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<blockquote data-quote="Delemental" data-source="post: 3262498" data-attributes="member: 5203">RootsAnother bit of fiction to tide you over until our regularly scheduled campaign resumes.----------------------&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara stood in the dusty street of the town, dried mud caked on her bare feet up to her knees, and balanced a well-worn fiddle on her shoulder.&nbsp; The instrument was built for someone larger than she was, but she managed it well enough.&nbsp; After a few moments, she began to play.&nbsp; It was a lively tune, but one meant for someone with bigger fingers and a stronger bow arm, and so there was the occasional jarring stop or sour note that stabbed into the melody like a rusty dagger.&nbsp; But the little pink-haired girl obviously had talent beyond her few short years, a fact that was recognized by a few of the passers-by with the clink of copper coins falling into the dented tin cup she’d borrowed from her father.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; They’d been in the fishing village for about two weeks now, having come in with one of the wandering hin clans they’d been traveling with.&nbsp; Lanara had expected they would leave with the clan as well, but when it came time for the hin to start hitching their mounts to the wagons, the clan leader had told her that her father had decided to stay.&nbsp; Why he’d wanted to stay here, he never told her – but he never did anyway.&nbsp; She simply accepted it, said goodbye to her friends in the clan, and then went with Daddy to find a place to live.&nbsp; They’d been making ends meet ever since – Daddy with his tinker’s cart, and she got a few extra coins playing near the markets.&nbsp; Not in the markets, no; she’d learned on her first day that the market’s regular performers were very territorial, even toward an eight-year-old girl.&nbsp; Because of this, she only ended up playing for an hour or two a day, during the peak market times; it simply wasn’t worth the effort otherwise.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara continued to play, keeping one ear out for the sound of coins falling into her cup.&nbsp; Mostly what she was listening for was the sound of someone trying to take the cup itself; it had happened once before, and she was determined not to let it happen again.&nbsp; She would also listen for the telltale sound of objects other than coins; when the worthless objects began to outnumber the coins, she knew it was time to pack up and leave.&nbsp; Her ear was sharp enough that she’d started to be able to tell exactly what was being thrown into her cup just by the sound; in the past she’d found rocks, bits of scrap metal, bones, even a bloody mouse head once.&nbsp; Which is why when the cup made an unfamiliar rattle, it surprised the young cansin enough that she stopped playing.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara quickly looked around to see who had made the mysterious offering.&nbsp; She caught a quick glimpse of a human male dressed in well-oiled leather armor, a sword swinging at his hip.&nbsp; The man was tucking away a coin purse, even as his companion, an orc female in glittering chain mail and carrying a large spear, chided him.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “… such a softie, Shilsen…”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The pair went around a corner and out of sight, but even a quick glance told Lanara all she needed to know.&nbsp; Adventurers.&nbsp; Her heart pounding, Lanara knelt down and looked inside her cup.&nbsp; Her eyes went wide, and she immediately snatched up her cup, grabbed her fiddle, and dashed down the road a way to a small alleyway.&nbsp; Sitting in the dirt, she looked around to make sure no one was around, and then slowly reached into the cup with trembling fingers and pulled out a coin.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; It was badly clipped, and so worn that the markings were practically invisible, but it shone with a luster that copper could not match.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara’s mind raced with possibilities.&nbsp; She could buy some good food; meat that didn’t have to be rubbed down with spices to mask the smell, or potatoes with no black spots.&nbsp; She could buy a new bow and strings for her fiddle.&nbsp; She could have the wobbly wheel on Daddy’s tinker cart fixed.&nbsp; She could buy a goat so they could have fresh milk whenever they wanted.&nbsp; She could buy new clothes.&nbsp; She could…&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Suddenly, she knew what she wanted.&nbsp; She packed away her belongings into her make shift rucksack quickly, pocketing the two copper coins that were also in her cup but maintaining a tight grip on the gold.&nbsp; She walked back out into the street and made her way into the market.&nbsp; Weaving her way through the crowds, she came up to a ramshackle building on the far side of the square, one of the few permanent shops in the market.