Turn 96

In town:
    After dinner, more of that delightful wine is served. It does not need to be kept cold while in its cask, though it is traditionally served so.
    Ibn Fadil makes inquiries concerning its price and how long it can be stored, being quite determined to bring some off-planet even if he has to pay for it himself. It's just the sort of luxury good that could be worth trading, and with a few samples on hand it'll create its own market. Not that he lets on that he thinks it's of more than moderate interest, of course!
    He gets some pointers to people who deal with the vintners--the main grape-growing region is some distance up the river, and it's shipped down that way--and makes a mental note to follow up them before the crew leaves town.
    "Strange and terrible times, these are," one of the guild masters says to ibn Fadil afterward, shaking his head. "But, we must carry on, I suppose. Come, there is something I wished to ask of you visitors." He leads the way to one of the alcoves lining the large hall. In them are displayed the masterworks of the guild in the past year, and as the meal is cleared away the guests are mostly circulating to admire them, and negotiating with the guild members on how much it would cost to acquire similar items.
    "One hears little from Durrell's lands, but what one does hear these days is much concerning iron," Master Wiktor continues. "Little indeed passes out of his hands, but I thought to seek your opinion concerning this." From a cupboard in the back of the alcove--which displays a beautiful short sword--the portly smith removes an iron ingot, which he hands to ibn Fadil. "We are, of course, very pleased at the prospect of communications with the wider community it seems your ship represents."
    Ibn Fadil's trained ears hear gold in that statement, but for a moment he is busy staring at the ingot in his hands, which can only have come to this world on a V&S ship. He knows this because the stamp on it is that of the Havath clan, quite possibly the most powerful dwarfish family in space. They would no doubt be interested to know that V&S is selling their iron to people who have a nigh-fanatical hatred of dwarves.
    "Good dwarfish iron," he remarks, hefting the sample. "Harvath clan keeps its standards up, by all accounts. It would be hard to find better. And not so hard to find more," he adds easily, watching the man to see how he handles such casual references to dwarves and iron.
    Wiktor looks a mite surprised. "Ah yes, I had heard some rumors that the foul things are everywhere. Pity, but if we can come to some accommodation.... They sell it dear enough to us, as you've no doubt seen."
    "Greed is a terrible thing," ibn Fadil says piously. "But I have observed that competition tends to moderate its effect."
    "It certainly can. Better to..." He clams up, but ibn Fadil is pretty sure he can finish the sentence: better to not have to buy it at all. He thinks he might be coming to understand these people somewhat.
    The half-elf gives him back the ingot. "Indeed, one of Harvath's competitors might be willing to offer a better price, just to get a little more business. We would have to ask around." He names a couple of other dwarven clans that might be interested (though these are just educated guesses). "It depends partly on where the clans happen to be located at present, naturally, since they rarely handle transport. But of course, you would not know," he appears to remember. "The intersphere dwarven clans have a big advantage because they are within the Flow instead of in a sphere, actually in the river, as it were, instead of on the land. They travel through the Flow inside huge mineral-bearing rocks, building and tunneling them for generations and then moving on to another. Quite fascinating, really, though only dwarves could stand to live that way, I am sure."
    "This is all very interesting," Wiktor says, apparently sincerely. "Rocks that float? Truly it seems that we have a great deal to learn here."
    "Float is not exactly the right word," ibn Fadil answers, "but it is close enough." He tries to steer the conversation back to Rigolian products, and later wanders over to study the silversmiths' display, thinking that offering samples of Rigolian liquor in fancy cups from the same planet might be a nice touch.
    Looking for an opportunity to be introduced to the lord's son, he pauses nears the edge of the group, not wanting to intrude. The conversation going on at the moment centers on the hunt planned for next week. Dorek is in his early thirties, with a trim physique and sleepy-looking brown eyes. One of the masters--who had been speaking with Wiktor and is perhaps now thinking quite well of their offworld guest--performs the introduction.
    "Ah yes. I have been told of your ship. I hope you are finding your time here profitable."
    "We have high hopes, my lord."
    A bit more small talk and he withdraws, not having any particular goal beyond the introduction.
