, tonight. Taremar was his friend, so would no doubt try to warn him. The large bodyguard would most likely not rest until morning, busy showing his employer how upset he was about the whole thing. I'd be surprised if more than one Taim'lielm wasn't out looking for a man of my description. Let them look.

We agree that Ja'liim will wait at the tavern enjoying the beer and beef while Tavisja and myself try to find out where this man lives. We know he works at the White Market harbour. He is a prominent man, being the chief pilot, so that should give us enough to go on. Two hours of streetwalking and a couple of well-placed questions later we report back that he lives on a small Island, number 18 on the map, that has waterfront property. He has a private dock and he is home.

An hour after that we stand looking at the wall of his property. Ja'liim takes a survey of the estate to determine the best route of access and how much adversity will greet our endeavours. Again, there are dogs. But this time we cannot await the luxury of a street encounter. Most likely the man will take a boat to work. And we believe he will be warned before the night is over.

We debate a frontal assault, a stealthy straight in plan, and a deception involving a fake messenger to draw off the dogs while the other two sneak in.

We decide to await the actual messenger we believe will be coming and then make our move at that time. We park ourselves on the roof of the neighbouring estate and wait to see if a messenger arrives. One does and we make a run into Mahar's estate. We go over the rooftop and quickly down the staircase away from the messenger and the dogs who obligingly went to investigate. We arrive at the door of the master bedroom as one of the guards arrives with the message. Ja'liim and I are at the door with the lock now unlocked, Tavisja attacks the arriving guard, slashing him with a dagger, and then runs in the other direction. The guard lets out an angry bellow and follows him.

Ja'liim welcomes the distraction and goes into the room, pulling me in after him. We stop and listen to the soft snore of the room's occupant. This is a large room with a curtain dividing it in half. We are in the empty half.

Outside we hear the muffled sounds of a fight which quickly ends. I believe Tavisja knew what he was doing and can only assume he wished us to finish our task. I move after Ja'liim as he strides across the room and slips behind the curtain. I draw one dagger, but when I step behind the curtain I cannot even see that. I silently move forward, exercising caution until my knee touches what must be the bed. I remain still, ready to help if necessary. I hear snoring suddenly stop. The bed gives a ripple and then the sound of Ja'liim whispering. A man moves out of the bed and then I can tell that there is another sleeper. Ja'liim must have the eyes of an owl to operate in this darkness. Suddenly, as the two slip past the curtain, a woman's voice sleepily calls, "Mahar, honey? Come back to bed." There is a slightly longer pause than is natural, but his voice comes back in tight tones, "My flower, please go back to sleep. I am only using the chamber pot." The woman seems to drift off again.

I blindly move to the curtain and beyond it, welcoming the faint outlines afforded by the starlight coming through the open window. There is a candle on the mantle and Ja'liim patiently waits while I light it.

I turn to Mahar. My words are unprepared this time. Then I remember that he too had his eyes fixed. "So, Mahar. Tell me about your eyes."

"What, my eyes?" He returns awkwardly.

Ja'liim gives a slight snort, obviously wishing to have this interview go a little faster than the last one.

He says, "Listen, if you want to live, tell us what you know about the Cascral Tafract."

The man hesitates and Ja'liim's dagger dips in a little deeper.

"And keep your voice down if you want your wife to remain uninvolved"

"All right", Mahar begins. He tells us that his only way of contacting them was through the Messenger's guild. To ask for a messenger named Fama, that the password is vala quora dor (riverdog).

He wrote a message to Azril. He was instructed to go to a house. On Island 4. Fifth house on the right on Blackwall street. After the crossing of Blackwall and the Rudder. He doesn't seem to know any more. Ja'liim seems satisfied and although Sjer left us no specific instructions to keep this man alive as he had for Taremar, I assume the lower profile the better. After last night's battle at the warehouse, I can understand his instructions. Some reputations are better not to have. At least for a man like Sjer.

Ja'liim prompts the man to show us the alternate way out. There turns out to be a secret door behind his bed which he operates for us. Ja'liim marches him outside where we find one guard approaching the bedroom door, and down in the couryard three other guards and two dogs are standing in front of the kennels. Locked inside is Tavisja. He seems to be in one piece and has occupied the guards long enough for us to finish our job.

