Eight

            The party first knew they were approaching Barnicus by the increase in boats sailing into or away from the direction in which they were pretty sure the city lay.  There were all types -- some longboats, some sailing boats, some tri-marines, some double-masted.  As the party sailed closer, tons and tons of docks came into view, all teeming with activity.

            Everyone welcomed the change heartily.  Melissanna had perked up as soon as they reached familiar surroundings.  Tusit was duly impressed by all the bustle, and Thistlepouch watched with rapt interest -- although she’d seen a harbor before in Flora, it had been nothing compared to this!

            As their boat sailed into the main harbor, a small dinghy approached and a voice called out, “Ahoy there!”

            “Ahoy yourself!” Forge returned, and leaned over the rail to get seasick again.  He’d been doing that for most of the voyage.  Darwin, as well, had been making a good number of fish happy, though he’d come fully around and was exceedingly hung-over and surly.

            “Hello!” the kita called.

            “What vessel be ye?” came the voice again.

            “A big one!” Thistlepouch replied without hesitation.

            “And where birth ye?”

            “On land!” Forge put in woozily.

            There was a pause.  Then, “Hold position!  Weigh anchor!  We’ll be boarding!”  And the dinghy started advancing.

            Mica puzzled for a moment.  “Do we have an anchor?”

            “Hold on!” Tusit called.  “We’re looking for it!”

            Thistlepouch knew where it was -- unfortunately, it weighed more than she did.  “I can’t lift it!”

            “Throw the kita,” she heard Forge whisper to Tusit.

            “Hey!” the kita in question cried indignantly.

            “She wouldn’t appreciate that,” the gnome returned quietly, then turned at the sound of a sploosh from the back of the boat.  “Thank you!”

            “Welcome,” Grog replied, and made himself busy with the sails.

            The dingy rowed up alongside and a thin, scrawny guy hopped over the gunwales -- the kita brought this to Tusit’s attention.

            “We have gunwales?” Tusit puzzled.

            Thistlepouch sighed.  It just went to show you what you get when a horde of landlubbers gets in a boat.  Like traveling cross country by carriage, except no one knows how to drive the horses.  Though she had to admit, it would be an interesting ride.  .  .

            The man pulled out a small, leather-bound book.  He had a long, pointed, rat-like nose, like someone had held him up by it and let him dangle there.  “So, the name of the boat was A Big One or.  .  .”

            “It’s good enough.”  Tusit shrugged.

            “I don’t think it has a name,” Thistlepouch mused aloud.

            “Yes, A Big One is fine,” Tusit said quickly, trying to cover for the over-talkative kita.

            The rat-nosed man looked at them skeptically.  “Where did you get the boat?”

            “Well, actually, if you compare our boat to that one over there,” Forge noted, “we aren’t that big.”

            “But compared to the dinghy we are,” Thistlepouch observed.

            Mica, seeing things rapidly going downhill, turned to Melissanna. “Who are we supposed to ask for?”

            “Just ask for my father, the Merchant Antonio.”

            Tusit, meanwhile, peered at the man’s page. “The letter ‘A’ -- A -- Big -- ‘B-I-’”

            “Yes, we’re here to see the Merchant Antonio on business,” Mica overrode him before he could annoy the dockworker too much.

            “Ah!  Are you with the Merchant Antonio’s fleet?”

            Tusit’s hedging “Not necessarily” blended with Thistlepouch’s emphatic “Yes!” and Mica’s “Sort of.  .  .  .”

            “We are in support with them,” Mica declared.

            “We’ve got his daughter,” Thistlepouch offered helpfully.

            Tusit clapped a hand over the kita’s mouth.  “We are escorting his daughter back into his hands.”  He took his hand away.  Thistlepouch scowled at him.

            The dockworker waved the dinghy off; it rowed back into the middle of the harbor and the other man started calling out to various boats.  The man on their newly-christened ship gave directions, “First, we need to direct ourselves to that pier over there.”

            Grog pulled up the anchor, then grabbed a set of oars and started rowing.  The man turned back to Tusit.

            “I suppose I should ask, then, the name of the ship is A Big One?”

            “Of course!”

            “Yep!” Forge agreed.

            Thistlepouch sighed and turned to watch the ships.  The rat-nosed man evidently didn’t catch on very quickly if he was still asking what their boat was.  The boats.  .  .  well, they were boats.  She’d seen boats before -- and while boats often had interesting things on them, they really were quite boring to watch.  More than anything she wanted to get out and walk around some, maybe explore some merchants’ stalls.

            “And your purpose?”

            “Escort of the Lady Melissanna,” Forge replied importantly.

            “Do you have any goods that you plan to sell?”

            “No,” Tusit said.

            “Okay, no goods.  Have you any foreign currency that you’ll need to exchange?”

            “No.”

            “None.  Okay, do you have funds to pay the docking fee?”

            “Of course, sure.”  Tusit paused.  “Uh.  .  .  what currency do you have here?”

            “The primary form is a barns.”

            “We have florins,” Tusit said.

            “Ah, then you’ll need to exchange them.  I know a good moneychanger by the name of Lockshy who will be able to give you a very good rate.  You’ll need to exchange them into barns -- which is roughly the equivalent of a florin -- and for smaller currency we have copper nobles -- one hundred of those to one barns.  And you have, of course, 48 hours to convert any foreign currency.  And you said you have no goods to drop off.  .  .  ”

            “Do you consider her a good?” Tusit pointed to Melissanna.

            “No!” Mica shot back indignantly; Melissanna gave him a dirty look.

            “Well you’ve been good so far!” Tusit defended himself.

            The dockworker cut in, “In that case, since you are performing a service for the Merchant Antonio, we shall allow you to dock at one of his docks, and we shall assume that he’ll pay the docking fee for you but.  .  .  .  oh, dear.  .  .  .  actually, what I’ll need you to do -- I’ll need you to give me the docking fee of one barn on retainer; as soon as the Merchant Antonio lets us know that you are indeed doing work for him and pays the fee, I can then return that for you.”

            Forge handed a florin over to Tusit; Tusit handed it to the dockworker.  “Would that cover it?”

            “Not quite.  I’d need two, one to cover the exchange rate.”

            Tusit raised an eyebrow, added a bronze to it.  “You said it was just temporary.”

            “Yes, but it’s my head if it’s not.”

            “You know where we are!”

            “No, I don’t.  I’ll need a little more than this.”  Tusit added another bronze.  “I’ll need a little more than this.”  Another.  “I’ll need a little more than-”  Tusit, in disgust, grabbed the lot back.  Mica handed him a florin.  “I’ll need a little bit more than this.”

            “You said it would be two florins,” she protested.

            “Yes, but he took the other one back.”

            “Give him back the florin!”

            Tusit, chuckling a little, handed it over.

            The dockworker rolled his eyes.  Really, these foreigners.  .  .  .  “Thank you.  Okay, so you know, there are some laws while in the city of Barnicus.  The first is that all edged weapons must be peace-tied, all bows must be unstrung.  The only weapons allowed to not be peace tied are small knives for various utilities.  The only other requirement is that of course that if you do engage in trade you must report to someone in the import bureau.”

            “Well, if anything, we’ll just be picking up a few supplies and be on our way,” Tusit informed him.

            “Oh, well, in that case you’ll be fine.  Just moor here, and I’d advise you to go visit the moneychanger I know of, Lockshy.” He gave Tusit quick directions; then upon request gave Mica directions to Antonio’s.  Thistlepouch paid attention to those -- you never could tell with humans; more often than not they got themselves and everyone else lost.  “If there’s anything else that I can do, just let me know, otherwise once I get notification from the Merchant Antonio, you’ll have your tolls returned.”  He hopped off the boat as soon as it was moored and scuttled off down the dock.

            Forge flopped off the boat as gracefully as possible -- which wasn’t all that gracefully. Thistlepouch observed.

            “I do suppose the lovely young lady would like to go home, so I suppose that should be our first order of business,” Tusit declared, then turned to the girl. “Would you be able to escort us to the moneychangers so we could get some city funds?”

            “Very well.”  She daintily stepped out of the boat and started off down the pier.  The others followed, except for Grog, who stayed with the boat.  Thistlepouch felt a little sorry for him -- he missed even more of the interesting stuff than she did.  .  .  .  but then, he didn’t really seem to mind.  No accounting for some people.

            Mica did a quick check to see if everyone’s weapons were peace-tied. They were, except for Darwin’s battle axe, which didn’t have a sheath. Mica wrapped it in leather and tied it.

            “I suppose if you really needed to use that thing it’d cut through the leather and what you’re hitting,” Tusit observed.

            “Yeah, and it’d work a lot better than your pigstickers,” Darwin slurred.

            Tusit paused, debated, decided he couldn’t let it pass.  “Tell us about pigstickers, Darwin.”

            Darwin got a pained look and started off down the street, viciously ignoring him.  Melissanna led the party down a few streets to a shop with a large sign out front displaying a picture of coins on it.  Tusit trotted in; Forge followed with Thistlepouch.  Inside was run-down and dilapidated, everything beat-up and ragged-looking.  A man, presumably Lockshy, stood behind the counter; his scraggly beard and potbelly made him blend well with his shop.

            “Yes, noble sirs, how can I help you?” he oozed in a thin, self-depreciating voice.  “Anything, anything.  .  .  ”

            Oh, dear.  Thistlepouch sighed.  He was going to be another one of those.  Thistlepouch didn’t see why Tusit insisted on changing his money at all, but if he had to do it she really wished he’d hurry up so she could get to somewhere interesting.  She gazed wistfully at the sunlit world beyond the door.

Inside was run-down and dilapidated, everything just kind of beat-up and ragged-looking. Behind the counter stood a man, assumably Lockshy; his scraggly beard and potbelly made him blend well with his shop.

            “We just need to change to some local currency,” Tusit cut him off.

            “Ah, very good.  What currency?”

            “Mostly florins, guilders, and such.” Tusit dumped out his bag, spilling sixteen florins, one guilder, two bronze, and one of the Sea King coins onto the counter.  As soon as he saw the Sea King coin roll across the table he quick grabbed it, but not before he knew Lockshy had gotten a good look at it.  “Oh, goodness!  Not that one.”

            “Of course,” Lockshy oozed, stacking the coins.  “Well, let’s see here.  .  .  you certainly have enough for.  .  .  I believe I can give you.  .  .  well, there has been an influx recently of the coins from flora, what’s more with the troubles they’ve been having there, and the difficulty with pirates and such, I’m afraid Flora’s coin is not -”

            Forge raised an eyebrow at him.

            “Oh!  All right then.”  Tusit started putting coin back in the pouch.

            A note of urgency entered Lockshy’s voice.  “I could indeed offer you for this currency.  .  .  .  please sir.  .  .  .  ah.  .  .  .  very well-”

            “You see,” Tusit explained, “we’re just passing through; we really needn’t exchange this at all; we were just being kind-”

            “Well, if I can, and at least to give you some currency because I believe that the Florin currency will be dropping soon, um, due to the difficulty they’ve been having with pirates and such -”

            “You know,” Thistlepouch mused, “if they’ve been having difficulty with pirates, I’d think that since they’d be more rare they’d be worth more.”

            “No, you misunderstand, the worth of the Flora coin is entirely based on how well the city is doing -”

            “Interesting!  That’s not what the other moneylender told us,” Thistlepouch said, though they hadn’t talked to any other moneylenders.

            “Why would there be a huge influx of florins?” Forge asked, then paused for effect. “Unless, of course, you’re receiving the money from the pirates.  .  .  .  ?”

