Prompt Serial: Part 4
Here we are back again after what seems to have been a few weeks of near hibernation and not much typing. It was the shortest day of the year here three days ago, and that was accompanied by what felt like an Antarctic air mass.
Finmauw has gathered a little more information, but she isn't ready to leave town just yet.
This piece runs to 2, 590 words and I hope that you enjoy it.
There will be no prompt request with this episode because I still have to catch up to the prompts I already have.
Index page.
The food having been eaten and the difficult conversation had, Finmauw introduced Longmorn Ironsson to the Marshal of Archery as Raithard Ironsson's brother. She also explained that she had been hired to find another of Raithard's group and so was asking whether any of the party, Raithard and Avair included, had said or acquired anything in the Guild before they left that could give her a clue as to where they were going or what they were going to do.
The Marshal of Archery gave her a considering look and then said, "I was surprised that you didn't go with them."
Finmauw gave him a prim look back and replied, "The new Assignments Master took me off the team, put Avair on it, and strictly forbade me to follow along after them."
He was quiet for a few moments, then said, "I hadn't realised that Tyroque was such an ass."
"I hope he isn't," replied Finmauw, "but he doesn't seem to like me, and I don't know that I can do anything to change that."
"Why not?" That was Longmorn. "Does he want an apology or...something," he finished lamely.
"I don't think that I can make it better, because I don't think I did anything to cause the problem in the first place," explained Finmauw. "From my point of view. he disliked me at first sight, and I am not going to apologise to anyone for being alive."
"If it helps, I saw neither of them the day they left or the day before that," said the Marshal of Archery. "Raithard isn't much of an archer and it's sensible of him not to bother with a bow, but Avair is about as good as you, so they may have seen the Quartermaster for arrows and the weaponsmith for maintenance before they went out."
"The Guildmaster is having anyone who might have talked to them before they left sent down to us here," admitted Finmauw. "Now we've fed Mr Ironsson, I should get in some archery practice while I'm here."
"You should," replied the Marshal deadpan, "and as you didn't bring your own bow, you can use one of our practice bows. While you start, we’ll see if we have one that will fit Ironsson here."
They all went into the archery armoury and while Finmauw picked up a practice bow in her size and logged it and a quiver of arrows out, the Marshal and Longmorn went looking for a bow that wasn't too small for Longmorn to use. She was halfway through her warmup shoot when they reemerged into the sunlight, talking about weapons.
"Oh, we shoot at home," that was Longmorn, "but not many of us have actual swords. If it comes to man-to man armed fighting with bandits or the like, then we mostly use what we do have to hand. Axes, billhooks, scythes, that sort of thing. Being the village smith's family, what comes to hand for us is hammers."
"Explains a lot about Raithard," commented the Marshal.
"He's not a bad smith," replied Raithard's older brother, "but there are six of us and he's not the best of us and not quite the youngest. There's only so much need for smiths in any place and with us, and the Gabalders over at Covet Creek, the smithies in our part of the world are all occupied and have grandchildren being raised to work in them. Raithard made a good choice when he decided to do something else." Then he was stringing his bow and doing his own warm up shoot under the eagle eye of the Marshal. Finmauw waited for him to be done, then they walked down to the targets together to collect their arrows.
They continued shooting, with the Marshal adding his advice and observations on their form, style, and bad habits. They had a break when the Quartermaster came along and answered Finmauw's questions but neither Raithard nor Avair had acquired anything out of the ordinary for their trip or said anything that the Quartermaster could recall that shed light on their assignment or destination. They continued shooting after the Quartermaster left, and Finmauw developed the opinion that although she was the better shot for accuracy over the range of the butts, Longmorn probably had the greater range. He certainly had the greater penetration at the range they were using for practice. On the other hand, Longmorn called a halt to his own shooting before Finmauw was done. He was simply not as conditioned for the exercise as she was and didn't have the calluses she did.
