Ridol peruses the stalls at the fare ground, while chewing on a kebab, only occasionally glancing over to the stage where Songbird once stood preaching obscene, discriminatory half truths about his master some years before. To the left of the stage are the men he is here to spy on. Balric’s wagoneers, here to enjoy their most recent spoils, stand clapping and cheering at the comedy unveiling itself before them. His mind is somewhat distracted for these are the men Tylum had ingratiated himself with and the boy is nowhere to be seen. Regardless he steels his mind with the confidence that Tylum is taking care of himself just fine and that, based on word from men he had met several nights before, he is out of the city on an important errand. This was simply heresay though; had to find out what the real story was soon.
He knows that Tylum had acted as liaison to the necromancer deep within the catacombs of East Freeport, and just recently the necromancer along with his troll enforcers had been killed by Andarious Rosethorne, Sigil of the Backdraft. If the news of him being out of the city is false, he hopes that the young lad had not been caught in the middle of that slaughter, and he feels like a naive fool for knowing he alright. Despite the uncertainty, Kanolth and Andarious are poking their noses where Ridol too is sniffing about and since he discovered Kanolth in Tassel’s Tavern, and Andarious in the dungeons of the necromancer who had for the past few months disposed of the marked slaves that had been moved into Freeport from Kunark and Faydwer, he had noticed a growing feeling of excitement in his stomach over the past two days.
He moves with the crowd, training his eyes on the target while pretending to enjoy himself. Dressed in rich Freeportian finery, he fits in well enough as to not avoid suspicion. The men have no idea he is there. They have no idea he is watching and no matter how many times he has done this kind of work in the past, a smile comes to his lips. If only Tylum were there to complete his success….
“Foolish bra-“ he tries to hiss but his curse is cut short when a dagger pierces through his armor and makes contact with his skin. A nasty sting bursts from that point and he is shocked into quiet terror as he raises both his hands in the air in surrender.
He has been found out! But how? He was so careful! He slowly raises his hands when the dagger urges him forward through the throngs of eager fare goers. He says not a word, but he is surprised when the kebab is ripped from his hand, followed by an eager chomping sound. He is urged toward a vacant table behind a drinking tent. The wall of the grounds is to his right, and the wall of the tent to his left. The area is secluded with few people to witness his death and he waits for it to come. He is forced to sit down and he does so without struggle. And then he turns to see his attacker, and lets out a relieved sigh when he sees the hungry face of an old friend, munching down the last of his kebab.
“Well well,” Ridol laughs and then he brings his voice down to a whisper. “I was wondering when you were going to finally approach me.”
Kanolth, careful to conceal his face with the hood of his cloak, straddles the bench opposite him and wipes his greasy fingers on the front of his tunic.
“Hello Ridol,” he grins as he takes his seat.
A wench comes around to the table from the front of the tent and gives the cloaked and hooded dark elf a curious and fearful glance.
“A pint of your finest,” Kan says to her as he places a platinum piece of her tray, “for my friend and I, and not a word.”
“Y-Yes my lord,” the wide-eyed wench quietly exclaims as she immediately turns to her task.
Ridol watches her leave and then he turns to Kanolth. “You idiot! I am here on important business and you and your friend are making things complicated.”
Kanolth shrugs and then replies in a hushed tone. “We hunt the same men. Besides, it was easy to spot you since your techniques have changed little from the methods I taught you. You quite literally stick out like a pimple on an elf’s arse, so we probably just helped you hurry along to yet another failure.”
Ridol waves the insult away dismissively, and shakes his head. “We mark the same men, except I mean to acquire information as to their business and whereabouts whereas you and Andarious are out burning them to cinders. Not very productive to say the least. For gods’ sakes Kan, you are putting in jeopardy an operation we have had on the go here for six months!”
“And yet, I believe I know more about what’s going on, than you.”
“Doubtful,” Ridol replies as he crosses his arms. He gives the signal that he is waiting for whatever Kanolth is here to tell him.
Kan smiles and he leans back with a sigh. “Tell me,” he says at length. “How fares Tylum?”
Ridol expected this change in topic and he decides to hold his answer while the wench arrives with two tankards filled to the brim. She carefully places them on the table before them and happily scampers off after receiving a silent thanks from the grinning dark elf. Meanwhile Ridol analyzes his friend and his own expression becomes a little grim. Kanolth is not ready to spill the beans just yet. It is plain by how he sits all relaxed and uncaring, despite the betrayal of his true feelings in his eyes. Kan is troubled and Ridol is certain he is about to find out why.
“Tylum is well,” Ridol replies evenly. “A good scout, learning the trade fast enough and proving to be a capable soldier.”