            “What?”  Lockshy’s eyes went wide.  “No, no you misunderstand sir, the Florin money will still be here, it’s not an influx, the value of it will drop.  .  .  .  you see, as no doubt the king will be issuing more coinage, the value will drop -”

            “Yes, yes, fine fine,” Tusit cut him off, impatient.  “What do you offer?”

            “Well, for the coin you have here, I could easily offer you 65 barns.”

            Tusit knew this was highway robbery.  “All right, well, then, I’ll be off -- I have a better offer somewhere else.”

            “I’d be very surprised, sir.  .  .  .  however, I did notice you had other coinage you were not interested in trading.  .  .  I must admit, I am a bit of a collector in odd coins.  .  .  .  perhaps I could give you something for that?”

            “Actually,” Tusit said, “that’s my good luck piece.”

            “Oh, oh, I would not trade for your good luck piece, sir, I can understand, but I must admit I’ve made a series of poor lending decisions; unfortunately most of them have not come out as I had hoped, and  now sir, I am at my wits’ end; I am continually being taken advantage of by my wily customers.  .  .  perhaps, if there was some way I could trade with you for that piece -- I could use as much luck as you could give.  .  .  .”

            “Well I can’t imagine what it’d be worth,” Tusit hedged.  “I found it somewhere.”

            In the dead Sea Prince’s tomb, Thistlepouch added mentally.  Lucky piece my staff!  She bounced a bit and Tusit continued haggling.

            Lockshy seized an opportunity.  “Seeing as it is a currency that is not currently traded, perhaps I could give you as much as three barns for it.”

            Tusit paused a moment; he couldn’t believe the man was so obvious.  “I think my luck is worth a bit more than that.  We do thank you for your assistance.  I could see trading it perhaps if you were willing to give us something like 75 barns for the coinage that I had out.”

            Lockshy panicked slightly as the deal slipped through his fingers.  “I could potentially give you as much as.  .  .  so you wish 75 for the currency.  .  .  .  .  ?”

            “Like I said, I haven’t quite decided yet.  I do kind of like this coin.”  Tusit pulled it out and started twiddling it around; Lockshy glanced at it, then back.  “It has brought me some luck, though.  .  .  not to say, if things are favorable in this town, I might be willing to come back.  .  .  .  of course, with such a low exchange rate on the other moneys.  .  .  .”

            “We’ll need all the luck we can get,” Thistlepouch put in.  Hurry up, hurry up!

            “Sir, I must be asking, if you do not need our currency, then what is your purpose here?” Lockshy inquired.

            “Oh, we’re here primarily as an escort,” Tusit explained.

            “I see, you escort a noble lady?”  He saw another angle.  “And would Milady Noble not wish to make purchases while here in this town?”

            “Oh, she lives here.  We’re just bringing her home.  So, could you not see a way through to possibly giving us 75?” Tusit asked.

            “Well, I must say that that is a very steep rate.  .  .  ”

            Tusit gave him a flat stare.  “I do know what my currency is worth.”

            “Oh, yes, of course, but I think you  may not be familiar with the recent downturns the currency has had -”

            It really was too ironic.  “Oh.  .  .  .  I could take a good guess,” Tusit said cryptically.

            Thistlepouch stifled a giggle.

            Mica called from outside, “Tusit, are you done yet?  The Merchant Antonio is going to be waiting!”

            Lockshy’s eyebrows went almost into his hairline.  “Oh!  You work for the merchant Antonio!  He and I have a business agreement, actually.  .  .  .  he is one of the many, many people who has temporarily obtained money from me.  I see.  You said you were escorting a noble lady.  .  .  might it be his noble daughter Melissanna.  .  .  .  ?”

            That was her name! Thistlepouch had figured it would be bad form to keep asking, but she kept forgetting.  .  .  It was all these strange names that didn’t mean anything that had her so confused. She thought that she had better keep it in mind now that they were back in her native town.

            “Yes, she’s waiting outside and she’s getting rather impatient!” Tusit said, getting impatient himself.  “We’d best be on our way.”

            “I see, of course, I would not dream of detaining you any further.  .  .  .  especially when bringing his noble daughter.  .  .  he has so been pining to see her.  .  .  oh, well, in that case, milord, please, be on your way, I would not wish to detain you any further.”

            Tusit blinked.  “Oh, well, thank you,” he said as Lockshy scuttled out the back.  Tusit, Thistlepouch, and Forge exited out the front.

            Thistlepouch sighed.  All that for nothing.  Well, at least they were out, now.  She fervently hoped Tusit didn’t insist on going to see another one.

            “So, did you get exchanged?” Melissanna inquired.

            “No, he was trying to lowball me,” Tusit told her.  “I decided not to bother.”

            “Well of course.  .  .  he’s a changer.”  With that, Melissanna headed off.

            They had scarcely started off when Thistlepouch noticed three figures ahead and a glint of something that looked like steel under their black cloaks.  Their hoods turned to track the party.  That was a Bad Sign.  “Guys?”

            “Yes?”  Tusit looked to her.

            “There’s people following us, well they’re ahead of us, really, but they have steel hidden under their cloaks -”

            Tusit glanced over, saw them, quick patted the kita on the head a couple times to shut her up.  “That’s nice.  Keep walking.  Course change.  .  .  .”  He looked casually up at the sky.  “Nobody make any moves.  .  .  um.  .  .  should we hit a shop?”

            Melissanna stopped dead, turned around to look at him.  “What do you mean, nobody make any moves?  And why should we stop at a shop?”

            Tusit gave her a big smile.  “Milady, there are some cloaked figures that look a bit.  .  .  not trustworthy.  .  .  and I’d hate to put you in danger.”

            “In broad daylight?  A mugging?  In Barnicus?!  That’s not possible!!!”

            “If you continue screaming, you’ll be on your own,” Tusit informed her.

            Thistlepouch looked around.  People were taking notice.  She was willing to bet things would get interesting pretty soon.  .  .  and maybe not in a fun way.

            Melissanna’s voice turned icy.  “I’m now in the city of Barnicus; from here I can find my way home on my own.”

            “I don’t doubt that, milady,” Tusit said.

            “I have no need of you or your.  .  .  grubby companions any longer!”

            “Hey!” Thistlepouch protested.  It had been just as long since Melissanna had a bath!

            Tusit grabbed one of the Lady’s sleeves and brought her down to his level, a smile still plastered on his face.  “Milady.  There are three cloaked figures -- right -- over --”  He tried to turn her head to show her; she wouldn’t allow it.  “Oh, never mind.”

            As soon as Tusit let go, Melissanna stood up, turned, and stalked off.  Everyone followed; Tusit drew two daggers, trying to keep between her and the brigands and veering toward the middle of the street in hopes of changing her course.  Forge stayed to the back, trying to maintain eye contact; Bob drew daggers; Mica continued walking.  They neared the sidestreet where the hoodlums stood.

            Thistlepouch looked up to Melissanna with her brightest, happiest smile, and took her hand.  If no one else could get her to go that way.  .  .  .  .  “Why don’t you tell me a story about your father?”  She led her towards the middle of the road.

            Melissanna blinked at her, a little surprised.  “My father?  Well, he’s a noble merchant captain, he controls most of Ventris, he -”

            They came even with the three hooded figure; two of them raised blowguns.  Forge stopped to string his bow; Bob threw a dagger.  Mica dug her quarterstaff into the cobblestones in an attempt to trip Melissanna -- which might’ve been successful if Bob's dagger hadn’t grazed her arm.

            Melissanna cried out and fell forward.

            Mica picked her staff up and faced them, standing guard.  One of the cloaked figures yelled “Piss!” and ran down the sidestreet -- by then the kita had a couple handfuls of mule puckey loaded in her staff’s sling (there were no rocks -- a pity) and started whipping it at them.  She let out a triumphant whoop as one got splatted right on the forehead.  Her second try hit a wall.  Bob charged, dagger in hand.

            Tusit bent to check out Melissanna.  She had a little dart in the back of her neck -- he pulled it out.  She lived, thankfully.

            Forge aimed and fired his bow -- hit one of the cloaked figures right in the bum.

            People in the streets had begun to scatter.

            “Maybe we should start moving.  .  .  ” Mica suggested.

            “Not now, I’m busy,” Tusit returned as he continued his examination.  So far he’d been able to establish that she was unconscious, hit with a poison or sleep toxin of some sort.

            The attackers had moved out of range; Thistlepouch wrinkled her nose and wiped her hand off on a nearby wall.  Yuck.  She glanced about to see who had been the lucky one with the arrow and spied Forge standing with his short-bow tucked under his cloak as nonchalantly as possible.

            Darwin was a little late to react -- he pulled out his peace-tied battle-ax and charged.  Forge headed over to retrieve his arrow and maybe stop Darwin.

            “Recover the bottle!” Tusit shouted as he continued his examination.

            Thistlepouch stood guard.

            Mica and Forge made it over to Bob who had a writhing, wounded man pinned and a blowgun in his hand.  A screaming, charging Darwin passed the foursome, stubby dwarven legs were no match for the long legs of the people he pursued.  Bob checked for weapons; he found a dagger and a shortsword -- not peace-tied -- and relieved his captive of them.  Mica and Bob hauled the thug back to the group, and Forge chased after Darwin.

            Tusit, meanwhile, was still busy examining Melissanna and the dart -- he’d never seen a poison quite like it before and knew of nothing that could have caused such a reaction so immediately -- it was more of a comatose state than unconsciousness.  But she did not appear in danger of dying.  As soon as he realized that he turned to the body the others had hauled over and began looking for a bottle. He found a 20 barns, eight nobles, and a pouch containing nine darts, each with a leather-wrapped tip.  No bottle.

            “Let’s go.  .  .  .  let’s get out of here,” Mica prodded.

            Thistlepouch agreed.  “Could Bob maybe carry her and we could go?”

            Mica turned questioningly to the elf.  “Bob?”

            “Okay.”  He picked her up.

            Forge finally caught up with Darwin, who sat, shaking, in the middle of the road.  “Hey, Darwin, what’s up?”

            “Can’t even catch the flaming thieves,” he muttered despondently.  “Stupid cutpurses.  Can’t do anything right.”

            “Don’t worry about it.  Come on.  We gotta go.  Town’s scattering.”

            Darwin plodded off.

            “Ah, we better hurry back.  Come on, put some pepper in it.”

            Darwin stepped it up to a slow jog.

            Darwin walked over to the fallen attacker and kicked him hard. “We movin’?”

            “Are you done?” Tusit inquired.

            “Yeah.”

            “Then we move,” he replied as Darwin hoisted the hoodlum over his shoulder.  “If you like, you can take out the arrow.”

            Darwin grinned.

            Thistlepouch was suddenly glad they were on the same side.

            “Darwin, please try to keep it in one piece for me -- I’d like to fire it again,” Forge requested.

            “That takes all the fun out of it,” Darwin complained.

            “Okay, fine.  You can tear it apart.”

            “Or I could just push it straight through.  .  .  .” Darwin considered.

            “You could do that,” Forge assented.

            They hadn’t gotten more than fifteen feet when they heard the sound of boots approaching.  Ten guys in leather armor bearing the emblem of Barnicus followed shortly thereafter, swords strapped to their waists and pikes hefted as they walked.  Thistlepouch rushed to meet them.

            “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!  We need help!”

            The lead guard frowned down at her.  “Hmmmm.  .  .  .  what’s the problem?”

            “Well, some thugs appeared out of an alley and shot a blowdart at Merchant Antonio’s daughter and it hit her on the neck!”

            “Merchant Antonio’s daughter?”

            “Yeah.  We were escorting her home when some thugs ambushed us!”

            The guard frowned harder.  “That’s doubtful.  There are no thugs in Barnicus.”

