A bard in time saves...

[Lanya Caliope]

Lanya couldn't help but feel her interest perk up at the mention of a potential story. She glanced at the guard in the childish hope that he would begin reciting the story immediately. But Metarie continued on to describe the salve itself.

The bard listened with active interest, memorizing the ingredients Metarie listed out of pure curiosity. She'd always regretted not learning any further healing craft. When Metarie suddenly stopped, she nearly asked her to continue, if only to have the entire recipe and description. Instead, she realized with a start that Hapnir had finished. She eyed the bandage itself with a critical but uneducated eye, and decided that he must have done a good enough job if Metarie had made no comment. She decided to speak, and hopefully distract the elf from her pain for a moment.

"I would like to learn healing, Metarie. Of course without magic itself - but if you wouldn't mind, I would like for you to teach me some of the craft."

[City Guard]

When Metarie recited details of her salve, it was all elven to Hapnir. He didn't know the first thing about weird herbs and plants, and his lack of interest or comprehension showed on his face.

Perhaps you will tell it to us sometime?

Hapnir responded to the suggestion, and Lanya's sudden interest, with a doubtful smile. It hardly seemed like a time to start recounting his life's story, what with Idonir ready to wake up any minute and Camulous on his way over. Not to mention whoever Idonir was here to protect them from. This was a detail Hapnir still didn't fully understand. It was more important than his heritage, and small talk could wait.

"Maybe we can talk about healing classes later. I don't know how long it will be before Lurus can get the captain's attention about this. Who was Idonir here to deal with and should we be doing something about that?"

His job was, presently, to take care of Lanya and Metarie until he was relieved, not to snoop into this secret business they were involved in, but the question of what the potential threats to their situation were started to nag at him.

[Metarie]

The tincture of pain reliever had begun to work. Relief washed through her. She had not been aware of how tensely she had been holding herself until it was no longer necessary. She was still in pain, but the sharp cutting feeling had changed to a dull cutting feeling. She had had her moments of inaction, but there was no room for further dawdling. Putting a hand against her side, Metarie used Hapnir's shoulder as brace as she stood up.

"I would love to teach the herbs to you Lanya," Metarie smiled at the woman. "I am sure you would be excellent at it." In the process, Metarie thought, she could also teach Lanya to read.

Metarie turned to look thoughtfully at Hapnir. She nodded. "Aye, I agree. For now, we should secure Idonir. He has stirred a few times and may wake. I suspect he will be groggy only momentarily. Then, soon enough, he will turn as ornery as hornets whose nest as been disturbed. I have bow string in the chest, there, it is flexible but does not break easily." Metarie indicated a chest on the opposite side of the fireplace. Metarie looked at Lanya as she said this. "As for the other, that is Lanya's decision whether to speak on it or no', though I would suggest the telling of it." Another thought occurred to Metarie then.

"And, if I may have my bow and arrow, I will happily keep a watch on him until we have secured him." Metarie looked back and forth between Hapnir and Lanya and waited for what would come next.

[Lanya Caliope]

Her eyes darkened and she couldn't help but feel chastised by Hapnir's statement. Silent again, she crossed her arms lightly over her chest, filing away the other guard's name. Lurus. She owed him a drink if he could get the captain to return.

She smiled hesitantly at Metarie as the elf stated she would teach her some healing arts. She didn't truly know if she would have an actual chance to learn anything at all. She didn't plan to continue this charade much longer, but just in case...just in case, it couldn't hurt to have something to look forward to.

Metarie's prompt appealed to the storyteller in her, though she took a moment to take a closer scope of the guard she'd brought along. The man had already earned at least some consideration, and she decided on an edited version of the story.

"There is an assassin within the city who wishes to kill me. Now employed by the city as a mage."

She did not waffle or indicate that the second statement was anything beyond wholly true. She was certain of it.

"I was placed under arrest and given a trial under false charges. I was released, and the captain brought me here into Metarie's care, for protection."

[Camulous Smithson]

I have bow string in the chest, there, it is flexible but does not break easily."