Kan chuckles at the soldier bit, but then he realizes Ridol isn’t joking and his mirth is quickly replaced by sudden aggravation. “Soldier? You’re not telling me he has completed his training already.”
“Not entirely,” Ridol replies while sipping his mead. “As you know he’s my apprentice and he’s currently doing some work for me. So far he has not reported any difficulties with it.”
“Is it dangerous?”
Ridol nods. “It’s undercover work, but he seems to have taken to it. He’s quite deep within the organization we both are spying on. So I would appreciate if you tell your trigger happy brother to be careful next time he encounters some of Balric’s men.”
“You son of a bitch,” Kan whispers shaking his head. “When was the last time you heard from him?”
Ridol thinks for a moment. “Two weeks, give or take.”
“Unbelievable,” Kan says as he shakes his head. “Andarious and I wiped out an entire caravan of Balric’s men not even a week ago.”
Ridol grins. “He wasn’t on that caravan, and nor was he in the sewer after your brother incinerated another batch of them.”
“How can you be so sure?” Kanolth snaps. He then looks about at the concerned onlookers and lowers his voice to a hissing whisper. “Well? How do you know he is alive and well?”
“Because,” Ridol says as he drinks his mead. “He was not among the dead.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Kan says with a promising tone. “You’re crossing a very fine line.”
Ridol is quick to attempt to extinguish the uncertainty. “Don’t worry about it Kan. We’re not foolish enough to push him too hard, and the risk of getting him killed is slim with the work we have him doing, especially since he has been trained to escape at the first sign of trouble. Before long he will contact me again, and all will be well. Besides, a ship left here two weeks ago bound for Butcherblock Mountains, and those men we were playing dice with told me Mutyl was on board.”
“Mutyl,” Kan says narrowing his eyes. He recognized the name, and then he remembers. He was one of the chief contacts in the necromancer’s book. “Tylum was the chief liaison between the necromancer and Balric?”
Ridol grins proudly. “He is that good.”
The dark elf nods, and then he remembers he has a drink in front of him and decides to wash away the dry feeling in his throat along with the fading worry in his gut. “Well if it ever comes to Tylum being in over his head, remember he has powerful friends so don’t hesitate to call on us.”
“And a powerful family as well. It seems that Tylum is quite well situated in life if news of Sigils’s victory over Vishimtar is the least bit true.”
Kanolth shrugs. “I wasn’t there unfortunately. But I suppose Sigils can be classified as a family, if not a close knit group of idealists and the like.” Kan takes another draft from his mug and tries to still his trembling hand.
“Well,” Ridol says. “That and his father’s the High Sigil.”
Kan’s eyes widen as he chokes and spits his mead out all over the uneven table. “Pffffbbbbbbbt!”
He knows that Tylum had acted as liaison to the necromancer deep within the catacombs of East Freeport, and just recently the necromancer along with his troll enforcers had been killed by Andarious Rosethorne, Sigil of the Backdraft. If the news of him being out of the city is false, he hopes that the young lad had not been caught in the middle of that slaughter, and he feels like a naive fool for knowing he alright. Despite the uncertainty, Kanolth and Andarious are poking their noses where Ridol too is sniffing about and since he discovered Kanolth in Tassel’s Tavern, and Andarious in the dungeons of the necromancer who had for the past few months disposed of the marked slaves that had been moved into Freeport from Kunark and Faydwer, he had noticed a growing feeling of excitement in his stomach over the past two days.
He moves with the crowd, training his eyes on the target while pretending to enjoy himself. Dressed in rich Freeportian finery, he fits in well enough as to not avoid suspicion. The men have no idea he is there. They have no idea he is watching and no matter how many times he has done this kind of work in the past, a smile comes to his lips. If only Tylum were there to complete his success….
“Foolish bra-“ he tries to hiss but his curse is cut short when a dagger pierces through his armor and makes contact with his skin. A nasty sting bursts from that point and he is shocked into quiet terror as he raises both his hands in the air in surrender.
He has been found out! But how? He was so careful! He slowly raises his hands when the dagger urges him forward through the throngs of eager fare goers. He says not a word, but he is surprised when the kebab is ripped from his hand, followed by an eager chomping sound. He is urged toward a vacant table behind a drinking tent. The wall of the grounds is to his right, and the wall of the tent to his left. The area is secluded with few people to witness his death and he waits for it to come. He is forced to sit down and he does so without struggle. And then he turns to see his attacker, and lets out a relieved sigh when he sees the hungry face of an old friend, munching down the last of his kebab.
“Well well,” Ridol laughs and then he brings his voice down to a whisper. “I was wondering when you were going to finally approach me.”
Kanolth, careful to conceal his face with the hood of his cloak, straddles the bench opposite him and wipes his greasy fingers on the front of his tunic.
