SC Book One Chapter Two: Kidnappings
Date: Sunday, 5th of Harvest Plenty, 506AF
Place: Road to Cauldron
It’s been an incredible journey. Off of Genevieve’s Shifter for less than a month and already we have new friends and a destination. Cauldron. Our newest companion is rather a surprise. He seems to be some kind of tribal cleric or medicine man. Zip used the word Shaman. Nardakk kind of looks shamany. (Is that a word?) And much friendlier than any orc I’ve ever met. I think we could actually become friends!
As for our destination, we’ve stopped to rest and have supper (Zip made a yummy stew) and from part way up the mountain we can see the high black walls of the city, the setting sun sending its shadows down the mountain toward our camp. I can’t wait to get there and see what a volcano city looks like!
Oh yes, and here are some drawings for ideas on my next embroidery project. I think I might like them on sleeve cuffs.
Whatever volcano had been here before, the explosion must have been massive as what was left gave room for a rather impressively sized city. It was a small city, to be sure, and Zip had been to much larger cities, but Cauldron was impressive nonetheless. The walls as they came up to the city’s edge were made out of black malachite and rose probably fifty feet into the air. Zip craned his neck to take it all in, holding the hood of his cloak to his head, as a wretched drizzle had begun to fall again at sun down. From this vantage point, he could see nothing of the city beyond, not even the roof of a building.
As they approached the gate and dismounted, they saw a giant wooden double gate, one side held slightly open to allow a slow stream of visitors through. Only a handful of people milled around the area, most of them on their way out of the city, and all covered with heavy cloaks from the chilly rain. With the night falling, most merchants would have arrived earlier that day. By the time they actually reached the gate, guarded by a pair of watchmen, no one else was in front of them.
The guards stared first at their mounts, then scanned their faces, hidden in the folds of their cloaks. Both held their mouths slightly open. Zip had to chuckle, thinking how interesting they must look from the outside. The younger guard, with a bright honest face, took a tentative step forward. Zip thought with the proper cleaning up, he’d be rather attractive. He still had a bit of baby fat around the face and it made him kind of cute. “Welcome to Cauldron,” he said, his voice strong and not showing a hint of unease, although his posture said otherwise. He continued to watch each of them warily. “It’ll be one silver for each of you to enter. Have you been to Cauldron before?”
None of them, not even Nardakk, had and they said so. “Then may I suggest you stay at the Drunken Morkoth Inn. It is a fine establishment and caters - ”
“Does it have any ladies of the evening there?” Ayame asked. Remembering their conversation from the night before outside The Lucky Monkey, Zip snickered.
The guard’s jaw flapped. “Wha- No! Of course not!”
“That’s a shame,” said Shiore with a sigh. “We were so hoping to find some. Perhaps you could point us in the right direction.”
The guard continued to sputter as the girls continued their good-natured ribbing while Zip held his sides, a cramp forming from the effort of holding back laughter. Dip and Wrast stared blankly; Wrast from not understanding the language, and Dip for much the same reason as they might have been speaking gobbledygook for all that he understood. Nardakk wore a polite but confused smile, which seemed to unnerve the guard even more.
Finally Shiore waved the conversation off, her lips quirked and twitching. “Enough of that. Church.”
Stunned by the change of subject, the guard blinked. “Church?” he asked, as if unfamiliar with the word.
“We need to get to the church.”
The guard smoothed the lines on his uniform and stood straighter. This, apparently, was a question much more in line with what he usually dealt with. “Which one? We have several.”
“We’re looking for the church of Geatric.”
“Ah yes, the Church of the Sun. I can give you directions. Shall I also give you directions to the Drunken Morkoth?”
“Yes, please.”
Directions in hand, the little group entered the city. “You don’t mind if I continue traveling with you?” Nardakk asked as they passed rows of rather splendid houses at the rim of the caldera.
“Not at all,” Shiore said with a smile. “I would have been sad if you had gone so quickly.”
Lights sputtered in lanterns hung periodically down the streets to combat the growing darkness. Several lanterns stood dark as drops of rain had doused the light. The stars above were hidden behind gloomy clouds with only the faint aftermath of the sun squatting behind the horizon reflected in the sky. The streets were mostly deserted, which Zip found rather odd. While businesses might be closed for the day, night life always existed in every city and town he’d ever been to. Taverns usually catered to night crowds and despite the ribbing the girls had given to the guard, ‘Ladies of the Evening’ existed in the shadows and he’d stumbled upon a few in the past. But Cauldron was eerily quiet at night. Only a few people could be seen hurrying down streets.
They turned a corner onto Obsidian Ave and passed the sign for The Drunken Morkoth that included a picture of a strange tentacled water creature tipping several pints of ale into its razor-sharp maw. Little bubbles floated around its head to indicate its intoxication. Dip chuckled.
“I think I like this place,” he said.
After leaving their mounts at the inn’s stables and leaving some gold behind for their keep, they traveled down Obsidian Avenue, which wound its way around the city in a circle. Streets branched off here and there, along with several smaller alleys, angling down towards the city’s center, although a few traveled up. The crowded, rain-slicked buildings seemed bleak, hunched together beneath the skies as if they, too, were in need of shelter. A few lights burned in their windows, but mostly their shutters had been closed for the night. Chimney smoke filled the air and the din of water trundled from the rooftops, splashing into the dark alleys and turning the street gutters into rivulets. Zip danced around the puddles in an effort to keep his feet dry.
“It’s kinda depressing here,” Dip commented quietly to Zip. Zip nodded in agreement; he expected a much livelier city.
They passed a road leading up towards what looked like the town’s barracks, stone walls and a gate keeping out casual visitors. For a moment, Zip’s feet angled towards the barracks. Wonder what’s going on in there? Then he caught sight of Wrast, covered once again by his cloak, and Zip’s eyes followed his form, his feet trailing after.
