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Message: <blockquote data-quote="havenstone" data-source="post: 5370202" data-attributes="member: 61094">Among BarbariansATRIX AND DARREN jolt out of an uneasy sleep in their garret in the Sufza qohei.  Though it cannot be long past midnight, the alleys outside echo with low, angry voices and the distinctive clink of Xaimani armor.  The two Northerners reclaim their blades from their bedsides and stand just as Nurak enters the room.  Their roguish friend points wordlessly to the back window.    As they scramble out, they hear an elderly Sufza pipe up loudly from the passage on the other side of the building.  “Your servant does not understand why the legions have come at such an hour to our humble houses.”    “<a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/5301947-post122.html" target="_blank">Archmaster Kesh’ao</a> has determined that this qohei is sheltering renegades against the Order of Heaven,” a flinty voice replies.  “Every house is to be searched.  Stand aside, old man.”    Nurak leads his friends on a silent sprint across the rooftops of the Sufza qohei – and this time, unlike their ill-fated attempt at stealth in Graiqal, none of the three makes a sound to alert the swaming soldiers.  The qohei is ringed by legionnaires and Tziwan city watchmen carrying torches, allowing no one to pass.  After a quick whispered conference, Nurak heads off to trigger a horse stampede in a nearby stable, distracting the sentries while Atrix and Darren vault across the narrow alleyway.  Shaken by their narrow escape, the Northerners head south toward the Chramic qohei.  The silence behind them is broken by faint screams, and a reddish light tints the rooftops, too early for dawn.    The next day, a tearful, soot-streaked Nurak finds them at the docks.  “The most cruel Kesh’ao has destroyed the Sufza qohei.  When the searching soldiers were unable to locate your selves, he was calling down a storm of magefire to drive every person out of their homes.  One hundred of my unfortunate cousins are being questioned by the legions, and our horses have been taken.  Every building is burned to the ground, and the winter rains are coming.”    “Nurak – I am so sorry,” Atrix says, appalled.  “We brought this down on you.  We should have headed North as soon as we escaped.”    The mournful rogue shakes his head.  “This Sufza and his cousin gave you sanctuary – it was not your doing.  We could not have been doing otherwise for old friends.  And while there is still hope of redeeming our captive comrades, we should not leave this city.  To steal them away as well will be our best revenge on the callous Kesh’ao.”    “We’ll take more revenge than that, Ii willing,” Darren promises.  “Atrix and I will never forget what this madman has done – any more than we’ll forget what you’ve done to help us.  For now: can we stay anywhere without him finding us?”    Nurak wipes his eyes, and his voice steadies.  “We Sufza have acquired some familiarity with the scrying skills of Southern sorcerers.  The Archmaster plainly does not have enough knowledge of you to be perceiving your location with certainty.  If you remain in a populous place which he cannot seal off or burn down – such as the docks – it is unlikely that his hunting will result in your capture, even if he is able once again to be sensing the vicinity of your trail.”    THE FUGITIVES ACCORDINGLY hire a room at a dockside inn with more of Nurak’s money, and spend a week developing their fake identities.  Darren is reasonably fluent in Chramic, which he picked up in Rim Square with <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4323468-post3.html" target="_blank">Nina and her uncle</a>.  They decide to act as young traders on their first trip to Xaiman, from the merchant clan Atlaisan, an obscure family which (according to Nurak) is mostly based in the North.  Carefully, they begin to befriend the Chramic sailors who frequent the inn.  Between Nurak’s knowledge, Darren’s quick wits, and Atrix’s charisma, they cover their ignorance and don’t make any major mistakes that would raise suspicions.    As days pass, they relax slightly; it seems likely that Archmaster Kesh’ao really has lost them.  One evening Nurak enters their room, looking flustered, and places a bag of gold coins on the table.  “Most considerate of companions, as it seems possible for you to remain here unknown and unbothered for a short time, I hope you will understand if your humble friend needs to leave Tziwan.  There is... Sufza business that requires this one’s presence, and not in this place.  