            Thistlepouch sighed in exasperation.  Now she saw where Melissanna got it from.  “Well, they were cloaked figures.  Maybe they weren’t thugs.  Whatever they are, we have one of them.  We took him prisoner.”

            “You captured a citizen of Barnicus?”

            Tusit, sensing that things were not taking a positive turn, stepped in.  “We detained him until the proper authorities could come and sort this all out.”  He pointed to the sidestreet.  “The other two went that way, if you’re at all curious.”

            “Oh, I see.  .  .  ”  The guard went over to Darwin, looked at the human he had slung over his shoulder.  “Is this the person who was doing the attacking?”

            Tusit walked over to Darwin, too, and smacked the thug a couple times right by the arrow.  “Yup, that’s him!”

            The thug screamed in agony.

            The guard frowned again.  “He seems to be wounded.”

            Tusit donned his most innocent expression -- the one Thistlepouch had learned meant he was probably lying.  Or trying to wriggle out of something.  “I don’t know how that could’ve happened.  .  .  ”  He held up a dart to change the subject.  “This is what he used to shoot the girl.”

            The guard examined the dart.  “Hmmm.  .  .  doesn’t seem enough to do that sort of damage.  .  .”

            “Being a student of herbalism,” Tusit put in, “I can assure you this is possible, though I’m not certain how.”

            “It was covered with some kind of poison,” Bob put in.

            “Poison?  Poison’s illegal in Barnicus.”

            Thistlepouch decided this wasn’t going well.  “We’d really appreciate an armed escort back to her father’s house so we can return her.”

            “Well, hmmm,” the guard considered.  “Actually we should probably go back to the guardhouse and sort this all out.”

            “My good sir,” Tusit protested, “she has been away from her father for quite some time; he is expecting us.”

            “Oh, well, we can send someone,” the guard offered.

            “Good sir, I do believe the best course of action is to get this young lady back to her father’s house and sort it out from there,” Tusit insisted.

            “Well, I must admit it might seem like that would be a good idea, but in any case of bloodshed in the streets of Barnicus -”

            Thistlepouch glanced around -- as usual no one was paying any attention at all to her.  For once she was glad; it was the perfect time to sneak off.  As soon as she got around a corner, she took off running.

            “Who do you need to take into custody, good sir?” Forge cut in.  “Just the person who did the bloodshed?”

            “No, no, I need-”

            “Darwin, could you please escort this very efficient guard to his barracks, and bring the perpetrator?” Tusit turned back to the guard.  “Darwin here is an excellent medic and would be happy to take the arrow out for you.  However, I do feel a responsibility to get this young lady back to her father as soon as we can.”

            “Well, I’m sorry, I can understand your concern but I’m afraid we cannot allow anyone to leave until we’ve gotten to the core of this matter.  We will have to provide you escort back to the barracks.  You are all at this point foreigners in Ventris, and so I must presume you are all witnesses, and I must take your stories.”

            “Well, I can understand that,” Tusit agreed.  “How about a compromise?  Could you escort us to the barracks by way of this good lady’s house just to inform good father?”

            The guard considered it for fully half a second.  “I’m sorry, but we can only send a runner-”

            “How about I run with somebody, and then they could escort me back to the barracks?” offered Forge.

            “Hmmm.  .  .  .  no.  .  .  I don’t think I can allow this -”

            “Why don’t we just go, and get this all sorted out, so we can get this done with?” Mica suggested, exasperated.

            Tusit considered trying to put them all to sleep,  but figured it was beyond his abilities.

            “I’m sorry, but we will have to escort you to the barracks at this point.  We will send a runner to the noble Merchant Antonio’s house.”

            Tusit suddenly realized that Thistlepouch had been awfully quiet, which could be dangerous -- and then he realized he couldn’t find her at all.  He turned back to the guard.  “Could you give us a moment, good sir?  We’re not going anywhere.”

            “Yes, you are, you’re going to the barracks.”

            “Right, right, of course,” Tusit agreed.  “We will escort you, but could you give us a moment before that, for me to speak to my companions?”  And without waiting for a response took a couple steps away and gathered the others with him.  Forge kept his back to the guard and tried to nonchalantly unstring his bow.  The string snapped back; he tried to act casual.

            “I don’t see the kita,” Tusit told them.  “One would only hope that she’s not gallivanting and is actually going to the father’s house.  Does anybody else want to.  .  .  .  ?”

            “Let’s just go and get this over with,” Mica put in, frustrated.

            “I understand that, I was just wondering if -”

            He was met with a chorus of various forms of denial.

            “Well, I guess that’s a consensus, then,” Forge observed.

            “You and your sly little speech,” Mica fumed. “How many times have you gotten us into more problems-”

            Tusit turned away, ignoring her.  “We’re ready to go,” he told the guard.  Note to self, he thought, study up on silence spell.

            The guards formed up on either side of the party with two behind, their pikes crossed.  Darwin was almost high-stepping in an effort to jostle his prisoner more.  The entourage made its way to a building that looked a lot like all the other shops, except that it had double doors with bars instead of the normal single doorway.  The inside was a bare room -- no furniture or anything.

            Bob promptly handed over the shortsword he’d acquired from the thug.  “We took this sword from him, and it was not peace tied.”

            “Who did you take this from?” asked the guard.

            “The man with the arrow in his butt.”

            The guard relieved Bob of the acquired sword.  “That’s very interesting.”

            Tusit whispered to Bob, “These are nice bureaucratic types. You’re not going to get anywhere with them.”

            “Wait here,” the main guard instructed.  “I’ll go get my superiors.”  He opened an inside door and marched down the hallway.

            “You do that, hop-along,” Tusit muttered to the floor, and heard the guards snigger behind him.  He turned around.  “Is he always like this?”

            The guards nodded and shuffled their feet.

            “Do you recognize this man’s face?” Bob asked, pulling up the prisoner’s head by the hair.

            No reaction.

            Forge plopped down, pulled out the utilitarian dagger he’d picked up off the guy.  “Anyone got a sharpening stone?”

            Bob turned to Mica.  “I don’t know if my god will help me with this, but could you ask your god to maybe heal her, or help her, or wake her up, or anything?”

            “Let me pray to mine!” Forge volunteered.

            “Why don’t we not pray to your god,” Mica suggested.  “Your god might not do the exact service that we require.”  She gathered some cloaks to make Melissanna comfortable.

            Darwin dumped the thug on his back -- there was the distinct sound of an arrow snapping off.

            “Darwin, could you take it a little bit easier, please?” Forge requested.

            “We don’t want him dead yet,” Mica put in.

            “Yet,” Darwin agreed darkly.

            Tusit went over to see if it was still alive.  It twitched.  “Still alive.”

            Mica knelt over Melissanna to pray to her god, asking for help for their worthy companion in her hour of need.  Suddenly she noticed that something about the wound on the back of Melissanna’s neck was wrong. “There’s nothing more you can do for this, Tusit?  No way to get the poison out, or.  .  .  ?”

            Tusit went back and looked again; it didn’t look like it was festering or anything.  There was just a little pinprick.  “Other than this pinprick, there’s nothing.”

            “What do you see?” Bob asked Mica.

            “I see a gaping maw of darkness surrounding her.  .  .  the blackness.  .  .  she’s falling into.  .  .  .  I know not if she’ll ever recover.  .  .  .  ”

            Bob went up to the thug, pretending he had a dart in his closed fist.  “I’ve got a dart in my hand, and I was just wondering.  .  .  if I prick you with it, will it kill you or just put you to sleep?”

            The guy just moaned.

            Tusit glanced up at him.  “I really don’t think he’s listening.”

            “Well, we have to find out what this does!” Bob protested.

            “Yes, we do,” Tusit agreed.  “We will.  But he’s not going to tell us now.”  He turned back to Melissanna, poked at the pinprick.

            To Mica it seemed as if he probed the edge of a gaping wound.  “I wouldn’t stick my fingers in that if I were you.  We don’t know if it’s catching.”

            “If there was a way I could see what you saw, maybe there would be something more I could do, but.  .  .  .  ”

            Mica considered.  “I don’t think I can transfer my sight to you.”

            “You haven’t tried,” Tusit pointed out.

            “That’s true,” Mica agreed.

            Forge put the dagger away and went over to Melissanna.  Pus billowed out of the pinprick, then the back of her neck fell away and decayed.  Then it went back to normal.  “I really hate Hades,” he said under his breath.  Then, “Um, her neck just billowed pus and then closed up again.  .  .  oh, after decaying slightly.”

            Tusit shook his head.  “Must be something I’m missing.”

            “What have you been drinking?!” Mica teased.

            Forge gave her a wry look.  “Apricot brandy,” he deadpanned.  “Out of Cerebus’s bellybutton.”

            Mica prayed to Athena again, trying to envision what she saw and transfer the sight to Tusit.

            Tusit got a sudden image of her neck collapsing in upon itself, like it was crumbling.  “That’s new.  .  .  .  ”

            Forge went over to the outer-door guards. “I’m wondering if you could just let me go.  .  .  I’ll sit down right outside of the door.  .  .  um, one of you could come with me?  Can we open the door?  Before I smell up the area for us all?”  He decided to be a little more obvious.  “You know, it’s been a while.”

            Mica looked up with a pleading expression.  “Please.  .  .  he’s been an orc.”

            The guards, though they didn’t understand her last comment, also didn’t want to take the chance of having to explain dwarven piss in the corner to their superiors.  They ushered him out, one bracketed on either side, and stopped outside the door.

            “Um, could I get some privacy, possibly?”

            One gestured with a stick to the side of the building.

            “Thank you.”

            They march with him around the corner.

            Back inside, Tusit got an idea.  “Mica, do you still have the stick we found at the Sea King’s island?  I’m wondering if this would react.”

            “No.  The kita always has it.”

            He raised his voice a little for Thistlepouch’s benefit.  Knowing her, she hadn’t been paying much attention.  “Um, the stick that we found -”

            Mica quirked a slightly amused grin at him.  “The kita isn’t here, love.”

            “The kita isn’t -?  Then where -?  Oh!  The kita’s running.  Right.”

*                      *                      *

            The kita, in fact, had been running for what seemed to her short kita legs like absolutely forever when she finally arrived at.  .  .  well.  .  .  a building she was pretty sure might possibly be it.  All the buildings in the area looked similar: an outer fence with a closed wrought-iron gate and a path up to the door.  There weren’t any guards on the gate.  Most gates had a bell, but all the bells were out of reach and she was far too tired to consider climbing up to examine them, though she had rung a few of them on her way by and they did produce nice chimes.  The gates themselves looked heavy, but with no other option, she pushed.  Her target swung in easily on well-balanced, well-oiled hinges.  Thistlepouch, though generally not a religious person (most kitas aren’t) sent up silent thanks to several gods right then and there as she stumbled up the front walk and to the door, which she promptly opened.

            A startled young man sitting in an alcove just inside the door got to his feet.  “Excuse me!  Can I help -”

            “Is this Merchant Antonio’s house?”

            “Yes it is -”

            “His daughter needs some help.”

            A look of utter shock.  “His daughter?  But she was lost at sea -”

            Thistlepouch really didn’t want to bother explaining, which just went to show the level of her utter exhaustion.  “No, no.  .  .  .  she’s been with us, we got lost at sea, too, and we brought her back but she’s at the guards’ house and.  .  .  .  do you have a drink of water?”

            The doorman took pity on the small, pitiful being about to collapse at his feet.  “Yes.  .  .  .  of course.  .  .  .  here.”  He handed her a waterskin.  “Please, wait here.” And, despite the inadvisability of leaving a kita alone in the entryway, he did just that. Luckily for him, Thistlepouch was only interested in testing out the cushyness of the seat he’d been occupying.  It took a scrabbling climb to get onto it, but she judged the comfort level worth the work.