Not long after a shout from a nearby alley split the evening air. Scuffles from the loose gravel of the street accompanied the shout. Then a cry of alarm. “Help! Someone help!”
Zip and his brother wasted no time. Dip unstrapped his sithak, his long staff-like weapon, from his back and began shoving the metal scythes onto its ends. Zip removed his yothak, his ball and chain mace, from its leather carrier at his side and let loose the ball, uncapping the metal spike at its end while contemplating an appropriate spell in his head.
Neither brother looked back as they ran for the alley, but were nearly taken down as the others sprinted passed them, their legs longer than the shorter kender. Even Ayame removed her bow and nocked an arrow in its string. Shiore pulled a massive ax from what seemed like the folds of her cloak, gripped by a leather gloved hand, and Nardakk wielded the spear from his back. Zip saw no weapons on Wrast, the elf man only clenching his gloved fists - which Zip had never seen him take off, come to think of it.
The alley was dark with no lit lanterns to light the way. It was long and sloped downward and as Zip’s eyes acclimated to the lack of light, he detected small, shallow stairs carved into the pavement every so often. Half way down the long alley he made out the occurring scuffle. Three men wearing half black and half white face paint surrounded a fourth wearing the same brown robes Zip had seen Emmeril wear on the ship. Two of the harlequins had the cleric held in their grasp while the third guarded their backs. They slammed the cleric against the wall, one throwing a punch to his abdomen while the other growled words that echoed down the alley.
“Stay away from the orphanage, you got that?”
The third guarding thug was the first to see them, although the group made enough noise that the other two turned, halting the beatings and whispered threats to the frightened young man.
The guarding thug removed the sword at his waist and took a step forward, his face pinched and lips curled in a sneer. “Bugger off,” he growled.
Wrast frowned, his green eyes flashing dangerously like acidic poison. Although Zip didn’t think he understood the thug’s words, he responded calmly in Common, “No,” and took a step forward. Shiore, only slightly behind, followed. Ayame kept her arrow taut.
Zip saw the thug visibly swallow, his eyes glued to Wrast’s leather fists, although his face and posture hadn’t lost any aggression. He made a gesture to the other harlequins - “Nilas, Hylum.” - but they had already released the cleric. The young man took tentative steps towards their group as he watched to make sure the three wouldn’t jump him again. The thugs bunched together and slowly began backing away, swords drawn, but without any real concern. More as a precaution, as if they didn’t expect the group to really attack them.
Once they nearly reached the end of the alley, the three turned and bolted, almost immediately disappearing into the darkness. Wrast sprinted to the alley’s end and halted, glancing around. Zip jogged after, the others meandering slowly. Wrast’s sneer had turned into a tight, clenching grimace. “Balls,” he spat in Common.
Zip raised an eyebrow, his lips quirked at the corners. “Balls?” he repeated, amused. Wrast glanced down, much of the blood-lust drained from his face, and shrugged.
Now that the encounter was over, Zip stuck his yothak into its holder and took stock of their new companion. The cleric was young, possibly younger than the twins’ twenty one years, with short sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He panted and leaned against the wall, holding a hand to his chest. Bruises dotted his face and arms, and who knew what splotches had popped up on his torso under the robes. Zip imagined he’d have an impressive purplish bruise in his gut before long.
Other than being winded and bruised, the cleric seemed to be unhurt. “Are you all right?” Ayame asked, padding closer and placing a gentle hand on his arm.
His breathing slowing, he nodded and gulped a lungful of air. “So it would seem. Thanks to you.” His grateful gaze passed from Ayame to each of them in turn.
“Do you require healing?” Nardakk asked. Not surprisingly, Zip recognized the outstretched hand and unfocused eyes of the beginnings of a spell. Although the orc hadn’t said, it would not have surprised Zip if he was a Shaman or magical healer.
The cleric shook his head. “No, no. The bruises will heal well enough. I can always cast something upon myself if it pains me too much. I am Ruphus Laro.” He held his hand out, Dip the first one to clasp it, rather enthusiastically.
They went round in turns introducing themselves, Nona being introduced for her. Shiore shifted her stance as the introductions passed. “What happened here? Who were those clowns?”
Ruphus, already a little pale from the fight, turned bone white. “They’re part of the Last Laugh.”
Shiore snorted derisively. “Last Laugh? Do they do birthday parties?”
“They’re Cauldron’s most notorious thieves’ guild.”
“Bullies, more like it,” Ayame huffed. Shiore’s face contorted in a mixture of disgust and distain.
“I thought they were intending on mugging me,” Ruphus went on. “But when they didn’t ask for money and started talking about staying away from the orphanage, I saw they were trying to intimidate me.”
Zip nodded. “I thought I heard them saying something about that. What did they mean?”
“That’s where I was coming from. The orphanage. I was on my way back to the church of Geatric when they jumped me.”
Shiore’s stance went from slouched to standing stiff. “Church of Geatric? That’s where we were heading! We were sent by Emmeril with some herbs.”
Ruphus’s face relaxed. “Then he’s all right? We were getting worried.”
Shiore nodded. “He got sick with food poisoning and is resting back at port, but sent us in his stead.”
“Then if you wouldn’t mind escorting me back to the church? Just in case the thugs return, and I’m sure Jenya, my superior, would want to find a way to repay you for your kindness in helping me. Besides, I can fill you in on the way.”
They left the alley way and onto a lit side street Ruphus said would be a short cut to the church. Wrast fell to the back of the group, glancing behind him while clenching and flexing his fingers, eyes warily scanning the buildings for movement. Zip quietly slowed his pace some, while Dip remained at the head of the party with Shiore and Ruphus, attempting to casually keep up with Wrast. He felt sorry for the poor man, in the dark on the conversation. Besides, he enjoyed gazing at the elf’s beautiful face. It made his heart thump.