    After the presentation of gifts and a blessing from the priest concludes the event, when they return to their rooms Yestin informs them, "Someone was here asking questions of the keeper; I don't think he told them anything that isn't already common knowledge, but it may be well to be on our guard. Friends of our, er, guest, perhaps?"
    "Un-friends," ibn Fadil corrects. He looks to Valarin. "I suspect we have a choice between telling Captain Feliks about this Stoat's unhealthy interest in us either now, or after he makes more trouble for us."
    "Unfortunately, I think you are correct in that." A sudden change in the wind rattles the shutters; another storm coming in.
    "Well, they're probably not going to try anything in this weather." He hopes the ship is okay out there. "Morning is soon enough. I'll leave the explanation to you," he grins.
    "Thank you, sir. That should be interesting." He appears to be quite serious for a moment, then grins back. "Necessary, then. Oh, and incidentally, Master Wiktor showed me an ingot of Havath clan iron he says he got from Durrell. I would say that confirms our assumption that Victor & Sons have been supplying him with the stuff."
    "I guess it would," Val agrees.
    "Michal," ibn Fadil says to the lad, "if Stoat's people really have been asking after us, then it looks like it is time for us to respond more firmly. Are you up to explaining to Captain Feliks that you are quite sure those men who attacked me last night work for Stoat?"
    He looks decidedly unhappy about that idea. "Uh...."
    "I, personally, would prefer to take steps against him rather than sit quietly and let him make whatever plans he likes." The Zakharan's tone is neutral, but he is clearly judging Michal's response against some unspoken expectation.
    "Oh, I understand that, no problem, but uh, what steps? I don't know if I want to explain to the guards how I know those guys...."
    "I want Captain Feliks to take the steps, and give Stoat something new to think about. As for explaining without getting into trouble ..." He considers the problem. "You live down there where they usually work, yes? You have been curious about us foreigners, you happened to hear these men talking about us and followed them out of curiosity. Along the way you heard them mention Stoat, and when they attacked you tried to warn us, and then ran away. But you think Stoat found out you were there, and came to us hoping we would give you some money for the story, which would help you get away."
    He frowns, thinking over what he's just said. "Sound too much like a story ... perhaps something closer to the truth would serve. What is the truth, by the way? Why were you there, and why did you try to warn us?"
    "I was the lookout. As for why," he shrugs. "It seemed like a good idea at the time...."
    "Tired of working for Stoat, eh?"
    "That's not a difficult state to attain."
    "Is Feliks the type to arrest you even though you are giving him information about your ex-friends' activities?"
    "I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to find out."
    Ibn Fadil studies him for a moment. "Well, decide. I am not going to drag you there by the ear" - however much he might want to - "and I would like to get some sleep." Clearly the boy is used to reacting, rather than acting; that will have to stop.
    "Well, do that then. And I'll... think about it."
    "All right." His tone is mild, but his manner is a little bit cooler.
    He suggests that for tonight, the four of them stay together in the larger of the rooms, locked up as tight as the facilities allow. "Just in case." He himself will try to sleep lightly, alert for any potential problems.
    The noise of the storm makes that easy enough; it abates some time after midnight. Once, he thinks that from a half-closed eye he saw one of the shuttered windows begin to open, and snaps fully awake, but there is nothing; just a dream, or the wind.
    In the morning Michal, having done his thinking, says, "If you really think it's necessary, I'll go talk to them."
    Captain Feliks doesn't look like he's slept since the bodies were found. "What do you lot want *this* time?" He frowns at Michal, as if trying to figure out where he's seen him before.
    [space for any preliminaries]
    On cue, Michal launches into his story. And it's a *good* story. Ibn Fadil would have believed it if he hadn't already known what happened and why. Feliks asks a few probing questions but appears willing to accept both the Stoat's involvement and Michal's fundamental innocence (at least regarding this particular affair).
    "All right, so what do you want, then?" he asks when all is said. "I assure you we made every effort to find those men the other night."
    * * *
    "Who are you," says a voice from the air in their midst, "and what do you seek here?"
    "Ooooohhhhh blast." Emmett whispers to himself before speaking "I am Emmett Half Man, crewman of the ship Distraction, and not of this world. My companions and I were exploring...looking for new trading partners."