&nbsp; Inside it was clean, but dark, and unusually quiet.&nbsp; A gnomish man with gray hair and spectacles sat behind a large, imposing counter.&nbsp; He peered down at her over the top of his spectacles.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “What do you want, girl?” he grumbled.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “I need a moneychanger,” she said, trying to put on a brave face.&nbsp; She’d heard rumors that old Boggardin took in valuables that some of the local town boys ‘found’, but his reputation as a curmudgeon was much better known.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “What for?&nbsp; Coins don’t get no lower than a copper, you know.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “I want to change in this,” she said, slapping the gold coin down on the counter, rather louder than she’d intended.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; There was a long silence as Boggardin glared at the coin on his counter, looking at it exactly as someone might look at a pile of cat droppings.&nbsp; Finally, he picked it up.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Where’d you get this, girl?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; A flurry of stories came to mind, but she decided honesty would work best.&nbsp; “I was performing just outside the market,” she held open her rucksack to show Boggardin the neck of her fiddle, “and someone gave it to me.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Folks round here don’t carry gold, girl.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “They weren’t from around here.&nbsp; They were adventurers.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Really?&nbsp; What did these ‘adventurers’ look like?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “One was a man in leather armor with a sword, human, dark hair.&nbsp; The other was an orc woman with a spear and chain armor.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Boggardin glared down at Lanara, rubbing his chin.&nbsp; Then he looked at the coin again, and bit down on it.&nbsp; “It’s been clipped damn near to nothing,” he said, “and Krûsh be damned if I can make out a stamp.&nbsp; I’ll give you the value of the metal, not a copper more.&nbsp; Six silvers.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara nodded eagerly.&nbsp; She knew it was probably worth more, but she sensed Boggardin was being nice even bargaining with her at all, and she didn’t think that an eight-year-old girl would be able to easily out-haggle a gnomish moneylender.&nbsp; Besides, the exchange was necessary; like he’d said, no one in this town carried gold.&nbsp; She couldn’t very well go to the local shops with that kind of money – people would think she’d stolen it for sure.&nbsp; They would still raise their eyebrows at silver, but it was easier to explain away.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Boggardin unlocked a strongbox and pushed six silver coins toward Lanara.&nbsp; She scooped them up and tucked them away in her tunic.&nbsp; Then she left the shop and made her way to one of the many carts lining the town square.&nbsp; A kind-faced elf-touched woman sat at the cart, her weathered hands cutting leather.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “What can I do for you, child?” she asked.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “I need to buy a pair of shoes for my father,” Lanara said.&nbsp; “Some good boots.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The woman looked Lanara over.&nbsp; “Who’s your father, dear?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Helmut.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Helmut the tinker?&nbsp; Yes, I’ve seen him selling his trade here.&nbsp; He could use a pair of boots.”&nbsp; The woman set down her work.&nbsp; “But boots are expensive, my dear.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “I’ve been saving up,” Lanara said.&nbsp; “How much?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Seven silver, dear.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara’s face fell.&nbsp; “I… I don’t have that much.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The cobbler looked at the crestfallen cansin for a while.&nbsp; Then, with a sigh, she said, “you know, dear, you’re supposed to haggle.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Haggle?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Yes dear, it’s what you do at a market.&nbsp; I try to sell my goods for as much as I can, and you try to buy them for as little as possible.&nbsp; We sort of… meet in the middle.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Oh,” she said, “Daddy usually buys everything.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Well, then, what you should say when I tell you the boots are seven silver is that you couldn’t possibly pay that much of your hard-earned coin for an ordinary pair of boots, and you won’t give me a copper over… four?”