The weapons smith was their next visitor, and he too had nothing unusual to tell them about the missing men's preparations for leaving the city. They'd had him check their weapons before they left, but nothing more than a light sharpening had been needed, and he couldn't recall anything they'd said about their destination or task. While Finmauw resumed her practice, the weapon smith and Longmorn started talking shop about iron suppliers (both of note and no merit), work tool maintenance, and trade gossip - she suspected that the interlinked smithing households of the Mairheriend Vale weren't aware how widely their personal dramas were being discussed.
The two smiths were still talking, their business networks were intertwined and their social networks were close enough that they each knew someone who knew someone who knew the other, when the Hospitaller arrived. She was a raw boned woman, with plaited hair that had once been dark and now was grey. Like the Guild Master she wore dark leather over linen. She was accompanied by a leatherless boy in his mid-teens who was carrying a ledger. Finmauw ceased her practice to talk to the older woman, who promptly introduced her assistant as Pembelbee. According to the Hospitaller, both Raithard and Avair had paid for their accommodation in advance so that they hadn't needed to pack up their rooms. Raithard was paid up until the end of the next quarter but Avair's paid time was about to end.
Finmauw asked what would happen to Avair's things and the Hospitaller told her that a week beyond the end of the paid date, his possessions would be packed up and placed in storage. If he hadn't returned in a year and a day from then, then the goods would be sold to free up the storage space. After another year and a day the funds from the sale would be transferred to the fund that paid for the medical care of indigent members, funerals, and supported the orphans of Guild members. Finmauw asked what his rent was, and on being told the very reasonable sum, pulled out her purse and paid Avair's rent up until the end of the next quarter.
As Pembelbee wrote the transaction into his ledger, the Hospitaller said to Finmauw, "That was decent of you."
Finmauw shrugged. "An old friend told me once that if you're going to bring a man back from the dead, then you should make sure that he has a home to come back to."
"Sounds like a wise man," replied the Hospitaller.
"He is," responded Finmauw. "He went off on a trip a few years ago and he left hoping to be back this way in a decade or so."
The Hospitaller paused and said carefully, "That's a long trip."
"Rhihauwn is one of the Ngoldergonn," she clarified. "He has time to make long journeys and not consider them much. He was an important person to me when I was a child, and I hope he does come back this way before I am gone because I would dearly like to see him again."
"Would he remember you?" The Hospitaller had heard many stories about the Ngoldergonn.
Finmauw smiled sadly at him. "Before he left, he assured me that he would remember my face and voice for at least a century and how I made him feel for at least three. I don't think any living and mortal creature could keep much fine detail in their memory for the lifetime of a Ngoldergonn."
"They are one of the reasons people say that deathlessness is a curse," observed the Hospitaller. "I think I'm glad I come from one of the races that ages and dies. To just go on forever unless something happens to you while the world changes around you.... Can't blame most of them for preferring to live exclusively among their own people."
"Indeed," agreed Finmauw.
"Given that you're looking for the group Avair is in, and you've paid his rent," said the Hospitaller softly, "there is something that might help you tell where they've been. Avair is a man, but when he was eighteen or nineteen his body started...showing some female characteristics. He had it checked by a guild sponsored magic user and by clerics, but there's no magic of any sort involved. He's not happy about it, and those of us who know him don't mention it, but it is something that strangers might remark upon for some time after he's been through their village."
Finmauw nodded in confirmation and understanding. "Particularly if he's part of a group that also includes a cat girl," she added.
"You understand," the Hospitaller sounded relieved. "If you ever have enough of the Adventurers' Guild, you could probably get work with us as a scout."
"I'm not a soldier," protested Finmauw. "I doubt your clients would want me. I'm bad at that sort of discipline."
"You say that now." Finmauw was sure that the Hospitaller was teasing.
The Guild Master came along shortly to let Finmauw know that no-one else from the Guild who was still in the city had spoken to Raithard or Avair before they had left on their assignment. While he was there, Longmorn turned from his conversation with the weapon smith to ask Finmauw, "Can you take on more than one commission or assignment at once?"