Zip looked up and found Ayame was matching them stride for stride. She wasn’t looking at him, however; her eyes were trained on Wrast. Briefly they flicked down to his arms, fists still flexing, then back up to his face.
“Do you always wear those gloves?” she asked in Elven.
Wrast’s whole body tensed, all of his facial muscles went rigid. His jaw clenched. With quick, stiff movements, he pushed up the ends of his long gloves, shoving them farther up his shirt sleeves. Then, without responding, he picked up his pace and walked passed both of them. Ayame’s mouth hung open a moment then closed. She shrank farther back from the group. Zip gazed between the two. Uncertain if he should attempt to comfort either of them, he elected to wrap his cloak around his body, retreating farther into the material, and pulled his hat down nearly over his eyes. Suddenly he really wanted his brother’s company.
Ruphus began to explain about the orphanage. “I was at the orphanage to comfort the children. Three nights ago, four of the children disappeared, kidnapped from their beds.”
Dip gasped. He saw Shiore’s face harden. The dark expression seemed alien on such a sweet and pretty face. “Then we will find them.”
The young cleric nearly stumbled, sputtering, “Y-you will?” His eyes searched hers, uncertain but hopeful. “Praise be to the Radiant Sun!”
“Why would the Late Laugh want you to stay away from the orphanage?” Dip asked.
“The Last Laugh. And I don’t know.” Ruphus sighed. “Someone has been trying to subvert the Church’s efforts in locating the children. I can’t fathom why.”
“So someone other than the thieves’ guild is trying to stop you?” Shiore added.
“I don’t know. I can’t see why the Last Laugh would be involved in the disappearance of some children, but they could have been hired by someone else who is. I fear…” He licked his lips. “I fear they might have been kidnapped by an evil cultist who will sacrifice them to an evil god - a god with two heads and tentacles for arms!” The boy shuddered.
Shiore shared a look with Dip. Dip shrugged. He supposed it could be plausible, but the description, except for the extra head, reminded him of the picture on the sign for the Drunken Morkoth. The laughter that threatened to bubble up from the memory made it hard for the warrior kender to take the idea seriously. Not that a two-headed tentacled god wouldn’t be interesting to see.
“Is that really possible?” Shiore asked a little incredulously.
“Stranger things have happened.”
“So it would seem.”
Neither Dip nor his brother was overly religious - kender were generally free with their associations to gods. They called out to them when they needed them, prayed to them more as a conversation than in worship. Generally they concerned themselves with earthly matters. Worry about the afterlife when it comes to it, his mother always said.
The Church of Geatric, god of the sun, rather impressed Dip. The two story building had white marble walls that practically glowed in the darkness. Veins of vivid blue ran through them like little streams. It stood out all the more from the dark, black buildings that stood next to it, making the shadows even deeper in comparison. Maybe the sun god made it like this so it seemed to always be day here, Dip thought.
A pair of white statues, armored warriors, stood on either side of the temple’s heavy oaken doors. The images made Dip think of paladins, holy warriors combating the darkness. Unfortunately, he knew few paladins that were polite to him. Rather surprising, considering they were supposed to be examples of goodness.
Above the door were inscribed with the words, “WITHIN LAW LIVES HOPE.” Not exactly sure what it meant, Dip thought it at least sounded somewhat poetic. Hope for what, he wondered. Perhaps he could ask them.
Ruphus led them into the temple. Here, they all shook out their wet cloaks, the tiled floor filling with small puddles of water as the rain splattered around them. One of the acolytes appeared in the atrium having noticed the group, and then saw the bruises on Ruphus’s face. He ushered the young man away, calling into the temple for someone to tend to the group.
A minute later, another acolyte emerged from within carrying a tall pile of folded blankets and offering them tea. Though not a tea drinker, Dip politely sipped at the beverage, something minty and not all together too bad.
They had finally gotten very nearly dry when another cleric entered. Unlike the previous acolytes who wore white robes, the woman wore the same brown robes as Ruphus and Emmeril, but trimmed with gold at the hems. Dip guessed her to be a little younger than middle age for a human, maybe even only ten years older than he and Zip. Streaks of gray colored her thick chestnut hair which she wore pulled back at the crown with a silver comb. It contrasted with her youthful face. The symbol around her neck Dip recognized as the one Emmeril wore around his neck and Ruphus carried on his waist. It was echoed throughout the church - a golden sun with long rays of light on a silver shield. Obviously this was the symbol of the god of the sun.
Small laugh lines winkled at the corners of her mouth as she smiled in greeting. “Welcome. I am Jenya Urikas. I am acting High Priestess in the absence of his Holiness, Sarcem Delasharn. Thank you very much for coming to Ruphus’s aid tonight. Please, if you would follow me, there is a fire where you can dry off and get warm. I would like to discuss with you further.”
“We have herbs,” Shiore said, removing a pouch from her belt and holding it out to her.
“Yes, Ruphus said. Thank you again.” She took the herbs from Shiore’s out stretched hand. “How is Emmeril?”
“He’s getting better.”
“I’m glad. Poor man has always had a weak constitution, but he always insists on doing his part. He does so love to travel.” Jenya swept her arm into the church. “Please, if you will follow me?”
Dip settled himself on a small footstool in the other room by the fire. He shed his blanket in a small pile around him. Zip took a corner next to him, his blanket still wrapped around him. Although he had lowered his cloak hood, Dip saw Zip still wore his oversized pageboy hat, the brim lowered nearly over his eyes. In the shadows of the brim, Dip could see his brother’s face had turned uncharacteristically serious.
“Ruphus has told you about the abductions at the orphanage,” Jenya began, waiting until they all had settled.
Shiore nodded. “And we will do everything we can to find them.”
