LOCATION

Azralen Street(#7239RntJ)

The sounds of the bustling crowds abate somewhat here. It seems a less well-traveled street than it's northern sisters. A few shopfronts are here, but mostly residences of the merchant class and older folk of Umbar. Here can often be found things that are hard to come by in the city, and so it has a less than reputable clientele than the more wealthy of the people. No noble would be caught in this area after nightfall, yet they are often abroad in the light of day. Tis told in the taverns and barracks that strange things go on in this part of the city.

Contents:
* Merchant's establishment(#7611Ven)

Obvious exits:
* North leads to Gimilbatan: At the Fountain.

Merchant's establishment(#7611Ven)

This red sandstone building is one of several in this street used as shops. The ground floor is given over to a shop that ostensibly sells antiques (though some would say bric-a-brac). Those in the know are aware that many items more valuable than those on display, and sometimes obtained by more doubtful means, can be purchased by a word in the right ear. The middle floor is occupied by merchants' offices. And on the top floor treasure of a different kind may be found - that of knowledge. There the scribe Sapthanar resides, spending his days drawing up new documents or copying older ones. The well-informed know that he can produce work in a variety of different hands as required, is expert at removing and replacing seals, and has a keen interest in ciphers. Sapthanar does not advertise his services, but somehow he never seems to lack for business.

The guard at the foot of the stairwell looks you up and down, then moves aside with a nod to let you pass. You trudge up the long flight of stairs.

Sapthanar's Office

A long attic room, lit by a row of wide windows on one side during the day, and several ceiling lanterns at night. The other side of the room is taken up by shelves, on which sheaves of parchment, bottles of inks and paints and sticks of sealing wax are stacked. A bookcase occupies the far wall, with separate sections for leather-bound tomes, scrolls and loose-leaf documents. A table by one window holds a large array of scribing tools - quills, brushes, charcoal and the like. A heavy wooden desk sits at the centre of the room, and this is where Sapthanar himself can most commonly be found, head bent over his latest job.

Contents:

* Renzlitha

[Sapthanar:] The hour may be early, but there is already a light in the top floor window of the red sandstone building on Azralen Street. The streets are slick with last night's rain, and away to the east the sky glows an angry red amidst tattered clouds, threatening more bad weather to come. The few souls abroad at this time of day scurry on their way without so much as a glance at their surroundings.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha the villian is among those few out this morning, trying to take advantage of the bad weather and time of day to cover at least some of his track. As of late the villian hasn't been quite himself, something to do with a lot of Umbar's elite looking for him. News of Roziliel's reporting missing has certainly reached his ears, but of course not much news doesn't reach the man's ears. Renzlitha is this morn returning to the scribe's office to check up on the job given him a few days ago. This time tha ruffian approaches the building from a different direction than the last time, in case anyone is watching him..... Once inside the building throw a side door, Renzlitha ascends the stairs to the attic in a few bounds and knocks quietly, but impatianetly upon the gilded door.

[Sapthanar:] Once more the door is opened by the silent but strong-looking Orroth. He grunts as he recognizes the figure standing there, but waves him in.

Sapthanar is seated at his desk, and he starts at the opening of the door, causing a blot of ink to fall on the document he is working on. With a muffled exclamation, he seizes up a piece of fine-grained leather to soak up the spill, then hastily pulls a silken cloth over the document to conceal it from prying eyes. "Ah, it is Master Wolf," he says to the newcomer with perhaps a trace of scorn for the pseudonym. "You have come to see about your scrolls?" He glances nervously towards one of the shelves, where the box of sheepskin documents still sits.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha gives Orroth little notice as he rushes into the room, though a glance every now and then is given the apprentice to make sure. Crossing the room in a few strides of his long legs, the villian moves to stand next to the scribe's desk. Leaning over it a little with one hand placed on one of the many stacks of vellum, he says in a soft voice, "Yes, I returned for them, I want to see them. Did you find anything out about them through your scrutiny?"

