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Message: <blockquote data-quote="drnuncheon" data-source="post: 610718" data-attributes="member: 96">Interlude: FreeportThe artist looked nervously around him.  He was surrounded by pools of light from the many lanterns he'd brought.  Somehow, they did little to dispel the darkness in the house.Oh, he'd tried to work during the day, but the movers and the renovators and the painters were constantly in the way. One careless swipe with a rolled-up tapestry had ruined an hour of work.  He'd have preferred to wait until they were all done, but Roth was insisting on his deadline.  So here he was, alone, in the haunted house of Verlaine."I should be working in daylight," he grumbled.  "It makes the hallway look completely different."  He closed his eyes, tried to picture the hallway with the afternoon light streaming in through the front door, supplemented by candles...He heard a noise.  A scratching sound, and then a creak.Seizing up a lantern, clutching his palette knife, he whirled, playing the light up and down the hallway.  Nothing.  It was nothing.But if it's nothing, he thought to himself, why does it bother you so much?  He eyed the door to the wine cellar - it stood slightly ajar.  Was that where it had been?"Probably just rats," he said, and the sound of his own voice startled him.  "Definitely rats."  But his thoughts were troubled as he picked up the brush.It had sounded like a footstep.<img src="http://www.io.com/~jeffj/b2sep.gif" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" />The small knot of wizards gathered in the tower chamber.  Collected here were the flower of Freeport's arcanists: the most powerful and skilled that the city had to offer.  Perhaps an unlikely assortment, if one expected all wizards to be clad in robes, with long, flowing beards and wooden staves: in fact, only the High Wizard himself met such a description.  He stood at the center of the chamber before the pedestal, arranging the golden mirror upon it.Around him was arrayed the rest of the circle: Andolyn, her round face still flushed from the exertion of climbing the stairs.  Tiera Dela, the recluse whose mastery of the arcane arts surpassed even High Wizard Tarmon's. The gnome Glunnyn Mernig, standing on a crate to bring him to eye level with the rest of the wizards, whose expertise in divination more than allowed him entrance into such august company.  And of course the reason for the circle: Eleanor.Arrayed around the mirror were items: a lock of hair, a pair of boots, a battered Watch medallion, a spellbook.Tarmon raised his staff.  "It is prepared," he said, and the other participants moved slowly forward, each to take an item:  Glunnyn clambered down from his crate to seize the badge.  Tiera held the lock of hair, pursing her lips as she studied it.  Andolyn reached for the boots. "I remember, he was wearing these when he came to my house.  You can still see the stains from the tomato sauce," she said.Tarmon lay his free hand on the book.  "Then we will-"The door crashed open, and without looking Tarmon roared, "Glenfield! We were not to be dist-""Quiet, you young fool," wheezed a voice between deep breaths.  "I was scrying when you were still struggling with your cantrips.  And don't think I've forgotten about that incident with the mage hand and the cook's apprentice.""High Wizard Emeritus Volund," Glenfield announced weakly."Father, you shouldn't have climbed up all this way - your heart," Eleanor protested.The ancient wizard, ashen-faced, leaned heavily on the gnomish apprentice and leveled his staff at the assembly. "Nobody's going to keep me from looking for my grandson.  Step aside, Tarmon." As the High Wizard did so, Volund took a few hesitant steps, as if judging his strength, then lowered his eyes for a long, silent moment. "Eleanor.  You're closer to him by blood than I am.  You lead the circle."  His gnarled hands gripped his staff tightly as he inched forward the rest of the way.With a worried glance at her father, Eleanor stepped forward. The other wizards arranged themselves, and the ritual began.<img src="http://www.io.com/~jeffj/b2sep.gif" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" /> This is undoubtedly the most foolish thing I have ever done, thought the artist as he crept forward.  The stair creaked under his weight, making him freeze in shock, and nearly drop the sword he'd found mounted on the wall upstairs. Better not drop it, he thought.  It looked expensive.His palm was slick on the gold-wire-wrapped hilt as he shifted it nervously.  Not that I know how to use it.  