Turn 90

At the ship:
    "A change of scenery would certainly be welcome."
    "Definitely," he agrees. Despite his best intentions, the knowledge of the whole uncomfortable reason for the ladies' being out here preys on his mind and he can't really relax. "Umm ... round of cards or something?"
    "I think we have had enough of cards. Perhaps a walk," she suggests with a barely-noticeable glance at Inez, who looks slightly smug.
    A walk? In this weather? he doesn't say, not being entirely devoid of sense. "All right," he says agreeably, getting up again. "Where to?"
    "It seems they would not object to our presence within the walls so long as we are duly chaperoned, and I have yet to see any of this place...."
    "I suppose there would be no problem with that." As they make their way out of the ship he adds in Elvish, "But I cannot claim to really understand these folk. The matter makes me too angry to talk about it, so I have not learned as much as I should."
    She shrugs. "Surely you have encountered stranger in your travels?"
    They begin walking through the snow, toward the city walls.
    "Huh. Stranger, yes." He kicks an unoffending patch of snow. "I have never been so thoroughly insulted, however. I know it was not precisely intentional, but ... the sooner we get off this place, the better."
    "Even human bureaucracies operate slowly; I would not expect too much, particularly if as Emmett says they have troubles of their own. I do not mind the insult half so much as the confinement."
    The gate guard checks them, does a bit of a double-take upon seeing Nyala, and passes them.
    They wander without much aim, talking little. The quiet sounds of their boots in the snow, an occasional clump falling from a roof, a snatch of voices from a room as they pass--these seem to only deepen the quiet.
    So the sound of someone beginning to follow them as they move through the narrow streets is not at all difficult for ibn Fadil to pick out. He is just beginning to get annoyed about this when he realizes that the sounds are coming from both directions, and with some speed now.
    And then someone needlessly yells, "Look out!"
    It would appear that they are about to be under attack.

* * *

    Meanwhile, as Emmett considers the situation, he can't help but become aware of a looming giffish presence in the room.
    Yestin coughs uncomfortably. "Sorry. Could I get your advice on something?"
    "Of course," Emmett smiles 'You are my superior officer, after all. What can I do for you?"
    He leads the way downstairs, to the large dining chamber, where in the whispery glow of the fires young Tomek appears to be busy drinking himself glassy-eyed.
    "He *says*," the giff says quietly, "he knows what killed those men, but that no one here believes him."
    Emmett's eyebrows raise at that. "Well now...that's interesting." He gives Yestin a look "And you think he'd be more willing to chat with me that you? The boy has no taste. Yeah, I'll see what I can find out."
    "He told me, but I'd rather you hear it from him and decide what you think."
    Emmett wanders into the room, grabbing one of the chairs in his good hand and hooking a mug with his other. A casual flick spins the chair around so it's facing the young man and the hearth, and Emmett settles himself in hit before holding his mug out to get some of whatever Tomek is destroying his liver with. "Spare a drop? It's been a hard couple of days."
    He pushes the jug over without a word.
    "Ya'know, the last time I saw someone doing exactly what you're going, it was back home. A guy had gone on a patrol and come back convinced that no one would believe what he saw up there - a cyclopean tentacled monstrosity of some sort - and was busy drinking to the point where he didn't half believe it any more either." Emmett knows he's being more blunt than usual, but given Tomek's obvious degree of inebriation, he's wondering whether even this sledgehammer method would be effective. "Course, the next time some other guys ran into it they hadn't be warned it was up there. Messy stuff. Maybe he just didn't know who to talk to."
    After a moment he says, only a bit slurred, "There are _things_ in the forest. Everybody knows that, knows the stories. Most don't believe them. I've seen them. Told him," he nods at Yestin. "Maybe you've seen things, too, out where you come from. Seen them."
    His story is a bit disjointed and tends to ramble, but it goes like this: several years ago, in the late autumn, Tomek had been out in the forest with his father and a few other men, hunting. They had been traveling for several days at this point, and he had been lagging behind, his mind not really on what he was doing, he admits conscientiously, but he's still not sure how he managed to lose sight of them entirely. They were much deeper in the forest than he had ever been before, and he wandered in the gloom under the trees for what seemed like hours before he saw a small light in the distance. It seemed to move around, to move away as he went toward it, until finally he had stopped, exhausted, at the edge of a little clearing. He had woken at the sound of hoofbeats and a deer's bleating, and something on the edge of hearing that may have been laughter. The clearing was now full of _things_, barely visible, all of them smaller than a person but some larger than others. Some had wings, others didn't, some had claws and fangs, and they were killing the deer very slowly, just as those men had been killed.
    He wants Emmett to be absolutely clear on the fact that he did *not* faint. There _was_ a bright light, and a lot of sudden noise, and he doesn't remember anything else but waking up to find the clearing empty, with no sign of what had taken place. But it _had_ happened, and with the help of the gods he had managed to find the others again that morning.

* * *

    Having completed his spellcasting around midnight, Alais thinks about going to the city fathers and making loud accusation about the possible profession and skills of the murderers. Then he thinks better of it and goes to his fellow crew members with his findings. He's not asleep, no reason they should be.
    "We need to look for someone with a collection of edged weapons made from a variety of metals," he informs the slightly groggy company.
    

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