&nbsp; Lanara nodded at the cobbler’s inquisitive look, “four silvers.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “I couldn’t possibly pay that much of my hard-earned coin for an ordinary pair of boots,” Lanara parroted, “I won’t give you a copper over four silver.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “And now I say, “Dear girl!&nbsp; These are the finest boots in the land!&nbsp; It would pain me to sell for less than six.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Please!” Lanara said, getting the hang of it, “for that much I’d be better off buying my own cow and making my own boots!&nbsp; Five silver.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Very good, child!” the cobbler beamed.&nbsp; “Ahem, I mean, oh, dear, you pain me so.&nbsp; But I suppose I can agree to five.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara handed over the coins as the cobbler produced a pair of large, sturdy boots, weaving the straps together so that they could be carried easily.&nbsp; As she handed them to Lanara, she glanced down at the girl’s grubby toes.&nbsp; “A pair for yourself as well, dear?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “No, thank you,” she said, turning red.&nbsp; “I haven’t got enough money for that, even with haggling.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Well, perhaps another day, then, child,” the cobbler said.&nbsp; “You know where to find me.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara walked away with the boots, smiling so widely she thought her cheeks would split open.&nbsp; She wandered around the market, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells before returning home with her gift.&nbsp; But then her eye caught a flash of light, and she stopped, mesmerized.&nbsp; She stood in front of a cart where various items of jewelry were sold.&nbsp; Light reflected off of gold and jewels, sparkling in the sun.&nbsp; A sudden, wild idea sprang into Lanara’s mind.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; She walked up to the cart, ignoring the stares of the large man with the cudgel who had obviously been hired to ward off thieves.&nbsp; The merchant, a thin-nosed human with a widow’s peak, looked down at her through his nose.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “I want to buy something,” she said.&nbsp; “A gift.&nbsp; I don’t have a lot of money.”&nbsp; Lanara held out her last silver coin in her palm.&nbsp; All thoughts of haggling were gone.&nbsp; She knew in her mind that this was foolish, that she should use the last silver for food, that she didn’t even know who her mother was.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The merchant looked at the coin, and then suddenly broke into a crooked grin.&nbsp; “It’s not much, true, but enough for this.” He produced a thin necklace from a pocket.&nbsp; The chain was hung with colored glass and polished shells; to Lanara, in that moment, it looked priceless.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara nodded, the exchange was made, and soon Lanara was dashing home, a prize in each hand, eagerly thinking of how she would retell the day’s events to Daddy when he returned home.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; And then I bought these boots for you, Daddy, so you can work without your feet hurting and bleeding like they always do!&nbsp; And I also got this necklace, I know I shouldn’t have, but I thought that one day you could give it to…&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Lanara!”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; She turned, startled, at the sound of her own name.&nbsp; Running up toward her came her father, Helmut, his tinker’s cart and tools nowhere in sight.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Thank Feesha I’ve found you!&nbsp; Come with me, quickly!”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Helmut turned and began to run the other way, barely glancing over his shoulder to see if she was coming.&nbsp; Lanara took off after him immediately, the heavy boots slung over her shoulder bouncing into her back as she ran.&nbsp; She was barely able to keep up, maneuvering quickly past people and carts as they made their way through town.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Daddy, wait!” she shouted.&nbsp; “Where are we going?&nbsp; Why are we running?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “I’ll explain later!” he shouted back.&nbsp; “No time now!&nbsp; Hurry, my little gem!&nbsp; To the docks!”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara grinned despite being almost out of breath.&nbsp; She loved the docks, and all the ships moored there, from the tiny rowboats to the schooners that occasionally stopped to take on supplies.&nbsp; She often came down and played on the boats, pretending she was a pirate captain or a gnomish admiral.&nbsp; She even had the chance to go out on one of the fishing trawlers once, and was paid four coppers to help the cook on board.