    That much was true enough, he thought. See how they respond to it before going into any more detail.
    "You are not *here* looking for trading partners, I think. We see to it that humans do not venture here."
    "Not necessarily - we're willing to trade with almost anyone. Why do you make sure Humans don't venture here?"
    "Their own safety, and ours." The voice speaks with an odd, slightly stilted cadence, as if unused to this language, and there is a timbre to it that Emmett finds distantly familiar. "Now please - explain yourselves. You are, you understand, in some danger," it warns.
    Emmett scratches the top of his head with the blunt part of his hook, looking mildly confused. "Why? If something's about to attack you, we'll help you fend it off, if that's what you're worried about." He glances around, as if looking for threats.
    Of course, he doesn't see anything, though there are some rustles in the bushes. Probably just the wind, though.
    "Otherwise, we're not about to attack you, so you're safe, and if we aren't going to attack then you have no reason to attack us, since your safety isn't threatened. Now, like I said, we're not from this world, and we're on this world looking for civilized peoples to have as reliable trade partners."
    He holds up his hook, "Now, I admit, we thought to come out here because of some murders in the closest human settlement, and some rumors that your folk might have been responsible. The local crime was threatening to disrupt trade negotiations, what with the guards and the calls to arms and suchlike, so we thought we'd look into it the killings to see if we could calm things down and get back to business. That meant coming out to this lovely place, " He waves his hook moderately broadly, but neither so wide nor so fast that it could be construed as an attack on the invisible person, "and coming across your settlement."
    "But, since you only keep humans away for their own safety, I can't think of a reason why you'd travel into their city on festival day to kill some of them. Do you have one, or can we talk about trade?"
    "Tell us about this killing." The voice is now sharp and commanding.
    Tomek speaks up; he seems calm and focused now. "Two days ago four men were tortured to death in my city, cut many times. Some years ago I saw an animal killed the same way, in this area, and the creatures that did it. If you are responsi--"
    "Where is this city?" the voice interrupts.
    "As you must know, it lies near the sea."
    After a brief silence, "Wait." Then further silence, for what seems like a really long time.
    Emmett starts whistling a ditty from the "Wonders of the Northern Woods" traveling show.
    Everyone jumps a little when the voice speaks again. "Come down the hill--towards the dragon. It is quite dead." The voice sounds grimly amused. "And speak if you would more about the murders you say happened--every detail you can."
    "It looked it. I was just thinking, 'wow, that's one dead dragon'." Emmett heads down the hill, indicating with his head that Hiro should take up the rear. "Fortunate for you that we have an expert who examined the bodies with us. Just one of the ways we try to help potential partners."
    "Ah-what? Oh, yes, me! Just let me get my notes out here..." And Alais launches into Amateur Coroner Hour, with all the detail involving the Spectrometer results, placement of wounds and bodies as far he can tell, and then launching into the various verbal appendixes: to wit, why this might have been done, and parallels to various religious and magical practices across the spheres.
    He is in full-on lecture mode and will continue until stopped.
    Emmett gives Alais his head, curious to see how long the locals will let this continue before interrupting. If they haven't said anything after a minute or two of cross sphere magical practices (let them sit through the religious ones) he finally speaks up.
    This is, of course, dependent on whether they tell him to shut up.
    It's hard to tell whether an invisible voice is listening intently or what, but it doesn't seem inclined to interrupt as the group treks down the slope.
    "I suspect this is what you seek," it says as they near the hulking corpse. Around it are scattered smaller bodies; odd little beings, no two exactly alike, fanged mouths gaping and misshapen bodies twisted in their death throes.
    "Yes," Tomek says, staring at them and trying not to choke on the stench. "These look like the... things I saw. What are they?"
    "There is far more to this world than you know, young human. These small ones are kin to yon monster. It was these no doubt that you saw at their sport when you last wandered in our forest. While I see why this event brought them to mind, I think it is unlikely that they did these murders in your city; they do not kill so precisely, or so few when they are on the hunt. The bodies would have borne bites as well as cuts, and perhaps have been eaten. You did not notice any odor? But of course if you had you would have mentioned it," the voice observes dryly.
    By now Emmett is quite certain they're talking to a gnome.
    

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