Jenya closed her eyes and seemed to sigh deep from her toes. “You have no idea how much that means to us.”
“What happened?” Ayame asked.
“We’re not exactly sure,” Jenya admitted. “Three nights ago, two boys and two girls - Deakon, Terrem, Evelyn and Lucinda - were abducted from their rooms at the Lantern Street Orphanage. We don’t understand how it happened as no one saw anything and as the orphanage is protected with barred windows and excellent locks. The children weren’t even taken from the same room. The boys and girls are separated into two rooms at opposite ends of the house, which are locked at night.”
“Someone may be working from the inside,” Shiore muttered quietly.
“Perhaps,” Jenya agreed. “This is only the latest string of kidnappings.”
All their postures shifted and their eyes found each other. Even Dip’s brother became more animated at this. “Latest string?” Dip asked. “Others have been kidnapped?”
“Yes. Two dozen others in the last three months have just vanished. The watch has been doing what it can, but all trails have gone cold.”
“This is why everything is so quiet at night,” Zip said, his eyes haunted and dark, although Dip couldn’t imagine why. He didn’t think he’d ever seen this look on his brother but once before, and this had nothing to do with that last time.
Jenya nodded. “The watch has set up a curfew, but most of Cauldron’s citizens want to be in doors at night anyway. All are frightened. With the disappearance of the children, it was the last straw. We here at the church of the sun god can’t abide by missing children.”
“Neither can we,” Shiore said firmly, her face rigid and brown eyes flashing with determination. Dip nodded fervently and saw the others did the same, even Wrast as Shiore quietly translated Jenya’s words to him.
“In the wake of their disappearance, the church issued an official statement that we would locate the missing children and bring their kidnappers to justice.” Jenya sighed, placing a hand to her forehead. “But it’s been three days and our searching has proved fruitless. I decided it was time for some divine intervention.”
From a corner cabinet of the room, Jenya removed rather magnificent looking mace. Dip’s eyes widened as he stared at the weapon, the black metal almost shimmering, the runes carved into its handle seeming to glow of its own power. “This is our holy mace, a minor divination tool. It can grant a divination spell but once a week. The High Priest is the only one who is supposed to use it,” she added a bit meekly, “but considering the times and that the High Priest is away, I felt I was justified in using it.”
“I should hope so,” Shiore said.
“What did it say?” Ayame asked.
Jenya’s shoulders slumped. “I have not deciphered the meaning behind the cryptic message. I asked ‘Where are the children who were abducted from the Lantern Street Orphanage?’ I have written the riddled answer down, however.” She removed a folded piece of paper and handed it to Shiore, the elf girl’s hands already outstretched for it.
“‘The locks are the key to finding them’,” Shiore read aloud. Her usual soft, warm voice held a tone of harsh anger as she read. Dip thought her a really good person if she was this upset over the disappearance of children. “‘Look beyond the curtain, below the cauldron. Beware the doors with teeth. Descend into the malachite ‘hold, where precious life is bought with gold. Half a dwarf binds them, but not for long.’” Shiore looked up from the paper. “Half a dwarf?”
Jenya shook her head. “I have no idea what that means, or any of it. I believe the first line holds an important clue, but I’m unsure what the locks refer to,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I suspect it has something to do with the locks at the orphanage.”
“Divination does not always give straight forward answers,” Nardakk spoke up, quiet until now. “It could be the things the message speaks of refer to other than they seem.”
Jenya nodded. “Yes, that is the problem. But we must start somewhere.” The cleric scanned her gaze over each of them in turn. “The church had intended on hiring someone to help find the children. I can offer you each a healing potion to aid you in your quest and a total of twenty five hundred gold pieces upon the return of the children. Will you help us?”
Shiore shook her head and the bottom fell from Dip’s stomach. “We can’t accept that,” she said. “For us,” and here she glanced at her brother, “it’s not a question of doing it. We have to do it.” She spoke something quietly to Wrast and the taller man nodded in agreement. Dip blinked, a small smile forming on his lips. Such wonderful, selfless people!
Zip nodded as well. “We will do whatever it takes to find them. This kind of thing cannot happen.” Zip and Shiore shared a look, the elf girl smiling faintly at Zip’s conviction.
A small tear formed at the corner of Jenya’s eye. She blinked and wiped it away. “You have no idea what this means to us. We will forever been in your debt for this kindness. Truly you have been sent by the gods. Is there any other way we can repay you? You will at least accept healing potions? You must, I insist.” To this, the group nodded, and she removed seven bottles from another cabinet. Dip accepted his, running his thumb over the holy symbol etched into the glass.
“I suggest you start your investigation at the orphanage, as there you will find the most recent evidence. And while that may help you find the children, I hope you can discover the whereabouts of the other abductees. Here is a list of all the other disappearances, and any information you might need in locating them.” She handed Shiore a list and led them back to the church’s front door. “Where will you be staying in the city?”
“The Drunken Morkoth,” Shiore said, glancing up from the list.
Jenya nodded as if she expected as much. “I will reach you there if I have any new leads. Good luck, and may the gods smile upon your venture.”
“Is everyone okay with the fact I turned down the money?” Shiore asked once they had traveled several streets away. Her face pinked, and she looked up at them all shyly, not quite meeting their gaze.
“Of course not!” Ayame said brightly. “It’s an awful thing to have happen and someone’s got to do something.”
Zip turned to Shiore, his hat raised a little off his face. “I don’t think I could have refused. I agree with what you said - I have to do this.”
Shiore’s grateful smile prompted Dip to pipe up. “Me, too! Someone’s got to save them.” He puffed out his chest and was rewarded with a toothy grin and a soft giggle from Shiore. It warmed his cheeks.
“I should like to help,” Nardakk said. “I feel as if I am needed.”
“We could use your help,” Shiore said, placing a hand on his arm. “I am glad you can offer it.”