“Hello Ridol,” he grins as he takes his seat.
A wench comes around to the table from the front of the tent and gives the cloaked and hooded dark elf a curious and fearful glance.
“A pint of your finest,” Kan says to her as he places a platinum piece of her tray, “for my friend and I, and not a word.”
“Y-Yes my lord,” the wide-eyed wench quietly exclaims as she immediately turns to her task.
Ridol watches her leave and then he turns to Kanolth. “You idiot! I am here on important business and you and your friend are making things complicated.”
Kanolth shrugs and then replies in a hushed tone. “We hunt the same men. Besides, it was easy to spot you since your techniques have changed little from the methods I taught you. You quite literally stick out like a pimple on an elf’s arse, so we probably just helped you hurry along to yet another failure.”
Ridol waves the insult away dismissively, and shakes his head. “We mark the same men, except I mean to acquire information as to their business and whereabouts whereas you and Andarious are out burning them to cinders. Not very productive to say the least. For gods’ sakes Kan, you are putting in jeopardy an operation we have had on the go here for six months!”
“And yet, I believe I know more about what’s going on, than you.”
“Doubtful,” Ridol replies as he crosses his arms. He gives the signal that he is waiting for whatever Kanolth is here to tell him.
Kan smiles and he leans back with a sigh. “Tell me,” he says at length. “How fares Tylum?”
Ridol expected this change in topic and he decides to hold his answer while the wench arrives with two tankards filled to the brim. She carefully places them on the table before them and happily scampers off after receiving a silent thanks from the grinning dark elf. Meanwhile Ridol analyzes his friend and his own expression becomes a little grim. Kanolth is not ready to spill the beans just yet. It is plain by how he sits all relaxed and uncaring, despite the betrayal of his true feelings in his eyes. Kan is troubled and Ridol is certain he is about to find out why.
“Tylum is well,” Ridol replies evenly. “A good scout, learning the trade fast enough and proving to be a capable soldier.”
Kan chuckles at the soldier bit, but then he realizes Ridol isn’t joking and his mirth is quickly replaced by sudden aggravation. “Soldier? You’re not telling me he has completed his training already.”
“Not entirely,” Ridol replies while sipping his mead. “As you know he’s my apprentice and he’s currently doing some work for me. So far he has not reported any difficulties with it.”
“Is it dangerous?”
Ridol nods. “It’s undercover work, but he seems to have taken to it. He’s quite deep within the organization we both are spying on. So I would appreciate if you tell your trigger happy brother to be careful next time he encounters some of Balric’s men.”
“You son of a bitch,” Kan whispers shaking his head. “When was the last time you heard from him?”
Ridol thinks for a moment. “Two weeks, give or take.”
“Unbelievable,” Kan says as he shakes his head. “Andarious and I wiped out an entire caravan of Balric’s men not even a week ago.”
Ridol grins. “He wasn’t on that caravan, and nor was he in the sewer after your brother incinerated another batch of them.”
“How can you be so sure?” Kanolth snaps. He then looks about at the concerned onlookers and lowers his voice to a hissing whisper. “Well? How do you know he is alive and well?”
“Because,” Ridol says as he drinks his mead. “He was not among the dead.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Kan says with a promising tone. “You’re crossing a very fine line.”
Ridol is quick to attempt to extinguish the uncertainty. “Don’t worry about it Kan. We’re not foolish enough to push him too hard, and the risk of getting him killed is slim with the work we have him doing, especially since he has been trained to escape at the first sign of trouble. Before long he will contact me again, and all will be well. Besides, a ship left here two weeks ago bound for Butcherblock Mountains, and those men we were playing dice with told me Mutyl was on board.”
“Mutyl,” Kan says narrowing his eyes. He recognized the name, and then he remembers. He was one of the chief contacts in the necromancer’s book. “Tylum was the chief liaison between the necromancer and Balric?”
Ridol grins proudly. “He is that good.”
The dark elf nods, and then he remembers he has a drink in front of him and decides to wash away the dry feeling in his throat along with the fading worry in his gut. “Well if it ever comes to Tylum being in over his head, remember he has powerful friends so don’t hesitate to call on us.”
“And a powerful family as well. It seems that Tylum is quite well situated in life if news of Sigils’s victory over Vishimtar is the least bit true.”
Kanolth shrugs. “I wasn’t there unfortunately. But I suppose Sigils can be classified as a family, if not a close knit group of idealists and the like.” Kan takes another draft from his mug and tries to still his trembling hand.
“Well,” Ridol says. “That and his father’s the High Sigil.”
Kan’s eyes widen as he chokes and spits his mead out all over the uneven table. “Pffffbbbbbbbt!”