            Within a couple minutes the young man came running back with a large, fat man following him, the sort that you hear well before you see.  A tall, thin, lean man with scars on his face and curling black hair preceded him. He took one look at the kita, decided she was no threat, and stepped aside.

            “Where’s my daughter?!” boomed the panting man, whom the kita guessed as the Merchant Antonio.

            “At the guards’ house.”  She hadn’t the energy for a more elaborate explanation.

            “The guards.  Which guards?”

            Thistlepouch sighed.  She was pretty sure running two miles for help qualified her for at least minor hero status.  She was also pretty sure that heroes weren’t supposed to have to be put through the third degree.  If she’d known it’d be a multiple choice question, she would’ve asked the guards’ names before she snuck off.  She wasn’t even sure what the choices were.  “I don’t know. She’s at the barracks.”  At least, she hoped.  And also hoped he didn’t ask her directions.

            “Which barracks?”

            Oh well, it had been a nice fantasy.  She gave a brief description of the guards’ outfits and hoped that would be enough.  Especially since she wasn’t in the mood to run back down to her friends and find out.  If she could even find them again.

            Antonio thought a moment.  “Ah!  Okay.  Dock guards.”  He looked up at the thin, scarred man and started rattling off names.  He grabbed the young man from the entryway and gave him a shake.  “Get my liter!” he commanded, and threw the boy towards the door.

            Thistlepouch watched eight very large slave-type people gather outside the front door -- at least, Thistlepouch assumed they were slaves from their heavy metal collars.  Either that, or.  .  .  .  Thistlepouch didn’t want to consider what the alternative meant for the Merchant Antonio’s bedroom life.  In any event, they all wore what she guessed was Antonio’s coat of arms and carried peacebound longswords -- although the peace-ties were cut so that just a little bit of leather held the blades in.  Thistlepouch tugged on Antonio’s pant leg.

            “What?!”

            “Do you mind if I ride with you?” she asked in a small voice.

            “Well, you won’t keep up otherwise.  Very well.”  Antonio rolled down the front steps and up to the liter.  “Down!”  The slaves knelt.  The young man from the door ran up with a ramp.  Antonio rolled himself into the liter.  Thistlepouch followed, perkier at the prospect of something new.  She’d never gotten to ride on a liter before.  .  .  .  Antonio grabbed an ivory wand and tapped the side twice.  The slaves got up; he tapped it five times quickly.

            “To the dock barracks!”

            They headed off at a fast run.  About a hundred yards down, five guards joined them, two on either side and the scarred guy in front.  One of the front slaves started bellowing, “Make way!  Make way for the Merchant Antonio!”

            “One side, coming through!  Move it, you son of a motherless castrated orc!  We can’t stop this thing!!!” Thistlepouch chimed in merrily -- and luckily was drowned out.

*                      *                      *

            Meanwhile, it’d been about twenty minutes since the others arrived at the barracks.  Tusit, starting to get cranky, went up to one of the guards by the door.

            “What is the holdup?”  Pause.  “I demand to speak to one of your superiors!” Pause.  “I would hate to have to break up this place looking for one of your superiors; bring one here.”  Pause.  “I’m tired of waiting. There’s a lady lying here unconscious.”  Pause.  “Do you want the death of merchant Antonio’s daughter on your hands?”  Pause.  “Speak, man, speak!”

            The guard, after a distinct pause, replied in a high, mousy voice, “That requires fundage.”

            “Fundage is what you.  .  .  .  are you looking for bribes?!”

            “You.  .  .  .  are new to our town,” the guard observed.

            “Yes, we are, but she’s not.  She lives here, yes?”

            “Yes.”

            “She’s unconscious, yes?”

            “Yes.”

            “Her father does not know that she’s unconscious, yes?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Has anyone been sent?”

            “I think so.  .  .  .  ”

            Tusit threw his hands up in disgust.  “This is ludicrous.”

            “Don’t worry,” Forge consoled him.  “It isn’t very pretty outside.”  He ambled over to Melissanna.  “Okay, Hades, what’s going on here?”

            No answer.

            He took a deep breath, decided to humble himself.  “Okay.  Hades.”

            “Say please,” Mica prompted.

            “No!  You won’t let me worship my own god, I’m doing your bidding for you, you told me to come to you when dealing with things like this.  Is she actually dying or is this something to do with those you want me to harm?”

            Still no response.

            Tusit glared at the guards.  “So, you’re holding us here but you can’t tell us what we’re waiting for.”

            “You’re waiting for our superiors,” the guard answered in that horribly grating voice.

            “I understand that!  Where are your superiors, in the next island?!”

            “I don’t know!”

            “You don’t know where your superiors are?!”

            “In there!”

            “In where?!”

            “In the building.”  He pointed mid-way between the two doors on the other side of the room.     Tusit went to one of the doors and opened it.  There was a corridor beyond with doors lining either side.  He turned back to the guard.  “In here?”

            “Somewhere.  You know, you could get directions.”

            “From.  .  .  .  .  ?”

            “I might know.”

            “Oh good god!”  He took out one of the nobles he’d gotten off the thug and threw it at the guard, who pocketed it with a smile.

            “Thank you!”

            Tusit, grumbling darkly, went to the first door down the hallway and opened it.  Inside, two men sat at desks, scribbling on pieces of paper.

            “Yes?” one asked, turning.

            “Superiors.  For these guards out here, these silly, silly guards.  Are there superiors in this building?”

            The scribes laughed heartily; when they managed to calm down one quirked an eyebrow at him.  “You’re new to town, aren’t you?”

            “Yes.”  He closed the door, went to the next, and repeated the question.

            No response.

            He sidled over to see what they were writing -- just numbers, ledger sheets, expense accounts or some such.

            Forge just started opening doors.  Beyond each was the same thing, all the way down.  Tusit caught up after a bit.  Only the door at the far end of the corridor was locked.  Tusit pounded on the door, but got no response.  Forge stuck his dagger in the keyhole and fiddled around a bit.  There was a distinct click, though he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.  He removed his dagger -- it looked all right, if a bit scratched up.  He tried the knob -- still locked.  He stuck his dagger back in.

            “I’ll be on the other side,” Tusit informed him.

            The other side looked a lot like the first side.  He tried to peek under the end door -- the hallway continued, but he judged the door to be too sturdy to do much to it.  He stormed back to the guard he’d thrown the noble at.

            “What is it you want?  I’m a stranger in this town; I don’t know what’s worth what.”

            “That’s obvious.”

            “Yes, I know.  Would another one of what I threw at  you make your tongue any looser?”

            The guard considered.  “I don’t suppose you have any barns on you?”

            Tusit was rapidly losing what little patience he had left.  “No, I don’t!  I’m a stranger to this land.”

            “How much you got?”

            Forge, who had given up on the lock and returned, grinned at him and pulled out his blade. “Dagger,” he offered -- though not in the way the guard was after.

            Tusit took out the Sea King coin and scratched his cheek with it.

            “What’s that?” the mouse-voiced guard asked -- curiosity (and greed) aroused.

            “My good luck charm.  I’m not entirely sure what it’s worth, but in Flora someone was willing to give me five florins for it.”

            “Hmm.  .  .  sounds nice.”

            “So, would you happen to know any information?”

            “Dunno.  I don’t seem to have any coins.”

            Tusit re-pocketed it, disgusted.  “You’re not willing to give, you’re sure the hades not going to get.”  With that, he walked away.

            At that point the distinct sound of footsteps running got louder beyond the outside door.

            Forge brightened slightly.  “Ah, excuse me; I’m expecting someone.”

*                      *                      *

            The liter came to a stop (to the slaves’ eternal thanks) outside a shop just like all the others but with a double door. The slaves knelt, and Antonio rolled out and picked himself up; instantly the five guards formed up around him.  He strode to the door.  Thistlepouch watched, interested, as he pounded heavily on the door and it swung open.  She stood on the seat for a better view, caught a glimpse of Melissanna lying on the ground, Mica and Bob by her.  Darwin stood over the cloaked guy’s body, and Tusit was near the guards.  She waved enthusiastically.

            “Hi, everybody!  I brought Merchant Antonio!”

            As the doors opened the merchant stormed right through, grabbed the guard nearest Tusit, stuffed a bag of coins one of the guard’s pockets, grabbed a key out of the other, and stormed over to one of the interior doors.  Tusit and Forge followed him happily.  The guard did not react adversely to the turn of events.  Thistlepouch jumped off the liter and went over to see Melissanna.

            Antonio, upon spotting his daughter, called over his shoulder, “Take her to the house!” and headed through the first door without breaking stride.  Two of the guards following him ran over to Melissanna, picked her up, and carried her back to the liter.  Bob started to follow, but Mica grabbed his shirt.

            “What?”

            “Let’s not get any deeper than we already are,” Mica suggested.  “Let’s take maybe the opportunity to get the bloody blazes out of here?”

            “Let’s find out what’s going on so that maybe we can get paid!”

            Mica narrowed her eyes.  “Would you rather be dead, or would you rather have money?”

            Bob considered.  “Okay okay okay, life is looking better.”

            “Okay.  Thank you.”  She let go of his shirt.

            Thistlepouch decided she would have to learn Mica’s technique -- it certainly ended an argument quick.  She plopped down on the ground.  Mica turned to her.

            “Hey, when you get the chance, can you go wave the tingly stick over by the girl?”

            Thistlepouch held it out in offering, not at all inclined to get up.

            “Yeah, but you’re better at that than I am, and besides, they know you already.”

            Thistlepouch sighed.  “Okay.”

            Antonio, meanwhile, slammed open the first door, stormed to the end of the first hallway, shoved the key in the lock, twisted it; it opened with a loud click.  “What in Tartarus have you been doing?!  Aren’t my bribes paid up?!?!?!” he bellowed as he rolled through the door, Forge and Tusit close behind.  He thundered down the hallway; doors on either side opening in the gopher effect as people quick peeked out and then ducked back inside.  The last door on the right he yanked open and yelled in, “Curse your flea-bitten hide!  What’s wrong with you?!”

            Inside, the guard Tusit had dubbed “hop-along” sat at a desk looking startled.

            “That’s where you disappeared to!” Tusit cried as if making a great discovery.

            Across the table from him sat Lockshy the moneychanger, also looking startled.  A small pile of gold rested on the table between them.

            Antonio swiped his hand across the table, scattering the coins with a musical chime, and grabbed the captain.  “What are you doing?!  My child gets back into town and you don’t tell me?!”

            “I was trying to insist that they inform you first, in fact, swing past your house; your daughter was poisoned on the way in -” Tusit babbled.

            Antonio pinned him with a glare.  “Who the hades are you?!”

            “I’m the one who escorted your daughter into town.”

            Antonio wheeled on Tusit.  “My daughter gets into town, and you don’t tell me?!”

            “I was trying to insist that-”

            “Good sir -” Forge tried.

            “Who the hades are you?!”

            “I helped escort.  The kita is our friend; we sent her to tell you  since they wouldn’t send anybody.”

            “The guards refused to send anyone to you,” Tusit put in.  “We tried for at least five minutes, at least fifteen -”

            “You misunderstand!” the guard interrupted.

            “Your daughter was poisoned and could be in danger of dying,” Tusit continued, undaunted.

            “Sir, you misunderstand!” the guard protested.  “These are the brigands who kidnapped her!”

            “We found her and immediately escorted her here,” Tusit countered.

            “Actually,” added Forge, “we have the one who shot her with the dart-”

            “Oh, yes!  We nabbed him -”

            Antonio turned, stalked down the hallway.