And now I have to go to work till 8. Ugh.
Place: Road to Cauldron
It’s been an incredible journey. Off of Genevieve’s Shifter for less than a month and already we have new friends and a destination. Cauldron. Our newest companion is rather a surprise. He seems to be some kind of tribal cleric or medicine man. Zip used the word Shaman. Nardakk kind of looks shamany. (Is that a word?) And much friendlier than any orc I’ve ever met. I think we could actually become friends!
As for our destination, we’ve stopped to rest and have supper (Zip made a yummy stew) and from part way up the mountain we can see the high black walls of the city, the setting sun sending its shadows down the mountain toward our camp. I can’t wait to get there and see what a volcano city looks like!
Oh yes, and here are some drawings for ideas on my next embroidery project. I think I might like them on sleeve cuffs.
Whatever volcano had been here before, the explosion must have been massive as what was left gave room for a rather impressively sized city. It was a small city, to be sure, and Zip had been to much larger cities, but Cauldron was impressive nonetheless. The walls as they came up to the city’s edge were made out of black malachite and rose probably fifty feet into the air. Zip craned his neck to take it all in, holding the hood of his cloak to his head, as a wretched drizzle had begun to fall again at sun down. From this vantage point, he could see nothing of the city beyond, not even the roof of a building.
As they approached the gate and dismounted, they saw a giant wooden double gate, one side held slightly open to allow a slow stream of visitors through. Only a handful of people milled around the area, most of them on their way out of the city, and all covered with heavy cloaks from the chilly rain. With the night falling, most merchants would have arrived earlier that day. By the time they actually reached the gate, guarded by a pair of watchmen, no one else was in front of them.
The guards stared first at their mounts, then scanned their faces, hidden in the folds of their cloaks. Both held their mouths slightly open. Zip had to chuckle, thinking how interesting they must look from the outside. The younger guard, with a bright honest face, took a tentative step forward. Zip thought with the proper cleaning up, he’d be rather attractive. He still had a bit of baby fat around the face and it made him kind of cute. “Welcome to Cauldron,” he said, his voice strong and not showing a hint of unease, although his posture said otherwise. He continued to watch each of them warily. “It’ll be one silver for each of you to enter. Have you been to Cauldron before?”
None of them, not even Nardakk, had and they said so. “Then may I suggest you stay at the Drunken Morkoth Inn. It is a fine establishment and caters - ”
“Does it have any ladies of the evening there?” Ayame asked. Remembering their conversation from the night before outside The Lucky Monkey, Zip snickered.
The guard’s jaw flapped. “Wha- No! Of course not!”
“That’s a shame,” said Shiore with a sigh. “We were so hoping to find some. Perhaps you could point us in the right direction.”
The guard continued to sputter as the girls continued their good-natured ribbing while Zip held his sides, a cramp forming from the effort of holding back laughter. Dip and Wrast stared blankly; Wrast from not understanding the language, and Dip for much the same reason as they might have been speaking gobbledygook for all that he understood. Nardakk wore a polite but confused smile, which seemed to unnerve the guard even more.
Finally Shiore waved the conversation off, her lips quirked and twitching. “Enough of that. Church.”
Stunned by the change of subject, the guard blinked. “Church?” he asked, as if unfamiliar with the word.
“We need to get to the church.”
The guard smoothed the lines on his uniform and stood straighter. This, apparently, was a question much more in line with what he usually dealt with. “Which one? We have several.”
“We’re looking for the church of Geatric.”
“Ah yes, the Church of the Sun. I can give you directions. Shall I also give you directions to the Drunken Morkoth?”
“Yes, please.”
Directions in hand, the little group entered the city. “You don’t mind if I continue traveling with you?” Nardakk asked as they passed rows of rather splendid houses at the rim of the caldera.
“Not at all,” Shiore said with a smile. “I would have been sad if you had gone so quickly.”
Lights sputtered in lanterns hung periodically down the streets to combat the growing darkness. Several lanterns stood dark as drops of rain had doused the light. The stars above were hidden behind gloomy clouds with only the faint aftermath of the sun squatting behind the horizon reflected in the sky. The streets were mostly deserted, which Zip found rather odd. While businesses might be closed for the day, night life always existed in every city and town he’d ever been to. Taverns usually catered to night crowds and despite the ribbing the girls had given to the guard, ‘Ladies of the Evening’ existed in the shadows and he’d stumbled upon a few in the past. But Cauldron was eerily quiet at night. Only a few people could be seen hurrying down streets.
They turned a corner onto Obsidian Ave and passed the sign for The Drunken Morkoth that included a picture of a strange tentacled water creature tipping several pints of ale into its razor-sharp maw. Little bubbles floated around its head to indicate its intoxication. Dip chuckled.
“I think I like this place,” he said.
After leaving their mounts at the inn’s stables and leaving some gold behind for their keep, they traveled down Obsidian Avenue, which wound its way around the city in a circle. Streets branched off here and there, along with several smaller alleys, angling down towards the city’s center, although a few traveled up. The crowded, rain-slicked buildings seemed bleak, hunched together beneath the skies as if they, too, were in need of shelter. A few lights burned in their windows, but mostly their shutters had been closed for the night. Chimney smoke filled the air and the din of water trundled from the rooftops, splashing into the dark alleys and turning the street gutters into rivulets. Zip danced around the puddles in an effort to keep his feet dry.
“It’s kinda depressing here,” Dip commented quietly to Zip. Zip nodded in agreement; he expected a much livelier city.
They passed a road leading up towards what looked like the town’s barracks, stone walls and a gate keeping out casual visitors. For a moment, Zip’s feet angled towards the barracks. Wonder what’s going on in there? Then he caught sight of Wrast, covered once again by his cloak, and Zip’s eyes followed his form, his feet trailing after.