Hapnir cleared his throat at Metarie's suggestion and glanced briefly to the side before making eye contact with her again. His frank expression, with his lips pulled back on one side of his mouth, suggested that he didn't think her idea was the greatest.

"I can't tie him up. He needs a chance to explain himself first. It wouldn't go over well..."

For all of Idonir's faults, he was still a guardsman and Hapnir could not get past that on the word of a woman he didn't know.

He continued to watch Metarie, as if seeking forgiveness for his inability to fully trust her, while Lanya explained their situation. The explanation barely phased him at all. It was as if Lanya was just explaining to him that it might rain because clouds were forming outside, or that they were having porridge for supper. None of her accusations bothered him and he didn't care who the new mage was.

"I see."

That was it. He saw. He didn't have anything else to add. Perhaps he didn't really believe her.

There was not much time to question him about it, as Camulous stepped in through the open front door. His pistol was drawn, but he was in the process of putting it away when he stepped in, having heard their voices from outside.

"You left the door open, Hapnir." His tone was light enough to suggest jest, but still carried enough weight for Hapnir to pick up on and immediately realize his mistake. Camulous corrected it by nudging it closed with his foot.

[Metarie]

Metarie nodded her head, respecting Hapnir's position. Hearing the sound of footsteps made her jerk her head and wince at the same time. Lifting a hand to her side, she raised her eyebrows as Camulous made a jest.

The Captain had arrived.

"Did you make any progress?"

[Lanya Caliope]

Lanya watched the captain step inside and nudge the door closed with the same placid expression she'd worn the entire time. But her mind immediately flared into an uproar at his arrival. She found herself torn between hoping he wouldn't be angry with Metarie for drugging Idonir, hoping he wouldn't be angry with her for fetching him and two other guards away from their work, and wondering if there was any news. She decided that the news would need to come first - but not before he was allowed to take stock of the situation. She debated remaining quiet...but decided to speak instead, at least alert him of her desire to speak.

"Captain, when you have a moment, could you speak with me?"

[Camulous Smithson]

"Sir." Hapnir jerked up from his chair out of respect. Even when being lightly scolded, he was glad to have the assurance of another guardsman in the room. "Yes, sir."

Deep purple grooves underscored the captain's eyes. His hair was a mess of wavy golden locks and the attractive five o'clock shadow around his jaw was quickly turning into a much less attractive set of whiskers. Something in his eyes fought back, refusing to acknowledge the sorry state of his body. Metarie was obviously bandaged up and in some pain, but she asked him an important question before he could ask what the hell was going on. When he spoke, it was with as much certainty and conviction as ever.

"I've been pulling all the strings I can. Enough people know about Lanya's situation now that it would be more trouble than it's worth to have her killed." His eyes glanced between Metarie and Lanya as he said this. "Moryldar doesn't hang on to power by pursuing a lost cause. The assassin isn't a battlemage, and I have reliable sources telling me he fled town after Vincas started talking about putting Moryldar himself on trial for misinterpreting the tomes."

A fair amount of disdain for such legalese bled through his voice. He continued, "I think the offer between him and Moryldar went sour and he fled fearing a reprisal. Probably the smartest thing he's done..."

Camulous noticed Idonir's feet sticking out from the corner of his eye, and stepped further into the library to get a better look at what was there. He didn't see any blood, but he could not tell if Idonir was dead or alive from where he was. A quick glance back at Hapnir and Lanya reassured him that he had to be alive, or they would not be nearly as calm as they were. Hap gave him a helpless shrug, but a nearly tangible cloud suddenly formed around the captain. He had it in him to look mean, and mean he looked just then.

"I ought to leave him for the judges."

Captain, when you have a moment, could you speak with me?

"Hapnir, wake him up. I'm not carrying that." He said after nodding at Lanya. He motioned for her to join him in the kitchen.

Hapnir waited until Camulous' back was turned to roll his eyes in exasperation.

[Metarie]

Metarie's eyebrows rose as she looked over Camulous. Personal discomfort was forgotten as the healer in her studied the shape the man was in. Concern filled her gaze.