            Forge looked to Lockshy.  “I’m curious to know if you want to change our money now.  .  .  .  ?”

            Tusit started out the door after Antonio, saying to the guard as he went, “You should’ve been more cooperative, but noooo, and now you’ve got a pissed off father on your hands.”

            “I really don’t understand what the situation is.  .  .  this is just.  .  . completely ununderstandable,” the moneychanger babbled.

            Meanwhile, Thistlepouch trotted after Melissanna to wave the tingly stick at her.  It tingled a lot around her neck.

            After Antonio’s guards dropped off Melissanna, they went back into the building to question the party.  “Poisoned -- how?”

            “With a dart,” Bob told them.  “The gnome has it.”

            One walked over to the cloaked guy.  “This the man who did it?”

            “Yesss.  .  .  .  .  ” Darwin drew the word out with relish, a sadistic smile on his face.

            The guard grabbed the man’s hair, pulled it up, looked at his face, then dropped him.  “Kay.”  He left, passing Thistlepouch coming in.

            “It’s tingly,” the kita announced.

            “The wound did?” Mica clarified.

            “Yeah.”  Thistlepouch put the stick away and curled up to rest.

            “Thank you,” Mica said, but the kita was already out.

            Outside, one of the guards called, “Back to the house!  Double!”

            Not long after, Antonio trundled back, Tusit’s babbling accompanying the heavy footsteps.  As soon as they’d cleared the doorway, the gnome pointed to the cloaked guy and announced, “He shot her!”

            Antonio lifted the man’s head.  “Who?”

            “We know him,” one of his guards supplied.

            Tusit handed the dart to the guard with the scarred face.  “Shot her with this.”

            “Merchant Antonio,” Mica began.

            “Yes?”

            “I am a priestess of Athena.  You might also want to consider Magick in this.”

            Tusit perked up, raising an eyebrow as he looked dead at the kita.

            “Tingly stick,” Mica supplied quietly.

            “Anything else on his body, or did you pick him clean?” asked the scarred man.

            “All we found was the dart, and that was in her neck,” Tusit supplied.

            “And the sword that was untied,” Bob added.

            “And the blowgun,” Forge chimed in.

            “Yeah, the blowgun, right,” Tusit agreed.

            Antonio nodded to the cloaked attacker.  “Take him.”

            “Darwin is an excellent surgeon, if you’d like to have him work on him,” Forge offered.

            “Oh yes,” Tusit agreed, “he could remove that arrow-”

            “We don’t want to remove it.  .  .  .  yet.  .  .  ” the scarred man said.

            “I suspect neither does Darwin!” chuckled the gnome.  “Could he watch?”

            “There were two more who looked like him but they ran away too quickly; I wasn’t able to get them with arrows,” Forge informed them.

            “We can show you which direction they ran,” put in Tusit, “but that’s about all the information we can give you.”

            “The guard wouldn’t allow us to go after them,” Forge finished.

            “Very well.”  He headed off.

            Another of Antonio’s guards headed to the party.  “So you captured this one?

            “Yes, yes,” agreed Forge.

            “And there were two others?

            “Both armed,” said the dwarf.  “I know there was another blowgun; all of them had swords.  One of the men ran off before the other two.”

            “How much did you see of their faces?”

            “They were in cowls; we didn’t really see that much, but they were about the same stature, black cloaks.  .  .  if you like, although it is a town, I might be able to see what I can do.  I am a tracker.”

            “Well, at this point I doubt you could do much.  Very well.”

            The scarred man walked over to Antonio and whispered to him; Mica meanwhile sidled over to Tusit.

            “Let’s try and get out with them.”

            “Oh, I agree!  I believe they’d be easier to get away from than happy boy back there.”

            As if in summons, “happy boy” walked in the room.

            “Hel-lo!” Tusit greeted a bit sarcastically.  “You seem to be present.  .  .  .  !”

            The guard frowned.  “I’m always present.”

            “Well, you weren’t ten or fifteen minutes ago when the young lady could’ve been dying here on your floor,” Tusit snipped.

            “She wasn’t dying; I had to determine whether or not you were responsible for her poisoning.”

            “Sitting in the back with the moneychanger taking a bribe!” cried the gnome, just warming up.

            “I was not!”

            “It’s probably his fault in the first place; he took an awful interest in her arriving in this town.”

            Antonio and his guards whipped around to face the gnome.  “An awful interest?!”  Antonio pinned him with an intent gaze.  “How much?”

            “We stopped in at the moneychangers and tried to get our money changed,” Tusit explained.  “First he tried to lowball me, and then when he found out that your daughter was in town he lost all interest and left!”

            “LOCKSHY!!!!!” Antonio bellowed as he and the two guards with him charged down the hallway.

            “Can we leave now?” asked Mica.

            Tusit grinned with glee.  “Are you kidding?  This is far too much fun!”  He tailed Antonio as Forge restrung his bow, passed “happy boy” as he left and smiled pleasantly.  “You’re next.”

            “Since you have held us here so long, do you think I could get a dagger to replace the one I lost in trying to retrieve the perpetrator who made the attempt on the lady’s life?” Forge asked the guard, who just gave him a dirty look.

            The sound of doors banging carried clearly from down the hallway, then an emphatic “Piss!” followed by heavy footsteps running back.  The two guards passed Antonio.  The one with the scarred face grabbed the guard captain and held hem up by the throat against the wall.

            “Where?”

            Forge, seeing the captain pinned, helped himself to the man’s dagger.  “Thank you -- this one’ll do nicely.”

            “You know,” Tusit said to Antonio’s guard, “you probably won’t get anything useful out of him -- he seemed in cahoots with the moneychanger in the first place.”

            Forge moved the dagger to the captain’s midsection.  “Would you like to be like your friend back there?  I’m sure you know where the nice moneychanger has gone.  .  .  ”

            “I -- don’t -- know.  .  .  ”

            “Oh please, you must know.  He didn’t come out this way -- is there a back door to this place?” asked Tusit.

            “Of course there’s a back door,” snapped Antonio’s guard.

            Tusit smiled at the captain.  “And you’d be more than happy to lead us there, wouldn’t you?”

            “He couldn’t have left by that door.  That door’s guarded,” protested the dock guard captain.

            “By your guards,” the gnome scoffed.

            “Yes.”

            “And since I saw you taking a bribe/ from him back there -”

            “I was not!”

            “You were sitting there with money between you and he took an incredible interest.”  He turned to Antonio.  “He probably would’ve charged a ransom if he would’ve gotten hold of your daughter!”

            Forge pondered, “If we do go down there, and you say he wasn’t able to leave by that door because it was guarded, yet he is no longer in the building, therefore we must assume your guards let him by.”

            “Rather inefficient guarding if you ask me,” Tusit observed.

            “I’ll have their hearts!”

            “Well, we’re about to have yours!” Tusit cried pleasantly.  To Antonio’s guard, “Why don’t you take him with you and sort this all out at your place?”

            “I wish I could,” he said quietly, and to Tusit’s great disappointment.

            “Where’s the back door?” asked Forge.

            “Down the hallway, first right at the end,” the captain directed.

            “Thanks!” he trotted off.

            Tusit turned to Antonio.  “Are you going to let him get away with this belligerent lying?  I mean, think about it, he seemed awful comfortable sitting in that room with the money between them before you burst in.”

            Antonio considered him.  “You’re new to Barnicus.”

            “Yes,” Tusit admitted, “but I know dirty people when I see them.”

            Antonio sighed.  To the captain, “What’s your price?”

            “Sir, I swear, I’m telling the truth.  .  .  .  I know nothing about it.   .  .  .”

            “What was the money for?” Tusit asked skeptically.

            No answer.  Antonio’s guard let him drop.  The captain got up and brushed himself off.

            “I’m very sorry about this, sir.  I assure you, you’ll find your daughter in perfect health.  If we can do anything to help you find Lockshy, I assure you that we’ll do anything we can.”

            At the back door, Forge looked around but couldn’t see much.  He tried for the knob, but a guard stopped him.

            “I’m sorry, sir, but this door is guarded.”

            “Would you like to talk to the Merchant Antonio about that?”

            “I’m sorry, sir, this door is -”

            Forge shouted down the hall, “Ah, merchant Antonio, they’re not allowing me to look for footprints over here!”

            Antonio did not respond as he trudged to the antechamber.  One of his guards came up to the front door with two donkey-pulled carts.

            “I’m sorry, sir; there’s no other means of conveyance in this area.”

            “Very well.  Load it.”  Antonio pointed to the body, then turned to the party.  “Would you care to dine with me tonight, partake of my hospitality?”

            “Oh!  So kind of you to offer,” Tusit exclaimed.

            “Yes, it is,” Antonio agreed.

            “We’d be honored,” Mica put in, and Antonio motioned to the cart.

            Forge went to gather up the kita.

            “Careful of your possessions,” Mica warned.

            “I know.  I don’t have much.”

            “You won’t have anything.”

            He paused a moment.  “Point.  Darwin, grab her.”

            Darwin picked her up, put her on the cart, and hopped in on the side.  Thistlepouch blinked a bit, found the nearest available lap -- she didn’t care whose -- and recruited it for a pillow.  The tall, thin man with the scarred face hopped onto the cart with them; the other two guards got on the second wagon with Antonio and the attacker.  At a command the donkeys reluctantly began hauling the carts down the way.

            “So,” the scarred man asked, “where did you encounter Melissanna?”

            Tusit looked over to Thistlepouch.  “Are you conscious enough to tell the young man of our adventures?”

            She struggled to semi-coherency.  “Oh, you want to hear a story?”

            “He wants to know where we encountered the lady.  Not so much about our adventures as just how we met the lady,” Tusit reiterated.

            Thistlepouch took a deep breath and shook herself the rest of the way awake.  “Well, we all got captured and they had us chained up on a slave ship and it was really boring because you couldn’t see any light or anything and then there was this big storm and we got knocked into this island, and a rock went right through our boat!  And then Mica managed to pull her chains out and we killed a half-orc in the surf and I helped.  And then we went and found a really nice man -- well, we thought he was nice -- and his name was Keystake.  .  .  .  oh, and Melissanna was along for all this -”

            “Where did you meet her?” Antonio’s guard cut in.

            “In a slave ship.  I suppose she was kidnapped like us.  Anyhow, Keystake brought us to this temple to Athena and she talked to Mica.  .  .  Athena, that is, not Melissanna, though Melissanna was talking to her too -- Mica, that is -- which was pretty neat.  .  .  .  and then Keystake turned out to be not such a nice person because once we were in the manor house he tried to kill me.  .  .  and you know, I really don’t remember much after that.  Oh, but later we escaped off the island in a boat.  And then we went and saw some people and Mica did some healing and -”

            “And then we worked our way here, eventually,” Tusit cut in.

            Thistlepouch looked down, crestfallen.  “Yeah.  Like that.”

            “I’m sorry, dear, but he really doesn’t need to know all the gory details,” Tusit apologized.

            Thistlepouch drew idle patterns on the wagon’s bed.  “Okay.”

            “And then she said that if we brought her back to you that we would be greatly rewarded, so we decided to go on an adventure to bring her to you,” Bob put in.

            “We would’ve brought her back anyway!” Thistlepouch countered, highly indignant.  And lowered her opinion of the elf yet another notch.

            “I’m really not all that interested in the cash, though I would like to be able to hunt down those men,” Forge added.

            “We didn’t do this for the cash, obviously, we did this to reunite the family you work for,” Tusit said, “though I’m starting to see the way the wheels turn now.”

            Antonio’s guard smiled wryly.  “Yes.  Greased by coins.  Barns will buy whatever is needed.  .  .  .  at least, enough of them will.”