Not long after a shout from a nearby alley split the evening air. Scuffles from the loose gravel of the street accompanied the shout. Then a cry of alarm. “Help! Someone help!”
Zip and his brother wasted no time. Dip unstrapped his sithak, his long staff-like weapon, from his back and began shoving the metal scythes onto its ends. Zip removed his yothak, his ball and chain mace, from its leather carrier at his side and let loose the ball, uncapping the metal spike at its end while contemplating an appropriate spell in his head.
Neither brother looked back as they ran for the alley, but were nearly taken down as the others sprinted passed them, their legs longer than the shorter kender. Even Ayame removed her bow and nocked an arrow in its string. Shiore pulled a massive ax from what seemed like the folds of her cloak, gripped by a leather gloved hand, and Nardakk wielded the spear from his back. Zip saw no weapons on Wrast, the elf man only clenching his gloved fists - which Zip had never seen him take off, come to think of it.
The alley was dark with no lit lanterns to light the way. It was long and sloped downward and as Zip’s eyes acclimated to the lack of light, he detected small, shallow stairs carved into the pavement every so often. Half way down the long alley he made out the occurring scuffle. Three men wearing half black and half white face paint surrounded a fourth wearing the same brown robes Zip had seen Emmeril wear on the ship. Two of the harlequins had the cleric held in their grasp while the third guarded their backs. They slammed the cleric against the wall, one throwing a punch to his abdomen while the other growled words that echoed down the alley.
“Stay away from the orphanage, you got that?”
The third guarding thug was the first to see them, although the group made enough noise that the other two turned, halting the beatings and whispered threats to the frightened young man.
The guarding thug removed the sword at his waist and took a step forward, his face pinched and lips curled in a sneer. “Bugger off,” he growled.
Wrast frowned, his green eyes flashing dangerously like acidic poison. Although Zip didn’t think he understood the thug’s words, he responded calmly in Common, “No,” and took a step forward. Shiore, only slightly behind, followed. Ayame kept her arrow taut.
Zip saw the thug visibly swallow, his eyes glued to Wrast’s leather fists, although his face and posture hadn’t lost any aggression. He made a gesture to the other harlequins - “Nilas, Hylum.” - but they had already released the cleric. The young man took tentative steps towards their group as he watched to make sure the three wouldn’t jump him again. The thugs bunched together and slowly began backing away, swords drawn, but without any real concern. More as a precaution, as if they didn’t expect the group to really attack them.
Once they nearly reached the end of the alley, the three turned and bolted, almost immediately disappearing into the darkness. Wrast sprinted to the alley’s end and halted, glancing around. Zip jogged after, the others meandering slowly. Wrast’s sneer had turned into a tight, clenching grimace. “Balls,” he spat in Common.
Zip raised an eyebrow, his lips quirked at the corners. “Balls?” he repeated, amused. Wrast glanced down, much of the blood-lust drained from his face, and shrugged.
Now that the encounter was over, Zip stuck his yothak into its holder and took stock of their new companion. The cleric was young, possibly younger than the twins’ twenty one years, with short sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He panted and leaned against the wall, holding a hand to his chest. Bruises dotted his face and arms, and who knew what splotches had popped up on his torso under the robes. Zip imagined he’d have an impressive purplish bruise in his gut before long.
Other than being winded and bruised, the cleric seemed to be unhurt. “Are you all right?” Ayame asked, padding closer and placing a gentle hand on his arm.
His breathing slowing, he nodded and gulped a lungful of air. “So it would seem. Thanks to you.” His grateful gaze passed from Ayame to each of them in turn.
“Do you require healing?” Nardakk asked. Not surprisingly, Zip recognized the outstretched hand and unfocused eyes of the beginnings of a spell. Although the orc hadn’t said, it would not have surprised Zip if he was a Shaman or magical healer.
The cleric shook his head. “No, no. The bruises will heal well enough. I can always cast something upon myself if it pains me too much. I am Ruphus Laro.” He held his hand out, Dip the first one to clasp it, rather enthusiastically.
They went round in turns introducing themselves, Nona being introduced for her. Shiore shifted her stance as the introductions passed. “What happened here? Who were those clowns?”
Ruphus, already a little pale from the fight, turned bone white. “They’re part of the Last Laugh.”
Shiore snorted derisively. “Last Laugh? Do they do birthday parties?”
“They’re Cauldron’s most notorious thieves’ guild.”
“Bullies, more like it,” Ayame huffed. Shiore’s face contorted in a mixture of disgust and distain.
“I thought they were intending on mugging me,” Ruphus went on. “But when they didn’t ask for money and started talking about staying away from the orphanage, I saw they were trying to intimidate me.”
Zip nodded. “I thought I heard them saying something about that. What did they mean?”
“That’s where I was coming from. The orphanage. I was on my way back to the church of Geatric when they jumped me.”
Shiore’s stance went from slouched to standing stiff. “Church of Geatric? That’s where we were heading! We were sent by Emmeril with some herbs.”
Ruphus’s face relaxed. “Then he’s all right? We were getting worried.”
Shiore nodded. “He got sick with food poisoning and is resting back at port, but sent us in his stead.”
“Then if you wouldn’t mind escorting me back to the church? Just in case the thugs return, and I’m sure Jenya, my superior, would want to find a way to repay you for your kindness in helping me. Besides, I can fill you in on the way.”
They left the alley way and onto a lit side street Ruphus said would be a short cut to the church. Wrast fell to the back of the group, glancing behind him while clenching and flexing his fingers, eyes warily scanning the buildings for movement. Zip quietly slowed his pace some, while Dip remained at the head of the party with Shiore and Ruphus, attempting to casually keep up with Wrast. He felt sorry for the poor man, in the dark on the conversation. Besides, he enjoyed gazing at the elf’s beautiful face. It made his heart thump.