&nbsp; She hadn’t stopped talking about it for days.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The sharp tang of sea air hit Lanara in the face as they emerged from the town’s streets and came to the bay.&nbsp; Gulls wheeled and screeched overhead amidst she sounds of creaking ropes and lapping waves, and the aroma of salt and fish lay heavy in the wind.&nbsp; Lanara continued to follow her father, who was almost running by now, down one of the wooden piers lining the shore.&nbsp; At the far end, she saw a man sitting in a small, single-mast boat waving to them.&nbsp; Helmut half-stepped, half-jumped into the boat, nearly capsizing it.&nbsp; As they two men regained their balance, Lanara saw her father hand the man a large bag of coins – more than she’d ever seen in her life! – and point out across the bay.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Helmut then turned and held out his arms.&nbsp; “Jump in, my little gem!” he said.&nbsp; “We must go quickly, but now the wind will carry us instead of our feet!”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara leapt into his arms and was placed on a cruse seat set on the bow of the ship.&nbsp; “Where are we going, Daddy?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “To meet someone very special, my little gem,” was all he said.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The boat was soon underway, and they began maneuvering past the other ships in the bay.&nbsp; Lanara couldn’t see past the ships, but she could tell they were heading for the open ocean.&nbsp; She had a moment of worry; the seas were rough past the bay, and this ship was small and overloaded already.&nbsp; She set her father’s new boots down on the floor of the boat and put her feet into them to make sure they didn’t get knocked overboard.&nbsp; Her father hardly seemed to notice; he was looking out across the water, searching eagerly.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Finally, they steered past the last of the large fishing barges, and got a clear view of the open ocean.&nbsp; A large galleon was anchored just outside the bay, easily the largest ship Lanara had ever seen.&nbsp; She could see that the anchors were being drawn up, and white sails were being unfurled from the vessel’s three masts.&nbsp; Helmut pointed at the galleon and shouted, and in response the captain tightened some ropes and turned the tiller.&nbsp; The wind began to whistle through Lanara’s pink hair as their tiny ship picked up speed.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Slowly, they drew closer to the large ship, for by now it was obvious that the galleon was their destination.&nbsp; As they neared the end of the bay, everyone on the small craft grew deathly quiet.&nbsp; Lanara searched for some small clue for why her Daddy would be so keen to catch up to this ship.&nbsp; She couldn’t make out the ship’s name, and was far too young and inexperienced in such matters to know anything about the ship’s origins from its design or the way the sails were set.&nbsp; But at the moment when the galleon’s sails finally caught the wind, and it became obvious that they would never reach it in time, a woman stepped up to the railing at the stern.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; They were still too far away to make out details.&nbsp; The woman seemed tall, but it might have only been because she was so high above them, and stood out so brightly against the drab wood of the galleon.&nbsp; She wore a long blue dress, but her arms were bare.&nbsp; She looked out across the bay toward shore, not looking for anything in particular, just… looking.&nbsp; She had long red hair that waved in the wind… no, that was not right.&nbsp; Her hair was red, but not any shade of red Lanara had ever seen on a living creature.&nbsp; Not the red of the freckle-faced son of the miller, not the red of the pigtails of the little hin girl that used to follow Lanara everywhere when they were with the clan.&nbsp; This was the red of summer cherries, of precious rubies, of blood and roses and the setting sun.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; As the galleon began to pull away and the woman at the stern grew smaller, Lanara became vaguely aware of her father shouting and crying.&nbsp; The sound of her Daddy sobbing jolted her, and she spasmed as though she’d been jabbed with a sharp stick.&nbsp; She felt something slip out of her grasp and heard something small hit the water.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; She turned and leaned over the side and looked into the clear waters of the bay, just in time to see the necklace she’d bought slowly descending through the water.&nbsp; It was already too far down to reach, and Lanara was not a strong swimmer, especially in the rougher waters near the mouth of the bay.&nbsp; She watched as the thin chain floated downward, the colored glass catching a last glint of sunlight.