"I ought to leave him for the judges."

If she had any worries about how Camulous would view her treatment of his guardsman, Metarie thought that comment should ease them. Metarie missed Hapnir's look. Her gaze followed Camulous as he moved to speak to Lanya.

Metarie looked back to Hapnir. "You could try splashing cold water on his face. He is already stirring. It may work."

[Lanya Caliope]

She followed Camulous quickly, not eager to waste time. She only had one question for him. If he had any questions about the scene before him, Metarie would be the better person to ask. Lanya had left and did not know how to report in an official manner besides.

She stood uncertainly for a moment, arms still crossed over her chest as she considered her wording. She wanted honesty from him, and although he seemed the honest sort, he was still a soldier and a man. She did not want him to look at her, a common woman, and believe her unable to face whatever truth he might have to give her. She already had a thick layer of suspicion and worry as to the answer to her question, but she retained hope before despair. Her face and jaw were set and firm as she finally met the captain's eyes.

"The man who was with me - Lucian. Have you heard anything of him?"

[Camulous Smithson]

Hapnir looked at Metarie, then at the kitchen, where both the water and Camulous's private conversation were being kept, and gave a careless shrug. He crouched down beside Idonir, in about the same place he was before, and rolled the unconscious man onto his back. The mere act of rolling him got another groan out, and Hapnir started patting the man's cheek. "Hey. Idonir. Wake up... Hey."

Idonir took a sudden deep breath and was quick to emerge from the coma. His eyes snapped open and he started to sit up, but only made it a few inches before dropping back with another groan. His eyes rolled about while his brain effectively reset itself. It would be a minute before he remembered where he was.

* * *

Camulous entered the kitchen before Lanya and walked to the sink. Unlike her, he suddenly appeared to be in anything but a hurry to acknowledge her situation, and instead he spent some time rubbing his tired eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand before turning his renewed attention to her. It was a momentary lapse of the machine-like demeanor he upheld with such extreme discipline.

The way she was looking at him, he knew what she was going to ask before the words came out. Just because Lanya was the one he had brought out of the woods that day didn't mean that he was blind to Lucian's situation. Ryxa was a cruel witch who had obviously taken a keen interest in hunting that young man.

"He was guilty of the things you were not. They claim he used magic against Ryxa in the woods, and we all saw what happened at your trial." His eyes didn't leave hers as he spoke. The impending news came with years of practice informing the wives of dead husbands. "They executed him for it."

It was only a half truth. In fact, Camulous knew only that Lucian had been found guilty for the gravest crime there was in Marn, and that he was scheduled for execution. The fact that the captain was keeping the full truth from her was entirely hidden behind what appeared to be genuine sympathy.

[Metarie]

Hapnir gave her a look and a shrug, as if to say, “well, if YOU want to…” which meant he was not going to go into the kitchen or the bathroom to fetch water. Private conversations be damned. The man would need at least a drink of water to clear his head. Setting her face into a stubborn mask, Metarie moved into the kitchen and reached – left handed- to retrieve a glass, fill it, and return to Hapnir. All was done while Camulous rubbed his eyes. Metarie resisted the urge to stop beside him and offer comfort. This was not the time. Besides, he would never accept it from her anyway not now and probably not ever.

Metarie walked back to Hapnir. In context, it was not that large of a distance, the area was one large open room. Idonir had fallen in front of the fireplace. Metarie studiously chose to ignore the two speaking but with keen, elvish hearing, hearing the words was inevitable.

"He was guilty of the things you were not. They claim he used magic against Ryxa in the woods, and we all saw what happened at your trial." Metarie knew what was coming next. She had had to deliver similar speeches in her line of work: “Your husband has passed away. I am so sorry. If it helps, he did not experience any pain,” she would have to say to those whose lives could not be saved; to those who had lost too much blood before she was able to treat them or had allowed an illness to carry on too long before seeking treatment. Metarie was a healer and would put her life in jeopardy to save those brought under her care, but she was no miracle worker. Perhaps in another hundred years she could aspire to save more lives on the brink of death, but now every attempt brought her a little closer to it.

