A Tavern in Thentis, a slim figure with long, dark hair sits in a far corner watching the door, he glances at the water clock...the seventeenth Ahn. He ponders how bribery is always an unsatisfactory arrangement as anyone willing to sell information is always likely to be bought by the highest bidder. More expensive to pay Guild rates but ultimately more reliable. Still, the fear of a knife in the night often makes his Tarndisks go twice as far.....so far the weasel-faced thief has seemed diligent enough, perhaps his report tonight will provide some more insight into the movements of his prey. The Tavern is quiet, smoke filled due to green wood on the fires and poor ventilation, the blackwine is stewed, the paga greasy, and the ka-la-na defies description. The bosk is tough and stringy. A place of labourers, disabled veterans and kajirae in red silk who should have felt a sharper steel, raddled by pox, lined and wrinkled. Nevertheless, it serves its purpose, an itinerant clientele, no questions, no unwanted curiosity. The door opens....a small dark skinned figure with prominent teeth and ears, enters and looks across. He moves around the scattered tables and furs, making his way to the corner table. He pauses to pass some lewd remark to a painted whore...before drawing a chair to the table. He whispers " Master, I have the information you seek. Ornoth and perle are in the city, seemingly in hiding, but they have been identified. The Guild of Thieves is a valuable resource ..eh?" The small thief laughs, coughs and splutters blooded phlegm, spitting onto a filthy rag. The Thieves Guild were not impressed by Tikarl's gold, under weight coins and 105 Tarndisks short. Neither was the Assassin.....the rattle in his chest suggests he will me lucky to make another winter..... "There is some additional news, which might be of interest, but you know how it is....this cold and damp can fog the memory..........." The cold blue eyes regard the thief, the soft voice chills. "Have a care, worm. I have paid the GuildMaster well for those eyes and ears. You tempt fate playing this game. But tell me what you know and I will decide whether it is worthy of additional payment." The thief sits back. "Master, there is another asking after Ornoth....." Fast as a striking snake, the Assassin shoots his hand across the table, grabbing the small man by the throat. "Tell me.." he snarls. "Yessss ..Mmaster...." the thief stammers, fighting for breath..... "He is known to you, Master. A big man, with strange pale skin, white hair and lashless pink eyes. He frightens me, Sir ..It is no wonder that the poet and the slave are in hiding. The Killer releases his hold, letting the other sink back into the chair, eyes protruding... "Tell me, where does Ornoth stay?" "At a House owned by the Scribe Caste. It appears that he ventures out little, and never without his slave. Every sixth-day he visits the "Inn of The Three Tuns" to hear the musicians. He arrives early, drinks only chilled water, into which he pours some sort of powders. He is always gone by the eighteenth Ahn. The slave, perle, visits the Street of Dreams regularly. It is said she buys remedies for the belly canker. Mostly they are powders to kill pain. It would seem that your quarry needs little help to speed his return from the Priest-Kings." "I had heard the same.." the Assassin nods. "But a Commission is taken and will be completed. I also know this albino, he is in the employ of someone I know. His presence here is an intrigue, possibly a complication. Find out where stays, who he meets, and his interest in the poet. I will pay separately for this news." He flips a silver Tarndisk into the air, watching it spin in the firelight, the thief follows the coin and grabs for it. The Assassin closes his hand around the thief's fingers, increasing the pressure, crushing.... "Return at the same time each night you have news, I will be here." Two days before the sixth-day, time to discover more of what is behind this matter, before paying a call to the "Three Tuns" ..perhaps to listen to music..
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