&nbsp; Then a dark shadow passed over it – a fish, perhaps – and it was gone.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; By the time Lanara looked up again, her father had fallen silent, and was sitting in the boat, hunched over, his eyes closed.&nbsp; She had never seen him without a smile on his face.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Daddy?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; It took a long time for him to respond.&nbsp; “Where did you get those boots, Lanara?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “I bought them for you, Daddy.&nbsp; A man in the market gave me money for my music to pay for them.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Helmut looked at the boots.&nbsp; No, he looked through the boots, through the wooden hull of the ship, down through the water, staring at… nothing.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “That was very foolish,” he said.&nbsp; “You have better things to spend your money on.”*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; *&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; *&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lanara leaned over the railing of the ship, looking back at the receding shore.&nbsp; Not far from where they had boarded rowboats that brought them out to the anchored ship, she saw a ramshackle hut on the beach, most likely the home of one of the local oyster divers.&nbsp; She saw two children running around on the sand outside the house.&nbsp; The children were too scruffy looking to easily tell if they were boys or girls, but she could faintly hear the echo of their laughter across the waves.&nbsp; Suddenly they turned and ran to their house, where their parents emerged from the doorway and met them with open arms.&nbsp; After scooping up a child apiece, they all went inside.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; She turned quickly and walked back toward the stairs leading into the ship’s interior.&nbsp; “I’ll be in my cabin,” she snapped at one of the mates nearby.&nbsp; “Nobody bother me until it’s time to get off this damn heap.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; After she stalked away, the mate turned to Kyle.&nbsp; “Have we done something wrong, Captain?”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “No, don’t worry about it,” Kyle said.&nbsp; “She just doesn’t like boats.”</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Delemental, post: 3262498, member: 5203"] [b]Roots[/b] Another bit of fiction to tide you over until our regularly scheduled campaign resumes. ---------------------- Lanara stood in the dusty street of the town, dried mud caked on her bare feet up to her knees, and balanced a well-worn fiddle on her shoulder. The instrument was built for someone larger than she was, but she managed it well enough. After a few moments, she began to play. It was a lively tune, but one meant for someone with bigger fingers and a stronger bow arm, and so there was the occasional jarring stop or sour note that stabbed into the melody like a rusty dagger. But the little pink-haired girl obviously had talent beyond her few short years, a fact that was recognized by a few of the passers-by with the clink of copper coins falling into the dented tin cup she’d borrowed from her father. They’d been in the fishing village for about two weeks now, having come in with one of the wandering hin clans they’d been traveling with. Lanara had expected they would leave with the clan as well, but when it came time for the hin to start hitching their mounts to the wagons, the clan leader had told her that her father had decided to stay. Why he’d wanted to stay here, he never told her – but he never did anyway. She simply accepted it, said goodbye to her friends in the clan, and then went with Daddy to find a place to live. They’d been making ends meet ever since – Daddy with his tinker’s cart, and she got a few extra coins playing near the markets. Not in the markets, no; she’d learned on her first day that the market’s regular performers were very territorial, even toward an eight-year-old girl. Because of this, she only ended up playing for an hour or two a day, during the peak market times; it simply wasn’t worth the effort otherwise. Lanara continued to play, keeping one ear out for the sound of coins falling into her cup. Mostly what she was listening for was the sound of someone trying to take the cup itself; it had happened once before, and she was determined not to let it happen again. She would also listen for the telltale sound of objects other than coins; when the worthless objects began to outnumber the coins, she knew it was time to pack up and leave. Her ear was sharp enough that she’d started to be able to tell exactly what was being thrown into her cup just by the sound; in the past she’d found rocks, bits of scrap metal, bones, even a bloody mouse head once. Which is why when the cup made an unfamiliar rattle, it surprised the young cansin enough that she stopped