Zip looked up and found Ayame was matching them stride for stride. She wasn’t looking at him, however; her eyes were trained on Wrast. Briefly they flicked down to his arms, fists still flexing, then back up to his face.
“Do you always wear those gloves?” she asked in Elven.
Wrast’s whole body tensed, all of his facial muscles went rigid. His jaw clenched. With quick, stiff movements, he pushed up the ends of his long gloves, shoving them farther up his shirt sleeves. Then, without responding, he picked up his pace and walked passed both of them. Ayame’s mouth hung open a moment then closed. She shrank farther back from the group. Zip gazed between the two. Uncertain if he should attempt to comfort either of them, he elected to wrap his cloak around his body, retreating farther into the material, and pulled his hat down nearly over his eyes. Suddenly he really wanted his brother’s company.
Ruphus began to explain about the orphanage. “I was at the orphanage to comfort the children. Three nights ago, four of the children disappeared, kidnapped from their beds.”
Dip gasped. He saw Shiore’s face harden. The dark expression seemed alien on such a sweet and pretty face. “Then we will find them.”
The young cleric nearly stumbled, sputtering, “Y-you will?” His eyes searched hers, uncertain but hopeful. “Praise be to the Radiant Sun!”
“Why would the Late Laugh want you to stay away from the orphanage?” Dip asked.
“The Last Laugh. And I don’t know.” Ruphus sighed. “Someone has been trying to subvert the Church’s efforts in locating the children. I can’t fathom why.”
“So someone other than the thieves’ guild is trying to stop you?” Shiore added.
“I don’t know. I can’t see why the Last Laugh would be involved in the disappearance of some children, but they could have been hired by someone else who is. I fear…” He licked his lips. “I fear they might have been kidnapped by an evil cultist who will sacrifice them to an evil god - a god with two heads and tentacles for arms!” The boy shuddered.
Shiore shared a look with Dip. Dip shrugged. He supposed it could be plausible, but the description, except for the extra head, reminded him of the picture on the sign for the Drunken Morkoth. The laughter that threatened to bubble up from the memory made it hard for the warrior kender to take the idea seriously. Not that a two-headed tentacled god wouldn’t be interesting to see.
“Is that really possible?” Shiore asked a little incredulously.
“Stranger things have happened.”
“So it would seem.”
Neither Dip nor his brother was overly religious - kender were generally free with their associations to gods. They called out to them when they needed them, prayed to them more as a conversation than in worship. Generally they concerned themselves with earthly matters. Worry about the afterlife when it comes to it, his mother always said.
The Church of Geatric, god of the sun, rather impressed Dip. The two story building had white marble walls that practically glowed in the darkness. Veins of vivid blue ran through them like little streams. It stood out all the more from the dark, black buildings that stood next to it, making the shadows even deeper in comparison. Maybe the sun god made it like this so it seemed to always be day here, Dip thought.
A pair of white statues, armored warriors, stood on either side of the temple’s heavy oaken doors. The images made Dip think of paladins, holy warriors combating the darkness. Unfortunately, he knew few paladins that were polite to him. Rather surprising, considering they were supposed to be examples of goodness.
Above the door were inscribed with the words, “WITHIN LAW LIVES HOPE.” Not exactly sure what it meant, Dip thought it at least sounded somewhat poetic. Hope for what, he wondered. Perhaps he could ask them.
Ruphus led them into the temple. Here, they all shook out their wet cloaks, the tiled floor filling with small puddles of water as the rain splattered around them. One of the acolytes appeared in the atrium having noticed the group, and then saw the bruises on Ruphus’s face. He ushered the young man away, calling into the temple for someone to tend to the group.
A minute later, another acolyte emerged from within carrying a tall pile of folded blankets and offering them tea. Though not a tea drinker, Dip politely sipped at the beverage, something minty and not all together too bad.
They had finally gotten very nearly dry when another cleric entered. Unlike the previous acolytes who wore white robes, the woman wore the same brown robes as Ruphus and Emmeril, but trimmed with gold at the hems. Dip guessed her to be a little younger than middle age for a human, maybe even only ten years older than he and Zip. Streaks of gray colored her thick chestnut hair which she wore pulled back at the crown with a silver comb. It contrasted with her youthful face. The symbol around her neck Dip recognized as the one Emmeril wore around his neck and Ruphus carried on his waist. It was echoed throughout the church - a golden sun with long rays of light on a silver shield. Obviously this was the symbol of the god of the sun.
Small laugh lines winkled at the corners of her mouth as she smiled in greeting. “Welcome. I am Jenya Urikas. I am acting High Priestess in the absence of his Holiness, Sarcem Delasharn. Thank you very much for coming to Ruphus’s aid tonight. Please, if you would follow me, there is a fire where you can dry off and get warm. I would like to discuss with you further.”
“We have herbs,” Shiore said, removing a pouch from her belt and holding it out to her.
“Yes, Ruphus said. Thank you again.” She took the herbs from Shiore’s out stretched hand. “How is Emmeril?”
“He’s getting better.”
“I’m glad. Poor man has always had a weak constitution, but he always insists on doing his part. He does so love to travel.” Jenya swept her arm into the church. “Please, if you will follow me?”
Dip settled himself on a small footstool in the other room by the fire. He shed his blanket in a small pile around him. Zip took a corner next to him, his blanket still wrapped around him. Although he had lowered his cloak hood, Dip saw Zip still wore his oversized pageboy hat, the brim lowered nearly over his eyes. In the shadows of the brim, Dip could see his brother’s face had turned uncharacteristically serious.
“Ruphus has told you about the abductions at the orphanage,” Jenya began, waiting until they all had settled.
Shiore nodded. “And we will do everything we can to find them.”
Jenya closed her eyes and seemed to sigh deep from her toes. “You have no idea how much that means to us.”