“Here.” Metarie grimanced as she leaned over to put the glass on the fireplace hearth. “He will need it.” Even now, she acted the healer to a man who had a decided intent on harming her. Metarie slowly straightened upright. Wrapping her arms around herself,she closed her eyes and waited for the rest of Camulous’ speech.

"They executed him for it."

A frown curved her mouth and she shook her head in negation, fists clenching. The place was so corrupt, yet most thought nothing of it! If Ryxa were involved, then certainly the accusation was lie. That woman had no soul!

When she opened her eyes, there were tears in them. Another life lost to ignorance! Some days she wanted to rage and tear down the whole city. Other times, she wanted to find whoever had thought that creating a place like this was the right thing to do. A fervent whisper, murmur, said to herself escaped her, "Something should be done about this!"

But what could be done when everyone was so staid and content? Could she really be the only one who felt this way?

[Lanya Caliope]

She didn't argue or demand further information or even demand that it not be true. She only felt a sudden sense of cold water being poured along her spine, spreading out to her extremities like a chilled fire. The opposite of healing magics.

She mused that with the news of Wolfhound, it had been roaring behind her ears. A sudden wash of pain and headache that had given her a moment's serenity - enough for her to realize the deal that the old man had struck with the assassin.

This time, though, it was a buzzing noise, and odd fizzy feeling that crept along her spine behind the cold and spread to all four limbs. The sound settled behind her eyes and the sensation made her limbs tingle. She realized with sudden clarity that her eyes had begun to well with tears.

She blinked them back with practiced ease, automatic and mechanical in the motions. Her mind centered on two thoughts that kept her face as serene as before, jaw clenched to the point of pain. The first, that no matter what she felt, she would only feel worse through crying. Especially in front of this man who neither knew nor personally cared about her.

The second had brought the buzzing with it, and it was a dull whisper that lingered just beyond her ears, as though someone had just leaned over and spoken into each ear simultaneously.

How many more must die for you to live, the voice whispered to her, and within the sudden silence in her mind, she had no choice but to listen.

Metarie? This guard? The captain? Or some other man you hardly know a day. How many deaths until you're satisfied? How many until it's enough?

She turned her gaze to Idonir now, as he began to sit up and then collapse back to the floor. Two guardsman and Metarie stood within the room; Metarie would be able to tell what had happened with Idonir, and he would give his version as well. She had no further purpose here.

Her voice emerged with a crack, a sign of the tears she was forcing back through sheer force of will. The tone was flat.

"I am going to go lie down."

She became aware that Flame had alighted on her shoulder, though she did not know when he had. He was nuzzling and preening her ear in an attempt to distract her. She glanced at the captain, wondering if he recognized the little bird, and decided it didn't matter. She turned and made for the bedroom, praying furiously that she would not be stopped before she could lock herself inside the room and give in to the sorrow pressing down on her at all sides.

[Alibi of Tyrants]

Everett noticeably shuddered when he took that first sip of towel--- whew! The ends of each and every single nerve bundled within his body became lit up by the sharp, contrasting taste of strong alcohol and the most potent caffeine this side of Pal Tahrenor. He smacked his lips together and shook his head, tossing his dark hair around on his skull. That was some good shit.

His client looked at him and had an expression that read, like an open book: Just what in the hell are you drinking, anyway?

"Oop," Everett began, apologetically. He let out a stiff chuckle and an even stiffer smile. "Strong stuff, this coffee. So, your husband is a philandering booze hound and he ran off a couple weeks ago without prior notice." Everett drummed the fingers on his prosthetic hand upon his coffee mug, making sharp "tingtingting" noises as he did so. The detective was careful when he did this---he learned a long time ago that it was hard to physically limit extant strength when you didn't have the capacity to measure it by feeling. His nubile days wielding his prosthetic arm were rife with things breaking, ranging from things as mundane as this coffee mug to things as fancy and complex as human shoulders that were on the receiving end of a hearty shoulder-clap of friendship (his friends weren't exactly happy about the latter).

