How to Make Paella (run of 04-22-03 part 2)
Fang has found something in the backyard which until they claimed the property was a local dump. It’s a filcher, dead about a week, and it’s been skinned. Kel detects poison and determines that the poor creature did indeed ingest a toxic substance. That’s not uncommon. Filchers are considered vermin and are often poisoned to lower their populations. The skinning is alarming. Deke wonders if it was meant to be a message, and he remembers the other dead filcher Fang found. They debate for a long time whether or not they should use the speak with dead candle they have to talk to it, but since the candle has only three black lines drawn around it, they decide not to waste the spell.
Back inside Marja is rummaging around in her stuff and finds a pair of magic gloves they had found in the hag’s cave back when they helped out the enchanted Gorog the Barbarian. They are beautiful ladies gloves in very thin silk. The fingers are open except for a fine ring that fits over the middle finger of each hand. The silk is an eggshell ivory and follows the arm up to the elbow. “I’ve never gotten these identified so I don’t know what they do. I’m afraid to put them on since that awful hag owned them.” “I’m game,” says Kenyan snatching them away. They feel cool and smooth against his tanned forearms. Despite their effeminate look he feels confident and strong wearing them. Deke was about to laugh at him for grabbing “ladies” gloves, but now he decides he won’t. Marja asks to take them for identification tomorrow, but offers to let him borrow them after that. “Wow!” she thinks, “They do work for him.”
There’s a knock on the door. Deke answers it, probably not the best idea. He’s greeted by a liveried young man who displays no surprise at a filcher answering the door. He informs the party that Lord Beltray would be quite pleased to receive them that evening for some light refreshment. Marja insists on washing up and deftly rebraids her long black hair while Lucre does the same for his ruddy beard. Marja insists that Borin sit while she braids his, too. Throughout the top of Marja’s head a few gray hairs have begun to appear. In the bright sunshine they appear almost coppery colored. She hasn’t noticed them because she doesn’t own a mirror. Others have, but no one has dared to say anything to her about them.
At the Beltray manor house they are received with elegant style. Beltray is quite taken with Kenyan and remarks that he looks very like Percy Beltray IV, Geoffrey’s father. Of course, being served tea instead of ale ruffles the dwarves, but no one says anything.
Marja asks Lord Beltray if he can give them a lead on hiring a hafling cook. He says he will ask his cook who might give a recommendation.
In as short a time as possible they tell him their tale and produce for him the mace, books and poison they found in the Calastian camp. Beltray turns a little ashen at the sight of the mace, but is fascinated by the books. He locks them all away in a very solid cabinet. He is mildly concerned that they did not manage to find either of the two remaining doppelgangers, and expresses his disappointment to the party. Lucre points out that after all they’ve done, he could show a little more gratitude.
“You are, of course, correct, and you have my apologies,” he responds. “well, I’ve been lectured on diplomacy by a dwarf. That’s about the most interesting thing that happens to me in a day.”
“Well, you should hang out with us more,” offers Marja.
“Ah, my dear. My constitution wouldn’t fare well, I’m afraid. That’s why I’m an academic and you’re a Vigil.” He mentions another mission if they’re up to it. The Temple of Corean at the edge of the Blood Basin believes that it may have been infiltrated. Some travelers were turned away from the temple and were told it was closed. Other travelers have disappeared. The temple has asked for help and discretion. Marja offers that if discretion is needed perhaps they’re not the cohort he wants. “That’s not the kind of discretion I mean. I mean that no one who might spread nasty news about the temple should remain standing to tell the tale.” “Well,” bellows Borin, “that’s the kind of discretion we’re all about.”
Kel who is from a Temple of Corean declares, “My order’s purpose was to kick evil ass.” That stated, they take the job. They have a week to get started.
In the morning they each head off on separate tasks. Kel and Kenyan head off to talk to Starky, the animal control manager, about dead filchers being found in the city. Borin goes to check in at the Temple of Enkili and deliver the 2,000 gp they’d recovered. Deke is busy with the contractors, and Marja goes to visit the wizard’s shop to order scrolls and have those magic gloves identified.
Starky doesn’t have much to say. People kill filchers like rats. They’re considered vermin. People put poison out all the time. He’s not unhappy about this turn of events. He only wishes people would clean up after themselves so he doesn’t have to do it. He hasn’t come upon any skinned carcasses in town. Kel is disgusted with his attitude. Starky yells after them as they turn to leave, “If you find the guy what’s doin’ it, say thankee from ol’ Starky.” His cruel laughter fades in the distance as they hurry back to the warehouse.
Borin has a long talk with Rossiter at the temple. He’s sorry to see that so much of the money has disappeared, but trusts that Borin will do his best to get it back. As Borin leaves the temple he turns down Market Street and glances at all the merchant carts. He spies one cart of carved figurines. They’re too delicate to interest him much, but he spies a tine black onyx figure at the back of the cart. It’s carved into the shape of the creature they met in the clouds, although it’s not the same color. Marja was very fascinated by that dragon and had had a long conversation with it. He decides to pick up the figurine for her.