She gave him a very direct look and replied, "I can, if they aren't in conflict and don't place me in conflict with any of the parties I am engaged by. Why do you ask?"
"At the moment you are looking for Brother Mandolar. I would like to hire you to find my brother as well." He paused for a moment and clarified, "At the same time, because I expect that they are in the same place."
"I don't see a conflict," replied Finmauw. "I will need you to come over to the Adventurers' Guild to sign and register the contract. Just to keep everything above board and within the Guild's rules."
"Of course I'll come," said Longmorn. "Particularly if that will help you get answers out of this Assignments Master."
They made their farewells to the officials of the Mercenaries' Guild and the Finmauw and Longmorn walked to the Adventurers' Guild together. Finmauw made sure that Longmorn learnt the way as they went so he could make his way back to his accommodation on his own. Master Baylor in the Guild office was his usual helpful self, and when her additional commission was up on the board, Finmauw made an appointment to talk to the Assignments Master, Master Tyroque.
Reasonably enough, Master Tyroque was not immediately available. Unreasonably, in Finmauw's view, it was two hours before he sent her a note telling her that he could spare her a few minutes the next morning. The timing of the meeting suited her, it was early enough in the day that it wouldn't be overrun by other events and crowded out of existence, but she found it concerning that he seemed to think that what she wanted wasn't going to take up much of his time. She went over her questions, then considered who and what she wanted to take with her when she left the city. After that she had a good dinner at the far side of the dining room from Master Tyroque and went back to her room to get a good night's sleep.
When Finmauw arrived for their meeting first thing in the morning, straight after breakfast, she was faced with a grumpy Master Tyroque seated behind his desk and sorting through stacks of notes and letters who looked at her as if he wished that she'd chosen to miss their meeting. His response to her greeting, which she'd aimed to be cheerful and respectful, was an inarticulate monosyllable but he was also holding a document at arm's length and regarding the mud coloured script on it with some disfavour.
Master Tyroque then observed, "You are punctual."
"You did me the courtesy of granting me an appointment," pointed out Finmauw. "I thought it best to be on time."
He put down the document. "Let us be clear, Mistress Finmauw. I think that you should take yourself back to whatever cosy little enclave you hail from and stop dabbling in matters you are not equipped to handle. The world is harsh, and this end of it is far harsher than a little rich girl playing heroes and whatever can imagine or survive. You're Feuma and you people do nothing but dabble, ineffectually. Please, go home and leave us to get on with things."
Finmauw felt herself flushing. She hadn't meant to speak but she opened her mouth and it just flowed out. "It seems that you misunderstand some things about me, sir, and I suspect that you have never discussed me with any of the Guild officers who have been here longer than you have. I am called Guildfoster and I have lived here in the Guild's care since I was two months old. If I leave here, I leave the only home and the only family that I have ever known."
"Then go back to your parents' families and leave us alone." If he'd put more force behind his words he would have been spitting, but the cold enunciation was somehow more effective.
"But we don't know who my parents' families are," pointed out Finmauw. "We used to think the Guild member who brought me here was my mother, but she died before she could explain anything and I'm nothing like her, so now we think she wasn't." Master Tyroque started to say something, but Finmauw held up her hand to stop him and went on, "She was pregnant at the right time to have a child about the time I was born, and she was pregnant when she'd last been in the Guild five months earlier. She had no known family. Her partner, the presumed father of her child, had died several months previously and also had no acknowledged family. If I am her child, and we think I'm not, then I'm an orphan with no known blood kin. If I'm not her child, then we don't know who my parents are or what happened to her child."
"Is there anything else you want to say before I speak?" Master Tyroque's voice was sardonic as he inserted his question into Finmauw's breathing pause.
"Only that you are the first person to suggest that I might be Feuma. Thank you. It's something I can look into when I have the time." She didn’t add that it was a useful suggestion, unlike some she'd had in the past, and one that didn't involve the difficulties that came in arranging to have a priest speak to the dead. Finmauw knew some of the necessary people for that but neither had the money nor wanted to incur the favours needed to make that happen.