Plain Jane---or Geri---nodded. Her sparkling eyes kept watching the source of the seemingly endless "tinging" noise that Everett was making, which was his prosthetic hand. He could tell that she wasn't annoyed by the rapid noise that he was making; she was just intrigued by his arm. The gumshoe saw this and noted his gratefulness towards whatever gods may be out there that some of the strongest metals on the face of Pal were dull and burmished. Humans were already fascinated by it for its uniqueness; he'd hate to see the reaction that animals like crows would have if it was bright and shiny (chromed-out). He didn't know why he noted this now, but...

"Yes," she replied. She sat up a little straighter. "That's correct." Apparently, one of Geri's virtues wasn't patience---especially for redundancy. She did, however, lean on the edge of her seat in hope---usually that was a sign that answers were forthcoming, right? Thinking out loud?

"Okay. Let's come up with a list of "whys" he would leave," Everett said, looking thoughtful. He took a sip of his liquor-and-coffee mix. No shudder this time. "There aren't that many benefits conferred to being married that he doesn't already lord over you. Let's face it, hun: Guys have infinitely more power than the ladies in this. Property, finances, polygamous attitudes---" Everett got a scowl when he mentioned all of that---"You name it, they got it. We males---we're the alpha and the omega."

The gumshoe leaned back into the furry turd, resting his coffee mug against his chest. "One of the few rights that a woman has in a marriage is to request an annulment for marriage---provided that there is enough evidence of the husband's inadequacies and that he signs the proper papers in agreement," Everett continues. "Your husband's a clever little shit, from what it sounds like. By staying married to you, he has you in a choke hold."

The gumshoe took another sip of his drink, head rocking back and forth to the beat of a drum that he could only hear. Ah, he knew what was gonna come next---tears, acknowledgments that he was being unsympathetic, et cetera. Oh, and maybe some sob stories would be thrown his way.

Geraldine acted predictably---two little teardrops gingerly trickled out of her eyes and down her face. Bingo. "My house has been sold!" she cried. "I am all but homeless, living in a shoddy apartment!" She gritted her teeth. "I did not come here to hear all of the things that I already know! I came here seeking your aid!" Patience didn't seem to be one of her virtues indeed. She must've been through hell this whole time. However, Geraldine wasn't thinking.

And that was the heart of the debacle. Everett stopped rocking his head. A lopsided grin appeared and he pointed at her with his fleshy hand. "Okay, I want you to think about what you just told me. Think about it for a second."

She looked confused and disoriented by his statement---she didn't expect him to throw that her way. Plain Geri glared at him indignantly. "I have thought about it, damn your eyes! And he is nowhere to be found in this gods-forsaken city! I need you to find him so I can end it! I don't care if you travel to the ends of the earth! I'll cover your expenses! Just...find him!"

In response, Everett gave her a disgruntled look. "What? Look, hun, you're paying me to do the thinking for you. The least you could do is take a minute and think for yourself here. Gods, I won't even charge you for it." He sighed, especially when Geraldine stood up as quick as a bolt and turned around to head out the door. "Do you think that he honestly left the city?"

She stopped, sniffled, and turned around---all in one fluid motion. Tear streaks ran down the crevices of her frowning-dimples. She nodded a little bit. "Yes. He couldn't be here."

Everett laughed. Gods, he laughed so hard that he nearly spilled his drink all over the front of him. "Oh, gods, you couldn't get me to set foot out of the city even if were collapsing in on a fault-line!" he cried. He calmed down a bit and continued. "And I doubt your husband would, either."

She blinked and looked at him, puzzled.

"The set up is too convenient, Geri. Didn't you listen? He has complete and utter control of your cash-flow by marriage." Everett stated, simply. "Do you keep putting your money in the bank to collect interest?"

She nodded.

"Have you checked the balance lately?"