            “You said you recognized the.  .  .  thing.  .  .  that attacked us,” Tusit said.

            “Yes, he’s a common for-hire sort.  I’m surprised he’s gone to poison; generally his favorite weapon is a knife in the dark.”

            “Well, I don’t think it was really poison, though,” Thistlepouch put in, remembering the tingly stick.

            “Yes,” Tusit said, hurriedly cutting her off before she could get them into more trouble. “I am an herbalist, and I don’t recognize anything that could have done this so quickly.”

            “And if it was poison,” continued the kita, undaunted, “then the stick wouldn’t have tingled.”

            Tusit shot her a dirty look, explained to the guard, “She’s given to flights of fancy.  .  .  .  though we do suspect something other than the physical, whether it be Magick or something along those lines.  Each of us has had strange visions regarding the wound.  There’s nothing to the wound, but -”

            “Visions?”

            “Well, Mica, as she has mentioned, is a priestess of Athena, and Athena has oft-times graced us with helpful information.”

            “Athena?”

            “She is the warrior-goddess,” Mica informed him.

            The guard thought a minute.  “Owl, right?”

            “And she has given us certain knowledges,” Tusit continued.  “Indeed, this seems to be more dangerous on the spiritual realm than in the physical.”

            “Hmmmm.  .  .  .  .  ”

            “So you might want to consider recruiting a sage, or someone who might be skilled in the arts of Magick.”

            “How did this occur?” the guard asked.  “What was the attack like?”

            “The attack was a simple blowgun,” Tusit told him.

            “No, the situation.”

            “Ah.  We were walking up from the piers when our kita friend here spotted three men in black,” Forge supplied.

            “Before that, though, when we stopped by the moneychanger -” Tusit put in.

            “Actually,” Mica interrupted, “we were told to stop by the moneychanger by the dockworker who guided us in.”

            “Yes,” the gnome agreed, “we were told to visit that specific moneychanger, and Melissanna guided us down there, and we talked to the man.  He was very intrigued to find out she was back -”

            “And this was which moneychanger?” the guard asked.

            “The one that we encountered in there,” Tusit said, “the dirty little griffin dung that escaped.  He seemed more intrigued  that Melissanna was back than that I had money to change or even in this little thing that I found that I would assume would be rare -”

            “In fact,” Forge recalled, “if I remember, he was out of the building faster than we were.”

            “Yes, he was out the back door before we could even leave his counter, and we were attacked no more than fifteen minutes later,” Tusit supplied.

            “I see.  That explains the.  .  .  change in tactic,” the guard contemplated.

            “But it seemed to be aimed more towards us than her -- in fact, when it hit her, one of the men said ‘oh no!’ and ran away,” Bob said.

            “I don’t remember him saying ‘oh no’; I think it was something more like ‘oh, piss!’” Thistlepouch corrected.

            Forge grinned.  “And then you flung something even worse at him!  That’s right!”

            Thistlepouch grinned back, glad to be appreciated.

            “I do believe it was aimed towards us,” Tusit agreed, “though I can’t imagine what we could’ve done to annoy them besides not do business with the moneychanger.”

            “I don’t know,” Thistlepouch shrugged.  “Kitas get in all sorts of trouble.”  Really, they were making too big of a fuss over this.  It was just a little scuffle.  As if they hadn’t gotten into a bunch of them already.  And a bunch of thugs was nothing compared to a maybe-dead Sea King.

            “They were probably trying to subdue us because Melissanna wasn’t posing a threat,” Mica pointed out.

            “That’s a possibility,” Tusit assented.

            “Because if it is a poison,” Mica continued, “and they wanted to keep her for ransom, they wouldn’t want her harmed.”

            Tusit frowned slightly.  “And I am a little concerned because if this is not reversed.  .  .  .  it may not be fixable.”

            “Any enemies here?” asked the guard.

            “No, we just came here; we’re just passing through,” Tusit said.

            “Do you have a temple to Athena here?” Mica asked.

            “Uh.  .  .  .  I think that I’ve heard of one.”

            “It would be greatly appreciated if I could find out where that is.”

            “If you do walk down there, you may want to take one of our muscles with you.”

            Mica raised an imperious eyebrow to Tusit.  “Athena will guide me.  Remember -- it missed.”

            “Once,” he reminded.

            “Doesn’t shake my faith.”

            “Still, I would feel better if you took some muscle with you.”

            “Hey, I’m my own muscle.”

            “Stronger than any of us!” Forge pointed out, indicating himself, Tusit, and the kita.

            “This is true.  I’m not denying that.”

            “Well,” said the guard, “there is some sort of temple.  .  .  .  I think.  .  .  though it’s not really much of a temple, per se.  Yeah, it’s that one street-preacher.”

            “A preacher of Athena on the street?  Well, gotta start somewhere.  .  .  .”

            “I think he’s got a little house that some worshipers meet at.  Maybe.  I know he keeps telling people to go there.”

            “I don’t suppose you know where there’s a forge that I might use?” asked Forge.

            “Use?”

            “Well, he is a dwarf,” Thistlepouch put in.

            “I suppose.”  The guard scratched his chin.  “Well, there’s one down in the artisans’ quarter.  You could probably ask a blacksmith if you could use his.”

            “Is there any way we could get some protection while here in Barnicus?” inquired Tusit.

            “Well, Merchant Antonio had offered you his hospitality, and I doubt any would strike at his house.”

            “That’s nice, but what about in the streets?” Tusit pursued.

            “Well, of course, you know, there are no robbers in Barnicus.”

            “Why is that?” asked Mica.

            “Because it’s illegal, what do you think?” Thistlepouch asked a bit irritably.  People here were so irrational, and she was getting a little tired of dealing with it.

            “Yes, the robbers?  They work for the government,” the guard informed them with a chuckle.

            “Where would this one hang out?” Forge jerked a thumb at the thug in the other cart.

            “Oh, that?  I know him as a hire-out sort, generally doesn’t prey on anything as high as a merchant’s daughter.”

            “If I could, I’d like to get on the search,” Forge said, “frequent a few inns tonight, if possible.”

            “You’re going to go drinking at a time like this?!” Mica frowned.

            “If you had the past that I have, you’d want to forget it too.  Darwin?  Your opinion?”

            “Ale.”

            “There.  You’ve been outvoted.  Lead the way.”

            “He does have a point, there.  I do remember you getting drunk once, lady.”  Tusit chuckled.

            “Right, but we weren’t in the middle of combat then.”

            “This is true,” Tusit agreed.

            “Well, we’re not in the middle of combat right now.  .  .  .  I’ll sober up by that time.”

            Tusit laughed outright.  “And when it came time for you to be sober, she made sure that you were!”

            “Well, we can follow the chain from the bottom,” said the guard, “but we know where it’ll lead.”

            “Where?” asked Bob cluelessly.

            “Lockshy,” the guard informed him.  Thistlepouch was glad someone else had said it.  It meant she wasn’t the only intelligent one in the wagon.

            “Well then, why don’t we start there?” asked Forge.

            “So what you’re saying is that our first mistake was encountering Lockshy,” said Tusit.

            “Why don’t we try his shop?” Bob asked.

            “Well, he’s probably not there,” said the guard.

            “Gone underground?” ventured Tusit.

            “Most likely.  His primary form of income is blackmail.”

            “So that was just a side business?” the gnome inquired.

            “The moneychanging?  Oh, understand that his loans were very interesting.  .  .  he tended not to give you any money and then expect interest payments.”

            “Just to give him money?” Bob asked.

            “The interest payments came in.  .  .  .  no capital went out,” the guard explained.

            “That was kind of an interesting loan program he’s got,” Tusit agreed.

            “Yeah.  Should be interesting to see what happens now,” said the guard.

            “Well, sometime I’d like to pick up another dagger,” Forge informed them.  The guard handed over one of his.  Forge blinked.  “Thanks!  I need something to defend me besides my club-quarterstaff.”

            The wagon turned a corner and trundled up to what Thistlepouch recognized as the Merchant Antonio’s house.  Ahead, Antonio’s wagon came to a stop; he got off, and two guards looped their arms under the cloaked guy and carried him off.  The scarred man jumped off his wagon.

            “By the way, I am Guard Captain Bassano, and I thank you.  .  .  ” he trailed off, waiting for names.

            “For brevity’s sake, they call me Tusit.”

            “Thistlepouch Doorringer.”

            “Mica.”

            “Darwin.”

            “Forge.”

            “Bob.”

            Bassano nodded.  “Well, you have my thanks for saving Melissanna.  If you would please, I could show you now to where you can wait for dinner.”

            Thistlepouch perked a little.  “Dinner?”

            “Do you know any action that will be taken tonight?” asked Tusit.

            “I’m going to do some questioning.  I’ll let you know the results after dinner.”

            “Can I come with?” asked Forge.

            “Darwin would love to help, I’m sure,” Tusit added.

            Bassano inclined his head. “Thank you, but Antonio has requested your presence for dinner.  Those who he requests the presence of are best advised to attend.”

            “I don’t suppose there’ll be a couple minutes before dinner.  .  .  .  ?” Forge tried hopefully.

            “Of course, you shall have time.”

            “I was wondering if I could stop in and see Melissanna?” Forge asked.

            “I’d like to see her too,” Thistlepouch seconded.

            “Certainly,” Bassano said, “although I have no doubt the physician is currently looking at her.”

            They all trooped up to Melissanna’s room; a physician hovered over her, applying leaches to the back of her neck.

            “Oh, you’re here to see the progress.  .  .  yes, well, it must have been a very powerful poison indeed; the first three leaches applied died with amazing rapidity.”  He put a box down with three leaches in it that were most definitely not moving.

            Bob whispered to Thistlepouch, “Could you wave little tingly stick over top of leaches?”

            “I don’t think it’s a good idea to take that out right now,” Tusit admonished.

            Thistlepouch rolled her eyes at Bob, but whispered, “I don’t think it’d work very well anyway.” Tusit stepped forward to confer with the physician.  “I’d think it was a toxin or a poison, but I’ve never seen a reaction like this.”

            “Nor have I.”

            “I do know that our priestess of the Goddess Athena has seen some more mystical effects -”

            “Oh.”  The physician looked skeptical.  “A faith healer.”

            “She’s had good response in the past. When I was examining her for some healing I could do, all I saw was a pinprick, although there’s obviously some sort of a toxin.  However, when she helped me to look at it there was a much bigger wound.”  The gnome traced out the size of it.  “And when I looked upon it not with my eyes I saw a crumbling.  I suspect Magicks of some sort are involved.”

            The physician looked on him a bit pityingly.  “Yes, of course, I’m sure.”  He went back to his leaches.

            “How could a single dart after the fact kill three leaches?  I’ve never seen that before,” Tusit pursued.

            “No, obviously it’s a very strong toxin in her system.”

            “But she’s still alive!  If it kills the leaches -”

            “Perhaps the toxin was too strong for the leaches.  They have smaller bodies.  The toxin may be a lower concentration in her blood, and given that I am applying it to the source of the wound, no doubt there is more of the toxin there than say in the heart, the brain, or.  .  .  I was given one of the darts, and I’ve done some tests, but it is nothing that I know of.”

            “Do be careful with the point on that.”

            “Yes, I know.”  He went back to hovering over his patient.

            Tusit considered the dart for a moment.  “Just out of curiosity, could I see that for a moment?”

            “This?”  The physician handed over the dart.  “Sure.”

            Tusit took it very carefully, went over to the leach jar, picked one out, put it on a table, and poked it.  It twitched a few times, then stopped.  He flipped it a few times.