[Sapthanar:] Sapthanar hesitates - just a fraction, but no doubt noticeable to one used to reading others moods. "I have copied all the documents, of course," he is quick to answer. "Here," he reaches into the box and pulls out a scroll tied with a blue ribbon, "see, this one is a copy." He unties the ribbon and holds up the vellum to display rows of neat characters. "I have not duplicated the sealing," he shrugs, "but should you wish that it can be arranged." He pauses again, then says, "as to deciphering the contents, that is proving rather more ... difficult. I have some notes, of course." He seems to be stalling.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha grabs the correspinding original to insepct it for himself. It is obvious the villian is impressed with Sapthanar's work, but he tries to hid it. Setting the scroll back down, Renzlitha looks the scribe in the face. "No matter, I believe that that will not be necessary anymore. Although the seal is another question, how much longer would it take for you to copy the seal? I can give you more reason to hurry...If you take my meaning." With these words, the villian leans in closer to look the scribe in the face, his not-to-pleasant breath blasting out from his mouth.

[Sapthanar:] Sapthanar seems quite taken aback, though whether the effect is caused by Renzlitha's words or his actions it is hard to tell. "Not ... necessary?," he stammers, taking a pace back. "But you said ..." He leaves the sentence unfinished, answering instead, "The sealing? Well, that is a tricky job, of course. If it's just for the one document I could do it in a day; if you require seals for the whole batch - " he shrugs, "I'll need a week or more."

His assistant, Orroth, moves towards the desk to pick up a piece of parchment, as if to remind Renzlitha that his master is not completely undefended.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha backs off a little, not wanting to have to fight anyone of any size, to annoying. With a more delicate manner than could be thought possible of a villian so uncouth, Renzlitha bundles all of the original documents up into one, big roll. Surprisingly, they make a rather smallish role. "Never mind what I originally said! I would have thought that one of your years at this job you would have noticed how they originally came. They were..given...me like this, I do not believe that more than one seal is necessary. Now, I will ask you this, could you do it in one hour or less? I do not have time to wait all day."

[Sapthanar:] Sapthanar's bird-like eyes dart this way and that. "You ask the impossible!" he protests, hands trembling as he reaches behind him to feel the solid wood of the desk, and leans against it. "To produce a seal that reproduces the original exactly takes time, it is not a mere blob of wax or lump of leather. Once the design is traced, a suitable stamp must be made for the embossing procedure. Orroth here is a skilled engraver in the soft metals, but even he cannot work that fast." He leans a fraction further back, knocking a sheaf of papers to the floor.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha growls to himself quietly, obviously not one to understand the intricasies of the craft. Passing back and forth a few times while thinking, he turns back to the Sapthanar. Returining to a position near the desk, the villian speaks, "Very well, take this" Here he tosses a smaller, but still amble, sized pouch onto the table in front of the scribe. "But, I want it by tonight, no later. You said you could do that, no? I also wish to keep the metal stamp, if you must make one... "

[Sapthanar:] Sapthanar is too busy collecting scattered documents to reply. His assistant Orroth moves to help - after all, it would not do to have them seen by prying eyes. Thrusting a gathered sheaf of paper back into Orroth's hands, Sapthanar stands and dusts himself off, before replying to Renzlitha, this time with more confidence, "Of course. Yes, by tonight the seals will be ready." He does not even glance towards the pouch of coin, but gives Orroth, who looks unhappy about this promise, a fierce glare.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlithas eyes indeed do not miss much, even when the villian is this high-strung. As the scribe messes around with the other parchments and leaves on the desk, his eyes flit over them absently from his peripheral vision. The villian does not trust the scribe, but then again he trusts noone. With a suspicious nod at the interchange between the others, Renzlitha says, "Good, I trust that you will. By the way good scribe, I heard you correctly when you said that you had some notes about the translation, I was wondering, could I see them? And yes I can read, no need to look at me like that."

[Sapthanar:] The request is met by a nervous nod from the scribe. While Orroth finishes stacking the dropped documents into a neat pile, Sapthanar himself shuffles behind the desk and fumbles with one of the drawers, taking several attempts to pull it open. Eventually he draws out a sheaf of rough parchments, flicking through them until he has selected one. "This is what I have deciphered so far," he admits at last, as he holds the sheet out to Renzlitha, remaining as far away from the other man as possible.