Her eyes widened in mute horror. "Now that I think about it, the last time I checked it I had much less than what I had originally thought. I always thought it was because of gross miscalculation and the paying of debt. The bank does take money from your savings to help pay for any outstanding payments that need to be made."

"Nope," Everett replied. "Wrong. He's legally extorting money from you and he can do it, too, all because of intrinsic male rights in marriage. That means your savings...? It's drinking money for him."

Her face darkened. Ah, angry. One of the last stages of grief. "That bastard!"

Everett smiled at her reaction. "Yup."

"So, he's definitely in Marn somewhere?"

"Oh, yeah," the gumshoe said, drawling somewhat. "In fact, this is pretty much an open and shut case." Everett stood up from the couch and then drained the rest of towel, which was pretty much cooled from his explaining. He smacked his lips loudly and looked at her.

Geri mouthed the word "how" before Everett cut her off. "Just follow me, darlin'."

Mug in hand, Everett walked around the middle of the room and to the door. He headed out and went to a door that was right across the hall from him. Humming quietly, the gumshoe reached up and rapped his knuckles against the door-frame. Everett should've done this a lot sooner and have been done with it, but he had to get the facts straight before he went about doing this. Again, there could've been a thousand guys in the city with his name.

The door opened. A dark-haired, buxom beauty that Everett had so fondly wished for at his place stood in the doorway, scantily clad with only a towel and her long hair.

"Hey there," Everett greeted, flashing her one of his most award-winning smiles. "Is, uh...Mr. Crowley around?" He held the mug up at her and waved it about somewhat. "Wanted to know if I could get some sugar from him. I'm fresh out."

Oh, did Everett wish he had eyes in the back of his head right at that moment in time. The expression on good ol' Geraldine's face must have been priceless. The dark-haired and almost naked beauty nodded a little bit and vanished from the door, leaving it half open. Moments later, a pot-bellied man with light blone hair and a scruffy beard emerged. He was half-dressed, showing off a physique that definitely wasn't going to make Everett change his mind about his own sexual orientation any time soon.

"You needed somethin'?" the guy said, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

Everett stepped aside and looked back to Geri. Where her face was a sloppy connect-the-dot job with a paintbrush before, it was now a flush and thoroughly painted crimson. Her eyes were narrowed into murderous slits and her fists were clenched so tightly that they were as white as snowballs.

"YOU BASTARD!" she snarled and did a flying leap at him.

Needless to say, the rest was history.

[Camulous Smithson]

Lanya had some strength in her. Or, at least, that's how Camulous understood her relatively stoic reaction to the news. He wasn't sure what to expect from her when he gave her the news, but something along the lines of yelling and blaming him would not have been completely out of place. Instead she held back her tears and excused herself, likely to go cry alone and with some dignity. That was something he understood perfectly well, an understanding that displayed itself with a subtle nod of his head accompanied by silence.

The bird on her shoulder barely garnered a second look from the captain. He was extremely tired and distracted by all that was going on, including Lanya's emotional situation, to devote his attention to the strange bird that uncharacteristically perched on her shoulder. A devoted pet, or at least a strong affinity to animals, was not uncommon... Even if it was a robin.

It was not obvious from Camulous' demeanor whether he accepted or rejected the circumstances surrounding Lucian's death.


Back with Metarie and Idonir, Hapnir could not make out the words of the conversation between Camulous and Lanya. He shrugged at the water and didn't believe Idonir deserved that kind of attention from Metarie. What did she think Idonir was going to do if she hadn't managed to sedate him? Certainly not give her a glass of water.

He looked at the water, then at Metarie, and then went back to helping Idonir try to sit up. The whole time Hapnir remained obviously ready for Idonir to strike out at him. He held himself in a position that would let him get his arms up should Idonir try to throw a punch or do worse.

Idonir started rubbing his neck and regained his awareness. He didn't strike out at Hapnir, but rather muttered quietly in confusion. "The fuck..."

Something should be done about this!

Both of them looked at Metarie then, and Idonir's eyes squinted in recollection. Hapnir caught the glance, and put himself in between them while interjecting. "Forget it. Get up, we have to go."