“What happened?” Ayame asked.
“We’re not exactly sure,” Jenya admitted. “Three nights ago, two boys and two girls - Deakon, Terrem, Evelyn and Lucinda - were abducted from their rooms at the Lantern Street Orphanage. We don’t understand how it happened as no one saw anything and as the orphanage is protected with barred windows and excellent locks. The children weren’t even taken from the same room. The boys and girls are separated into two rooms at opposite ends of the house, which are locked at night.”
“Someone may be working from the inside,” Shiore muttered quietly.
“Perhaps,” Jenya agreed. “This is only the latest string of kidnappings.”
All their postures shifted and their eyes found each other. Even Dip’s brother became more animated at this. “Latest string?” Dip asked. “Others have been kidnapped?”
“Yes. Two dozen others in the last three months have just vanished. The watch has been doing what it can, but all trails have gone cold.”
“This is why everything is so quiet at night,” Zip said, his eyes haunted and dark, although Dip couldn’t imagine why. He didn’t think he’d ever seen this look on his brother but once before, and this had nothing to do with that last time.
Jenya nodded. “The watch has set up a curfew, but most of Cauldron’s citizens want to be in doors at night anyway. All are frightened. With the disappearance of the children, it was the last straw. We here at the church of the sun god can’t abide by missing children.”
“Neither can we,” Shiore said firmly, her face rigid and brown eyes flashing with determination. Dip nodded fervently and saw the others did the same, even Wrast as Shiore quietly translated Jenya’s words to him.
“In the wake of their disappearance, the church issued an official statement that we would locate the missing children and bring their kidnappers to justice.” Jenya sighed, placing a hand to her forehead. “But it’s been three days and our searching has proved fruitless. I decided it was time for some divine intervention.”
From a corner cabinet of the room, Jenya removed rather magnificent looking mace. Dip’s eyes widened as he stared at the weapon, the black metal almost shimmering, the runes carved into its handle seeming to glow of its own power. “This is our holy mace, a minor divination tool. It can grant a divination spell but once a week. The High Priest is the only one who is supposed to use it,” she added a bit meekly, “but considering the times and that the High Priest is away, I felt I was justified in using it.”
“I should hope so,” Shiore said.
“What did it say?” Ayame asked.
Jenya’s shoulders slumped. “I have not deciphered the meaning behind the cryptic message. I asked ‘Where are the children who were abducted from the Lantern Street Orphanage?’ I have written the riddled answer down, however.” She removed a folded piece of paper and handed it to Shiore, the elf girl’s hands already outstretched for it.
“‘The locks are the key to finding them’,” Shiore read aloud. Her usual soft, warm voice held a tone of harsh anger as she read. Dip thought her a really good person if she was this upset over the disappearance of children. “‘Look beyond the curtain, below the cauldron. Beware the doors with teeth. Descend into the malachite ‘hold, where precious life is bought with gold. Half a dwarf binds them, but not for long.’” Shiore looked up from the paper. “Half a dwarf?”
Jenya shook her head. “I have no idea what that means, or any of it. I believe the first line holds an important clue, but I’m unsure what the locks refer to,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I suspect it has something to do with the locks at the orphanage.”
“Divination does not always give straight forward answers,” Nardakk spoke up, quiet until now. “It could be the things the message speaks of refer to other than they seem.”
Jenya nodded. “Yes, that is the problem. But we must start somewhere.” The cleric scanned her gaze over each of them in turn. “The church had intended on hiring someone to help find the children. I can offer you each a healing potion to aid you in your quest and a total of twenty five hundred gold pieces upon the return of the children. Will you help us?”
Shiore shook her head and the bottom fell from Dip’s stomach. “We can’t accept that,” she said. “For us,” and here she glanced at her brother, “it’s not a question of doing it. We have to do it.” She spoke something quietly to Wrast and the taller man nodded in agreement. Dip blinked, a small smile forming on his lips. Such wonderful, selfless people!
Zip nodded as well. “We will do whatever it takes to find them. This kind of thing cannot happen.” Zip and Shiore shared a look, the elf girl smiling faintly at Zip’s conviction.
A small tear formed at the corner of Jenya’s eye. She blinked and wiped it away. “You have no idea what this means to us. We will forever been in your debt for this kindness. Truly you have been sent by the gods. Is there any other way we can repay you? You will at least accept healing potions? You must, I insist.” To this, the group nodded, and she removed seven bottles from another cabinet. Dip accepted his, running his thumb over the holy symbol etched into the glass.
“I suggest you start your investigation at the orphanage, as there you will find the most recent evidence. And while that may help you find the children, I hope you can discover the whereabouts of the other abductees. Here is a list of all the other disappearances, and any information you might need in locating them.” She handed Shiore a list and led them back to the church’s front door. “Where will you be staying in the city?”
“The Drunken Morkoth,” Shiore said, glancing up from the list.
Jenya nodded as if she expected as much. “I will reach you there if I have any new leads. Good luck, and may the gods smile upon your venture.”
“Is everyone okay with the fact I turned down the money?” Shiore asked once they had traveled several streets away. Her face pinked, and she looked up at them all shyly, not quite meeting their gaze.
“Of course not!” Ayame said brightly. “It’s an awful thing to have happen and someone’s got to do something.”
Zip turned to Shiore, his hat raised a little off his face. “I don’t think I could have refused. I agree with what you said - I have to do this.”
Shiore’s grateful smile prompted Dip to pipe up. “Me, too! Someone’s got to save them.” He puffed out his chest and was rewarded with a toothy grin and a soft giggle from Shiore. It warmed his cheeks.
“I should like to help,” Nardakk said. “I feel as if I am needed.”
“We could use your help,” Shiore said, placing a hand on his arm. “I am glad you can offer it.”
And now I have to go to work till 8. Ugh.