Chapter 3

The River Inn was an impressive sight, especially as it lay nestled amidst the sprawl of lesser buildings, many little more than leaning shanties. A three story structure of stone, mortared brick and stout timber beams, it loomed over its neighbors, clear lights shining from first floor windows, summoning up a feeling of welcome and safety. Given its location and appearance, it suggested high quality at a reasonable price, and I could well understand Drask's recommendation.

I was welcomed by an obsequious little halfing girl, the copper torc that served as collar presumably indicating her status as a slave, and was soon directed to a small chamber off the expansive and well maintained common room, a portion of which looked to serve as a curtained off dining space.

It was intimately small, with a luxurious carpeted floor, a round wooden table that showed signs of long and extensive use, laden with the remains of a feast, and padded chairs enough for as many as fourteen people. I'd not expected everyone to be present, but was nonetheless surprised to meet only the sorceress, the dancer and the thief.

"Well met, ladies!" I announced myself, and their excited chatter halted momentarily as they turned to stare at me with rounded eyes.

"Farouq?" the scarlet haired efrit looked me up and down.

"Is that really you?" the blond half-elf gazed with rapt eyes, blushing slightly when she met my eyes.

"Do you have a log in your pants, or are you just that happy to see us?" the elven girl commented sarcastically, but she seemed as riveted as the others, staring down specifically at my crotch.

I adjusted my erection unselfconsciously, but there was little I could do to truly hide it. With my libido rampant, and the fires of the mutagen running through my veins, the women looked lovelier than ever. I'd hoped to spend the night with the Calistrian priestess, almost certainly a practiced temple whore, but those hopes were now dashed.

"Indeed," I effected a gracious smile with a modicum of effort, "it is I. This is what I look like when I expect a fight, which I found on the way here. Here," I pulled out a small number of vials and packets of powder, handing them over, instructing them on use and powers, pointing out the sigils and their meaning.

"I'm feeling unloved," Mella fluttered her eyelashes at me, and at her jerk, I had a feeling that Valranna had kicked her foot beneath the table.

"You are capable of healing yourself, spellsinger," I noted, "so the healing quaffs go elsewhere. Now, how did your day go?"

"Uh ah!" Kallistae shook her head violently. "You made us wait for you, so you'll go first. What do you mean about a fight?" her eyes went over me again, this time most likely looking for blood and viscera.

"I've learned something of how the local law operates," I grimaced at having described it as 'law'. "Apparently, once someone begins to harm trade, the Pactmasters contract bounty hunters to slay them - or possibly bring them in for punishment, though I rather doubt that is the usual case. On my way here, I ran into a small pack of gnolls accosting one such bounty hunter - a large earth genasi, a warrior monk dedicated to the Perfect Master, and helped him finish them off. Band of gnoll slavers are flouting the Pactmasters' laws, and this is their response. Obviously, they are led by something more intelligent than one of those beasts. Bala Baridari was his name, of the Mindstars, and they are based in Mazram's field, off the land of a Pesh grower cousin of their wizard," I spoke slowly, consulting my memory to ensure that my report was complete and accurate. "It was nothing much, a dozen gnolls caught by surprise," I finished. "And you? I'd have expected Drask to remain awake and fresh, out of all of you," I raised a brow in wonderment.

"Oh, the dwarf!" Valranna giggled, and the other two followed suit.

"Well, the reason he decided on this as our meeting place was made exceedingly clear once we arrived," the elfgirl smirked. "One of the serving wenches here, or perhaps it was the cook, she owes him a great debt of gratitude - he's spending the night with her. We did have some trouble, but I have most of the information we need."

"And we have the rest, most likely," Mella chimed up, "though we had some trouble of our own."

"Did we ever! I had no idea Mella could fight like that!" Val's eyes widened.

"Oh, there was little chance to fight - Valranna's first and only spell incinerated over half of them!" Mella's enthusiasm was almost infectious.

"And then Anya, from the end of the street, called upon us to run," the sorceress giggled.

"Oh yes," Mella's bright smile made her even more beautiful. "It was truly meet. And Valranna is so fast! Even with the boots, I could barely keep up."

"And then," Val started, and both women broke into giggles, "we rounded the corner, and Anya veiled us with illusion - those poor benighted fools ran straight into a three Zephyr contingents, Aluum attached."

"We just walked away," the half elf crowed, "it was beautiful. I don't think any of them survived, and if they did, they're sure to be on the slave block."

"Ahem," I blinked, "could you possibly begin at the beginning? Who did you have trouble with?"

"You have to forgive them," Kallistae rolled her eyes, "but they're not quite as skillful as they pretend. They got a bit too obvious asking questions about Aspis, and some agent set some bully boys on them. Or so they believe," she shrugged, "which is as likely as anything. It was after I scouted the villa they're lurking in, so I can't really tell if they thinned their numbers for us. Like Drask and I did," her smile was quite a vulgar display of smug superiority. As long as her accomplishments matched or overtook the elfmaid's arrogance, I really didn't mind the attitude. I'd never met an elf who didn't look down on the rest of existence for failing to match his personal immaculate perfection and potential for glory and legend. It was a pity their deeds did not, in my experience, quite measure up to their pride. Leaving everyone else to face a thousand years of darkness following Azlant's fall, sequestering themselves in some otherplanar supposed paradise realm, had left many folk less than fond of the elves. Personally, I did not allow history to dictate my preferences, being more focused on present circumstances.

"Do tell," I waved her on.

Growing animated and even more lovely to my eyes, she accompanied her story with hand gestures, "Identifying the human who spoke with us was simplicity itself. He's Jaroud al Malik, out of Sothis, an antiquities merchant. His villa, affectionately known as the 'Moratorium' for his habit of late and grudging payment and blaming something or the other for his inability to pass on coin, is fortuitously close to the Tower of Many Eyes, so known for the stuffed beholder presented in a place of pride, believed to be an undead guardian," her voice went low and quiet, in obvious concern.