Turn 89

    In the course of his investigations, Alais notes that each wound contains traces of a single metal, but there appears no pattern of distribution beyond that; he hypothesizes that a variety of edged implements were used to effect the killings.

* * *

    The night is very quiet. The guard at the castle does ask where he's going, but appears satisfied with the half-elf's terse reply. There are lights aboard ship; another bored guard nods a greeting.
    The ship is quiet; a clatter from the galley and familiar footsteps suggests Inez is there alone.
    "Hello!" he calls, to the ship in general.
    "Hey," a cheerful voice calls back from the galley, and there are also quiet steps from the rear deck where the plants are kept.
    "Good evening," Nyala greets him, a trifle coolly. "News from town?"
    "You could call it that, I suppose," he says, flinging himself down at a table in the galley. "His lordship seems content to look for culprits among the locals. The blacksmiths are holding some sort of party tomorrow evening and I suppose I will go along with Valarin. Hopefully it won't be long before we manage an introduction to the High King and move to his city. Where," he adds, glancing around the cold, cramped room, "we'll have to work out a better place for you to stay - either with the rest of us or at an inn or something. We still cannot be sure when we will be leaving this ball of ice," he concludes.
    "A change of scenery would certainly be welcome."

* * *

    After the meeting breaks up, Val ponders for a bit, then goes out into the town to look around the blacksmiths' square. He notes that either their hosts are feeling more trusting, or their chaperones are being far more discreet than they used to be.
    From talking to the city leaders over the past few days, he knows that the banquets are half celebration, half-political affairs to show off the wealth of the guild. Junior members will be advanced, apprentices sponsored, the masters will show off their best work, the gods will be honored and gifts made to important people. Under the circumstances, most people agree that going on is the right thing to do, but they expect the event to be more subdued than normal, and there have been murmurs of dissent, primarily from those connected to the families who lost sons.
    There are five smithies in town--fewer perhaps than he would have expected in a place this size--each presided over by a master (or several working in partnership) and employing a dozen or so journeymen and apprentices. They do very well, being in the enviable position of selling a highly-priced necessity, while the guild structure ensures that business is distributed relatively evenly. The dead of winter is generally a slow time, and indeed all seems quiet as he walks past the elaborately carved buildings.
    

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