            Forge watched as it twitched a few times, then started to crawl away; to him it looked like Tusit was playing with the air.  The dwarf watched the undead leach crawl onto the floor and out the door.  He shook his head.  “I’m going down to dinner.”  Once in the hallway, he picked up the leach.  The mouth looked different -- instead of a suction-cup it sported little wizened teeth.  He called back in, “Thistlepouch?  Have you got a jar or anything?”

            Thistlepouch searched for a minute, found the little vial the dye used to be in, and stepped outside the door to hand it to him.

            “Thanks.”  He plopped the leach in there, put it in his pouch.

            Thistlepouch watched him drop air into the jar and seal it.  She blinked at him a few times.  “Are you feeling okay?”

            He considered a moment.  “Yes.”  He pointed to the brand on his forehead.

            Thistlepouch suddenly understood.  “Oh. I’m sorry.  Maybe they’ll have something a little stronger than ale?”

            “That would be.  .  .  .  wonderful.”

            Thistlepouch went back to sit beside the too-still, too-pale form on the bed.  Poor Melissanna, she really wasn’t cut out for adventuring.  She needed to be at home where she could have a bath whenever she wanted and food brought to her door and no drunken dwarves changing in front of her.  Thistlepouch pulled from a pouch a broach with some fancy gemwork that she thought Melissanna would like and reverentially left it on the bedside table.  She hoped she’d be able to see Melissanna wear it.

            Bob spoke quietly, directing his words to the Goddess of Rangers.  “Is there any way you could send the antidote down on one of your animals.  .  .  .  maybe have a bird fly it in or something?”

            Thistlepouch let out a hearty sigh as he continued.  She supposed his heart was in the right place, but he could try something original.

            There was a pause, then a rasping voice growled into his head, “What do you offer?”

            “I’ve tried to become what you wanted.  .  .  .  I’m a ranger.  .  .  .  my service is as best I can, to worship you-”

            The voice interrupted him, “Accepted.”

            Bob began suddenly glowing with a pale orange light, incandescent with an almost malevolent gleam.  It almost looked like he burned with an infernal fire.

            Thistlepouch glanced up to see this.  “Oh, no, not another one!”

            “Woah!”  Tusit took four steps away.

            Forge, at the cry, poked his head in, saw Bob glowing.  “You fool.”  He left.

            “What do you wish?”

            “What?” Bob asked the voice in his head.

            “What do you wish?”

            “To heal this person’s wounds, and -”

            “Granted.”

            The pinprick disappeared.

            “The debt will be recalled.”

            Bob stopped glowing.

            “What did you do?!” Mica demanded.

            Thistlepouch sighed.  “Talked to a god, probably, with how he was glowing.”  Yet another brilliantly obvious conclusion reached only by.  .  .  .  the kita.

            “Did you fix her?” asked Mica.  “Is she healed?”

            Bob hedged.  “Um.  .  .  well.  .  .  the pinprick’s gone.  .  .  .  ”

            Mica threw up her hands, disgusted.  “Ah!  Trust an elf!”

            “Waitaminute!  I thought my god was supposed to be good!” Bob protested, but now that he thought about it, that voice had not sounded feminine, and the patron deity of rangers was female.

            If that was what his god was like in a good mood, Thistlepouch thought he should convert to someone nicer.  Like maybe Ares or Hades.

            Mica went to get cleaned up.

            Tusit turned to the physician.  “You were saying about Magicks?”

            “Funny, I’ve never seen a wound close that quickly before.”

            “Did you happen to notice the orange flame licking off the elf’s head?” inquired the gnome.

            “What?”

            “Right.”  Tusit turned and left.

            Thistlepouch, after a last look at Melissanna, followed.

            Tusit snagged a passing page.  “Does the merchant have his own personal tailors and leatherworkers, or does he purchase those items in town?”

            “Oh, we generally send out to town for that.”

            “Right.  Okay, then.  When’s dinner?”

            “Oh, probably about another ten, fifteen minutes, down in the main banquet hall.  Would you like me to show you to your room?”

            “Yes, please.”

*                      *                      *

            In the hallway, a servant approached Forge.  “Do you wish to freshen up before your meal?”

            “Can I have something to drink now?  Something strong?  Then I’ll freshen up.”

            “Strong.  Dwarven.  Right.”  He led Forge into a pantry and pulled out something moderate for a dwarf, though it was on the high end of what a human could drink without getting killed.

            “Please.  .  .  .  anything.  .  .  stronger?  You know, the kind of thing that will knock most humans flat out.  After a sip.”

            “Hmmmm.  .  .  .  .  yes, I thought so.  Master Antonio did buy a bottle of this when he was entertaining a dwarven caravan leader.”  He handed it over.

            Forge smiled; this was the good stuff.  “Can I have it?”

            “You were granted his hospitality.  What is his is yours.”

            “Thank you.  Would you send my cousin Darwin to my quarters?”

            “Darwin?”

            “The other dwarf.”

            “The one laughing maniacally around the prisoner?”

            Forge half-grinned.  “That would be him.  Could you send him to my quarters, please? Oh, and could you get another bottle of this from a local merchant?”

*                      *                      *

            “Interesting torture session,” Darwin informed his cousin as he trooped in, accepted and unquestioningly downed the proffered glass.  He coughed in surprise.

            “Isn’t that worth it?” Forge asked, a look of dwarven bliss on his face.

            “Where’d you get this junk?” Darwin gasped.

            “Downstairs.  .  .  I know.  .  .  .  isn’t it wonderful?  They’ve got some other stuff, too, weaker stuff -”

            “Elf piss, you mean?”

            “No, actually, dwarven stuff, brandywine or something like that.  The stuff humans usually pass out from, but.  .  .  .  ” Forge grinned.  “I’ve got a servant out after another bottle of this.  I like this place.”

*                      *                      *

            Tusit walked into the kita’s room holding out an ornately embroidered shirt.  “Are you changing into this stuff?  I’m looking for Mica; she knows more tact than I do.”

            Thistlepouch held her dress up for a size comparison and shrugged.  It had probably been the smallest thing in the household, but even so it would swallow her up and eat her whole.  “It.  .  .  .  doesn’t.  .  .  .  fit.”

            Tusit made a quick check on his own attire.  “Actually, they haven’t done too bad a job.”  Just then Mica swished in wearing a decadent dress.  “Oh.  You are wearing it.”

            “Yeah.  Do you need help altering?”

            “Well, I can do it.  .  .  .  I was just wondering if it would be proper to change into this or.  .  .  .”

            “Well, you can make a few personal adornments, too.  .  .  .  Thistlepouch, do you want help?”

            “Are you going to wear yours if yours fits?”

            Although not partial to skirts or dresses, Thistlepouch didn’t pause for mental debate.  “I want clean clothes.”

            “We’ll put some pretties on it,” Mica offered.

            “Okay!”  Thistlepouch brightened.  She was sure she could find something in her pouches to personalize it a bit.

            “You help her with hers; I’ll do mine.”  Tusit turned to go back to his room and encountered Forge coming in.  He held out the little dye vial.

            “Does anyone else see something in here?”

            Tusit took the bottle, shook it a little.  Thistlepouch waved the tingly stick at it.

            “It’s tingly,” she announced.  Though, upon reflection, it was close enough to Tusit that maybe he set the stick off.

            “What do you see in there?” asked Mica.

            “You remember that leach he poked?”

            “Yes?”  Tusit looked up from the apparently empty bottle.

            “It’s wriggling in there.”

            “No it’s not -- it’s dead on the table,” Tusit argued.

            “No, no, you see, after you stuck it, it crawled away.  I picked it up in the hall and stuck it in the vial.”

            “It stopped wiggling.  .  .  .  then crawled away.  So I guess we’ve got the leach’s spirit in there.” Tusit handed over the vial.  “Um, do you want it back?”

            “Your pet leech?” Mica half-smiled.

            Forge took another drink.

            Invisible undead leaches.  Hmmm.  Maybe it wasn’t Tusit that set off the tingly stick.

            “Why don’t you go get dressed, put on the pretties,” Mica suggested.

            Forge blinked.  “They left clothing for us?”

            “Yes, on your bed,” Tusit supplied.

            “Oh, I hadn’t looked.  Come on Darwin.”  Then, to the others, “They’re out getting us some more of this.  .  .  would you like something?”

            “What is it?” Thistlepouch asked, curiosity aroused.

            “High class dwarven sprites.”

            Thistlepouch sniffed it experimentally and started getting a little dizzy just off the fumes. “I.  .  .  I think I’ll just leave it for you.  I’m sure you could appreciate it more than I could.  .  .  .”

            The dwarf shrugged, turned, and headed out the room, Tusit following dazedly behind.  He altered his clothing to fit, and dressed, not paying much attention to the interesting patterns of embroidery or the quality of the linen.

            Thistlepouch trailed into Mica’s room after the human to get her clothes fitted.  Though Tusit was less than enthusiastic about the new wardrobe, Thistlepouch took some small delight in the stitching as Mica helped her lace up the back.  The beautiful Fireglow Doorringer had passed her love of fine clothing, though not her wonderful tendency for freckles, to her daughter.  Much to her mother’s chagrin, the tomboy streak Thistlepouch got from her father Rainsplash was stronger and so she generally wore leggings -- they were more practical for adventuring.  Still, Thistlepouch seldom had nice clothes, and though even Mica’s expert needlecraft hadn’t been able to make them fit perfectly, it was still fun to get dressed up once in a while.  Even if it was all in browns and deep clay reds.  At least the neckline wasn’t very low.  She’d worn one or two of those, and always felt like she was going to fall out.

            By the time they all arrived at dinner, Antonio was at one end chowing down.  Thistlepouch put her napkin decorously in her lap and started in on food that would’ve been a feast even if they hadn’t been on travel rations for just about forever.

            Near the end of the meal, Tusit turned to Antonio.  “We do have one more party member.  Would it be possible to send a platter of food and some ale.  .  .  possibly we could accompany.  .  .  .  ?”

            Antonio hollered for a servant.

            “Anyone else want to come to the boat?”

            “I’ll come,” Thistlepouch volunteered.

            Darwin swayed slightly, looking longingly at the now-empty bottle of dwarven spirits.

            “One more question,” Tusit said as he hopped down.  “I don’t suppose you have any books here?”

            “Books?” Antonio repeated around a mouthful of food.

            “Yes.  Do you have a collection of books at all, or is that not of any interest to you.  .  .  .  ?”

            “Don’t need ‘em.”

            “Okay.  Just asking.”  He followed the servant off to the kitchen, explaining as he went, Thistlepouch trailing behind, pouting slightly over the missed prospect of books.

             “Possibly if we could gather some of this up for our other party member.  .  .  he’s a rather large man,” Tusit said.

            The servant nodded.  “So, we need a large platter and a keg of ale -- bringing it down to the docks.”

            “A very, very large platter,” Thistlepouch elaborated.

            “In fact, two platters might not be a bad idea,” Tusit suggested.

            “Very well.”  The servant piled one extremely large platter high with food.

            “Would it be possible to bring some candles as well?” Tusit requested.

            “Certainly.  And a keg of ale?”

            “At least one.”

            “All right then.”  The servant found another of his co-workers to help cart it all down, plus two guards.

            “Would it be possible to bring a couple more guards?” Tusit asked.

            “Oh, that’s not needed.  There are no thieves in Barnicus.”

            “Well those ‘no thieves’ have ambushed us -” Tusit protested.

            “No, no, that was not a thief.  That was an independent contractor.”

            “All right, well, I’m worried about the independent contractors in Barnicus.  Is there a possibility of having at least one more guard?”

            “Our bribes are paid up,” the servant assured him.