Hopefully just the threat of it will be enough... He sucked absently on the finger he had cut when testing the blade's edge.  Why is it still bleeding?The racks of wine cast strange jagged shadows around the room in the lantern light.  All from the mainland, of course - the soil of A'val was not conducive to the grape - of kinds and vintages he'd never seen before.He eased along the racks, lantern held high, sword low.  It doesn't look like there's anybody down here.  It must have been rats.  That's funny... He paused.  From here, the shadows make it look like there's a door over on the other side. He crept forward. Wait...it is a door...A hand fell upon his shoulder, and he screamed.<img src="http://www.io.com/~jeffj/b2sep.gif" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" />"...it's no good."  The young elf let the mirror drop to the desk with a snarl.  "I can see nothing, and with this lock of her hair it should be easy," he complained.  "Somebody must be blocking the spell somehow.""I see."  Tensin's words were even, measured.  "Thank you once again for your time, Alust."Alust flushed, as he finally remembered who he was speaking to.  "I will do my best to find out how to counter such a magic." He bowed, stiffly, and at Tensin's nod exited the room."I do not trust him," said Kennic, arms folded. "He is too close with your other daughter.  He could just be saying he can't see her...""Alust merely confirms what other wizards have told me, Kennic: my daughter is somehow beyond the reach of scrying spells - even from the most powerful wizards in Freeport."  Tensin reached into his desk and began to extract set after set of the slim, leaf-shaped blades he favored, arranging them neatly before him on the desk.  "There is only one place I know of that would block such magic so thoroughly.  I carried her out once and I will do so again.""What if she's not there?" The loyal retainer rose to his feet, staring at the other elf.Tensin's lips pressed together in a thin line, with the barest hint of a smile creasing them.  "I brought myself out as well, Kennic.""And what of the organization?  Tensin, these people depend on you...""If my daughter is indeed where I believe, then the organization has failed."<img src="http://www.io.com/~jeffj/b2sep.gif" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" />Spruce stood nervously in front of Captain Donnach, with Katya by his side.  The red-haired priestess nodded to him, and the clerk began to speak."Sir, after checking over the port records of departures, based on the underground passage we've found, we think we've discovered what ship they were on.  It's the Fortune's Folly, bound for the Caliphates."Donnach's brow creased.  "The Caliphates?"Spruce nodded.  "There's more. The passage has been there a while, so we checked on missing persons reports back several years. If I'm right, they've been operating a slave ring in Freeport for over a decade.""Slaves?" Donnach slammed his fist into the table. "All the gods damn it to the bottom of Hell!  There's not that many laws in Freeport, you'd think it'd be easy not to break them!""I've got a feeling it's bigger than Freeport, sir," Katya interjected.  "Even if half of the people they took went unreported, there's no way they could be turning a profit on voyages to the Caliphate.  They must be picking up a few people here and there, to avoid notice where it's illegal...and picking up a few extra coins for 'disposing' of unwanted people.""Unwanted people?  So you think Dru and Di'Fier were deliberately targeted?""We do, sir.  I think otherwise the slavers would have run when the fight got too hot for them." "They've certainly made enemies," Donnach admitted.  "But do you have any leads on who?""No sir," said Spruce. "But we did have this report."  He set it down on the desk, and Donnach perused it.The Captain frowned.  "This is in the Merchant's District - nowhere near the docks.  Missing artist, working on a mural? How does this fit in?  Are you sure he didn't just make off with the silver?""Not a robbery, sir - nothing was missing.  And...look at the address.""100 Wave Street.  Wait...Verlaine's house?"Spruce nodded.  "I checked with Reed at the hall of records, and he said it had been bought recently.""By none other than Torsten Roth," Katya added.  "But Roth doesn't have the title.  In fact, it took a lot of digging to find out who did - it's almost as if someone wanted to bury it.""So who owns it?"Spruce looked at Katya, then back at the Captain.  "Drusilia Naïlo."</blockquote>

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