playing. Lanara quickly looked around to see who had made the mysterious offering. She caught a quick glimpse of a human male dressed in well-oiled leather armor, a sword swinging at his hip. The man was tucking away a coin purse, even as his companion, an orc female in glittering chain mail and carrying a large spear, chided him. “… such a softie, Shilsen…” The pair went around a corner and out of sight, but even a quick glance told Lanara all she needed to know. [I]Adventurers[/I]. Her heart pounding, Lanara knelt down and looked inside her cup. Her eyes went wide, and she immediately snatched up her cup, grabbed her fiddle, and dashed down the road a way to a small alleyway. Sitting in the dirt, she looked around to make sure no one was around, and then slowly reached into the cup with trembling fingers and pulled out a coin. It was badly clipped, and so worn that the markings were practically invisible, but it shone with a luster that copper could not match. Lanara’s mind raced with possibilities. She could buy some good food; meat that didn’t have to be rubbed down with spices to mask the smell, or potatoes with no black spots. She could buy a new bow and strings for her fiddle. She could have the wobbly wheel on Daddy’s tinker cart fixed. She could buy a goat so they could have fresh milk whenever they wanted. She could buy new clothes. She could… Suddenly, she knew what she wanted. She packed away her belongings into her make shift rucksack quickly, pocketing the two copper coins that were also in her cup but maintaining a tight grip on the gold. She walked back out into the street and made her way into the market. Weaving her way through the crowds, she came up to a ramshackle building on the far side of the square, one of the few permanent shops in the market. Inside it was clean, but dark, and unusually quiet. A gnomish man with gray hair and spectacles sat behind a large, imposing counter. He peered down at her over the top of his spectacles. “What do you want, girl?” he grumbled. “I need a moneychanger,” she said, trying to put on a brave face. She’d heard rumors that old Boggardin took in valuables that some of the local town boys ‘found’, but his reputation as a curmudgeon was much better known. “What for? Coins don’t get no lower than a copper, you know.” “I want to change in this,” she said, slapping the gold coin down on the counter, rather louder than she’d intended. There was a long silence as Boggardin glared at the coin on his counter, looking at it exactly as someone might look at a pile of cat droppings. Finally, he picked it up. “Where’d you get this, girl?” A flurry of stories came to mind, but she decided honesty would work best. “I was performing just outside the market,” she held open her rucksack to show Boggardin the neck of her fiddle, “and someone gave it to me.” “Folks round here don’t carry gold, girl.” “They weren’t from around here. They were adventurers.” “Really? What did these ‘adventurers’ look like?” “One was a man in leather armor with a sword, human, dark hair. The other was an orc woman with a spear and chain armor.” Boggardin glared down at Lanara, rubbing his chin. Then he looked at the coin again, and bit down on it. “It’s been clipped damn near to nothing,” he said, “and Krûsh be damned if I can make out a stamp. I’ll give you the value of the metal, not a copper more. Six silvers.” Lanara nodded eagerly. She knew it was probably worth more, but she sensed Boggardin was being nice even bargaining with her at all, and she didn’t think that an eight-year-old girl would be able to easily out-haggle a gnomish moneylender. Besides, the exchange was necessary; like he’d said, no one in this town carried gold. She couldn’t very well go to the local shops with that kind of money – people would think she’d stolen it for sure. They would still raise their eyebrows at silver, but it was easier to explain away. Boggardin unlocked a strongbox and pushed six silver coins toward Lanara. She scooped them up and tucked them away in her tunic. Then she left the shop and made her way to one of the many carts lining the town square. A kind-faced elf-touched woman sat at the cart, her weathered hands cutting leather. “What can I do for you, child?” she asked. “I need to buy a pair of shoes for my father,” Lanara said. “Some good boots.” The woman looked Lanara over. “Who’s your father, dear?” “Helmut.” “Helmut the tinker? Yes, I’ve seen him selling his trade here. He could use a pair of boots.” The woman set down her work. “But boots are expensive, my dear.” “I’ve been saving up,” Lanara said. “How much?” “Seven silver, dear.” Lanara’s face fell. “I… I don’t have that much.” The cobbler looked at the crestfallen cansin for a while. Then, with a sigh, she said, “you know, dear, you’re supposed to haggle.” “Haggle?” “Yes dear, it’s what you do at a market. I try to sell my goods for as much as I can, and you try to buy them for as little as possible. We sort of… meet in the middle.” “Oh,” she said, “Daddy usually buys everything.” “Well, then, what