            “That’s what he said when we got attacked!” he protested.

            “That was probably a special case.”

            “All right,” Tusit said, “but I’m not going to help you if you get hit by a dart.  I saw what happened to the last one.”

            “Trust me.  There’s no risk.”

            The entourage made it to the boat without incident and found Grog sitting docily there.  The servants went about putting candles and such around, setting things up.

            “Hi, Grog!” Tusit greeted.

            “‘Lo.”

            “Any visitors?” the gnome inquired.

            “Yeah.  Wanted stuff.”

            “What stuff?”

            “Money.”

            “You give them any?”

            “No.  Didn’t have any.”

            “That’s good.  So they didn’t come onto the boat?”

            “No.  Wanted to.”

            “You didn’t let them?”

            “No.”

            “You get to hurt anybody?”  He paused; Grog looked distinctly uncomfortable.  “It’s all right -- you can tell me.  They shouldn’t come on the boat.  Did you rough them up a little bit?”

            “Yeah,” he admitted.

            “That’s good -- you’ve done a good job.”

            “Hey, Grog,” Thistlepouch said brightly, “we brought you a present!”

            “Yeah, look at all this food and ale that we brought you!  Because you did such a good job guarding the boat.”

            “Grog good,” the human beamed.

            “Yes,” Tusit agreed.  “We’re going to be gone for a little while.”

            “How long?”

            “Well, in two days we have to change our money,” Thistlepouch pointed out, only pausing a moment when Tusit snickered.  “Yes, I know how much that means to you, but I’d really rather not stay here any longer than we have to given the current situation.”

            Tusit couldn’t argue that. “Yes, I think departing would be a happy thing.”

            “Perhaps in the morning?”

            “I don’t know if that would be possible. I would like to do some shopping.”

            “Noon-ish?” she tried.

            “We’ll have to talk to the other party members.”

            “We’ll probably be leaving sometime tomorrow, Grog,” Thistlepouch told him.

            “Okee.”  He took a swig from the barrel.

            “Is it good stuff?” Tusit inquired.

            Grog belched largely.  “Yeah. Grog like gnome.”  He pulled him over, giving him a squish-hug.

            “Medic.  .  .  ” Tusit gasped; Thistlepouch tried not to giggle.

            When he was done being flattened, Tusit did a quick check over the boat (Thistlepouch following), gear and supplies and such, scooping up a couple more Sea King coins while he was at it.  Everything seemed to be in order, though one of the oars was half-broken off.  “Okaaaaayyyy.  .  .  .  note to self: must purchase new oar before leaving.”

            Thistlepouch cocked her head to the warrior.  “Is that what you hit ‘em with, Grog?”

            “No.  Flipped him.”

            “Flipped him?!  Oh, I wish I could’ve seen it!”

            Grog looked guilty.

            “That’s okay, Grog, you keep doing a good job.  If we need to buy more oars, we’ll buy more oars,” Tusit reassured him.

            “‘Kee.”

            “If you keep doing a good job, we might come back with a present for you.

            “‘Kee.  Lady okee?”

            Thistlepouch bit her underlip.  “Um.  .  .  .  the lady’s asleep right now.”

            “Not a mark on her,” Tusit supplied, “and I can vouch for that.”

            “Good.”  Grog nodded satisfaction.

*                      *                      *

            About the time everybody looked like they were getting done, servants approached them.

            “It is quite normal for those who dine with master Antonio to finish before he does.  If you wish, we can take you back to your rooms.”

            “Do you know where Bassano is?” asked Forge.

            “He had to leave on some quick business.  He said he’d be back shortly, though.”

            “Do you know how long ago?”

            “Oh, round about when dinner began.”

            Forge nodded, pushed his chair back, and left.  He made a quick sidetrip to see Melissanna -- the physician was gone, but a maid sat with her.  She looked okay, hadn’t started crawling away or anything. He went off in search of the guy with the sprites -- er -- spirits.

            “I wish to question the contractor,” Bob told his servant.

            “The contractor is unconscious right now.  What did you wish to know?”

            “I wished to kind of, you know, get some information about the dart.”

            “He doesn’t know much about it.”

            “No, but, I mean, like, who did he get it from -”

            “He got it from the person who hired him.”

            “Who was.  .  .  .  ?”

            “Lockshy.”

            “Okay.  I think I’ll just go wait by the gates for my friends.”

            “I wish to inquire about the church of Athena,” said Mica to her servant.

            “I see.  .  .  I’m not familiar with that one,” the servant admitted.

            “She is the goddess of wisdom and battle.  Her token animal is the owl?”

            “Sorry, not ringing any bells.  There might be someone else who knows.  If you wish to come with me?”

            “Yes.”  She turned briefly to Antonio.  “Master Antonio, thank you for the dinner and your hospitality.”  She then rose and followed the to the kitchen.

            “She’s asking about a religion I don’t know,” said the servant to one of the cooks.  “I thought maybe you’d know something about it?  What’s her name again?”

            “Athena.”

            “Oh yeah.  The street preacher.  He has a small house he has people meet in.  Generally he preaches in the marketplace.”

            “In the mornings?”

            “Mostly during the day.  .  .  yes.  .  .  I do believe he has a small house of worship that he gathers some followers at periodically.  That’s all I know of that they’ve got, anyway; I haven’t heard of any temples.”

            “Okay.  Thank you for your information.”

            “Yes.  My pleasure.”

            Mica nodded, then set off upstairs to take another bath.  With very cute male attendants.

*                      *                      *

            Tusit and Thistlepouch returned to find Bob waiting at the gate for them.

            “Let’s go to bed now,” he suggested, “and in the morning let’s talk to Antonio about our fee.”

            Thistlepouch gave him an incredulous look.  “Don’t you think the timing might be a little off on that?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Seeing as the condition we delivered her in?” the kita supplied.

            “Let’s see if there’s any way to cure her before we ask our payment,” Tusit clarified.

            Thistlepouch nodded.  “I think Tusit’s right.  If nothing else, let’s think about it more in the morning.

            Tusit yawned a bit wearily.  “Things always look brighter in the morning.  I’m not saying anything’s going to be better, just brighter.”

            “For now I think I’ll settle for wetter,” Thistlepouch decided.  “I’m going to go take a bath.” Having said such, she moseyed up to take a bath, read a little while (and darn near fall asleep) in the tub, then hauled herself out to crash in bed.

            She didn’t remember much after that.

*                      *                      *

            “Yes, come in!” Forge called to a knock on his door.

            A servant poked his head in.  “You asked for a bottle of this?  The other one’s been sent next door.”

            Forge grinned in ecstasy.  “Ahhhh.  .  .  .  .  thank you.”  He just enjoyed the smell of it a little while before actually starting in, then spent a little of his tipsy time trying to figure out the spell inscribed on his former loincloth until a knock interrupted his thoughts.

            “Yes?”

            Bassano entered.  “You were curious about the information I might gather from the prisoner?”

            “Mmmmmhmmmm.  .  .  .  .  ”

            Bassano nodded.  “It seems that Lockshy was doing a little business on the side.  We’re not sure for who, but regardless.  .  .  we were able to track down the other two thugs. They were rather.  .  .  informative.”

            Forge grinned.

            “However, they did confirm it was Lockshy that hired them.”

            “Did they say who they were after?”

            “They were told to incapacitate the group.  .  .  but what’s most interesting is the fact that they said they were after you.”

            “Me?”

            “Yes.”

            “But I wasn’t even in the group when they fired.”

            “Yes.  I’m finding that surprising myself.  I’m not sure what they were supposed to be doing, other than that they were given orders to incapacitate the party as a whole and take Melissanna with them.  I’m not sure what they were planning to do.  They just needed to deliver her to Lockshy.”

            “Do you plan on taking actions tonight?”

            “Unfortunately, all roads lead back to Lockshy, and he’s gone to ground.  I have no doubt we’ll hear from him soon, though.”

            Forge thought a moment.  “Is there any way to get some armor?”

            “Certainly.  I would advise you to have it now that Lockshy’s out for you for some reason.  What sort?”

            “Probably leather.”

            “I can have someone past to fit you and take measurements in the morning, and call an order down.”

            “Are you guys going to be checking stuff out tomorrow?  I’d like to help a bit, especially considering I’m apparently part of the target group.”

            “Yes,” Bassano agreed, “that would help.  But at this point we are most interested in finding Lockshy, and his hiding holes are.  .  .  well financed.  He has ties to or at least on most of the merchants in the city.  I have no doubt he’ll blackmail Antonio into something in return for his daughter.”

            “If he does, can we still take him out?”

            “Legally, no.  However, there might be ways.  If I find his location, I’ll let you know.”

            Forge nodded.  “If you’d let my cousin know as well.  .  . ”

            “Yes, I thought he might be helpful.  Good night.”

            “Good night.”  Forge took another drink, then went to knock on Tusit’s door and entered when bidden.  “Bassano just stopped by my room.”

            “Oh?”

            “He informed me that the ties led back to Lockshy.  And they were after me.”

            Tusit puzzled for a moment.  “You weren’t with us.”

            “I know -- I was back in the crowd, which is what confuses.  .  .  it is possible they might’ve mistaken you for me.  I mean, you look nothing like me -- I look slightly better -- but.  .  .  the whole height thing.  .  .  you know, humans can’t really tell the difference between gnomes and dwarves.  .  .  .  ”  He grinned winningly.

            Four or five emotions, along with a couple comebacks he bit his tongue hard on, flashed across Tusit’s face.

            “They’re going out to see if they can find him tomorrow,” Forge continued.  “They’re afraid he has connections and he can blackmail Antonio.  We can’t take him out legally, but I think he was hired on as sort of a second hand job.  It wasn’t actually his job.”

            “Well, I think we should inform the rest of the party of what you told me.”

            “Well, Mica’s splish-splashing,” Forge informed him.

            Tusit considered a moment.  “Maybe we should wait until morning.  However, if I could ask your assistance with something, sort of a curiosity I suppose.  Can you still see that leach in the bottle?”

            Forge pulled out the bottle to see.  The leech was busy trying ineffectively to chew through the cap.  Forge slugged back some more spirits.  “Still there.”

            “Were you intent on keeping it?”

            “Do you want it?”

            “Well, if you want it I’d be interested in making a couple more like it.  In fact, I’d be interested in making a couple more anyway, if not for any other reason than for study.  It is Magickal because the kita’s -- well, the girls’ stick -- reacted to it.  It could be worth study, if not something else.  Possibly a way to get a cure for Melissanna.”

            “That is true.”

            “If I could use your eyes to make a couple more creepy crawlies.  .  .  ”

            “Thanks.”

            “Well, I can’t see it!”

            “I wish I couldn’t!”  The dwarf took another drink.

            “I’ll be back.”  Tusit headed down to the kitchen for a couple bottles of some sort and ended up grabbing wine bottles, then set out with Forge to try and find creepie crawlies.  He found two cockroaches.  Tusit poked the first; it wiggled, then stopped, and Forge saw it get up and start to scuttle.  He tried to catch it, but it scrabbled around and escaped.  The spirits probably weren’t helping matters.

            “It got away.”

            Tusit sighed.  “Piss.  Next roach!”  They went through the routine again, but this time Forge was able to grab it and throw it in the bottle.  The roach had changed to mottled green color.  Tusit gazed at the nothingness.  “Well, one is better than nothing.  I’d rather not keep you up all night.  Thank you.”

            “No problem.  Leech?”  He offered the bottle.

            “Sure!” Tusit said, accepting the gift, and they both headed off to their respective rooms.

***

Disclaimer: Melissanna was not harmed during the creation of this chapter.  Lockshy's credibility, however,  was flushed down the toilet.