This meager purse should provide for your needs.  We will hopefully be meeting again in a month and finding the opportunity to rescue our remaining friends.”  He will say no more about his errand, and despite their curiosity, Atrix and Darren accept that they’ll have to manage without their friend for a while.    To further deter scrying, at Nurak’s suggestion, they spend most of their days walking through crowded, unremarkable places in the docks and markets of outer Tziwan.  Atrix visits a swordsmith from the archipelago of Niyon and commissions two expensive masterwork swords to replace the one Shect broke.  He’s unsure whether Nurak’s largesse will ever cover the full cost of the blades, but with typical optimism Atrix assumes that by the time the swords are forged, he’ll be able to afford them.    IN THE EVENINGS, they spend most of their time with their newfound Chramic friends – though in mixed-ethnic groups as often as possible, as an excuse to speak in Xaimani.  Darren gets to fully indulge his <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4422228-post31.html" target="_blank">fascination with ships and shipbuilding</a>, as the Chramics are the best ocean-going sailors in North or South, with the possible exception of the fine-featured Niyonari (from the mountain archipelago of Niyon, east of Tziwan).  A friendly sea-trader named Seraband invites them out to the House of the Yellow Rose, a dockside institution where all the best sailors and shipwrights from all the Southern nations meet to trade stories and drink.      “You must meet this one fellow before someone else catches his ear,” Seraband says enthusiastically.  He guides them over to a table occupied by a slender, middle-aged Szianar with a grey-flecked beard and deep-set, mournful eyes.  The man glances up politely from the toddler playing at his side.  “This is the man who knows about everything.  Every rumor in the Empire comes to him sooner or later – usually sooner – and he lives well off them.  Chingan Dai: these two are Clan Atlaisan merchant-prentices, on their first visit to the South.”    “Welcome to the Heart of the World, lads,” Chingan Dai says in Xaimani-accented Chramic.  “You chose rightly: this is the place to make your fortune.”    “Thank you,” Darren responds with a bow.  “It is an honor to meet one so knowledgeable.”    “Please, sit and share your stories with me – and excuse my daughter Tiya.  Since her mother died, she has had to accompany me on my rounds of the city more often.”      Atrix starts playing with the cheery toddler, while Darren leans across the table, switching to Xaimani.  “So: what does a Chramic trader most need to know in Tziwan these days?”    “Your race has been better loved than they are today,” the gloomy-eyed Szianar replies drily.  “Many in Xaiman are still outraged by the revelation that the <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4766587-post76.html" target="_blank">Chramics have known for generations</a> about the Pale Folk kingdoms in the North – and have used that knowledge to their great profit.  I have heard priests, mages, and nobles arguing that when the next Legions march north, they should pass through your errant protectorate and bring Chraman and its traffickers directly under the Imperial yoke.”    “And when might those Legions be marching?” Darren asks, not having to feign his surprise and anxiety.    “Don’t fear – it won’t be soon.  It’s clear now that the Pale Folk are no military threat, and extending Imperial authority across the vastness of Arawai is no simple matter.  The Emperor’s ministers are cautious men, and none wish to propose a major new conquest without years of gathering intelligence.  They will be seeking that knowledge from you Chramics – along with a greater share of the wealth from the Northern trade – but they are not fools enough to think they’d get it better by making war on you.  The recent expedition to defend the Arawai border has strained the Imperial coffers enough.  The Northern slaves brought back are only a token recompense, bringing the Legions less gold than honor.”    “Even after a few of those slaves escaped from the palace?” Atrix asks idly.  Darren kicks him under the table.    “You’d be well advised not to joke about that around a Xaimani,” says Chingan Dai, smiling for the first time.  “That escape is considered the greatest insult to the Emperor since the entire province of Theilash rebelled seventy years ago.”    “Ah – well, I’ll steer clear of the subject, then,” says Atrix, overpoweringly smug.</blockquote>

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