The text on the rough-grained parchment is arranged into rows of letters and dashes:

bl f ldng
h-s- dr-n-l, b-k-r
rmn-, dn--
ldng dt- ?? vrs-
nv-s- dt- l- nrkl--

tm: btch f dkmt, btch cd- ????-fll ? kp-s
dsptchr- hrdnghl, brsr, h-s- dr-n-l
dlvr t-- mr-l, prnss n br

tm: bks, lkkrd w-k, tm kd- -l-- ??
vl-- g-rt-d t ? ??? slvr mrk b- w-ght
dsptchr- ml-n-l bsn
dlvr t- bn-nn, brsr, h-s- rmd-n

tm: tn mdl-n, tm kds l? ??-ks?? thr- ks??
vl-- g-rt-d t- ?? slvr mrk b- wght -ch
dsptchr- hrdnghl, brsr, h-s- dr-n-l
dlvr t- tlng-r, kpt-n, wrdn f br

There are some pencilled notes in the margin: d-r-n-l=Durinel? Duriniel? m-r-l=Miriel? hrdnghl=Hardanghul?

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha snatches the paper form the scribe roughly and scans over the tiwsted characters with interest. A little bit of a grin crosses his greasy features as he twists his whispy beard in thought. After a few moments of musing, he looks back up to the scribe, "I think I shall have need to keep this, I'm sure you don't mind to much would you? I hope not....for that would be...annoying... At any rate, I shall be back here around dusk tonight, and I hope to see the seal completed, and mind, I wish to have the stamp as well." With these words, the villian starts to roll up the little scroll with the partial decoding upon it and makes as if to slip it into his robes.

[Sapthanar:] Sapthanar at first looks a little dismayed. "But that will mean I cannot work on the transcription further ..." He trails off, then adds more briskly, "of course, I will be busy preparing the seals anyway." With a wave of his hand, he dismisses the matter - after all, he is being paid well for this work. What matter if it is left unfinished? "Orroth," the scribe instructs his assistant, "be so kind as to show the gentleman out. We have much to do."

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha nods with a villianous smile, slipping the scroll into his belt for safe keeping. With no more than a nod to the scribe in parting, the thief walks towards the door without bothering to wait for Orrotht o open the door. After him he calls, "Yes, so it does mean so, but that is all I need. I will see you tonight, scribe..."

[Sapthanar:] As Renzlitha walks to the door, Sapthanar's confidence returns. "Very well. A good day to you, master," he calls after the departing man. Then he turns back to Orroth with a heavy sigh. "Start work on that seal now," he orders, "and shelve all our other work for the day. This 'Master Wolf' seems the impatient type, heavy-handed into the bargain, and I do not wish to provoke him further. The sooner this job is over, the better. Uncouth fellow, no appreciation for art ..." His voice fades as he walks towards one of the windows just to make sure Renzlitha really has left.

Participants:

SAPTHANAR

A bird-like creature of a man, small-boned and delicate-looking. His shoulders are slightly hunched from years of sitting at a desk, his brown eyes narrowed from peering at manuscripts. His skin is the colour of the yellowed parchments he so often pores over, legacy of a tan that has long since faded to the merest suggestion, and is cris-crossed by tiny wrinkles. These are most obvious in the crows-feet round his eyes. Those eyes are still bright with intelligence, however, and their gaze continually darts from place to place. His hair is brindled in streaks of brown and grey, and has been neatly trimmed close to the head in a circular fashion. He wears a long robe of dusty brown, its sleeves carefully folded and pinned to keep the cloth free of his lower arms. A ridged scar scrawls its way across the knuckles of his right hand; those who look closely might notice a scribe's callous on his left hand.

RENZLITHA

You see a man that looks as if he has spent to much time living a covert life in the forsaken slums of some large city. In fact, this figure is such. Renzlitha, in his mid forties, stands at about six foot, with short, unkempt frizzy hair waving with the slightest breeze. This goes well with the long, thin black beard that forms a wavey trail down the man's chest. His large, greasy forhead slopes down to a sharp hawk nose and ends in an abrupt chin, giving him the appearance of some kind of missing link. Two small, deep-set black eyes scan the area around him carefully, for this villian-for-hire knows he has many enemies. He wears nothing upon his head, so that a slight bald spot can be seen if you look from above. From his neck down nothing can be seen but a complete fur cloak of deepest brown. His left arm can usually be seen twirling the beard back and forth in its fingers, apparently a habit of the Renzlitha when in thought. The other cannot be seen for the cloak, but if you look closely its outline can be gleaned clutching at something, perhaps a weapon? If you should be lucky enough to see beeath the cloak, a jet leather jerkin and matching leggings is all you would see.