you should say when I tell you the boots are seven silver is that you couldn’t possibly pay that much of your hard-earned coin for an ordinary pair of boots, and you won’t give me a copper over… four?” Lanara nodded at the cobbler’s inquisitive look, “four silvers.” “I couldn’t possibly pay that much of my hard-earned coin for an ordinary pair of boots,” Lanara parroted, “I won’t give you a copper over four silver.” “And now I say, “Dear girl! These are the finest boots in the land! It would pain me to sell for less than six.” “Please!” Lanara said, getting the hang of it, “for that much I’d be better off buying my own cow and making my own boots! Five silver.” “Very good, child!” the cobbler beamed. “Ahem, I mean, oh, dear, you pain me so. But I suppose I can agree to five.” Lanara handed over the coins as the cobbler produced a pair of large, sturdy boots, weaving the straps together so that they could be carried easily. As she handed them to Lanara, she glanced down at the girl’s grubby toes. “A pair for yourself as well, dear?” “No, thank you,” she said, turning red. “I haven’t got enough money for that, even with haggling.” “Well, perhaps another day, then, child,” the cobbler said. “You know where to find me.” Lanara walked away with the boots, smiling so widely she thought her cheeks would split open. She wandered around the market, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells before returning home with her gift. But then her eye caught a flash of light, and she stopped, mesmerized. She stood in front of a cart where various items of jewelry were sold. Light reflected off of gold and jewels, sparkling in the sun. A sudden, wild idea sprang into Lanara’s mind. She walked up to the cart, ignoring the stares of the large man with the cudgel who had obviously been hired to ward off thieves. The merchant, a thin-nosed human with a widow’s peak, looked down at her through his nose. “I want to buy something,” she said. “A gift. I don’t have a lot of money.” Lanara held out her last silver coin in her palm. All thoughts of haggling were gone. She knew in her mind that this was foolish, that she should use the last silver for food, that she didn’t even know who her mother was. The merchant looked at the coin, and then suddenly broke into a crooked grin. “It’s not much, true, but enough for this.” He produced a thin necklace from a pocket. The chain was hung with colored glass and polished shells; to Lanara, in that moment, it looked priceless. Lanara nodded, the exchange was made, and soon Lanara was dashing home, a prize in each hand, eagerly thinking of how she would retell the day’s events to Daddy when he returned home. [I] And then I bought these boots for you, Daddy, so you can work without your feet hurting and bleeding like they always do! And I also got this necklace, I know I shouldn’t have, but I thought that one day you could give it to…[/I] “Lanara!” She turned, startled, at the sound of her own name. Running up toward her came her father, Helmut, his tinker’s cart and tools nowhere in sight. “Thank Feesha I’ve found you! Come with me, quickly!” Helmut turned and began to run the other way, barely glancing over his shoulder to see if she was coming. Lanara took off after him immediately, the heavy boots slung over her shoulder bouncing into her back as she ran. She was barely able to keep up, maneuvering quickly past people and carts as they made their way through town. “Daddy, wait!” she shouted. “Where are we going? Why are we running?” “I’ll explain later!” he shouted back. “No time now! Hurry, my little gem! To the docks!” Lanara grinned despite being almost out of breath. She loved the docks, and all the ships moored there, from the tiny rowboats to the schooners that occasionally stopped to take on supplies. She often came down and played on the boats, pretending she was a pirate captain or a gnomish admiral. She even had the chance to go out on one of the fishing trawlers once, and was paid four coppers to help the cook on board. She hadn’t stopped talking about it for days. The sharp tang of sea air hit Lanara in the face as they emerged from the town’s streets and came to the bay. Gulls wheeled and screeched overhead amidst she sounds of creaking ropes and lapping waves, and the aroma of salt and fish lay heavy in the wind. Lanara continued to follow her father, who was almost running by now, down one of the wooden piers lining the shore. At the far end, she saw a man sitting in a small, single-mast boat waving to them. Helmut half-stepped, half-jumped into the boat, nearly capsizing it. As they two men regained their balance, Lanara saw her father hand the man a large bag of coins – more than she’d ever seen in her life! – and point out across the bay. Helmut then turned and held out his arms. “Jump in, my little gem!” he said. “We must go quickly, but now the wind will carry us instead of our feet!” Lanara leapt into his arms and was placed on a cruse seat set on the bow of the ship. “Where are we going, Daddy?” “To