With a little extra prompting, Mahar orders the guards to free Tavisja. We then take Mahar up to the roof and Ja'liim pushes him into the river. We take off into the night.

Only Tavisja runs into curfew troubles on the way home. Three Imperial guardsmen stop him and take his money and his daggers for breaking curfew. He arrives back at our starting tavern and is very sad over the loss of his dagger. His money does not seem a concern to him. Tame'er offers him one of his daggers, a nice piece of work that seems to brighten Tavisja's spirits.

So far we have done rather well. We have gained information from two sources and we haven't caused any traceable damage.

We decide to make our way to Island 4 and find this house of the Tafract where Mahar had his eyes fixed. It turns out to be a small building. A two-storey model with 4 windows on the upper level and a couple on the bottom. The back of the building butts up against a taller newer structure to the rear.

We climb the neighouring building and then approach with caution the roof of the target residence.

We see a set of stairs and an opening to a courtyard. We move around to the stairs and begin to descend. Ja'liim sees the first trip wire, but misses the second one. I step on that one and Tavisja believes he hears the sound of a small bell. The first true snag of the evening. After a moment's concern, we decide to move forward.

We hit the bottom of the stairs. It is pitch black again as we move away from the starlight down into the building. Ja'liim goes first and goes into a room on the left. Tavisja and myself are slowly descending in the darkness. Suddenly there is a small noise behind us, almost as if a door gave a squeak of resistance. I tense and prepare to jump off of the stairway onto whoever is coming. Sudden pain explodes in my head as my straining eyes are smashed with a brilliant flash of light. Both Tavisja and myself are effectively blinded. We hear a man running down some stairs.

The sound of another man moving after the first comes to my ears as Ja'liim jumps down onto the first man beginning a wrestling match below. I launch myself into the open air hoping to quickly come to the battle although it cost me the pain of hitting the floor. I hear Tavisja also move down the stairs and assume that he is behind me. The struggle continues below and so I turn, intending to step down the remaining steps and come to Ja'liim's aid. But the step is not there and my foot plunges down into the blackness sending me down atop another person. The muttered curse and the close smell of stable manure tells me I have knocked into Tavisja, slowing him down and taking both of us out of the fight for another few precious seconds. I mutter and apology and try to get off of him as quick as is possible in this utter darkness. There is the sound of the door bolt being thrown open and then a cry as Ja'liim's dagger finishes the fight.

My sight finally returns. I step down one last step and see to the health of a small little man that has been stabbed and slashed with some precision given the lighting conditions. I look at Tavisja. He returns my gaze and relocks the door. The man's life is bleeding out of him and I take steps to preserve him for questioning. With his wounds bandaged we light some torches and look at this house of the Cascral Tafract. Tavisja quickly determines there is nothing on this level but rats. Many, many caged living rats and no few dead ones heaped on the floor in piles. Odd. Downstairs is a table with straps on them. Tavisja and I carry the little man downstairs and strap him to the table.

Tavisja finds the only place of interest, a hidden place in the basement. It takes Ja'liim's skills to gain access to it. Inside are is a small box, some vials, and a money pouch. Inside the box is a ring. It looks liket he seal of an Alm, but none of us can place it. We decide that Sjer should have it for future political use.

The small man comes to. Pavel is the man's name. He takes in his situation and seems calm enough under the circumstances. He unconcernedly tells us that a man named Oril leaves messages and then pays him. He claims never to see him.

He says he only catches rats and takes them to the beast stable up at the arenas, the big one, Ishimars' Beasts. He expresses some concerns that we haven't done anything to his livelihood. Meaning that he hopes the rats are still in their cages.

As I gaze down on this little man, strapped to the table, I find my usual willingness to spill blood is absent. Perhaps it is the lack of fear displayed by a man in this predicament. He obviously does not fear his own death. He doesn't appear to be concerned that the Tafract will know he spoke of them and confirmed it is their house. Interesting. When we finish I untie one of his hands. If he can survive his situation, good. If not, good.

We leave and call it a good night's work.

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