“Well, pretty lady,” says the crafty merchant manning the stall. “Does something interest your lovely green eyes?” Borin instinctively reaches for his battle axe thinking this guy is nuts until he remembers his female elven body. Instead he indicates that he would like to buy the little dragon statue. “I have to warn you, Miss, against that statue. It’s been bought several times, but always they brings it back. Bad things happen to those what own it. There’s them what says it talks!” Borin insists that he must have the statue. “Well, alright, but do say I didn’t warn ya. You can bring it back, but you can’t get your money back.”
Borin tucks the silent little figurine into his pocket and heads for the warehouse. It’s late afternoon. He’ll probably be the last one back.
Marja’s errand took her hardly any time. The gloves, it turns out, are called Gloves of the Beloved, (Charisma +2) and have some kind of memory feedback effect. That would explain Beltray thinking Kenyan looked like his father. Marja walks slowly home with the gloves on. They do feel sexy. She receives several cat calls from the dwarves working on the warehouse. “Sigh. I did promise Kenyan could borrow them.” She takes them off and puts them with Kenyans bag and consoles herself that bards are wanderers, not adventurers. He’ll be off on his own soon enough, and when he leaves she’ll be sure she gets them back.
At two o’clock there is a rap at the door. Everyone is home, but Borin. Kenyan opens the door and almost doesn’t see the tiny hafling standing there. A tiny voice pipes up from about his knee. “Hi, I’m Theo Mustardseed.” Theo strides into the foyer looking very plucky. He is only 2’ 10” and looks very young. Turns out he is very young, just 23 years old. He says his Aunt Marjorie sent him over. She works for Lord Beltray. He’s there to apply for the job of cook. Marja has a detailed conversation with him about where he got his skills, what he likes to cook, and most importantly, what kind of ale he will supply. She finishes by saying, “Well, you can’t interview a cook by asking him to describe the quality of his cooking. Are you available to cook for us tonight?” He says he is and wanders off with Deke to inspect the kitchen.
Soon there are roars from angry dwarves followed by the high-pitched response of a tiny hafling cook. “It can’t be done!” a dwarf hollers. “Of course it can be done,” they hear Deke respond, and they hear the tinkling of coins. Evidently it could be done because the dwarves go back to their blueprints and a happy little hafling scampers off to the market place with a basket over his arm. He returns with a man pulling a cart full of pots, pans, knives, and every sundry kitchen device, and a shovel. He goes into the back yard and digs a pit, and then he carefully shovels hot coals from the stove into the pit. He pulls stuff from his basket and slices, tears, grinds, and dumps everything into a large pot. He covers the pot and puts it in the hole on top of the coals and covers the whole thing up with dirt! Even Marja who grew up in her mother’s kitchen in a manor house of Amalthea has never seen such a thing.
Borin returns and calls Marja. “I found something for you,” he says as he pulls the little figurine out of his pocket. “Oh my god!” At first Marja is paralyzed with fear. She backs away from the little dragon who so closely resembles the creature that has been plaguing her nightmares for over 20 years. “I thought you would like it.” Borin seems disappointed. “Oh, it is lovely. How wonderful of you to think of me.” She extends her hand, and it almost seems like the statue hops to her. Once it touches her skin her eyes light up. Borin is gratified by the look on her face. As he turns to walk away he hears her whisper, “But I’m only 35.” “What did you say?” He turns back to Marja. “Didn’t you hear it?” she asks. “It said it’s been waiting for me for many decades.” “I didn’t hear anything.” He answers, but Marja isn’t listening anymore. She’s walking up the stairs to her room talking softly to the little statue.
Theo comes through the house singing a song about supper and ushers everyone to the big table. He pours ale and water all around and heads for the backyard with the shovel. “Well,” says Borin as he hears the story of the buried pot and swigs from his mug, “at least the ale is good.” Theo comes back pulling a wagon. The pot is so heavy he can’t lift it. Lucre and Borin help him hoist it to the table. Theo stands on a chair and pulls the lid off of the pot. Yum! The most delicious smell wafts across the room. Out of the dirty pot comes rice and white fish and hard sausage and tomatoes and so many other delicious things the group loses count. Marja declares him hired on the spot.
Dinner is a joyful event. They laugh and joke. Even Lucre is now laughing at how Borin outshone him in battle. “Any time you want a rematch,” Borin kids. “After supper,” Lucre growls. Their bellies full, everyone jumps up and rushes outside.
The dwarf and the elf/dwarf cousins circle each other in the yard. Lucre isn’t taking this seriously. He swings half-heartedly and misses. Borin swings the flat of his battle axe harder than he means to. Smack! He clips Lucre right in the head. (He rolled a critical and did 46 points of damage.) Lucre flies across the yard and smacks into a tree, unconscious. The group pulls him to his feet. Kalina touches him with a little healing, and Marja hands both warriors pints of ale. “You know,” Deke says, “I’ve got gold in my pocket, a roof over my head, ale in my mug, and two dwarves fighting for my entertainment. Life just doesn’t get any better than this.”