meet someone very special, my little gem,” was all he said. The boat was soon underway, and they began maneuvering past the other ships in the bay. Lanara couldn’t see past the ships, but she could tell they were heading for the open ocean. She had a moment of worry; the seas were rough past the bay, and this ship was small and overloaded already. She set her father’s new boots down on the floor of the boat and put her feet into them to make sure they didn’t get knocked overboard. Her father hardly seemed to notice; he was looking out across the water, searching eagerly. Finally, they steered past the last of the large fishing barges, and got a clear view of the open ocean. A large galleon was anchored just outside the bay, easily the largest ship Lanara had ever seen. She could see that the anchors were being drawn up, and white sails were being unfurled from the vessel’s three masts. Helmut pointed at the galleon and shouted, and in response the captain tightened some ropes and turned the tiller. The wind began to whistle through Lanara’s pink hair as their tiny ship picked up speed. Slowly, they drew closer to the large ship, for by now it was obvious that the galleon was their destination. As they neared the end of the bay, everyone on the small craft grew deathly quiet. Lanara searched for some small clue for why her Daddy would be so keen to catch up to this ship. She couldn’t make out the ship’s name, and was far too young and inexperienced in such matters to know anything about the ship’s origins from its design or the way the sails were set. But at the moment when the galleon’s sails finally caught the wind, and it became obvious that they would never reach it in time, a woman stepped up to the railing at the stern. They were still too far away to make out details. The woman seemed tall, but it might have only been because she was so high above them, and stood out so brightly against the drab wood of the galleon. She wore a long blue dress, but her arms were bare. She looked out across the bay toward shore, not looking for anything in particular, just… looking. She had long red hair that waved in the wind… no, that was not right. Her hair was red, but not any shade of red Lanara had ever seen on a living creature. Not the red of the freckle-faced son of the miller, not the red of the pigtails of the little hin girl that used to follow Lanara everywhere when they were with the clan. This was the red of summer cherries, of precious rubies, of blood and roses and the setting sun. As the galleon began to pull away and the woman at the stern grew smaller, Lanara became vaguely aware of her father shouting and crying. The sound of her Daddy sobbing jolted her, and she spasmed as though she’d been jabbed with a sharp stick. She felt something slip out of her grasp and heard something small hit the water. She turned and leaned over the side and looked into the clear waters of the bay, just in time to see the necklace she’d bought slowly descending through the water. It was already too far down to reach, and Lanara was not a strong swimmer, especially in the rougher waters near the mouth of the bay. She watched as the thin chain floated downward, the colored glass catching a last glint of sunlight. Then a dark shadow passed over it – a fish, perhaps – and it was gone. By the time Lanara looked up again, her father had fallen silent, and was sitting in the boat, hunched over, his eyes closed. She had never seen him without a smile on his face. “Daddy?” It took a long time for him to respond. “Where did you get those boots, Lanara?” “I bought them for you, Daddy. A man in the market gave me money for my music to pay for them.” Helmut looked at the boots. No, he looked [I]through [/I]the boots, through the wooden hull of the ship, down through the water, staring at… nothing. “That was very foolish,” he said. “You have better things to spend your money on.” [CENTER]* * *[/CENTER] Lanara leaned over the railing of the ship, looking back at the receding shore. Not far from where they had boarded rowboats that brought them out to the anchored ship, she saw a ramshackle hut on the beach, most likely the home of one of the local oyster divers. She saw two children running around on the sand outside the house. The children were too scruffy looking to easily tell if they were boys or girls, but she could faintly hear the echo of their laughter across the waves. Suddenly they turned and ran to their house, where their parents emerged from the doorway and met them with open arms. After scooping up a child apiece, they all went inside. She turned quickly and walked back toward the stairs leading into the ship’s interior. “I’ll be in my cabin,” she snapped at one of the mates nearby. “Nobody bother me until it’s time to get off this damn heap.” After she stalked away, the mate turned to Kyle. “Have we done something wrong, Captain?” “No, don’t worry about it,” Kyle said. “She just doesn’t like boats.” [/QUOTE]

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